Maggie, said the woman from GRRAND, the Golden Retriever rescue organization, was about two years old.  Her owners had obtained her to use as a “breeder” and had dumped her when they’d finished with her.  When I met her, she appeared empty inside; disconnected; in shock.  She was also practically dragging the ground, having recently had a litter of eleven pups.

The story of Maggie over the subsequent months is one of rebirth, of the sun coming out again for a traumatized being who so deserved it.

What’s the connection?  Well, just in the past ten days, Maggie has suddenly, joyfully, insistently found her voice.  I hope that her story will help you find yours.  You, too, deserve it.

* * *

In November, almost two years ago now, I had to say goodbye to Molly, the sweet little black and white terrier who had been my companion for twelve years.  We’d been through two houses together; she’d been with me when my kids launched themselves into the world.  We’d endured treating her kidney failure with subcutaneous fluids; I had had to steel myself at an unprecedented level to administer these; the job seemed to me something like fearlessly poking a needle into a flattened football to pump it up.  Molly was unflappable and handled it like a lady.  But eventually, it wasn’t enough.

I was certain I would never get another dog.  I couldn’t imagine setting myself up for a loss like that again.

But there’s nothing like being welcomed home by a warm, living, breathing creature who’s delighted to see you at the end of a long day.  I missed it.

So when December rolled around, I decided to dedicate the month to finding an adult “rescued” golden retriever, one who was already potty trained since my schedule would not allow for this.  Further, I wanted a really special dog, one who could join me in my office and be a comfort to clients who needed her in that way, a bridge for others, and for the rest, a dog who could be seen and not heard.  My hope was to bring her home during the two-week vacation I planned to take over the holidays.

And so Maggie came into my life.

My career path included many years in therapeutic foster care, so I can say with authority that the screening process for adopting Maggie was vigorous indeed.  It included a home visit and I was required to replace my invisible fence if the organization was going to consider placing one of these precious animals with me.  They honored Maggie not even knowing her really.

Several times each day I scanned their website, reading the profiles of the dogs, looking for my dog.  And rather quickly, really, a phone call came to tell me about Maggie.  It seemed that she was a neglected dog who had been purchased by her owners to be a “breeder”.  They’d tired of this – or, perhaps the eleven pups she’d just given birth to were enough for them – and they turned her over to the rescue group.  Dumped her, really, leaving her uncomprehending at a strange place away from everyone and everything she knew.

Maggie, they said, had a temperament as gentle as could be, had the color of an Irish Setter and was already housebroken, everything I had wished for.  So I set out – the day before a New Year’s Eve party of which I was the host – to pick her up in Louisville, Kentucky.

I drove through a beautiful section of the city near the river and found myself in a new development of half-million dollar homes.  Maggie, it seemed, was going to have a drop in her standard of living.

My little Vibe was dwarfed by the circular driveway and the enormous house.  But when I rang the bell, Maggie, whose abdomen was almost dragging the ground from her recent litter of pups, came to greet me.

And so we met.  Maggie came with me willingly for a walk, although she didn’t really seem to know I was there.  There was a surprising feeling of disconnection about her.  She appeared to expect nothing from human contact, but was willing to comply.

This was not the friendly, gregarious spirit I had wished for.  I don’t know why, but something told me to write the check and bring her with me anyway.  So I did.

Maggie, who had not relieved herself all day, seemed a little antsy in the car after a half hour.  I pulled off the highway, leashed her, and she politely stepped out of the car and promptly threw up.  Maggie, it seemed, was not a traveler.  Also, she still did not pee.

Maggie was the perfect co-host at the party the next night.  After unsuccessful hours outside, I had finally driven her to a dog park the night before and again the next morning so that she could take care of her pottying needs.  At the party, she greeted each guest by walking up to them and politely sitting in front of them.  She was very quiet, didn’t try to take anyone’s hors d’oeuvres.  Maggie’s tail was sort of horizontal.

As I tried to convince her over the months that the back yard was her own personal potty, it became evident that Maggie could “hold it” for upwards of 27 hours.  I, who was working 70 hours a week and could not do this, sat in the back yard with her for hours on end, waiting for the moment that I could celebrate with her that she’d figured it out.  So not only was Maggie not a traveler, she was patently not housebroken.

I must have looked like a crazy woman to the neighbors, and I found myself imagining their judgments about how slowly this was going.  That made me defensive and angry, and I had to work triple hard not to take it out on Maggie who was clueless and even often cried a little when she finally had the courage to go.

As I tried to understand Maggie, I began to piece together her history.  She had a terrific fear of being in a “crate” – which is used for housebreaking most dogs who adopt it as their personal den.  For Maggie, it was a prison, and it seemed very clear that she had been locked into a small crate for long hours, probably all day, and only let out at night, turning her into a nocturnal dog who didn’t wake up until after dark at 8 or 9:00 in the evening.  Placed in the crate, she seemed to enter a state of self-hypnosis.  She sat with almost regal dignity and acceptance, head held level, and left herself.  I did not use the crate again.  Beyond that, she was absolutely terrorized by rain and storms.  The dog who had stayed in the kitchen night after night, confined by gates, politely but urgently stepped right over the gate and fled under my bed when it rained.  I realized that staying in the kitchen had been a courtesy on her part.

The first evidence that there was another dog inside the shell that was Maggie on the outside happened about six months later.  One day, Maggie began to run in the yard, and her tail, always horizontal or pointed down, was pointing up!  Wagging delightedly, a dog’s most poignant smile.  Up until then, I had simply assumed that the tails of golden retrievers did not go up.

Through it all, Maggie was the sweetest dog you can imagine.  Of course, it must be said that she failed her therapy dog test twice, but it was out of friendliness.  The first time she went bounding into the testing room, despite our hard work on obedience training, and became, shall we say, over-friendly in an x-rated sort of a way with another dog, causing quite a splash in the otherwise sedate surroundings.  The second time she kept it clean, but the dog she chose to befriend took offense and, coated with authority in his therapy dog vest, growled at Maggie.  Maggie was held accountable, and both grand entrances resulted in automatic failures.  Only now am I able to begin to introduce her to my office.

She still puts herself into a trance when I leave for the day.  Far from greeting me at the door when I return, I have to go seek Maggie out.  Usually she’s unconscious and oblivious, three quarters of her long body under my bed.  So, Maggie is no watchdog either.  Were I to be accosted by an intruder, I could only shout with as much conviction as possible, “You just wait until my dog wakes up!”  If the intruder woke her first – well, they’d be good friends by the time I showed up.

Bit by bit, the real Maggie has come out.  She’s transformed from an underfed waif who was shedding her entire coat to a healthy filled-out dog shining and silky in a rich shade of rust.  Always friendly but in a detached sort of way, now she rolls over with babyish delight to have her belly rubbed.  She’s anxious about attention paid to guests – including my one-year-old granddaughter – fearing that they will take me from her.  Because, past losses notwithstanding, she has made a leap of faith and allowed herself to bond with me – and I have taken that leap, too.  She’s still anxious, and we have a solemn pact that she will not be locked outside ever.  I always open the door to her on her first bark, because this is still one of her fears.  She’s now able to manage storms without medication.

But it is in the past week that Maggie has found her voice!  Suddenly, she demands with a loud, confident bark, that I respond – usually saving this for when I pick up the phone or sit down to dinner.  Maggie, who has a love affair with Italian bread and freshly made pasta, now understands that “going outside” is not traumatic – it means bread! spaghetti! She’s excited about it.  Instead of going once every 27 hours, suddenly she is jubilantly barking to be let out five times a day.  And she’s rude; she steals, and she whines when she’s not included in dinner plans.

Not that that stuff is good exactly – but what it signifies is so very good.  Maggie feels safe being Maggie now.  She’s not shell-shocked; she’s not afraid, she’s not lost inside herself.  Of course I’ll have to work with her in a different way now; some obedience training is in order at this point in addition to the reassurances she needs.

Maggie has reminded me of so many things about what I call “lost voices” – personalities that have been suppressed in order to let their owners survive –

She reminds me:

• that quiet, polite compliance sometimes masks a lost voice
• that underneath a silent exterior are all kinds of emotions
• that an inability to play is a red flag of depression
• that safety, an absence of traumatic handling, gives living creatures a second chance at life; that it is only safety and patience, not demanding or cajoling, that frees a voice to emerge from that dark place in the soul where it has been buried
• that seeing the real personality emerge is the miracle that fuels my work, so precious that it defies expression; that it is an honor and a sacred trust to be part of the rebirth of another person – or creature.

Perhaps you’re reading this post because your voice, like Maggie’s, has been hidden away from you in order that you could survive some difficult circumstances.  If so, I hope you will take heart from Maggie’s story and will find a relationship in which you feel safe enough for your voice to naturally bubble up to the surface.

In finding your voice, you will change your life.

*  *  *

If you’d like to read a little more about Maggie, there’s another post here.

Understanding the inner conflict that has you running for the refrigerator when you’re yearning to be fit and healthy is key to gaining control — instead of more weight.  In this powerful new class, you’ll have the opportunity to look as deeply as you choose into the anxieties and fears that are overriding your wishes.  In other words, you’ll learn the “whys” of your weight.

When the issues are resolved, the block will dissolve — and you’ll be freed up to engage fully in a fitness program that’s right for you.

We’ll be discussing in depth two dynamic books: Geneen Roth’s Women, Food and God (as seen on Oprah) and Susan Albers’ 50 ways to soothe yourself without food.

Help yourself to the support of a group of women who really get it.

Is Weight-Whys for you?

Weight-Whys is:

• Sorting out a complex puzzle, revealing the pieces so that you can rework them and achieve what you’re wishing for.
• Being surrounded by other women who really understand.
• Putting weight issues where they belong — as part of a much bigger picture of your self and your life.

Weight-Whys is not:

• An accountability program.  No weigh-ins, no food diaries, no judgments.
• A contest.  Instead, Weight-Whys provides an environment that will pull you forward.
• Treatment for eating disorders.

I’ll be happy to talk with you about your particular needs and whether Weight-Whys might be a fit for you.

When: Six Wednesdays, 7-8:30 PM, beginning September 8, 2010

Where: The Self Development Place; 210 W. Loveland Ave.; Loveland, OH  — in the historic block near the bike trail

Cost: $225 (books included)

Register here.

Senior year of high school and freshman year of college — these are times when decisions are made and actions are taken that have life-long impact.

One of my favorite quotes from Eleanor Roosevelt sums up the challenge to young women: “You must do the things you think you cannot do.”  That takes courage and grit.

Unfortunately, girls often lack mentors.  There’s traditionally no one to support them in taking on a scary challenge, whether it’s applying to a tough school, competing for an internship or grant, taking a difficult class or applying to grad school.  As a result, they often under-achieve – and run the risk of winding up chronically depressed, frustrated and angry over opportunities lost.

Again, Eleanor Roosevelt’s voice: “What you don’t do can be a destructive force.”  Supporting  young women in “doing the things they think they cannot do” can powerfully alter the path of their lives.

Add to that the statistic that upwards of 51% of college students do not graduate within four years.  Having a resource as they set out on their own is potentially cost-effective in many ways.

Launch Your Life Coaching provides highly individualized personal development coaching for students who are beginning the transition from high school to college, and continues through freshman year and beyond.  It’s a golden opportunity for your daughter to have her own coach — not another parent — to guide her just when questions about her future really begin to loom.

Launch Your Life provides a menu of choices so that she can design the help that’s most helpful to her, including:

• One-on-one coaching, either at The Self Development Place or by telephone

• Specific tools to help you be organized and productive, and to grow your insight into who you are as a person and who you are becoming

• Teleclasses that offer information and a chance to talk about things like transitioning to campus life, time management, homesickness, relationships, getting involved in activities, budgeting and many more.

• Access to the recorded calls so that you can listen later, at your convenience.

• Email communication on your own password-protected webpage with your coach.

You can learn more here. Wondering whether this might be a fit for you daughter?  Call 513  – 677  – 9800 for a complimentary telephone consultation.

There comes a point when there’s too much straw to spin.  You just simply cannot.

Of course, there was a point long before that when you just simply should not have tried.  Why is it so hard to draw that line before you’re on the verge of a breakdown?

As I listened to friends and clients talk about this phenomenon this week — and faced it myself at the same time — a common theme emerged.  I began to ask, “If you go through your list item by item and initial who owns each task, how many of them do not rightfully belong to you?’  We experimented with it and found again and again that half of the list or more was made up of other people’s responsibilities.

So what makes us take those on? What makes us drive ourselves crazy over other people’s responsibilities?

Here are some reasons women take on tasks and responsibilities for everyone around them.  See how many apply to you:

• Not trusting their family’s resilience, that is, their ability to bounce back from small disappointments.
• Feeling that being of value is a function of doing it all.
• Fear of anger, retaliation, rejection or abandonment if you say you can’t, or, scarier still, that you’re not willing.
• Fear of being bullied into saying yes.
• An inappropriate sense of responsibility for the happiness of others — and guilt when they’re inevitably not always happy.
• Equating their possible disappointment — if you decline — with depression and desperation.

Life happens at a furious pace, with multiple things always occurring simultaneously, an experience vividly and humorously reflected in the third movement of J.S. Bach’s Italian Concerto.  Listen to this as many times as it takes to hear its individual voices converging into joyful chaos.  And if your to-do list is in a tangle like that, take ten minutes now to sit down and untangle it so that each task is unequivocably given back to its rightful owner.

Because unlike the parrots in the photo, there’s only one of you.

As the group has evolved, it has become clear that it’s far more than a “divorce support group” although some of the women are in the midst of divorce or coping with the aftermath.  But it’s been equally powerful as a safe space to come to terms with a difficult relationship in order to decide whether to recommit to it or separate.

Contemplating divorce or the loss of any significant relationship has at least as much to do with emotions as with logistics. It’s natural for one’s sense of self to become tied to roles and relationships. With the disruption of divorce, many women experience an immobilizing crisis that centers around their sense of self and their confidence in their own perceptions.

Perfect on Your Own groups are designed to help you:

• Understand and work through the emotional side of deciding to (or not to) divorce
• Learn strategies to help you and your kids regain your balance
• Gain a powerful support network of other women who really understand the emotional storm of anger and loss — as well as the practical hurdles – that accompany divorce

We’ll use the Reclaiming Your Self ebook as our guide. Included in the cost of the group, the ebook utilizes a beautiful page-turning format with a built-in journal to provide your with information and support as you work through the emotional issues of divorce and free yourself to move forward in your life.

Where: The Self Development Place, 210 W Loveland Ave in historic Loveland near the bike trail
Cost: $150

“Perfect on Your Own” meets for five 75-minute sessions.

To attend, please call 677  -  9800.  Groups are scheduled according to the calendars of the participants.

A 10-15 minute complimentary phone consultation is always available to help you determine what will be most helpful in your own unique circumstances.

For instance, during the first Invincible Voice call, I had several revelations.

Number One: Although it makes sense to record these calls from my home office (the reception is better there), it is important to move the parroting parrot away from the phone.

Number Two (closely related to Number One): Maggie, the elsewhere-mentioned rescued-and-not-housebroken golden, must be let out before the call begins or she will loudly ring the brass bells by the door.  Alternatively, she can be locked out of the kitchen, but this incurs some risk as 70-pound dogs drink in liters.

Number Three: The land line will ring while I am talking.  Therefore, it must be stuffed under a pillow.

Number Four: Eating a (really good) fudge brownie before trying to talk for 20 minutes straight: drooly mistake.

And Number Five — well, upon realizing that I had forgotten #5 last time, that is, to put Joggie, the grunting hedge hog (and Maggie’s favorite toy) on top of the refrigerator,  I just muttered to myself “Jelly Side Down” and carried on.

Actually, I thought perhaps if Joggie were to be heard grunting through the phone, as long as people knew it wasn’t me, it would likely be the best call ever.

(Disclaimer: It occurs to me to mention here, to eliminate any possibility of confusion, that Maggie also has a habit of walking up to me and burping loudly into the phone.)

As my aunt, who used to launch into peals of laughter over similar questionable behavior, likes to say, “Who has more fun?”

A couple of weeks ago, I was ambushed by the Worst Stomach Flu Ever (W-S-F-E).  Not that I’m an expert, but this, as my long-ago chemistry teacher would have said, was ungood to the unharmonious tune of seven pounds in eight hours.  When the enemy had retreated and I was ready to contemplate something more than an ice chip and death, I discovered that my taste had swerved dangerously in the direction of the very old (or the very young), i.e. toward pabulum.  Moving on to applesauce was an event (which gives a feel for the dim state of things).

In a word, life was bland.

The thing is, there’s a place for blandness.  After being traumatized – whether by the economy or by a virus that dumps you into a bog of Kevorkianesque hallucinations – excitement is officially off the wish list.

But blandness is a transient taste.  Pretty soon, boredom sets in – the desperation for at least a little butter and a few raisins in the cream of wheat; the need for challenge and a little suspense.  The paradox lies in the fact that feeling adequate, for many women, depends on having all their ducks in a row, everything apparently under control, that is, it depends upon reliably ensuring that life is bland!

That’s one problem with seeking seamless “perfection”.  Another is that life is so patently not under the control of mere mortals.  Not only is perfection boring, it’s also unachievable!  How like us to set a standard of adequacy that by definition proves we aren’t.

So please put me on record as saying that bland perfection is anything but the ideal.

By way of illustration, a conversation with my thirty-something piano instructor comes to mind.  Richard (alternatively dubbed Herr Grump by yours truly, because he is one) is a true lover of musical sound – of every imaginable kind.  One night after a lesson, we had stopped to talk in the parking lot.  Somehow, in the darkness, sound seemed to travel from farther away and with more clarity.  Rain on broad, fibrous magnolia leaves, tires on wet pavement, a horn, and then the whistle and rhythm of a passing train.  Richard paused for a minute, listening – and making sure that I was listening, too.   All of those sounds together – that is music, he stated, in his style that brooks no argument.

Not that I disagreed in the slightest.

Another night, I came into the lesson very excited about having pulled up the music to Franz Liszt’s Liebestraum #3 in A flat, which I had fallen in love with when WGUC had played it.  Richard was uninterested.  It’s bubblegum, he said, with some disdain.  It is discord that makes it music. This lovely ephemeral cloud of sound was entirely harmonious.  To Richard, this was not music.  Even the discord inherent in my own rendering of the piece did not relieve him; I declared him hopelessly cantankerous and put it away.

So here’s the point.  The alleged perfection of children who go to bed on time, turn in their homework and remember their lunches; of shopping that gets done in advance of the week and dinners that are creative and served on time; of money in abundance; of calm relationships with no conflict – that’s not my idea of perfection, and what’s more important, no matter how hard you try,  it’s not sustainable.

It’s the motley, arrhythmic, discordant collection of moments that make up a day that comprises true perfection – or, as a TV star gone bag lady on NBC’s “ER” said upon entering the hospital, “Every day brings its own surprises.”  Would the sounds of that evening have been more beautiful without the slam of our car doors?  Would your child really be more perfect if she hadn’t cut her own hair?

To me, the answer is no.  It is the whole that is beautiful – and that includes the curiosity of an enterprising child, not just the straightness of her bangs.  It includes her pride (or tears) when she looks in the mirror – as well as your own dismay (and secret smile).

Moments of stratospheric bliss and abysmal chagrin; that’s the mess that makes up life. And if we’re lucky, we get a touch of Liszt and only a very little W-S-F-E in the mix.

Coping with divorce is painful and de-stabilizing for kids, and often they feel they cannot fully talk about it with the people they need the most – their parents. That leaves them without a trusted adult to help them make sense of the upheaval that divorce inevitably brings.  The result: anger, frustration, acting out, unresolved fears, depression – and a protracted crisis.  Participating in a group can make all the difference.

“Me & Mom, Me & Dad” helps kids:

• Understand and work through the emotional crisis of divorce with a supportive, neutral adult
• Have an opportunity to articulate the changes in their lives within a group of kids their age who are going through the same thing
• Experience that they’re “not the only ones”
• Learn that it’s truly not their fault
• Deal with issues like divided loyalty and feeling like a mediator or messenger
• Understand the concept of having separate relationships with Dad and Mom
• Begin to separate the concrete and material changes they’re facing  — which are often difficult — from the abstract, sometimes positive changes – like a decrease in conflict and tension – that are part of divorce
• Begin to come to terms with changes, both positive and negative, and feel confident about moving forward in their lives.

“Me & Mom, Me & Dad” meets for five one-hour sessions. Cost: $150

Groups are continuously forming according to the needs and schedules of participants.  Please call 513.677.9800 if you’d like your child to participate in a Me & Mom, Me & Dad group.

A 10-15 minute complimentary phone consultation is always available to help you determine what will be most helpful in your own unique circumstances.

From the perspective of a therapist and parent coach, I think that the kids themselves, along with what you wish for them, provide the guidance –

Don’t we all dearly wish for our kids to feel safe and secure — as well as to grow into compassionate people! Exposing kids to material that overwhelms them is traumatic, and trauma prevents kids from feeling secure — and so should be avoided. However, what overwhelms (is traumatic to) one child will not overwhelm another, and age is not always a good indicator. Behavior is more helpful. A child who is likely to be afraid to go to school (or to bed) because of the possibility of losing mom or dad in an earthquake can cope with far less exposure than a less fearful child. It’s important to realize that kids don’t learn empathy from being traumatized; they learn it from having adults understand, respect and treat their feelings with gentle care. Embrace their capacity to cope and choose the level of exposure to frightening news accordingly.

Similarly, older kids who are glued to the images on TV are showing you that they’re ready to know more. Engage them in conversation about what they’re seeing, how they feel about it, what questions they have, what frightens or angers them. Don’t duck from their answers, and don’t be afraid. Just listen fully until you understand — and then check your understanding.

Generally — for kids under five, I’d avoid the TV entirely but answer simply and directly any questions that they ask. Little kids are not helped by having fears raised of losing their parents or being crushed alive; they’ll deal with fears like these as they are able to cope with them, hopefully metaphorically through fairy tales. For six to nines, I’d assume that they’ve heard enough at school that it needs to be a topic of conversation at home — but still guided by their own questions and — this is key — by their own level of intensity. To kids, often these things feel very far away and improbable, while to adults, the world can seem like it’s going to hell in a handbasket. If your child is not as upset as you yourself are, match his intensity rather than conveying your own. Older kids can enter into much deeper conversations about getting aid to Haiti and the barriers to this; and most school-age kids can learn a sense of responsibility for others by choosing some small way to help. All kids benefit from some perspective to help them understand that even though they see an ongoing array of terrible events on television, it’s a big world, and these things are actually relatively rare.

For me — I think I’ve had as much news as I can handle for today. And I suppose teaching kids to protect themselves from the nonstop barrage of today’s media is also a crucial life skill. So — I’m turning the TV off now and grabbing an escape novel, a glass of milk and a few back-to-the-womb Lorna Doones : )

My own practice field for living is the piano, and the power of this metaphor resurfaced as I was preparing for a No Lost Voices talk. Each group that I speak to is a little different from all the others. There are many threads to weave together and multiple objectives to be kept in mind while facilitating this conversation. As I mentally outlined all of this, my mind leapt to Claude Debussy’s Reverie which I’ve recently taken out to play — and which I invite you to listen to, sink into, for a moment now while you read.

Playing — it means to study, to channel the composer’s intentions through the keys, to experience. The pianist is charged with ensuring that none of the voices in a complex piece of music are lost, that each is presented and can be heard in its own range and volume.  Follow the separate voices in this deeply beautiful piece with your ear and you will hear always two and sometimes three threads simultaneously telling their parts of the story.  Each thread is spectacular in its simplicity; together they form an eloquent whole, a whole that is compromised unless each thread is played fully.

And so it will be when this next group of friends meets in a cozy living room, a spot of light on a dark January night, to take up the topic of No Lost Voices.  Each person in the room is a container for the multiple strands of voice that we think of as Self; the group is comprised of the threads woven from those strands.  I can hardly wait to hear the sound of this group, a blend of voices unique to this winter night.