Dr. Julie Integrative Health & Counselling

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Operating as usual

"The silent treatment is a particularly insidious form of abuse because it might force the victim to reconcile with the ...
03/26/2021
What You’re Saying When You Give Someone the Silent Treatment

"The silent treatment is a particularly insidious form of abuse because it might force the victim to reconcile with the perpetrator in an effort to end the behavior, even if the victim doesn’t know why they’re apologizing. “It’s especially controlling because it deprives both sides from weighing in,” Williams said. “One person does it to the other person, and that person can’t do anything about it.”

Social ostracism has been a common punishment for millennia. But freezing someone out harms both the victim and the perpetrator.

01/29/2021

🤔 🤔 🙏🙏😊😊💕💕👌👌

Most scientific, empathetic, clear explanation about gender and biological s*x that I have ever seen. https://twitter.co...
01/21/2021
Open Ocean Exploration on Twitter

Most scientific, empathetic, clear explanation about gender and biological s*x that I have ever seen.
https://twitter.com/RebeccaRHelm/status/1207834357639139328?s=20

“Friendly neighborhood biologist here. I see a lot of people are talking about biological s*xes and gender right now. Lots of folks make biological s*x s*x seem really simple. Well, since it’s so simple, let’s find the biological roots, shall we? Let’s talk about s*x...[a thread]”

“You know, sometimes it is your task in life to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.”http...
01/17/2021
Wonderful, Messy Failure - Jack Kornfield

“You know, sometimes it is your task in life to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.”

https://jackkornfield.com/get-comfortable-in-your-own-skin/

Wonderful, Messy Failure We all face praise and blame, joy and sorrow, gain and loss. To have compassion for your human vulnerability is a blessed, tender practice. Poet Alison Luterman calls her life a “wonderful failure.” When astronauts return to Earth they are so grateful just to breathe the...

09/23/2020
09/21/2020
Jay Shetty

You Matter.

Does mispronouncing your name matter?

08/05/2020
08/01/2020
Pluto Living

#PandemicFatigue
#SelfCompassion
#CollectiveCompassion

#LovePluto

The purple meanies are out and about so practise your collective compassion. 🙏🏼❤️ #mentalhealth #wellbeing

When we have not learned to talk about feelings or even to be aware of them, our life remains entangled. In Buddhist psy...
07/30/2020

When we have not learned to talk about feelings or even to be aware of them, our life remains entangled. In Buddhist psychology bringing consciousness to feelings is critical for awakening. In a teaching called the "Cycle of the Arising of Conditions," the Buddha explains how humans become entangled: When pleasant feelings arise and we automatically grasp them, or when unpleasant feelings arise and we try to avoid them, we set up a chain reaction of entanglement and suffering. This perpetuates the body of fear. However, if we learn to be aware of feelings without grasping or aversion, then they can move through us like changing weather, and we can be free to feel them and move on. This is a movement toward freedom. Excerpt: "A Path with Heart" Image: @worldfullofbliss
#mindfulness #jackkornfield

When we have not learned to talk about feelings or even to be aware of them, our life remains entangled. In Buddhist psychology bringing consciousness to feelings is critical for awakening. In a teaching called the "Cycle of the Arising of Conditions," the Buddha explains how humans become entangled: When pleasant feelings arise and we automatically grasp them, or when unpleasant feelings arise and we try to avoid them, we set up a chain reaction of entanglement and suffering. This perpetuates the body of fear. However, if we learn to be aware of feelings without grasping or aversion, then they can move through us like changing weather, and we can be free to feel them and move on. This is a movement toward freedom. Excerpt: "A Path with Heart" Image: @worldfullofbliss
#mindfulness #jackkornfield

You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundered miles through the desert repenting...
07/28/2020

You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundered miles through the desert repenting...

Sharing one of our favorite Mary poems with you all! What's your favorite Mary poem?

07/21/2020
07/03/2020
06/27/2020
06/06/2020
05/24/2020
Sonya Renee Taylor's quote tweeted by, and mistakenly attributed to, Brene Brown
05/18/2020

Sonya Renee Taylor's quote
tweeted by, and mistakenly attributed to, Brene Brown

05/12/2020

So few grains of happiness
measured against all the dark
and still the scales balance.

The world asks of us
only the strength we have and we give it.
Then it asks more, and we give it.

~ The Weighing (in part) by Jane Hirshfield

Sharon Salzberg
05/10/2020

Sharon Salzberg

It’s a good day to let yourself feel what you feel with some compassion for yourself 💜

A story that celebrates the complexities of the Mother-Daughter relationship.Happy Mother's Day 🌹
05/10/2020

A story that celebrates the complexities of the Mother-Daughter relationship.
Happy Mother's Day 🌹

“My mother taught me the art of invisible strength,” she wrote.

Her mother once asked her, "If I die, what you remember?”

She replied back, "I would remember many things.”

“Like what?” her mother pressed.

"I realized I had no idea what I'd remember, and what was important," she said and was able to only respond back with, “Like, you know, things, like, you were my mother.”

In a tearful, quavering voice, her mother replied back, “I think you know little percent of me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

She remembers when she was growing up, she was told what she was supposed to do.

"My parents had very high expectations. They expected me to get straight A’s from the time I was in kindergarten." Her parents told her she was destined to be a neurosurgeon.

She had a complicated relationship with her mother.

When she was a child, one of her playmates had died. Her mother took her to her funeral. "I was scared, because this was the little girl I used to play with. My mother leaned over to me and she said, 'This is what happens when you don’t listen to your mother.'

"I grew up thinking that I would never, ever please my parents. That is a difficult thing to grow up with. High-achieving kids go through some aspect of that, whether it comes from their parents or their teachers or themselves. It’s an implied sense of their worth being determined by others. It’s a horrible feeling, especially when you experience what you think is your first failure and you think your life is over. No more chances," she said in an interview in Academy of Achievement.

As a child, she "believed she had been born into 'the wrong family—a Chinese family'—described how she grew up trying to please a mother who could not be pleased . . . and admonishments to . . . to work hard and be a good girl," according to an article in the University of Buffalo Reporter.

Growing up as the American-born daughter of Chinese immigrant parents was difficult.

Her mother would tell her stories of her past, and she grew tired of the stories, of her miserable past in China, how her own mother died of su***de.

"During my childhood, I was the unhappy recipient of these tragic tales. I heard them hundreds of times, and they always began with these dreaded words: 'Did I tell you about the time . . . ?'"

Her relationship with her mother had deteriorated after the deaths of her father and her brother, both of whom died of brain tumors when she was 15, according to the New York Times.

Her "mother spiraled, regularly threatening to commit su***de and lashing out at her daughter," according to Nora Krug of the Washington Post.

"I was 15 years old, sullen and rebellious," she said. "I was a very angry teenager."

She said to herself, “I’m not going to have anything to do with anything Chinese when I leave home. I’m going to be completely American.” None of that Chinese torture or guilt ever again in my life. None of that responsibility crap, 'You owe it to your family. You have to do this for your family.' I was never going to speak to my mother again. She was disappointed in me? Well, I wasn’t going to be around to disappoint her anymore."

She then further angered her mother by leaving college, following her boyfriend to a different college, then abandoning her pre-medical degree for an English and linguistics major.

"Mother and daughter stopped speaking to each other for six months," according to the New York Times. ''My mother was convinced she had lost me. I was so determined not to have anything to do with her.''

Then she remembers that day, when she checked her answering machine while on vacation. It was an urgent message from her brother: "Our mother had suffered a heart attack and was in the intensive care unit at the hospital. The call had come in four days before. I was numb and panicked. As I walked to the telephone booth, I had a feeling my mother was already dead, and I felt sickening waves of remorse. All these years, I had seen my mother as a carping, needy, perpetually dissatisfied woman, overflowing with fury, dire warnings, and sobbing suicidal threats. In recent years, I had not visited her that often, and when I did, I kept our conversations safe and falsely cheerful so that she could not affect me."

She immediately called her mother, remembering the time she asked her, "If I die, what you remember?” and forcing her to consider the possibility of her mother’s dying before she got to know her better.

“I realized there were so many things I didn’t know about her,” she said.

"I made a promise to whatever deity was out there and in charge of miracles: If my mother lived, I would listen—really listen—as she told her stories . . . stories, which she’d already told me a thousand times, and just get to know her. "

"I would thank her for her advice—and I would even take her to China to really get to know her."

"I got to the phone … and suddenly I heard her voice. I was so relieved. She was so happy I was worried."

“Oh, you worried?” she asked.

"She was gleeful . . . All you have to do to make a mother happy is to say how worried you were. They worried over us all our lives, and then we get to worry about them."

She would keep her promise, taking her mother to China. It allowed her the time to start writing a book and start to repair her relationship with her mother, get closer to her.

"My mother was with me, 24/7," she said in Literary Hub. "She dispensed advice, criticized the amount of money I paid for souvenirs, and pointed out how oddly American I looked compared to real Chinese people. It was awful, but it was also wonderful. At last she had my sympathy as I listened to her tales of hope and misery—those that had begun in China, where we now were, past and present."

She would complete her book, which she said was about: "mothers who immigrated from China and their modern thirty-something American-born daughters. Their relationships are fraught with years of misunderstandings and accumulated pain. A mother’s hopes and expectations become a daughter’s sense of failure. A mother’s advice is received by a daughter as rejection of who she really is. The mother, in return, feels her daughter knows nothing about her and has learned nothing from her mother, the one who loved her best."

The title of the book was "The Joy Luck Club".
"My mother was enormously proud of my first novel. In one fell swoop, all the wounds I had inflicted on her had seemingly vanished. She, who recalled every slight I had committed from the age of six, now remembered my misdeeds with fondness. After I was published, she . . . would tell strangers, 'This my daughter.' When she later developed Alzheimer’s, I gave her a box of books to pass out to people on Christmas Day. She would go up to each person and hand over a book, then ask, 'You know my daughter Amy Tan?' If they did not, she grabbed back the book."

Amy Tan's mother died in 1999 of Alzheimer's. Tan cared for her mother until the end.
~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a special edition of the Peace Page for Mother's Day and Asian and Pacific Islander American Heritage Month.

After her mother died, as she filled in the blanks of her death notice, she wrote in the name her mother had when she left this life - Daisy Tan. But, she also discovered the name she had when she entered it at birth - Li Bingzi.

"The unearthing of her name was a pivotal moment for Tan," according to Vanessa E. Jones of the Boston Globe. "When I discovered what her name had been," she says, "I felt, I think, the same way people feel when they go to memorials and see the names of people there. Yes, they existed. They lived. They gave. They suffered. They died. And we still remember them."

She would go through her mother's letters, remembering her and her stories.

She remembered again when a relative told her mother that she shouldn’t fill her daughter’s head with “all these useless stories.” Why should Amy know so much, visit her mother’s painful memories, when it was beyond her power to change the past?

She remembers her mother replying, "I tell her so she can tell everyone, tell the whole world . . . That’s how it can be changed.”

She remembered her mother telling her of her own mother - "The warm comfort my mother felt sleeping in bed with her mother, the two of them nestled under a duvet that was stuffed with the nest strands of silk, which was like nothing you could buy today."

She thought back of the times they argued, pushing her to do well in the new country.

But, she also remembered just before her mother died, when she told her daughter she was sorry for how she had hurt her.

“To me, that was everything,” Tan says. “She was such an honest person.”

"She wasn’t a perfect mother, but a lot of the things she did, she really did do out of love. Maybe they weren’t the right things to do, but it really was out of love."

She also remembered her motherly advice, like when she told her daughter that she "was not as good as a boy," Tan says.

"She told me I was better, but that I would have to work harder, because no one would believe it."

"She told me a lot of messages like that. And the other one was the repeated one that had to also do with choosing what to do with your own body, and that was, "No one can choose your life. No one can look down on you. They might look down on you, but you cannot believe it. That is not who you are," Tan said in NPR.

“In a way, she was really my muse,” Amy Tan told the San Francisco Chronicle.

"The Joy Luck Club," "The Kitchen God's Wife," and "The Hundred Secret Senses" were infused with her stories, superstitions, and the East-West tensions that made Tan and her mother enemies during the writer's teenage years.

“The questions she had, the fact she never felt that anything was impossible--what’s in all my books is the quality of hope that she had in her life.”

“Her language, as I hear it, vivid, direct, full of observation and imagery. That was the language that helped shape the way I saw things, expressed things, made sense of the world”.

"My books may be about mothers and daughters, but they are also about the things that I believe in and why they change over time: notions about faith, about fate, about luck, about curses, destiny, self-determination, and accidents. This came from my mother—the notion of needing to question the world and how to change it."

"My mother taught me emotional truth, and that’s something you cannot find in a book. You have to be with somebody who’s experienced it, and whose very life depends on it."

"I have had a number of people say to me that they and their mother read this book together when their mother was dying, and that was the last thing they did together," she said in the San Francisco Chronicle. "That is so incredibly touching. I’m grateful. It wasn’t through my intention, but this book, in the hands of readers, gets overlaid with their own experiences and emotions, and it becomes their book."

She reflects back on that question her mom asked her that one day, "If I die, what you remember?”

When she completed her book, Tan dedicated it to her mother, writing, “You asked me once what I would remember. This, and much more.”

"I knew she loved me, and the way she worried about me. 'You’re like me,' she’d say, “and that’s why we understand each other.'"

Photo courtesy of Amy Tan and Academy of Achievement

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