Several years ago, before my mother died, I was out to dinner with her, my brother, and his husband. We were chatting, as we do over meals, and I mentioned that I think of my life in chapters, as if I am a character in a book. At the time, I believed I was in chapter thirteen, though I don’t remember my thought process. We had fun that evening, each of us writing down our chapters on cocktail napkins. I remember that despite my mother being 36 years older than I, she was only in a single-digit chapter—was it eight?
When I initially did the exercise (probably in my 40s), I think I considered the chapters more concretely in terms of age and place. But as I’ve developed this idea more fully (more abstractly) as of late, I’ve decided to divide the chapters according to “life lessons” over the decades with more emphasis on the wisdom I’ve gained through my choices and experiences. I’ve also started doing this exercise with certain patients to help them put their own lives into perspective.
As a therapist, I was trained to always ground my therapeutic interventions in actual psychological theory, which I do in my daily practice. Along these same lines, I am grounding this new conception of “chapters” or “life lessons” in Maslow’s Eight Stages of Development wherein there is an ego strength or ego weakness that results from each stage, depending on how it plays out—better or worse.
So without the cocktail napkins, let’s try this again…
Chapter 1 (childhood): Honestly, this chapter is hard to articulate and perhaps that’s because for at least a part of it, I was not yet able to speak. In psychology, we talk about “pre-verbal conflicts” with the implication being—how can I even put into words something that happened before I had language, before I could express myself? Perhaps the life lesson had something to do with trust or abandonment.
Chapter 2 (adolescence): Again, I’m having difficulty articulating these earlier life lessons because it was all unconscious at the time—before I ever participated in therapy, before I ever had “an observing ego,” as we say in the mental health world. I’m not exactly sure, but I think the life lesson was something like, “I am responsible for my survival.”
Chapter 3 (college years): Growing up in Memphis, TN was not a happy experience for me, and at the time, I believed it was largely due to being biracial and feeling out of place. After moving to DC to attend college, I felt a greater sense of belonging and loved the diversity of the city. I think the life lesson had something to do with my self-image and self-esteem—that I might not be as bad as I thought I was.
Chapter 4 (post-undergrad): After college, I worked briefly as a preschool teacher and then as a waitress where I worked with a diverse group of people at various restaurants in DC, NY, and NJ. It was a fun time but also a hard time, emotionally. I became friends with other weirdos, like me, and became even more aware of counter culture than I already was. My father helped me get my own life on track, so maybe the life lesson had something to do with needing support.
Chapter 5: My dad died shortly before my 30th birthday and my graduation from grad school for social work, which led to my career as a therapist. His death rattled me in ways I couldn’t understand then, and it took a heavy toll. I moved from DC back to Memphis, which may have been a mistake. There was some bad and some good that transpired—like always. I think the life lessons were that there are a few good men out there, but nothing lasts.
Chapter 6: My grief about my dad’s death took me to Hawaii, where he was born and raised. While living on Maui and Oahu, the life lessons had to do with connecting with my roots, healing from loss, and having a love affair with nature. I also learned to embrace “aloha” (a daily loving energy) and “ohana” (family who may or may not be blood-related).
Chapter 7: After Hawaii, I took a mid-life crisis detour to France where I learned to stop trying to please others and accept myself as is. I also learned to make myself a priority, for a change, and went back to school to study fine art photography at Parsons in Paris. But I hated being separated from nature and the sounds of birds when I woke up in the morning, and so I moved again.
Chapter 8: Ten years in the Bay Area got me another master’s degree and the best friends I’ve had to date. I think the life lesson was the understanding that community is healing and powerful. The connections I made were a reflection of the “ohana” concept that I took from Hawaii, which happened because of shared “aloha.” “Ha” means the breath of life, so the life in me honors the life in you even when we are not together.
Chapter 9: Back to the South to live in “Mayberry,” which always had an appeal to me ever since I watched the “Andy Griffith Show” as a kid. I was deeply touched by the small town traditions, like the holiday lighting of the Square and trick-or-treating on Lamar, but these things have not been enough to sustain me after four years. Oxford is a town of married people and widows, and I am neither. My life lesson here has been to make peace with my past, which I have done, but I am ready for the next chapter.
So why was I in chapter thirteen when my mom was still alive, but now I’m in nine? I can’t be sure. But one thing I do know. I have ADHD and get bored easily…haha. There will be more chapters, and I am glad I don’t know yet what they look like. Even though I tend to read non-fiction, I guess I really do like a good mystery.