(no subject)
One of Muriel's big themes is not lumping everything with everything. One B in Spanish does not mean you suck at everything, she says. Or even that you suck at Spanish. (Muriel is very hip in her use of language, despite her age and the fact that she's been wearing the same horn-rimmed glasses since the late 60's.) It always annoys me when she points this out. I hate reasonableness in therapists. But I know what she's up to because I have to do the same thing with Eli, whose color field is limited to black and white. There is no grey. I hate this day, I hate this world - these are common Eli statements, and I know because I've read the right parenting book, that my job is to break things down for her and help her see what is obvious to everyone else-- namely that a B in Spanish is not the end of life as we know it and that there might be one or two options for remedying the situation other than suicide.
It's a form of lacking creativity, if you think about it, Muriel says. Creative people are able to imagine something bigger than a grade in Spanish. Caring too much about school (and your daughter's rankings, hint hint) is a form of being hidebound.
I hate it when Muriel points out incontrovertible flaws like that. It only makes me feel worse. All those super creative people running about flunking school and becoming musicians. (Musicians require great discipline and commitment, Muriel reminds me. I do sometimes wish Muriel would drop dead. And where did she go to school anyway? "Barnard." They didn't have women at Harvard in her day. Yes but she didn't go to Barnard without getting some good grades, you know. I have won that point and Muriel knows it. She just won't give me the satisfaction of admitting it.) I know we're not super creative people. We're just middling. I hate being middling.
And of course it's at this point in the session that Muriel says nothing. Her glinty glasses flash back at me, which means we're back at the big a-word, acceptance. Learning to accept yourself is essential to inner peace, blah blah. She doesn't say it like that of course, because Muriel is not a hippie, and anyway, it's understood. Acceptance doesn't have to be giving in. It can be wisdom. It can be a form of love. That's what Muriel is thinking. She doesn't have to say it. At times like this, I like Muriel. I like her grey bob and the way it never stays put behind her ear. And I like how she keeps her mouth shut and sometimes just lets the rest of the hour run down without a single word.
It's a form of lacking creativity, if you think about it, Muriel says. Creative people are able to imagine something bigger than a grade in Spanish. Caring too much about school (and your daughter's rankings, hint hint) is a form of being hidebound.
I hate it when Muriel points out incontrovertible flaws like that. It only makes me feel worse. All those super creative people running about flunking school and becoming musicians. (Musicians require great discipline and commitment, Muriel reminds me. I do sometimes wish Muriel would drop dead. And where did she go to school anyway? "Barnard." They didn't have women at Harvard in her day. Yes but she didn't go to Barnard without getting some good grades, you know. I have won that point and Muriel knows it. She just won't give me the satisfaction of admitting it.) I know we're not super creative people. We're just middling. I hate being middling.
And of course it's at this point in the session that Muriel says nothing. Her glinty glasses flash back at me, which means we're back at the big a-word, acceptance. Learning to accept yourself is essential to inner peace, blah blah. She doesn't say it like that of course, because Muriel is not a hippie, and anyway, it's understood. Acceptance doesn't have to be giving in. It can be wisdom. It can be a form of love. That's what Muriel is thinking. She doesn't have to say it. At times like this, I like Muriel. I like her grey bob and the way it never stays put behind her ear. And I like how she keeps her mouth shut and sometimes just lets the rest of the hour run down without a single word.