The 2020 global lockdown was a catalyst for me to discontinue physical resistance to aging. I stopped getting botox and after 45 years of a nearly-daily make-up routine, I now wear it only for media work.

I spent a lifetime concerned about my looks, a legacy inherited from my southern-belle mother, who maintained a meticulous movie-star appearance right up to her death at 84.

Despite my presentational devotion, like many females who based her worth on mimicking Barbie or a Playboy Bunny, I never thought I was pretty, sexy, or desirable enough—a feeling that many females in our society are conditioned to internalize. No wonder the beauty industry generates nearly $600B per year!

The older I get, the more solitary a being I am. I cherish time with a small circle of friends (one of the results of a nomadic life), my dog, and close family members. And after more than 30 years, I still enjoy my work, now exclusively client sessions via Zoom.

I am a former strong extravert who thrived in the public arena, first in the entertainment industry, and since 1991 as a therapist, coach, educator, radio show host, and TV/media commentator.

For much of my life, I was what one might call a restless soul. I would never have imagined being so content in my own skin and preferring peace and simplicity to a life of continuous motion to the next aspiration and/or location.

Most grown-ups are children in adult bodies. They may have lived 20, 50, or 80 years but the thought, behavioral, and emotional patterns habituated in childhood continue to run their lives.

When we’re born as healthy human beings, we have the innate ability to experience the complete range of human emotions and to express ourselves fully and spontaneously. Absent is the fear of judgment or rejection, or feelings of unworthiness or shame. Then the life conditioning process begins. Our interactions with our caretakers and environment determine how we think about ourselves and others, and the behaviors that are most likely to get our needs met. As dependent little beings, our very survival relies on our adaptation to the overt and covert norms of the family system into which we are born. These patterns of thought, behavior, and emotion are continually reinforced and become habit, developing into what I call the default operating system.

In a recent post on social media, I gave an example of an effective response to someone’s disrespectful or unkind communication.

The response I suggested is designed to be a respectful, Adult Ego State acknowledgement of the other person’s communication, while expressing a clear boundary of no further discussion on the matter.  

Someone commented with the question (and I’m paraphrasing) why we should even bother trying to offer an effective response in such situations, which prompted me to expand a bit on the topic.

Making efforts to communicate from the Adult Ego State serves us first and foremost (we walk through the world with less inner reactivity and stress, greater self-esteem, etc.). It also goes a long way in preserving and strengthening healthy relationships with people we love and care about. 

As children, we increasingly see the world through a lens shaped by our caregivers, role models, environment, and experiences. This lens influences our interpretations of what happens to and around us. Over time, these interpretations become habitual stories scripted by the unconscious mind about ourselves and the world around us. And although they're rooted in the unconscious—and most people aren't even aware they exist—they have a powerful impact on our lives. They drive our emotions, behaviors and choices, which cumulatively, result in the lives we have today.

If you’re lucky, as a child you had at least one person who made you feel unconditionally loved and lovable. My great Aunt Edie was one of these people for me. 

Throughout her life, Aunt Edie worked hard caring for others during the day and cleaning a large bank when it was closed at night. She single-handedly raised her own and other people’s children (my Dad included), instilling in them her gigantic, generous heart and unwavering service to others. 

Valentine’s Day is, for many singles (and conflict-ridden couples), a holiday to dread instead of one to celebrate. I experienced my own loneliness on more than one Valentine’s Day, even in my marriage. Then, when I was in my thirties, I had a revelation. I could be my own Valentine!

I know, being your own Valentine might sound like a desperate attempt to soothe the sting of single life or an unhappy partnership. I thought so, too—until I actually experienced it. The first year of becoming my own Valentine happened to be the year my divorce became final. I organized a dinner at a nice restaurant for a group consisting of singles and couples. On the invitation I wrote a request: “buy, have gift-wrapped, and bring to dinner a gift for yourself in recognition of the magnificent person you are.”

It was one of my favorite Valentine’s Day celebrations! We took turns opening our gifts and sharing what we valued and respected about ourselves. Some people were moved to tears, as they realized how often they were self-critical instead of being self-supportive.

Out of all the relationships we have in our lives, the ones we share with family members can be the most challenging. And there’s nothing like holiday stress to trigger the old wounds and unresolved issues that plague so many families.

Sharing close, loving, and supportive relationships is a basic human need, yet many of our family relationships fall short of this ideal. Most families have some level of dysfunction, with each member playing his or her part. Becoming aware of your own family dynamics—and consciously changing behavior patterns that create conflict—will help you avoid the interpersonal “land mines” that are often triggered in the midst of holiday stress. Below are some practical tips to help you make the holidays a time of joyful celebration, instead of fodder for unpleasant family feuds.

Do you sweat the small stuff or feel chronically stressed? If so, you’re not alone. According to a 2022 survey by the American Insitute of Stress, 87 percent of respondents reported finding the increased cost of day to day necessities like groceries, gas, and electricity to be a major source of stress.

Stress is an emotional and physical reaction caused by our responses to life challenges. There is no universally accepted definition of stress and each person reacts differently, based on their innate personality traits, experiences, childhood conditioning, and role models. What is overwhelming for one person may be exciting to another, while that same situation may have little impact on someone else.

I read recently that, "Someday your children will figure out who you are." For most responsible and loving parents that concept poses no threat. We believe that if our intentions are good, and we do our best to meet our kids' needs in childhood, they will treat us with love, respect, and care as adults.

But the reality can be a different scenario. Research by Karl Pillemer, a Cornell University professor and sociologist, revealed that one in four American adults are estranged from their families. This doesn't include those who haven't totally cut contact, but have only minimal interaction.

You create many of your life experiences—although you may be unaware of the role you play in their creation. There are three ways we generate our experiences: creating, promoting, and allowing. I first heard this concept at a workshop, and it’s a valuable tool for recognizing the role you play in creating your life. By looking at events through this lens, you can see how your actions influence them.

MANY PEOPLE DON’T TREAT THEMSELVES VERY WELL. They break promises to themselves, eat poorly, don’t get enough sleep, are self-critical, or fail to take good care of their bodies. In fact, if most people treated others the way they treat themselves, they wouldn’t have too many friends! A great technique for treating yourself better is by developing your Inner Nurturing Parent. Imagine you had a little child in your care. You’d make every effort to keep her healthy and safe; to love and support her; to be forgiving of her mistakes, her inevitable slips; and to let her know how precious and important she is. That’s what a loving parent does. Only, in this case, you’re the parent and the child. Here are seven ways to strengthen your own Inner Nurturing Parent, and turn the goal of treating yourself better into daily, living action.

In honor of Mother’s Day, below is a reprint of my article from May, 2020.

Tomorrow will be my sixteenth motherless Mother’s Day. And while it had gotten easier over time, the absence of my mother feels now like a wound opened anew. Exacerbating these feelings are the demise of my fourteen-year-old dog seven weeks ago, day seventy of coronavirus social distancing, and the loss of intimate family relationships—all in the midst of an unprecedented transfiguration of life as we knew it.

With both parents gone, I currently reside full-time on the other side of the parent-child equation. Among other things, this includes my being on the receiving end of behaviors I once directed toward my own parents. As a family-systems-trained psychotherapist and coach, I have seen these types of multi-generational pattern replications frequently in my practice, as well as being an active participant of their playing out in my personal life.

Cheaters and philanderers are jerks; people who are no-good, contemptible human beings. At least that seems to be the general consensus of many people who judge others’ amorous infidelities.

Before I continue, let me make a couple of things clear. Do I think it’s fine for someone to break a monogamous agreement or engage in unfaithful behavior? No, although it is certainly not uncommon. Do I think it’s okay to put one’s spouse and children in a painful position—and perhaps even continue to do so after expressing regret over an infidelity? No, cheating on a partner not only doesn’t solve someone’s problems, it is deeply injurious and erodes the foundation of trust—which can take years to rebuild, if at all.

For many people, midlife can be a significant wake-up call. The midlife transition can begin as early as the age of 30 and as late as 60. Midlife is a time when many people find themselves stepping back and evaluating how they want to live for the rest of their lives. They’ve had the chance to build a life and reap the rewards of their endeavors. As they look toward the second half of their lives, they may find themselves asking: Who am I? What’s the meaning of my life? What do I really want?

I had an interaction this morning that inspired this month’s Live Boldly article. I offered a vendor with whom I regularly do business some unsolicited, but well-intentioned advice. Having recently slipped on black ice and severely breaking my arm, I cautioned them about walking on ice without boot grippers for protection.

Now granted, I’ve become somewhat obsessed with the advocacy of snow grippers since my accident, but the person’s response was shocking and upsetting. In short, the person “bit my head off” with an intensity that triggered a physiological, nervous system response. Despite my shakiness and increased heart rate, I responded resourcefully by apologizing and sharing that I wanted them to remain safe on the ice.

As I got back in my car and was driving home alone, an inner battle began. I noticed two parts of me that were invoked by the interaction. One was the reactive, child part that long ago learned to override hurt feelings with anger. The other was the mindful, adult part that sought to understand what happened, and bring my nervous system back into balance.

Do you avoid expressing yourself from fear of disapproval, rejection, or conflict? If so, you’re not alone.

In my Illumineering Coaching practice, I work with high-functioning, successful people doing interesting things in the world. And yet, the majority of them were conditioned to believe that saying no, setting boundaries, or sharing real feelings and needs will threaten or even extinguish relationships.

Most grown-ups are children in adult bodies. They may have lived 20, 50, or 80 years but the thought, behavioral, and emotional patterns habituated in childhood continue to run their lives.

When we’re born as healthy human beings, we have the innate ability to experience the complete range of human emotions and to express ourselves fully and spontaneously. Absent is the fear of judgment or rejection, or feelings of unworthiness or shame. Then the life conditioning process begins. Our interactions with our caretakers and environment determine how we think about ourselves and others, and the behaviors that are most likely to get our needs met. As dependent little beings, our very survival relies on our adaptation to the overt and covert norms of the family system into which we are born. These patterns of thought, behavior, and emotion are continually reinforced and become habit, developing into what I call the default operating system.

Why do our limiting beliefs have such power over us? How much does our early life conditioning affect our lives today? Trance states provide some interesting clues.

Although I was first introduced to the concept of childhood trances during my psychotherapist training in Germany in 1993, it wasn’t until I did a workshop with Reichian therapist Stephen Wolinsky several years later that I was struck by how our childhood experiences and subsequent trance states drive the fears that hold us back as adults.

In his book, The Dark Side of the Inner Child, Wolinsky describes a trance state as the mechanism through which we disconnect from our current reality and allow the emotions from our old reality—from our childhood or earlier life—to take over. A trance state is a situation in which we experience that emotional disconnect. It’s as if our emotions are hijacked by our unconscious minds. According to Wolinsky, age regression is the most common trance state.

Tomorrow will be my sixteenth motherless Mother’s Day. And while it had gotten easier over time, the absence of my mother feels now like a wound opened anew. Exacerbating these feelings are the demise of my fourteen-year-old dog seven weeks ago, day seventy of coronavirus social distancing, and the loss of intimate family relationships—all in the midst of an unprecedented transfiguration of life as we knew it.

With both parents gone, I currently reside full-time on the other side of the parent-child equation. Among other things, this includes my being on the receiving end of behaviors I once directed toward my own parents. As a family-systems-trained psychotherapist and coach, I have seen these types of multi-generational pattern replications frequently in my practice, as well as being an active participant of their playing out in my personal life.

Living solely on the parenting side of the parent-child dynamic has taught me a lot about myself as a child to my own parents. This is especially true regarding my mother, with whom I shared a life-long relationship riddled with mutual disappointment, judgment, and resentment. Despite my unsuccessful attempt to achieve closure with her when she was dying, it wasn’t until the roles had flipped with my own children that I was able to release the hurt and anger I carried toward my mother, replacing them with compassion, forgiveness, and love.