“To take it a step further,” I continued, “deliver your letter in person, and then read it aloud.”

Great idea, if I do say so myself. The only problem? I wrote that without having done it. Just as in teaching—or as in being a therapist—it’s best never to advise others do something you haven’t done yourself.

I’d been meaning to write and deliver such a letter since before Full Heart Living came out, and ever since. Who I’d address it to was never in question: my fifth-grade teacher, Miss Collier, to me the epitome of unconditional love. Now retired, she spent her entire career as an elementary school teacher. I was a member of her very first class, and we’ve remained in touch ever since.

I’d started writing my letter a number of times but couldn’t seem to find the right words, and I worried it would turn out too short or too long. It was as though I was trying too hard. I kept giving up.

Then last fall I attended two unrelated events at which I was assigned writing such a letter. One was at a local indie theater that invited me to attend a rehearsal for an experiential, interactive performance piece on increasing happiness. The other was a mindful self-compassion workshop. In each case we were given about 10 minutes to write a letter to someone important to us. Simply putting pen to paper, the clock ticking, I didn’t worry about the length or grammar or finding the precise words; I just wrote. The two letters, written about six weeks apart, were eerily similar. Here’s one of them:

Dear Miss Collier,

Thank you for being so kind to me in fifth grade. You made me feel seen, appreciated, and safe. Wanted. Talented. You liked me, I could tell. You told me I had a gift for writing, and as you know, I went on to write two published books. You helped me beyond the time I was in your classroom. The foundation of self-esteem helped me survive difficult years in which I experienced great shame and self-doubt. As you probably know, I went on to a career as a psychologist. I hope I help others as you helped me.

Eternally grateful,

Tom

Photo by the author

While visiting my hometown last week, I took Miss Collier to lunch and read aloud my letters. No surprise, we both cried, especially when I reached the part about the years of shame.

When I finished reading, Miss Collier used a paper napkin to wipe her cheek and said, “You have no idea how meaningful this is to me.” She told me that she had heard from students’ parents a few times, but rarely would a student tell a teacher something like this themselves. “You have no idea how meaningful it is,” she repeated.

I sure know it was meaningful to me. After all, I suggested it in Full Heart Living as a way to help readers live more fully.

I suspect Miss Collier had some sense of how much she meant to me given that I’d kept in touch with her for five decades. But I wanted to be explicit—and specific. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I wanted her to know how and why she means so much to me. And I wanted to tell her in person.

Yes, afterward I felt a bit of post-crying fatigue. That’s only to be expected. Mostly, my spirit soared, and I walked down the street with a little more jaunt. A jaunt well worth waiting for.

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* * *

THE HOUSE THAT RESILIENCE BUILT UPDATE

If you have read The House That Resilience Built , please write a review on both Amazon.com and Goodreads. As with my letter to Miss Collier, PLEASE don’t overthink it. Just a few sentences of honest appraisal would be great. Also, please hit the “Like” button for others’ reviews, and MAJOR bonus points for adding in a photo. THANK YOU if you’ve already done so!

* * *

UPCOMING EVENTS

Wednesday, September 16, 7:00 p.m.
THE HEART OF HEALING: TRAUMA IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY

Magers and Quinn Booksellers

3038 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis, MN

January 21, 2027, 2:00 p.m.

THE HOUSE THAT RESILIENCE BUILT

Palm Desert Library

73300 Fred Waring Drive

Palm Desert, CA 92260

On Demand:

The Seven Building Blocks of Trauma Resilience: A Full-Hearted, Integrative Approach to Healing Childhood Wounds

An On-Demand, 3-hour Workshop for Healing Professionals Sponsored by Minnesota Psychological Association

CEUs available

* * *

RECENT PODCAST APPEARANCES

The Downright Upright with Philip Anthony

On the Downright Upright Show, host Philip Anthony and I go DEEP. In addition to recounting our coming out saga, we explore our eerily similar childhood bullying experiences, and how we each triumphed with resilience.

Everyday Awakening with Catherine Duncan

Two spiritual people exploring life and death and how the hardest things we experience can be our greatest teachers.

Connections with Laurie Fitz AM950 Radio Live from Twin Cities Pride

Who knows resilience better than the Queer Communities? Having known one another for years, host Laurie Beth and I may tend to digress, but wait till you hear where it takes us. Please listen.

WHAT OTHER PODCASTS WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE ME ON? PLEASE MESSAGE ME.

* * *

ON MY SHELVES

NONFICTION:

Just finished Make Believe by Mac Barnett, the newly appointed National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature. Deep, smart, and very funny, Make Believe really got me thinking. Not only did it reinforce my long-held conviction in the importance of getting children to read. It also makes the case that the genre is terribly under regarded, that children’s books are an art form unto themselves, and that there is so much more to them—”them” meaning both children and the books they read—than most of us appreciate. Thank you, Mac Barnett!

FICTION:

Just finished The Calamity Club by Kathryn Stocket, author of The Help. I was riveted by this Depression-era novel about desperate people in desperate times. The characters are so well depicted, I fell in love with them. i couldn’t wait to pick up the book again each day. Filled with surprises, this is one of the best books I’ve read this year.

Recently Read: Warlight by Michael Ondaatje, author of The English Patient. I wanted to like this book more than I did (or expected to). The premise is intriguing—about a sibling pair abandoned by their parents just after World War II, leaving them with mysterious, benevolent adults—but I didn’t fall in love with the characters, diverse and interesting as they were. Probably worth the read, though. Four out of five stars.

Recently Read: Meet Me at the Museum by Ann Youngson is written as a series of letters between the caretaker of the ancient Tollund man (an actual naturally mummified man from the fourth century, BC) and a farmer’s wife hundreds of miles and several countries away. I found it light, sweet, and fairly thought provoking.

* * *

Thank you for reading my Substack!

* * *

Please REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use thoughts like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

* * *

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist and Amazon best-selling author of The House That Resilience Built: A Psychologist’s Approach to Healing Childhood Trama. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. His first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, also an Amazon bestseller, gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

* * *

Written with 100% Human Intelligence

“Can you help me with a school project?” Emma asked in a rush.

“Were you just outside running or doing jumping jacks?” I asked. She sounded out of breath.

“No, I just have to get to this assignment.”

All students in Emma’s sixth-grade class are tasked with a “Grit and Resilience” project in which they interview an adult about how they overcame something challenging. Her cousin Noah had called me two years before with the same assignment, so I was familiar with it. What an honor to be asked at all, let alone twice!

A week or so later, Emma sat across from me at my kitchen table, a clipboard holding some carefully prepared papers in front of her. With a yellow number 2 pencil at the ready, Emma started off with a few “warm up” questions, such as where I grew up (Michigan) and what was the first car I drove (a rusty, brown Ford Pinto).

Then she asked if there had ever been anything really difficult in my life. I told her about being bullied as a teenager. Not wanting to overwhelm her, I left out some of the details, such as specifically what words were used. (I also decided not to mention any of the family challenges outlined in my book, The House That Resilience Built.) I told her I was called horrible names in crowded hallways and how I wanted to hide or disappear into a crack in the wall. “At the time I didn’t know I could have gone to a teacher or vice principal for help,” I explained. “All I knew was to ignore it and hope and pray it would stop.”

Emma’s facial expression was open and encouraging, and her eyes were soft and kind. As I talked about what I had endured, I could see that it registered, and I sensed her empathy.

She asked what I did to make it through the tough times. “I became very involved in theater, which I still have a great passion for,” I said. “And I leaned into my friends. I didn’t tell them what was going on, but their company provided comfort. The good times and laughter helped.”

Next, Emma asked if there is anything I know now that I wish I would have known then. “Now I know that bullies themselves need help,” I explained. They’re mean because someone was or is mean to them, and their behavior is a cry for help.”

“Do you wish you would have done anything differently?”

“I wish I had gone to an adult for help,” I said. “I wish I had known I could do that.” I encouraged her to tell her classmates not to bully, to call others out if they’re bullying others, to report bullying to adults, and to reach out to students who have been bullied.

Then she asked how I am affected now by the bullying. That’s when, much to my surprise, I choked up. “I’m fine,” I reassured her right away, feeling worried she might think she had upset me or done something wrong. “It’s just that there’s still pain, and your kindness helps me release just a little bit more of it, which is a good thing. I wish these things didn’t happen to anyone. But I’m okay now. The good news is all the hard stuff set me up to become a good therapist, as I have compassion for other people.”

My tears took me by surprise! I’ve been in therapy much of my adult life. I’d even written a whole book about childhood trauma and resilience. I’d helped Emma’s older cousin with the same assignment a few short years before without crying (although that conversation was briefer and occurred over the phone). Given those facts, I didn’t expect to be brought to tears at all, let alone by a 12-year-old. It’s humbling, and I am reminded not to underestimate youth. A kind, attuned listener touches our hearts deeply, regardless of their age—or ours.

Once I was more collected, I told Emma, “You’ve always shown a keen interest in and asked great questions of others, ever since you were very young.” I told her not to let any uncle tell her what to do—she ought to follow her own passions—but with her astute listening skills and compassion, I could see her becoming a journalist or therapist one day if she chooses.

I’m still astounded. A sixth grader came to me for help with a school assignment. She ended up helping me. Mr. Rogers told us to look for the helpers. Maybe there’s a 12-year-old medicine woman in your family, too.

PHOTO: Grit and Resilience Project by “Emma”

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* * *

THE HOUSE THAT RESILIENCE BUILT UPDATE

I’m honored and humbled to report that we’re up to 5.0 stars with 28 The House That Resilience Built reviews on Amazon, and 14 reviews on Goodreads (5.0 stars). Wow. I am honored and humbled. Thank you for helping me get here. To maximize the algorithms, a minimum of 25 reviews is needed on each platform. That means I need at least 11 more on Goodreads, and the more the merrier on Amazon.

If you have read The House That Resilience Built and like it, please write a review on both Amazon.com and Goodreads. Don’t overthink it. Just a few sentences of honest appraisal would be great. Bonus points for adding a photo to your Amazon review, and be sure to hit the “Like” button for others’ reviews. MAJOR bonus points for adding in a photo. THANKS again!

* * *

THE HOUSE THAT RESILIENCE BUILT IN THE MEDIA

All times Central

Wednesday, July 15, 9:20 a.m. CBS/WCCO-TV Relationship Reboot: How to Respond if Someone You Care About Reveals They Are a Trauma Survivor

Coming soon: Instagram Live with NYT Bestselling Rabbi Steve Leder

* * *

EVENTS

Wednesday, September 16, 7:00 p.m.
THE HEART OF HEALING: TRAUMA IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY

Magers and Quinn Booksellers

3038 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis, MN

January 21, 2027, 2:00 p.m.

THE HOUSE THAT RESILIENCE BUILT

Palm Desert Library

73300 Fred Waring Drive

Palm Desert, CA 92260

On Demand:

The Seven Building Blocks of Trauma Resilience: A Full-Hearted, Integrative Approach to Healing Childhood Wounds

An On-Demand, 3-hour Workshop for Healing Professionals Sponsored by Minnesota Psychological Association

CEUs available

* * *

RECENT PODCAST APPEARANCES

The Downright Upright with Philip Anthony

Connections with Laurie Fitz AM950 Radio Live from Twin Cities Pride

Links coming soon

* * *

ON MY SHELVES

FICTION:

Just finished The Borrowed Life of Frederick Fife by Anna Johnston. The perfect light summer read. Sweet, funny, heartwarming, and uplifting. Just what I needed after the heaviness of The Emperor of Gladness.

Recently Read: The Emperor of Gladness by Ocean Vuong. Gosh I have mixed feelings about this book. Trust me, I wanted to like it. In ways I did. It’s beautifully well written—the author describes the everyday experience poetically—and I read in part to be exposed to others’ experiences (read: to increase my empathy, which certainly happened here). Yet overall, I found the book, well, depressing. I almost stopped reading it several times. I would love to hear your reactions if you read it.

Recently Read: Food Person by Adam D. Roberts. A light and funny summer read. Delightful, distinct characters, smart writing, a few unexpected twists and turns. A satisfying dessert.

* * *

Thank you for reading.

* * *

Please REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use thoughts like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

* * *

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist and Amazon best-selling author of The House That Resilience Built: A Psychologist’s Approach to Healing Childhood Trama. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. His first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, also an Amazon bestseller, gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

* * *

Written with 100% Human Intelligence

Photo by Abid Shah on Unsplash

I was in a professional class or seminar, and a large group of students stood around a classroom while brainstorming how to execute a group assignment. The leading suggestion was to role-play a class, with an instructor or two up front lecturing and the rest of us just sitting there pretending to be students. In addition to being boring, I thought that approach would prove ineffective—didactic, one-sided, lacking interaction and creativity.

I suggested instead that we form a circle, and each contribute one line—sort of like the old “telephone” game children play, except we would speak aloud so everyone could hear each contribution.

By silent agreement, the group decided on this activity, similar to an improvisational acting game: The first person was to speak, and subsequent people were to use what was said as a launching point, maintaining the integrity of what was spoken while also allowing it to shift organically. In the dream, it came to me to call it the “One-Line Echo Riff.”

A hush settled over the room as everyone stood in a circle.

The first person spoke: “My client wanted to say the same thing time and time again.”

Second person: “My client wanted to say the same thing over and over again.”

Third person: “My client said the same thing over and over again, and I let her.”

Next person: “My client said the same thing, repeating herself. It seemed to be what she needed.”

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Next person: “My client said the same thing over and over again; it seemed to be what she needed, so I allowed her to do so.”

Next person: “My client said the same thing time after time. At first, I didn’t think it would help.”

Next person: “My client said the same thing, and at first I thought it would be boring and wouldn’t help. But it turns out I was wrong.”

Next person: “My client said the same thing over and over again, until one day she didn’t.”

Next person: “Eventually she didn’t say the same thing.”

Next person: “My client said the same thing over and over again until she didn’t anymore. In time, what she said changed. And she changed.”

Last person: “My client said the same thing over and over again until she didn’t anymore. And in time, together, we created this beautiful poem.”

* * *

COMMENTARY (aka DREAM ANALYSIS)

Part of me hesitates to comment at all. Isn’t the point of poetry to allow readers their own interpretation? If you’d rather just sit with this dream-poem, please skip this section, or come back to it later. But I’ll allow a few remarks on what I make of this intriguing dream.

To me, the dream fairly accurately reflects the process of psychotherapy. It’s not uncommon for clients to need to tell the same story—or similar ones—any number of times. Sometimes the client is not at first aware of how similar their stories are. In time, with the careful attention and attunement of the therapist, the client’s awareness shifts, and with awareness, their behavior also can shift. When they no longer need a certain behavior, the client changes it, much like a snake sheds its skin as it outgrows it.

This is certainly true in my personal experience. Childhood traumas led me to withdraw. Remaining quiet and hiding vulnerable parts of myself helped me feel safer. Sadly, doing so also limited my close relationships; avoiding exposing inner parts of myself kept others from getting to know me, and me from getting to know myself.

As I write about in The House That Resilience Built, talking in therapy about my traumas and how they informed my behaviors helped me recognize the patterns and eventually make different choices that help me feel closer to people. Doing so only one time wasn’t enough. I needed to tell the tale a few times, try things from different angles, and gain more perspective before I could adjust course and move on.

Boredom appears twice in the dream-poem. Lecture style? I wasn’t having it. Education itself often isn’t enough. Lasting, deep, and true change requires active participation. And we need to have patience with ourselves and others. Repetition—in the telling, in the listening, and in the doing—is also needed.

It also strikes me that in the dream I’m not passive or hiding what I think and feel. I’m active, taking a leadership role, and taking risks, all of which pay off in the unexpected delivery of a collectively written poem.

And that leads to another important element: The wisdom arises in the communal. We can’t go it alone.

Buy Me a Coffee

* * *

THE HOUSE THAT RESILIENCE BUILT UPDATE

I’m honored and humbled to report that we’re up to 28 The House That Resilience Built reviews on Amazon (4.7 stars), and 13 reviews on Goodreads (5.0 stars). Yippee yahoo! Thank you to those who have helped us get here. A minimum of 25 reviews is needed on each platform to maximize the algorithms. I’m no math major, but I can assert with some authority that I need at least 12 more on Goodreads, and the more the merrier on Amazon.

If you have read The House That Resilience Built and like it, Please, please, please write a review on both Amazon.com and Goodreads. Don’t overthink it. Just a few sentences of honest appraisal would be great. Bonus points for adding a photo to your Amazon review, and be sure to hit the “Like” button for others’ reviews. THANK YOU!

* * *

THE HOUSE THAT RESILIENCE BUILT IN THE MEDIA

All times Central

Wednesday, June 3, 9:20 a.m. CBS/WCCO-TV Relationship Reboot: What Is Trauma?

Wednesday, June 24, 9:20 a.m. CBS/WCCO-TV Relationship Reboot: Trauma and Relationships

Wednesday, July 15, 9:20 a.m. CBS/WCCO-TV Relationship Reboot: How to Respond if Someone You Care About Reveals They Are a Trauma Survivor

Tuesday, June 9, 7:30 p.m. Instagram Live with NYT Bestselling Rabbi Steve Leder

Saturday, June 27, 12:00 noon Connections Radio Special Pride Edition AM950

* * *

EVENTS

Wednesday, September 16, 7:00 p.m.
THE HEART OF HEALING: TRAUMA IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY

Magers and Quinn Booksellers

3038 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis, MN

More events and podcast appearances coming soon.

* * *

RECENT PODCAST APPEARANCES

Uncaged for Men

Health Chatter

All Creatures

* * *

ON MY SHELVES

FICTION:

Just finished Tilt by Emma Patte. Since I was a preteen and stumbled upon John Christopher’s post-apocalyptic books in the library, I’ve been a fan of science-fiction and sci-fi adjacent reading. As my tastes have evolved, I find fewer of those satisfying. This one, about a pregnant woman walking for miles in search of her husband after a huge earthquake in modern Portland, Oregon, didn’t disappoint. I found it enthralling and fast paced, sad, funny, and thought provoking. An expertly written book.

Recently Read: Theo of Golden by Allen Levi. One of many things I loved about this book is that the author, like me, was not initially represented by a major publishing house. Word of mouth led to its massive success (PLEASE keep talking up The House That Resilience Built!). The tale follows the mysterious elderly Theo, a newcomer to the fictional town of Golden, Georgia, who becomes enchanted by hand-drawn portraits of regulars at a local coffee shop. He decides to purchase the drawings and gift each to the person portrayed. In exchange, he asks only to hear the person’s story. Not only is Theo an extraordinary listener, he “sees” the person deeply and shares what he sees. A story of the power of seeing and being seen (not unlike The House That Resilience Built, I must say), this book is captivating, heartwarming, surprising, and charming. One of the top 25 fiction books I’ve ever read.

NONFICTION:

Recently Read: Love’s Labor: How We Break and Make the Bonds of Love by Stephen Grosz. I was initially drawn to this new release in part because it sounded eerily similar to my own new book, The House That Resilience Built. Grosz is an acclaimed author and psychoanalyst who shares true stories from his practice with patients who struggle with remaining connected with their loved ones. “Psychoanalysis is a particular form of not knowing. Psychoanalysis is two people not knowing together.” This is just one of many quotes that took my breath away in this delightful book, which resonated deeply with me as a psychologist. Dr. Gross is a gifted analyst and a talented writer. I learned so much about myself, my relationships, and my work. Though I’m not sure I’d want to go to therapy five days a week (if that is how he works—it was unclear), his brilliance, warmth, and keen insight make me want the author to be my therapist. Highly recommended.

Recently Read: Bitter, Sweet: How to Heal Yourself When Your Family is Broken. This is a brave and riveting tale of trauma and redemption. Author Stephaine Weaver writes beautifully about topics that are very difficult to write about: childhood sexual trauma, estrangement, and reconciliation. A must-read for trauma survivors and those who love them.

On deck: I still haven’t managed to nab of copy of The Beginning Comes After the End: Notes on a World of Change by Rebecca Solnit. I think I’m about #800 in the queue for it at the library—which in itself is a huge endorsement, of course. I’ve been following Solnit since last fall as part of my Buddhism in Action practice. She’s whip smart and remains hopeful despite the angst and danger of our times. In her worldview, interconnection is a core idea and value. I believe we need this now! I’m probably going to bite the bullet and purchase a hard copy.

* * *

Thank you for reading.

* * *

Please REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use thoughts like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

* * *

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist and Amazon best-selling author of The House That Resilience Built: A Psychologist’s Approach to Healing Childhood Trama. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. His first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, also an Amazon bestseller, gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

* * *

Written with 100% Natural Intelligence (No AI)

To thank you for being a paid Substack subscriber, please accept this special two for one offer on my new book, The House That Resilience Built. To redeem, visit Itasca Books, a local Minneapolis book distributor and fulfillment service for independent publishers. At checkout, type or paste

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“Me, too,” Jeremy said, nodding, a knowing look in his eyes. He cocked his head toward our instructor, Shirley, who was on the far side of the court fiddling with the controls of a mechanical pickleball launcher. “You know she’s a retired junior high school gym teacher, right?” he added.

“Hmph! Figures,” I retorted, as I removed my paddle from my blue cinch bag.

I’d first played the game the month before. Four friends hit a wiffle ball back and forth over a net on an area one quarter the size of a tennis court. The sunshine was abundant, the volleys friendly, the conversation easy. Laughter erupted often. My introduction to a sport with a funky name that everyone was talking about was such a hoot that, at age 59, I enrolled in a series of four weekly beginning pickleball classes at the local recreation department.

Photo by Jessie Kiermayr on Pexels

I assumed lessons would be just as casual and social as playing with my friends. Boy was I in for a rude awakening. “Come on! Get to your places!” the instructor yelled as my first outdoor class began. “We don’t have all day.” She glared at us. The seven other students and I looked at each other in confusion; she hadn’t told us where to go. Who was this woman? Wearing an old navy track suit with a stark red visor and dark sunglasses, Shirley was petite and rail thin with short grey hair. She looked like a prison warden’s mother.

Standing on the other side of the net, she pointed at each one of us to step into the court and return her volley. I was first up. “No!” she erupted after I returned her ball. “NO backhand. Use the forehand, just like I showed you!” The trouble was that she hadn’t demonstrated, nor had she instructed us on how to return the ball. How was I to know we were supposed to hit forehand only?

My shoulders fell as my spirits sank down an old familiar abyss. What had been a warm, sunny day now felt chilly. It was as though I were being transported back to that ancient hell realm known as sixth-grade gym class. We were on the football field lined up to scrimmage. Planted in the ground across from me towered Brian Masters. While I probably weighed all of 60 pounds and rarely touched a ball of any kind, Brian was a natural athlete who weighed at least twice that. When he spotted me, a gleeful glint appeared in his eyes. “I’m gonna clobber you, Glaser!” he leered, grinning ear to ear. My stomach lurched, and my knees went weak. “Get out of my space!” I wanted to shriek. Tongue frozen in place, my mouth was unable to form words. When it came time to tackle, I somehow mustered the ability to get out of the way. At least I was fast. Darting and dodging for the next endless hour, I managed to sidestep the action until, with one final, earsplitting whistle, torture time was over for the day. I could go back where I belonged: indoors, completing my assignments, writing plays for my puppets, and assuming the stance that makes teachers’ pets the world over swoon: standing next to Mrs. DeSoto as I filed her bottomless stack of papers.

Back on the pickleball court, a more experienced student offered to step in and demonstrate the forehand drill. With my face drooping in a complex mixture of humiliation, gratitude, and relief, I stepped aside and allowed her to do so. Meanwhile, a harried Shirley scowled. Just as in sixth grade, I didn’t say a word. Silent self-affirmations helped me refute the deep-seated self-defeating beliefs bubbling up from deep inside: This has nothing to do with my competence or self-worth, I told myself. I’m just learning a new skill. Everyone struggles when trying new things.

Later at home, I found myself in another kind of pickle as I debated whether to quit or return for a second lesson. Sure, I had learned about pickleball, but I didn’t expect or appreciate the instructor’s heavy-handed approach. On the other hand, wasting my hard-earned money makes me crabby, and the no-refund policy was clear. After some thought, I decided to give Shirley the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was having a bad day. I chose to give it at least one more try.

Sharing my feelings with Jeremy at the onset of the second class—and having him validate them and agree with me—helped boost my spirit. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who didn’t like how harsh Shirley could be. Jeremy and I paired up after that, encouraging each other, even if Shirley didn’t.

Halfway into the third class, I saw Shirley watching me practice serves. “Hit the ball deeper!” she yelled. I tried to hit the ball deeper. PLUNK! My next ball landed right in the net. “Deeper means closer to your opponent!” Shirley screeched.

“I know!” I heard someone yell back. “I’m doing the best I can!” I was stunned to realize the voice and words were mine. After years of silence on the sports arenas of my youth, repeatedly being called “fag” in public without recourse, and endless moments of silent terror as my mom raged at me, the words seemed to burst from my mouth of their own accord. All the work I had done on myself over decades—coming out as gay, becoming a psychologist, my own psychotherapy—seemed to come together in that one powerful moment. POW! My paddle hit the next ball. THUNK! It landed right at my opponent’s feet, pickleball’s hailed unreturnable ball. “That’s what I’m talking about,” Shirley said. Then she turned her attention to another player.

Without planning to, I had stood up for myself. Just as impressive, no one got upset, no one stormed off the court, no one died. No one else even seemed to notice. But I knew this was a victory to savor. Whether I found my voice or my voice found me, I told an irritable authority figure to back off, and she did. Tiny fireworks seemed to sparkle in my spirit, and the corners of my mouth curled up in a grin. A load I didn’t know I had been carrying lifted from my shoulders, and I seemed to grow taller. That’s what I’m talking about.

What’s Bothering Shirley

Speaking up for myself on the pickleball court didn’t end with my third lesson. In time, I signed up for more of Shirley’s classes. Although she remained callous, I kept showing up. A variety of unrehearsed responses flew from my mouth. Once I yelled back, “That’s not helpful!” Another time, I remained calm and said, “When you say it to me that way, it’s harder to hear.” “Don’t start with me, Shirley,” was a juicy retort that makes me particularly proud. Each time she adjusted accordingly, and each time I glowed at the realization that even people in charge can be put in their place.

One day Shirley showed up to class in a wheelchair after having foot surgery. She’d apparently been in severe, chronic pain when I first took lessons, which explained the extra edge in her voice. Even from the wheelchair, she remained the old-school gym teacher, loud and demanding, but she was now less explosive, piercing, and dismissive. She could have taken months off to recover from those surgeries. Yet here she was, rolling herself around the court even if she couldn’t walk, let alone play her beloved game. They don’t come tougher than that.

It was a miraculous day when Shirley and I shared a laugh on the court over the audacity of a new student who refused to pick up her own stray balls. While her general style did not alter—Shirley remained more drill sergeant than ringside cheerleader—I came to see that she loved the game and was invested in her students’ improvement. Her boundless energy and limitless ideas (who knew there are so many ways to drill!) astounded me. While Shirley would likely never be described as warm and fuzzy, it dawned on me that her diligence, creativity, and attention are how she demonstrated love. Twice, at random times, I gave her gifts: a pickleball retrieval tube and a gift certificate for a massage. I’d call that a pickleball breakthrough.

Shirley wanted to make me a better pickleball player. I daresay she did. But she did more than that. She helped me see beyond my own assumptions and stereotypes. She was and remains an indelible part of helping me find my voice, on and off the pickleball court.

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UPCOMING EVENTS

With ICE’s presence and horrendous actions these past few months, it’s been a hard time to be a helper in Minnesota. In myself I’m noticing a heavier heart, lower energy, and increased compassion fatigue—and I know I’m not alone. With the reduction in local ICE activity, it’s tempting to think it’s all behind us and we’re over it, yet it is wise to attend to what might be—and in fact is likely—lingering in our minds and bodies.

That’s why I’m volunteering to help organize two efforts to address the impact on us as both community members and as healers. Please join us and help spread the word.

Vicarious Trauma and Helper Burnout

Friday March 20, 3:00-4:30 p.m. CT on Zoom

An Online Workshop and Conversation with psychologist and vicarious trauma expert Irene Greene, MSED

Sponsored by the Trauma Liberation Collective

Sliding scale $25-60. All proceeds go to the facilitator.

Certificate of Attendance provided for CEUs

MORE INFO and REGISTER HERE: https://forms.gle/xoTcN2LR5p2JRpUw8

Collective Trauma, Collective Resilience

Thursday, April 16, 6:00-8:00 p.m. CT on Zoom

Small and large group grief processing with collective trauma experts Louise Marra, SEP, and Laura Calderón la Barca, PhD

Sponsored by Patrick Dougherty, Tom Glaser, and Jessi Leader

$0-100, Pay as able. After expenses, all proceeds donated to community rent support. Facilitators are donating their time.

CEUs pending for BBHT, BMFT, BOSW

MORE INFO and REGISTER HERE: https://buytickets.at/moodyoctopuscollective/2107678

Please register today for one or both events, and please forward this information to folks who might benefit.

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THE HOUSE THAT RESILIENCE BUILT UPDATE

I’m honored and humbled to report that my new book, The House That Resilience Built: A Psychologist’s Approach to Healing Childhood Trauma became a #1 New Release in Popular Psychology Psychotherapy and Medical Psychology Pathologies, and an instant Amazon bestseller in Post-Traumatic Stress. Thanks to all who helped make this happen.

Read the book and like it? Please write a review on both Amazon.com and Goodreads. At least 25 reviews on each platform are needed to maximize the algorithms. Thanks to those who have already reviewed.

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WHAT I’M READING

Just finished The Jackal’s Mistress by Chris Bohjalian. Inspired by true events, this Civil War historical involves the wife of a missing Confederate soldier who discovers a stranded, wounded Yankee officer and must decide what she’s willing to risk for the life of a stranger. I found it a superb read, with distinct, complex characters and a surprise ending. Very well written.

Up next: Love’s Labor: How We Break and Make the Bonds of Love by Stephen Grosz. This book sounds eerily similar to my own new one, The House that Resilience Built. Grosz is an acclaimed author and psychoanalyst who shares true stories from his practice with patients who struggle with remaining connected with their loved ones. Can hardly wait to dive in! I’ll report back after reading.

On deck: The Beginning Comes After the End: Notes on a World of Change by Rebecca Solnit. I’ve been following Solnit since last fall as part of my Buddhism in Action practice. She’s whip smart and remains hopeful despite the angst and genuine danger of our times. In her worldview, interconnection is a core idea and value. I—and dare I say we?— need this now!

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REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

* * *

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist and Amazon best-selling author of The House That Resilience Built: A Psychologist’s Approach to Healing Childhood Trama. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Also an Amazon bestseller, his first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

In my early teens, the word “fag” was scrawled across my school locker more times than I can recall. In class, in the cafeteria, on the bus home, I never knew when some schoolmate might whisper in my ear—or worse, yell across a crowded hallway—how I wasn’t man enough or what sexual acts I ought to perform. Meanwhile, another kind of bullying occurred at home. At any given moment my mom could erupt in a rage-fueled outburst if I accidentally left a homework assignment on the stairway, woke her from her long daily nap, or failed to put dishes away in the proper assigned cupboard. Just about anywhere I went, I felt deficient, unacceptable, and alone.

Whether faced with bullies or my mom’s rage, my response was the same: silence. All I knew was to do was to endure—put up with it and try to disappear into a crack in the tile floor or the cinder block wall, taking my humiliation and helplessness with me. I never told another soul what was happening to me or how I felt about it. Crippling shame prevented me from even considering doing so. I tried to pretend none of it happened.

This forced silence came with an unintended side effect: I rarely spoke about myself. Focusing on others instead, I became an astute observer and listener. But I was careful not to disclose my own opinions and preferences. “You’re too quiet,” my college classmates and workmates often commented, with 1980s bands like Duran Duran and Men at Work playing in the background. “You’re hard get to know,” they told me. “Why can’t you say more about what you’re thinking and how you feel?” At the time I had no answers. If anything, such comments and questions caused me to clam up further. But looking back, I see that revealing less about myself was an attempt to ward off danger; this internal mute button reduced the chance I would be misunderstood, attacked, or bullied. At the time, I didn’t realize this strategy was also limiting and disabling, cutting me off from others as much as it cut me off from parts of myself. My drive to reach my full potential suffered as much as my ability to speak out. This is how trauma can steal not only your voice but also connections to yourself and others—and even your passion and vitality.

While I was in graduate school for counseling psychology in the 1980s, researchers were just beginning to identify the long-term effects of traumatic experiences. In his study on Vietnam vets, psychiatrist and The Body Keeps Score author Dr. Bessel van der Kolk discovered that many combat trauma veterans suffer symptoms such as flashbacks, numbing, emotional dysregulation, and a tendency to superimpose traumatic experiences onto everyday life. Dr. van der Kolk realized that trauma is “stored” not only in the mind, but also in the body, resulting in physical tension, hypervigilance, and marked disruption of daily functioning. In time, researchers came to see that trauma can have similar lasting impact not only on combat veterans, but on anyone who experienced trauma. Now we had a term for it: posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

When I decided to address my own issues in psychotherapy, it was my great fortune to find a phenomenal therapist who helped me put into words—for the first time—the overwhelming experiences I endured growing up. In therapy, and in training to become a therapist myself, caring professionals’ attuned presence created a supportive space in which I felt safe enough not only to disclose what happened to me but also to experience and express the related feelings that had been buried for years. Speaking aloud what had once seemed unspeakable changed my life. I found I was not the inadequate, incompetent, inferior person others had labeled me. Along with finding my voice, I uncovered my capacity to connect with myself, others, and my passions. I discovered I was loveable. My resilience bloomed.

We are all born with resilience. It’s what allows us to recover from setbacks. Think of the countless times toddlers fall down when learning to walk. Resilience gets them get back up to try again. Therapy was instrumental in helping me recover and restore my own resilience. Inspired to find everyday habits that support my physical, emotional, and spiritual growth, I can now say that I live a full, rewarding life, doing work I love, helping other trauma survivors recover their own innate resilience.

Whatever brings my clients to therapy—anxiety, depression, relationship struggles, career dissatisfaction, or something else—the vast majority of them are also trauma survivors. I find they can’t make deep, long-lasting personal change without addressing the underlying trauma. Doing so cannot be done in isolation. Survivors heal only in relationship with another skilled human being who helps hold and absorb the deep, complicated feelings and transform the limiting beliefs trauma instills.

Trauma comes in many forms: abuse, accidents, assault, natural disasters, violence, living in poverty, facing racism or discrimination, a health crisis, bankruptcy, or the sudden death of a loved one. Any experience that overwhelms our resilience to the point where we are unable to cope, let alone recover, is a trauma. In the wake of trauma, especially repeated traumatic experiences (which can lead to a condition called Complex PTSD), survivors often are left with unexplained symptoms such as recurring nightmares, crushing bouts of anxiety, lingering depression, impaired self-esteem, intimacy avoidance, or a crippling fear of anything new or different.

This book (its title stems from an actual, vivid dream about the home I grew up in—see Chapter 3 for more) explores how I came to grips with my underlying trauma, recovered my innate resilience, and now use my experience to help other survivors. I hope you, my reader, can use some of what my clients and I have learned to help deepen your understanding of trauma and resilience and inspire you to find a good therapist yourself if you need one. If you love someone who is a trauma survivor, I hope this book helps you attune to them.

When I use the word “survivor,” I’m referring to an individual who has survived a trauma. Due to its connotation of stasis and overidentifying with the trauma itself, I avoid using the term “victim.” Also, I prefer to use the term “client” as opposed to “patient,” as to me, the former invites a more collaborative, active, and equal role. This book is not exhaustive in exploring all the various types of trauma, nor does it cover all the many ways therapists work with trauma. Instead, it provides an overview of how I tend to work with trauma survivors.

The first section of this book explores how I came into this work and presents an overview of trauma and how I work with trauma survivors. Here I highlight seven critical aspects of my work with clients, which I call “The Seven Building Blocks of Trauma Resilience.” These key elements are: 1) Being Heard: Presence is Everything, 2) Trusting: Feeling Safe (Enough), 3) Connecting: It’s All in the Body, 4) Changing: Gaining Awareness, Modifying Habits, 5) Deepening: Transforming Behaviors, 6) Discerning: Reframing the Inner Story, and 7) Speaking: Finding Your Voice.

In the second section, I offer seven case studies. Each highlights one of the seven building blocks. While the client stories are based on actual events I’ve encountered in my psychology practice, the clients described are composites, depicted for the sake of demonstration and explanation. To protect confidentiality, all client names, descriptions, and identifying details have been altered. Likewise, all the people mentioned in my personal anecdotes are based on actual events and real people as I remember them, though to protect their privacy I’ve changed their names and identifying details, and in some cases I’ve combined several individuals into composites. In this section, personal anecdotes and reflections on the cases appear in framed boxes. The second section concludes with a short exposé of what to expect should you happen to come to see me for therapy.

The third section includes suggestions on what to look for in a therapist and what to do if someone you care about reveals they are a trauma survivor.

If you are a survivor yourself or struggle with related issues, this book could be taxing for you to read at points. I reference addiction, bullying, disordered eating, the deaths of loved ones, parental neglect, physical and sexual assaults, and gay conversion camps. I’ve done my best to omit potentially triggering details without sacrificing necessary specificity. Please be kind to yourself, go at your own pace, and reach out to a trusted other if you find yourself triggered. Seek professional help as needed.

If you love someone who is a survivor, you might find this book in turn both enlightening and unsettling. As above, please be kind to yourself, go at your own pace, and reach out to a trusted other if you find yourself activated. Seek professional help as needed.

If you are a highly sensitive person (HSP) like I am, you might find reading about other people’s trauma especially challenging.

Whatever your situation, please prepare before reading by pondering this question: What do I need to do to feel calm and safe as I explore this book? Identify ways to soothe yourself. Perhaps take time outs every now and then to write about your reactions in a journal, go for a walk, call a trusted loved one, or listen to music. Know you are not alone. In one way or another, trauma touches us all.

Remember, this book is ultimately about resilience. You’ll hear how psychotherapy helps survivors not only live with what happened to them—under the right conditions, survivors can emerge from a “trauma cocoon” liberated like a butterfly from a chrysalis, transformed into resilient souls with much to offer the world.

Write what you know. It’s the classic writer’s advice. I know trauma. I know surviving trauma. As a psychologist I know about working with people who are trauma survivors. I also know that with the right support, survivors can recover their resilience and come to live meaningful, satisfying, dynamic lives. So that’s what I decided to write about.

Thank you for reading.

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As an indie author with a niche subject, in addition to word of mouth, one of the best ways for me to reach a readership is on Amazon.com. And I could use your help to crack Amazon’s algorithm!

Four small ways to support this big dream are:

1. Whether for yourself or someone you know, buy The House That Resilience Built tomorrow, Thursday, February 12. If you like, I will sign it the next time I see you.

2. Order The House That Resilience Built e-book Thursday, February 12. At $2.99 (special launch promo offer), less than a cup of coffee, this extra step could help me crack the bestseller list in my category. Bestseller status is HUGE in the algorithms. Even if you purchase a hard copy, please ALSO buy the e-book. (Or purchase just the e-book according to your budget and interest.)

3. Leave a Review on Amazon.com and Goodreads. Don’t overthink it—this can be short and sweet! (You don’t need to finish the book before reviewing. Just scroll to the end if your only copy is an e-book.) Amazon can pull the review if it looks like you know me, so keep it neutral. MAJOR BONUS POINTS for including a picture with the review and up-voting other positive reviews by clicking “Helpful.” NOTE: I can provide prompts or help you write it if writers block attacks. (Trust me, I know a thing or two about that!)

4. Spread the News. Share announcements about my book’s launch on your social media. To make it easy, I’ll send images a day or two before launch. And Talk It Up: Tell all your friends and relations. Word of mouth is the surest path to more readers.

Other Ways You Can Help:

· Get me booked on your favorite podcast

· Invite me to attend your book club

· Request your library carry the book

· Ask your bookseller to carry it

· Organize a virtual or in-person event

· Follow me on Bluesky and LinkedIn

· Invite others to my Substack (usually only about two—but highly compelling IMHO!—emails a month)

Because we all deserve to live with dignity and without fear, 10% of net purchases will be donated to Immigrant Defense Network.

If you prefer, please consider ordering from your local independent book seller. Two of my favorites in the Twin Cities are Magers and Quinn (612) 822-4611 and Moon Palace (612) 454-0455. Another option is to buy directly from the warehouse, Itasca Books.

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WHAT’S NEXT

In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide more excerpts and continue this series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience.

UPCOMING EVENT:

Friday, March 6, 9:00 a.m.

“The Seven Building Blocks of Trauma Resilience: A Full-Hearted, Integrative Approach to Healing Childhood Wounds,” a 3-hour workshop for mental health professionals based on The House That Resilience Built. Minnesota Psychological Association

More book launch events coming soon.

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Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here: www.tomglaserLP.com

The Fifth in a Series on Resilient Trauma Survivors

Deep in South Minneapolis, at a daylong continuing education workshop on promoting mental health within LGBTQ+ communities, I attended a session on polyamorous relationships. One of the panelists, Savannah, immediately captured my attention—not just because she was larger bodied and appeared thoroughly comfortable in her skin (clearly, she had no time for others’ “fat phobia,” as she calls it), Savannah stood out because she was articulate and engaging. Exuding a near palpable sense of self-love, she nonchalantly told the crowd about her own polyamorous arrangement. The clincher came when Savannah alluded to having been bullied while growing up in a small (and small minded) outstate Minnesota town. Of course my interest was piqued. Here’s someone who is not afraid to speak her truth, I thought. At the end of the day, I introduced myself and told her that I appreciated her honesty and admired her courage. When I mentioned my resilience and trauma project, her interest was piqued, and she agreed to get together to learn more.

A few weeks later, Savannah and I met at an organic café in Minneapolis’ Uptown area. Her smile was wide, her eyes clear, and she was impeccably groomed, just as I remembered from the workshop a few weeks prior. As we talked, I was further impressed by Savannah ’s self-awareness, ability to express herself, and comfort in her body. What most impressed me, though, was her wide-open heart. I found myself softening in her presence, as though her deep acceptance of and appreciation for herself gave me permission to accept and bring more of myself forward. As a graduate student in social work, she said she was committed to helping others work through trauma, so she eagerly agreed to share her full story.

Five weeks later, we sat together in the shade on the back porch of her South Minneapolis home. Here are excerpts from our conversation.

SAVANNAH

“I never felt like I fit in. There was no way I could. My dad was at the bar all the time. In a rural town of a thousand people, everyone knew. Other kids mocked me about my dad’s alcoholism. Because all the money he made went to his addiction, I grew up in extreme poverty. I went to school not knowing whether he was going to show up to things and what state he would be in if he did show up. There was just no consistency.

“I could not trust him. It wasn’t because he was a liar. It was because once he was drunk, he didn’t remember. In that classic child-of-an-alcoholic way, I always had to be the adult, even to my mom to a certain extent. Not being able to have expectations of adults who are your parents? That trauma never goes away.

“The thing that sticks with me most from my childhood, however, is comments about my body. It was inescapable. I’m obviously fat now, and I was fat from probably about puberty on. I was absolutely tormented around that. Just beaten down.” My brow crinkled as I found myself feeling for her and relating to her story.

“Those voices still ring in my head today. Any time I walk past a group of white, teenage boys, I am tense, waiting for them to say something. That has deeply affected who I am and how I am in the world.

“One loud example was in tenth grade. I had the lead in the school musical Once Upon a Mattress. It’s a small town, so everybody went to these things. There was nothing else to do. Mattress is the story of The Princess and the Pea, in which they can tell she’s a real princess if she can feel a tiny pea at the bottom of a huge stack of mattresses. As the princess, I had to get up on top of a giant platform that was painted like a whole bunch of mattresses. I’m terrified of heights, so I was already having a lot of feelings. I was crawling up this ladder in this big nightgown, hoping I wouldn’t fall. During opening night, as I was crawling up the ladder, a classmate from the audience started mooing out loud. The whole audience started laughing. It was one of the most humiliating moments, on top of already being like, Oh my God. It’s so high off the ground. It would have been horrible without the mooing. But that kind of thing wasn’t special. It was normal. Humiliation was an everyday experience for me. Literally, every day.”

Feeling like I had been stabbed in the chest, I placed my hand over my heart and leaned forward, my face exuding compassion. “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” I said. “What about the adults? Did any teachers intervene?”

“Most of the adults either didn’t take it seriously or tried to give me suggestions of how to change myself to not have them do this to me,” Savannah said. “Which was not okay. Really not okay. That was a deeply unhelpful thing to do. There’s no right way to have a body.

“I learned early on that when I took the risk to be vulnerable with someone safe, and share my truth, especially about something that was not the norm experience, people would light up and say, ‘Me, too!’ It was this radical connection. That’s where some of my resilience comes from. Radical connection over vulnerability.

“One of the most powerful things I have ever personally experienced is hearing somebody else with a similar story when I felt so alone. Finding community was powerful. But it was also important to find myself. And you can’t do one without the other.”

“Where else does your resilience come from? I asked.

“My resilience also comes from my inherent choice and trust to believe This is not forever. Whatever I’m feeling, it is not forever. Feelings are like clouds that will come into you and pass. I have the word Surrender tattooed on one wrist. For me, Surrender is a powerful word. It’s letting what is, be. With that, a lot of space is created.

“On the other wrist is Both/And/All, which to me means more than one thing can be true at once. I can be completely overwhelmed and feel like I can’t do anything but lay in bed with the covers over my head, like everything is terrible, and also acknowledge that everything is not terrible, that there are a lot of really amazing things in my life, even at the very same time as the worst things are happening to me. The practice of holding both of those at once was very helpful for me to plug through those horrible times.”

I asked Savannah if she felt that she had “resolved” or “overcome” her trauma.

“I don’t think trauma ever really goes away,” she said. “I really wish that we could figure out a way to just drop it. That somehow, I worked through it, that it was done, and there’s an absolute ending. There just isn’t. It’s like things catch you off guard at the most unexpected times, and there you are.

“I like to say, ‘Shit comes out sideways.’ I can shove it down all I want, but it’s going to come leaking out of the corners in weird ways, physically, mentally, relationally. It comes out. The consequences are usually harmful, unfortunately.”

“Could you give an example?” I asked.

“Before I began to work through my trauma, at times I thought I was being attacked even when maybe I wasn’t. I would react with defensiveness. Once I learned to notice the defensiveness, I could stop, bring my frontal brain back on board, and then use it to make a different, better choice. It’s a practice.

“Whenever I’m having a trauma-related issue, I picture a tangled-up ball of yarn. When you get a ball of yarn, it seems like a mess. Even if it’s neatly wound, it’s a chore to find the end, right? But if you find the end at just the right place and apply just the right tension, it comes out smoothly. But if you rush it or you pull it at a weird angle or you don’t have the right end, it knots tighter and it gets stuck.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels

“I think with trauma, even if you get to a place where the entire string is laid out flat, you cannot entirely erase the points where it was knotted. So, it might be unknotted right now, but there’s a mark, a little divot in that thread. It’s healed, and in a lot of ways it might even be stronger, like scar tissue. And yet if you bump it or go over it in a weird way, it doesn’t feel quite right, it doesn’t feel normal or un-traumatized.”

“What a perfect way to capture a difficult-to-describe phenomenon!” I gushed.

“It gives a lot of grace,” Savannah continued, “because healing is a process that takes a long time. It takes lots of different things to be able to totally unravel something, such as thoughtfulness, creativity, and reframing. You might get stuck, through no fault of your own. So, you gotta loop around and make a different angle or try and pull on a different part of the string.

“If you truly believe it’s never going to be better and you still are there, getting up every day and doing your life, that feels like strength to me. That’s one thing that I would really label as strong.

“A lot of systemic things were working against me, and I’ve done better than I should have, statistically, given those factors. A huge part of it is that I just don’t take no for an answer. I don’t think I’m rude about it, and I don’t insert myself in places where I don’t belong, but I stand up for myself. I believe I have inherent value.”

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My heart stings when I picture young Savannah ashamed of her family’s lack of financial resources and mocked about her father’s alcoholism. One or both of those would be difficult enough. But I absolutely ache when I hear about the public torment over her weight. Hearing of the unhelpful adults who, instead of holding the tormentors accountable, compounded her suffering by attempting to coach Savannah on how to change herself so she wouldn’t be targeted downright makes me burn. Some of my empathy comes from my own parallel experiences. Growing up, I, too, was regularly persecuted in public, not for my body size but for appearing too effeminate. In my case, grownups who witnessed it ignored it. They didn’t tell me outright to change, as the adults in Savannah ’s life did, but the implications were there: 1) it was my fault, and 2) the bullies’ behavior was tolerable. Beyond being able to relate, to think of someone like Savannah—who exudes positivity and is doing so many good things in the world—enduring such anguish is like a knife through my heart.

Despite potential for her shame and addiction, Savannah emerged as the brilliant, loving, whip smart woman I so admire. Embracing vulnerability was key to getting there, which is one of the things I most want to highlight here. She tells us she learned early on that divulging her experiences to trusted others created “radical connection.” I see this in my therapy clients all the time. Because shame often keeps them from revealing themselves to others, it’s common for trauma survivors to feel isolated. When they learn to take small and then larger risks in revealing themselves, lightness and self-acceptance inevitably follow. They’re lighter because they no longer carry such a burden, and they become self-accepting because others have accepted them.

Christie Tate’s memoir Group: How One Therapist and a Circle of Strangers Saved My Life provides a fitting example from her own group therapy. Despite achieving professional and financial success, Tate was miserable to the point of contemplating suicide. Her therapist assured her that if she joined one of his therapy groups, attended regularly, and was completely honest about everything, she could transform herself. Though skeptical, Tate agreed to try. It didn’t happen overnight, but by revealing herself bit by bit, including relationship entanglements, sexual escapades, and even anal worms—nothing was off limits in her therapist’s groups—Tate’s life indeed was transformed. The magic elixir here is deep (or in Savannah ’s parlance “radical”) connection. By exposing even the parts kept most hidden, and experiencing acceptance, people connect deeply with themselves and others. It’s liberating.

While finding places she belonged was critical, Savannah also acknowledges the importance of finding herself—and emphasizes one can’t be done without the other. The other day I was talking on the phone with a family member from out of state. She said it was sad that she hadn’t felt good about herself until she met her husband, who accepts her, warts and all. “Shouldn’t I love myself first?” she asked. “No need to apologize,” I responded. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it is that only in relationship that we discover we deserve self-love.”

Another gem from Savannah ’s story is her yarn metaphor. Most common, minor yarn knots can be unraveled pretty easily, and within moments, the knitter continues constructing the scarf or sweater. The process of unraveling heavily knotted yarn, however, needs a steady hand and a good eye, and requires determination, patience, and skill. A new knitter might enlist a mentor’s help. Same with unraveling childhood trauma. It can be complicated and take time. One must look at things from many angles and try tugging in different places with varying levels of tension. Seeking the help of a trusted guide such as a therapist often helps. Persistence, skillful means, and self-compassion are both required and cultivated. This is part of how surviving trauma can lead to what’s known as post-traumatic growth; such qualities are nurtured and then can be applied to other areas of life. Just as with yarn, however, the thread is not as smooth after unknotting. While it is usable, it’s also altered. It never quite goes back to how it was before. Likewise, with time, fortitude, and tenacity, most trauma survivors can unravel their trauma. Yet they won’t be quite the same. This acts as a reminder to survivors and their loved ones not to expect the person to just revert to how they once were. While grief, sadness, and anger may appear, strengths also emerge. It is this kind of unraveling I explore in my forthcoming book about how psychotherapy instills and reveals resilience in trauma survivors.

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Speaking of my book, at long last, it’s time to reveal the title. My new book, out this Thursday, February 12 is:

The House That Resilience Built: A Psychologist’s Approach to Healing Childhood Trauma

If you’d like to be part of my Book Launch Team, which can include anything from posting on social media to hosting an event, please Direct Message me. I’ll provide a reminder and reveal the book cover in a post later this week.

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Have thoughts, reactions, or comments? How do you unravel tangled difficulties from your past? How has deep connection liberated you? PLEASE POST IN THE COMMENTS BELOW.

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WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide book excerpts and continue this series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience. Book launch events coming soon.

* * *

REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

* * *

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

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“If what I’ve been through can help others, I’m all in,” Roberta writes, agreeing to an interview. Though retired and in her late sixties, her calendar is like that of someone in their twenties, making scheduling a challenge. She herself is in multiple choirs, each with its own dizzying array of rehearsals. She entertains often, volunteers regularly, and brings home-baked goodies to friends and acquaintances in need of cheering up. Her energy is as infectious as it is boundless. “But I’m sure I can squeeze you in somewhere,” she promises.

A few weeks later, I trek to Roberta’s western Minneapolis area third-floor condo. She walks with a noticeable limp, and one arm appears stiff, but it’s her warm and welcoming smile that makes the biggest impression. There’s also a twinkle in her eyes, as though humor and joy are always right around the corner. She wears a bright pink blouse that sets off her silver hair. [MR1] Here are excerpts from our conversation, edited for length and clarity.

ROBERTA

“Growing up was very difficult. My mother never complimented me. She wanted to know who else complimented me, but I never remember praise from her, for anything. It was always a criticism for what I did wrong. She could be downright cruel. I learned to pretend I was someone I was not, all to try to please my mom. I dressed the way she wanted me to, talked the way she wanted me to, acted the way she wanted me to.

“The start of my happiness came when I was twenty-two.” Intrigued, I asked what happened. “Well, it looked like other people were having a better time than I was. They didn’t have all the insecurities of trying to be something they’re not” Roberta told me. “So I just chose to be who I was. I decided to be happy. It was erasing the pressures from the outside. It definitely came from the inside.”

“And how did it go?” I asked.

“Well guess what? People liked me! I got so much positive feedback that it wasn’t hard to keep it going.”

Within a few years, Roberta met and started dating the love of her life, Gary. Eventually they were engaged. “Two weeks before my wedding, my mother called me and said, ‘Don’t make the biggest mistake of your life.’ Although I absolutely knew I was going to marry Gary—whether my parents attended or not—not having my parents’ blessing was very challenging. It was also freeing—just to do what I decided. But my folks? Not only did they not come to the wedding, they disowned me for marrying a quadriplegic, a man in a wheelchair.

Image by Pech Frantisek from Pixabay

“I never regretted marrying him, because Gary completely supported my being myself. Never once did he say, ‘You should be like this, or you should be that.’”

Six years after they married, Gary had a brain hemorrhage. “He went six weeks without saying a word we could understand,” Roberta told me. “Eventually his speech came back, but he wasn’t able to go back to teaching. Suddenly I became the sole breadwinner. For twelve years I worked in rehabilitation, and then I switched careers.”

Fifteen months after becoming a real estate agent, Roberta suffered a stroke. “Talk about the tables turning. Now I was on the receiving end of rehab. While there, I had a pulmonary embolism, and my blood pressure dropped to 39/26. Now, I’m not at all afraid of dying. It would have been really easy, in fact. I thought, I could just go to sleep now, and I’d be dead, and I’d be fine.” Here Roberta paused and almost imperceptibly shook her head, as though she could barely believe she had considered dying like that. “But Gary wouldn’t,” she continued. “I had not left a will or provided for Gary’s care. So, I propped my eyes open and thought, Not today.”

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Rehab staff urged patients to eat meals in the common area. “There was a ladies’ table and a men’s table. We called the ladies’ table the Complainers’ Table.” Here Roberta mimicked The Complainers’ whines: “‘The staff isn’t doing what I want….Physical therapy hurts….My kids don’t come and see me.’ And I thought, Well, I wouldn’t come and see you. I don’t even want to have lunch with you. So, my friend Trixy and I sat at a small table where there was just room for the two of us. We could talk about our book club and movies we’d seen.

“One day, when I was done with occupational therapy, my therapist said, ‘Lunch is being served, and there’s a place left for you.’ I was too polite to say, ‘I don’t want a seat there,’ so I approached The Complainers’ table. As I sat down, the Chief Complainer says sarcastically, ‘Here’s Roberta with her positive attitude.’ The only thing I could think to say was, ‘Well, it’s available for free.’” I chortled as Roberta continued.

“The stroke left me partially paralyzed on my left side. My left arm never really came back. I can use it for a few things, like holding down a piece of paper while I sign it, and I walk with a limp. But I just kept going. What else can you do? I thought, If somebody doesn’t want a disabled realtor, the hell with them, they’re just missing out on a good realtor.”

A year or so after she’d started back into real estate, after an open house, as Roberta collected one of her roadside directional signs, she lost her balance and fell. “I’d never gotten up outside by myself since the stroke. If I fell in my house or backyard, I’d just call a neighbor.

“I got my leg into the right position, put my hand on the curb and I popped up, which I think was fueled by pure adrenalin. I tossed the sign into my car and got in the driver’s seat. This woman pulls her car around and runs back to me. She says, ‘Are you okay, are you okay?’ I say, ‘Yes. I’ve had a stroke. I’m clumsy.’ She says, ‘Do you have any more signs to pick up?’ I say, ‘Yes, there’s another one a block down.’ She says, ‘Well, I am going to help you.’ I led her to the sign. She got out of her car, handed me the sign, and then gave me a piece of paper with her name and phone number on it. She said, ‘I’m adopting a son and I need a bigger place. I’d like to hire you for my realtor.’”

Meanwhile, Gary contracted pneumonia and his lung kept collapsing. “He just wasn’t getting better. Finally, after a couple of Code Blues, he said, ‘The next Code Blue, you’re not going to do anything. I’m not going through this again.’ Now I’m going to say something I’ve probably never said to anybody: In some ways, it was a relief. Because life was very hard, because I’d had a stroke. I had physically wrestled him into vans. When we were traveling, like in Tahiti, we hauled a lift with us so I could transfer him in and out of cars. So just about everything was difficult. Very difficult. Here he was doing worse and worse, and it was obvious life was not going to go back to the way it was. I loved him dearly, but he wasn’t afraid to die, and he said, ‘I’m not going to keep going through this, this is not worth it.’ I agreed. So we were completely in. He died eight years ago.

“At first, I cried several times a day. Then I cried several times a week. Later I cried several times a month. Even now.” I could see her eyes welling up.

“You could cry.”

“I could cry.”

“Well, go ahead,” I said. “Cry if you like.”

“No, I’m okay.” But her body couldn’t hold back. Tears ran down Roberta’s cheeks. “I didn’t expect this,” she said, her voice cracking. She took a few moments to be with her feelings. “The tears are that I loved him,” she said when she could speak again, dabbing her face with a tissue. “I loved him, and he’s gone. That’s the story. That’s as bare as I can make it.”

“Well, to me, your tears just tell me how much he meant to you—and means to you to this day,” I offered.

“Yes, I still talk to him. It’s funny the things that happened after he died. I sort of thought, how should I say it, Life shouldn’t be going this well. My theory is he was out doing things he couldn’t do for me when he was alive. It would be even as simple as a light would turn green just when I needed it to. People started calling and saying they wanted to sell their house. It’s like he was out there whispering in their ear, ‘Call Roberta and have her sell your house.’”

“He was looking out for you,” I suggested.

“Yeah. I literally feel that.”

“He adored you.”

Here Roberta’s eyes grew wide, and she teared up a bit again. “Well, he did. He did. That’s true. Wow. I don’t say that to anyone, but for you to figure it out, that’s really good, because that was true. I felt adored, absolutely.” She nodded her head, looking both astonished and appreciative, before continuing. “Anyway, we have one more story to get to.”

“Sounds like we have a good one coming. Okay. Get your seatbelts on.” I was simply being lighthearted; I couldn’t know my automobile reference served as foreshadowing.

Photo by Michael on Unsplash

Roberta went on with her life, selling real estate, singing in choirs, and volunteering. “Then one very snowy day after church, I came out and my car had snow heaped over it. I thought, I wonder if I can get in and turn on the windshield wipers and that’ll be enough. I climbed in my car and of course the windshield wipers weren’t enough to clear it. I got out with the car running. A friend came along and said, ‘Here, I’ll help you.’ I took out a brush and handed it to him. This is Minnesota, so I always have two brushes in my car. Standing outside in the snow, I reached in for the second brush and suddenly, I don’t know how, my car slipped into reverse.

“I remember the wheel going over my chest. It sort of threw me onto my back, and then the car came. I can still see the undercarriage of the car as the wheel goes over my chest. But it must have caught my coat because the next thing I know, I’m face down under the driver’s seat and my coat is caught on something under. My friend who was brushing off the car jumped in and stepped on the brake, stopping everything.

“So I was lying face down in the snow and a bunch of guys pushed the car off of me. They didn’t have to do any lifting. There was so much snow and it was so slippery that four guys were able to just push the car off of me. I was lying on my left arm, [MR2] which really hurt. Someone was calling 911, someone else was getting blankets.

“I broke my tibia, my femur, the ball off the top of my left shoulder, and lots of ribs. I was in terrible pain. And I thought to myself, I have a closing tomorrow morning. They got me to the hospital, and the next day doctors put a rod into my femur and a boot on my left leg, and of course loaded me up with lots of pain medication. Back I went to rehab, and they told me I wouldn’t be able to put any weight on my left leg for ninety days.

“I referred to myself as being incarcerated, because I couldn’t go anywhere. I got my three square meals and all that business, and I got more visitors probably than people in prison do, but the effect was sort of the same.

“I couldn’t do anything. I was diapered and I was catheterized. Just getting dressed was incredibly painful. When they’d roll me over to change me, I would have to breathe like women do in childbirth.

“People were fabulous to me, utterly fabulous. A friend got me a notebook and said, ‘Here Roberta, start a diary.’ At the end of each day, I wrote down what happened. What’s interesting is when I look at that diary now, I see I only wrote down the good stuff. I wrote, ‘So and so came to visit me today….Somebody called….I got a card….My friend Cindy sent me flowers.’ She said I staged the accident so I’d get flowers.

“The thing was I had another chance to think about my life. At the end of the day, think about three good things that happened and go to sleep with that rather than focus on what’s going wrong. Well I don’t need to do that because I don’t dwell on what’s going wrong in the first place.”

I asked Roberta about how she developed her resilience. “I heard somebody speak on resiliency once, and I thought, What’s unusual about that?” Roberta replied. “I take it for granted. No matter what goes wrong, you just keep going. Also being married to Gary; he didn’t feel sorry for himself, so there really wasn’t much point in my trying to do that. I see women who can barely walk using a walker taking their dog for a walk in the winter. I walk with a cane when I’m going any distance, but when I see them, I think, Roberta, you are such a wuss.

“I forgive fairly easily. Well, I had a mother who made me feel bad a lot, and so I dealt with sort of the worst. Once in a while I wonder if my mother hadn’t been like that would I have been different? I don’t think she could help what she was doing, and I just need to let it go. I’m feeling pretty satisfied with who I am. Maybe that’s where my resiliency comes from.

“Some of my resiliency comes from having survived that and then making the decision to be myself. Plus surrounding myself with people who affirm and support me. And focusing on the good stuff. Resilience is a choice. It’s an absolute choice.”

COMMENTARY

When I think of all that Roberta has been through, I am astounded—much as our mutual friend Annie predicted. From a timid, insecure girl following her mother’s every rigid expectation emerged a confident, vivacious spitfire. It’s a remarkable transformation that was born of simple acts, such as tuning in to happier folks around her. This is where Roberta’s resilience journey began. She observed that happier people don’t attempt to be something they’re not. Their example became an inspiration. Releasing herself from the bonds of her mother’s criticism and unyielding visions for who she should be and coming into her own caused others to love and appreciate Roberta. Then she met the love of her life, whose unwavering support further bolstered her self-esteem. Human bonds instill and restore resilience.

While there is so much in Roberta’s story, I want to highlight what is perhaps my favorite moment. It underscores the bond between her and me. It began when I noticed her tears as she talked about her husband’s death. I provided gentle permission for her to cry. She tried to suppress them, but tears welled up anyhow. This led to what I call a magical moment. I reflected what I was hearing by saying Gary adored her, and Roberta was deeply moved.

It’s my favorite moment not because of her tears per say, but because it was the moment she and I were most deeply connected. I saw her, and she felt seen. Moments like these are not only deeply satisfying, they seem to move us to a plane of transcendence. Here, we lose all track of time, coming completely into the present, hearts and minds aligned within ourselves and with the others present, and our spirits soar. We become more open, more free, and more true. It happens only in relationship when all participants are willing, emotionally available, and authentic. It’s what Roberta experienced with her classmates, and it’s how she felt with Gary. Moreover, it was reciprocal; she saw them and they saw her. Then I saw her, and she saw me seeing her. This phenomenon is essential in trauma healing. And it’s the kind of experience I explore in my next book, on resilience following trauma.

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My Favorite Books of 2025

Ah, the classic reader’s dilemma: So many books, so little time! Of those I did squeeze in this past year, here are my standouts:

Children’s Literature

I adored Kate DiCamillo’s children’s book The Hotel Balzaar. Reading it is like entering another world. A delight for all ages.

Novels

I’m glad I read The Women on Platform Two by Laura Anthony, which my sister highly recommended. It’s both a fascinating story and yet more confirmation of the necessity of safe, legal, accessible, contraception and abortion.

Though it’s far from new, I encountered Address Unknown by Catherine Kressman Taylor for the first time. Like Anne Frank’s Diary of a Young Girl and Elie Wiesel’s Night, this is a must read, particularly in this time of rising fascism. It packs a powerful punch and its under 80 eye-opening pages. READ. THIS. BOOK.

I also thoroughly enjoyed Fun for the Whole Family by Jennifer E. Smith, which I found sweet, sad, surprising, engaging, and well written. What more could you want in a novel?

Special Mention

I can hardly wait to see the film version of Hamnet, one of my favorite books of 2020. I hear the movie is just as good.

Special thanks to Elizabeth Jarret Andrews for the inspiration to add these!

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Have thoughts, reactions, or comments? What are your most memorable Magical Moments? How What were your favorite reads of the year? PLEASE POST IN THE COMMENTS BELOW.

* * *

WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! I’m thrilled to announce a MAJOR MILESTONE: My next book is now at the printer! In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and continue this series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience. Very soon I’ll announce my next book’s title, and soon after that I’ll reveal the front cover. (HINT: They both have something to do with the house I grew up in!)

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REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

* * *

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

In 2019, when my beloved colleagues, psychotherapists Jenny and Diane, invited me to join them on a weeklong Mindful Self-Compassion (MSC) training, a warmth spread through my upper body, not only because I was pleased to be invited but also because I intuited that there may lie an antidote. Although my mind didn’t yet know what it was, simply hearing the words Mindful + Self + Compassion placed together, made my body long to experience it. Without hesitation, “Yes!” I proclaimed. “Where do I sign up?”

The following August, the three of us drove 300 miles west to a serene retreat center in the hilly outskirts of Madison, WI, where we spent a week with two senior teachers from the Center for Mindful Self-Compassion founded by psychologists Kristin Neff and Christopher Germer.

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A group of about 50 professionals and laypeople gathered in a bright meeting room in the center’s main building. As the wide windows on either end offered glimpses of green leaves fluttering outside in a gentle breeze, we dove into one of the first activities: identifying in what ways we are unkind to ourselves. “What kinds of negative things do you say to yourself about yourself?” the facilitator asked. She invited us to jot them down in a journal. At first, I found this assignment challenging, as not often do I find myself saying unkind things outright. Much of my self-criticism comes out more subtly, below conscious awareness. With some thought, however, I was able to identify the underlying beliefs. Based on my own trauma and emotional deprivation, these beliefs are all-too familiar: The only way I can be loved is if I am perfect, others’ happiness is my responsibility, and I am safer if I keep quiet.

Following the journal writing, the facilitator guided us through a meditation. With the words, “Settle your body and focus on the breath,” my muscles began to relax, and my nervous system seemed to slow down. “Try placing one hand gently over your heart.” Pause. “Feel the warmth generated… Experience the gentle pressure,” came the invitation in the instructor’s soothing, slow-paced voice. “Now if you like, place your second hand over the first.” We took a few deep breaths in this position and allowed awareness to settle in. “Next, try setting one hand on your heart and the other on your abdomen….See how that feels…Just breathe here.” The facilitator allowed a few moments for us to notice how this hand position registered in our bodies before inviting us to try another. “Next, caress one inner or outer arm with the other.”

Which form of self-touch is most soothing and supportive varies for different people, of course. While for me each gesture was pleasant, it wasn’t until “allow your palm to rest on your thigh” that I noticed a deeper shift. As I absorbed the warmth and gentle pressure of my right hand on my right thigh, I felt my body sink more deeply into relaxation. This position felt comfortable, seemed natural, and was easy for me to maintain. Ahhh, my body seemed to say. Thank you! Now I feel at home.

Mindful Self-Compassion suggests using such self-touch as a physical reminder that you are there for yourself and as encouragement to love yourself as you would a dear friend or family member. It’s as though the palm resting on my thigh tells my inner being, I’ve got me. I love myself. It’s a similar kind of acceptance, validation, and love I offer a beloved family member, friend, or client, only this time extended toward myself, embodied in a physical act.

Meditating for the first time in this way, one palm on my thigh, I experienced deep presence and reassurance to and from myself. In the throes of this quiet meditative reverie, a tender memory from some fifty-some-odd years prior soon arose.

It was of my cherished paternal grandmother. Here’s the thing about Grandma Glaser. Whenever she visited, she made it a point to spend at least a few minutes alone with me. She asked about the toy house that I was building out of wooden blocks, requested Hot Wheels demonstrations, and delighted in my latest puppet shows. We both got a good laugh when she wanted to know where I had gotten the Snoopy poster on my bedroom wall, as she had forgotten she gave it to me for my last birthday. At her house on holidays, she served elaborate homemade meals of roast turkey, mashed potatoes oozing with melted butter, tender green beans and broccoli, gooey brownies and luscious apple pie, all without recipes or measuring cups or spoons. She simply eye-balled the ingredients, knowing by sight, weight, and taste how much of each to add. I don’t know anyone else who warmed the plates on the stove before dinner so the food wouldn’t get cold as we ate. When family friends recovered from illness, they came to convalesce in her spare bedroom. She kept them clean and comfortable, tended to their needs, and made toast with jam served bedside alongside steaming hot tea. Had opportunities and education been available to her, I’m sure she could have been a nurse. The highlight of the year was when I got to stay with her all by myself for a weekend. Not only did she let me win Kings in the Corner card games and send me to the corner store with her spare change for candy, she also listened with her full attention and answered any questions. In stark contrast to what I experienced at home, she never once raised her voice.

Among thousands of pleasant memories with her, the one that came to me with my hand on my thigh on that first day of Mindful Self-Compassion training is from 1969, and it was so vivid it could be happening now. I’m seven years old on a blustery Christmas Eve, and I’m sitting so close to her on the family room couch that our thighs become one. Grandma Glaser wears one of her signature knee-length dresses belted at the waist. This one is cream-colored with a soft floral pattern, and I love the silky feel. It’s smooth and cool the touch, so unlike the thick, rough, dingy polyester I always wear.

Grandma Glaser’s ceramic tabletop Christmas tree. Photo by the author.

With the twinkling Christmas tree lights reflecting off her eyeglasses, we bask in the warmth emanating from the fireplace. My upper arm registers the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, far more slowly than mine. I smell her dank but not unpleasant breath. Her teeth are uneven and sport yellow and brown stains. Her coarse, curly, gray hair tickles my cheek when she leans forward to retrieve the crumpled tissue she always keeps tucked up her sleeve. She wipes a watery eye and stashes the tissue back in its home, ready for another eye swipe or to catch an errant cough or sneeze.

As I caress her wrinkly, age-spotted hand, I ask her questions about her childhood. What was it like growing up on a farm in Canada? (“It was fun, but a lot of hard work.”) What did you do? (“Hmmmm. Let’s see. A lot of chores. Sweeping, cleaning, sewing. Cooking, mostly, I suppose.”) How many brothers and sisters did you have? (“Eight. Well, eight that lived.”) What did you do for Christmas? At that one Grandma’s eyes grow big. “Oh! It was a big deal to wake up Christmas morning and find an orange in your stocking,” she says. “One candy cane and one orange. We thought we were in heaven.” My seven-year-old self can’t imagine an ordinary orange being a special treat. Any day of the year we can pick up as many oranges as we can carry from the downtown A&P, a quick 10-minute drive away, and our Christmas tree holds more cellophane-wrapped candy canes than we’ll be able to eat before Easter. As I dotingly stroke the back of Grandma’s bony, blue-veined, beautiful hand, I sink deeper into the forest green fabric couch, knowing I’m safe and loved.

Fifty years or so later, placing my hand on my thigh, I channel the warmth, safety, and unconditional love and acceptance from that long ago Christmas Eve. Now reaching the age of a grandparent myself, I reassure my inner self. I am here for me. This is just the kind of attitude I need to heal from shame and self-loathing. My hand becomes an anchor, infused with the memory of the glowing fire, the twinkling Christmas lights smiling from the tree, and Grandma emanating love and acceptance. I have that inside of me, and I can extend love not only toward others but to myself.

It’s as though sitting in a meditative state while embodying self-love through a specific, self-chosen hand placement awakens a long dormant remedy, a tonic that strengthens with use.

I hadn’t forgotten, mind you; the memory of that Christmas Eve next to Grandma Glaser never left me. Sitting as an adult in silence, however, with the additional invitations, first of “not just awareness, but tender, loving awareness” plus soothing self-touch—generating self-love via the warmth and gentle pressure of my own hand—invites and allows the association to arise more clearly and specifically.

I knew Grandma loved me unconditionally through the presence and attention she provided. Holding her hand that long ago Christmas Eve always served as a symbol of such love and presence. Placing my own hand on my thigh and channeling that sense of love and acceptance seems to infuse the memory and remind me that I can love myself unconditionally. This heightened memory and association, particularly with repetition, can be strengthened and provide a counterpoint to the well-worn shame pathways in my brain.

In meditating this way, I feel a subtle yet powerful shift. I don’t feel quite as alone and unprotected. Over time, it helps me become less hard on myself and more self-accepting. When I am hard on myself—when I deflect compliments, am critical of how I look, or ruminate on a shameful memory—I can counter that by offering myself a simple gesture of kindness and compassion by placing a hand on my own body, much as I might to support a friend who is struggling. Soon I realize I can infuse all my meditations with reminders of self-love by simply placing my palm somewhere on my own body.

I now possess, literally at my fingertips, a portal to self-love.

* * *

WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! A much-condensed version of this piece appears in my next book, on resilience following trauma, slated for release in February 2026. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide more previews and continue sharing a series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience. I’m soon to announce my next book’s title (HINT #2: It includes a reference to my childhood home!), and soon after that I’ll reveal the front cover.

* * *

Have thoughts, reactions, or comments? How do you practice self-compassion? PLEASE POST IN THE COMMENTS BELOW.

Buy Me a Coffee

* * *

REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

MASON

“My struggles go back to my relationship with my mother growing up. She was very emotionally unpredictable, and there was this unspoken agreement that it was my job to protect her and to make her feel okay. It was the reverse of a typical mother/child dynamic. I had to suppress my needs and feelings. It was as though I had to disappear.

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“That original relationship created a template for almost every later relationship in my life. I felt like I had to keep my sensitivity turned up so that I could make everyone else feel okay. Everything was about what could I do to make other people happy, so that I could feel safe. It was the only way I knew I could be okay.

“I was very flamboyant growing up, never identifying with one gender or the other. I would wear dresses and parade around the neighborhood. I was born on St. Patrick’s Day, so I sometimes wore a leprechaun costume to school. I was kind of fearless, which, in retrospect, I think was really beautiful.

“As we grew older, kids that I was once really close with turned on me. I found out that they sent petitions around the neighborhood to exclude me. That set off this feeling that the whole world was out to get me, causing me to become hyper-vigilant. Underneath that was a great deal of shame and self-loathing.

“When I began coming out as gay, I suddenly felt amazing about myself as people started validating me. I got a contract with a modeling agency in London, which allowed me to step out of my world of suffering and move into a new world where I had value. I worked as a model in New York, Miami, and Los Angeles. Throughout that process there were multiple situations where I sexually gave over my self-respect to photographers and others in the industry because it made me feel that I was wanted. At the time, I desperately needed that. The low point of all of that was when I worked as an assistant for a gay porn producer in Los Angeles. I never got into doing pornography, but I assisted in all of that.

“A lot of it was trying to create a sense of security or proving that I’m good enough and deserve respect. It was all a defense mechanism.

“Eventually it became exhausting, and I just didn’t want to do it anymore. So I started to not do the things that people expected of me. It was scary. I had built my frame of reference around pleasing others and denying my own needs and wants. When that breaks apart, it’s really terrifying. I didn’t know what to expect.

“Then in my mid-20s I traveled internationally. I was mugged at gunpoint in Pakistan. And later, when my boyfriend and I were in Israel, seven people were shot a block away from us, and the gunman was on the run. Once we were safely inside our hotel room and the crisis was past, I realized that I had a choice. I could lock myself in the hotel and live in a state of fear, or I could be alive and be present. I decided the latter, because ultimately, I don’t have any control over what happens. Of course I make safe decisions, but after that I spent some time meditating on the fear that was coming up, and I focused on being super, hyper present. So, soon after the shooting, I sat in a café in Israel, drinking a cup of tea. I remember my taste buds were just on fire, and I became engrossed in my experience and the people around me. It was really beautiful. Traumas can serve to bring you back to yourself and make you realize what’s really important.

“Therapy, having a mentor, and meditation all helped me get in tune with myself and process traumas.”

I asked Mason how he processes trauma.

“To me, processing trauma means going to the child within, whether that be the 24-year-old self, 18-year-old self, the ten-year-old self, et cetera, and actually being a witness for the trauma and grief—and allowing all the memories and feelings to come forth.

“There comes a point when the heart is expanding and wants to move through trauma, but the mind can’t necessarily keep up with it. For myself, that led to depression. The self-concepts and constructs I had used to navigate my life no longer worked. I couldn’t necessarily see ahead to a better life. A state of nothingness emerged. I’ve had that happen multiple times, and it generally feels like a depression. I’ve even been suicidal. But if I stay with it, just let the thoughts and feelings be, eventually something shifts. Eventually they dissolve. I’ve gone through it enough to know that on the other side is a life that I could have never imagined. It’s so much better. I’m far happier.

“That process of being in tune with myself in a spiritual sense is very healing. It allows me to validate the traumas that have happened in my life and to move through them, instead of just unconsciously responding to them as if I were preprogrammed.

“Now that I’m coming into my sense of being a man, I see that I can protect myself. I’m able to lower the intensity of the empathic sense because I know it’s not my responsibility to have it on all the time. I also have a connection to myself as a boy.

“For a long time, when people would talk about being bullied, I would always kind of laugh it off and be like, ‘Okay, everyone gets bullied. It’s not that big of a deal.’ Now I know that while it may be true that everyone does get bullied, it also is a big deal. It’s okay to feel all of the grief that goes along with that. I’ve realized very recently that I’d been carrying around a ten-year-old version of myself that experienced a great deal of trauma.

“It’s liberating. I probably spent 95 percent of my energy just trying to be safe in what I thought was an unsafe world. Now I’m at a place where I trust myself so deeply and know I’m going to be safe no matter what.

“Sometimes there is a script that plays in my head that says, ‘Who are you to talk about being traumatized?’ There are so many people who have had so much worse trauma, like how does this compare to a burn victim or someone who’s gone through a civil war in their country? But for us as a collective of humanity to heal, I think every person has to be able to own their story, every person has to be allowed to feel the feelings that come with their own grief in their own process. I can’t truly have compassion for another person who is experiencing or has experienced trauma unless I face my own stuff.

“It’s important to let go of comparing and contrasting one’s life to someone else’s. Everyone’s life contains trauma and grief, and I think it’s important for every person to recognize their inner child that wants healing and love. When I got in touch with that, life became miraculous. Instead of reacting to things, I can truly be responsible and respond to life with my own intentions.

“It’s moving from trauma and the experience of the trauma, and then to a period of trust—trusting oneself and other people, learning to create proper boundaries—and then moving into a framework of triumph, actually creating a life I want to lead by my own means rather than responding to the trauma. I get to live the life that I want to lead. I get to decide to move my life in a direction and to follow my dreams.”

COMMENTARY

My heart aches when I hear Mason say he needed to disappear to please his mom. Yet what a fitting metaphor. So great were her emotional needs that he felt invisible, like a full eclipse of the sun. From working with so many clients over the years—and from my own experience with a mom whose emotional needs trumped her children’s—I know how damaging this can be. It set the stage not only for Mason’s subsequent relationships but for his orientation to life in general. He came to the false belief that he could find comfort only if others in his orbit were okay. His sense of self was further crushed when he stumbled upon neighborhood petitions excluding him. The world itself felt treacherous. These early experiences shattered his sense of safety, led to crushing anxiety, and set him up for exploitation.

Mason likely came into the world highly sensitive (a quality he and I share). This trait became amplified with his mom’s over reliance on him. He attuned to his mother’s needs and moods; anticipating them and serving her was how he received recognition and approval. Again, I can relate. Growing up, keeping the house in order and keeping quiet reduced the possibility that my mom would lash out. For survival, I learned to squelch my own needs and feelings in favor of hers.

This strategy works well for survival but comes at great cost. Mason wasn’t practiced enough at noticing, honoring, and attending to his own needs, and he grew up without of a sense of his true self. Receiving positive attention for his good looks as a young adult seemed to fill that void; he felt seen, wanted, and valued. But because it was superficial—only for his appearance rather than his underlying, authentic self—he ended up feeling used.

It took immense courage for Mason to break this pattern. He was terrified. International travel helped, though perhaps not in the way he anticipated. Being robbed at gunpoint while in Pakistan and then surviving an active shooter in the Middle East led to a turning point. In a meditative state he saw that he had two choices: he could live from fear and stay locked in a hotel room or make safe choices and live in the world. This was true for the immediate moment and served as a metaphor for life. He could stay locked in old, fear-driven patterns, or make safe choices and really live. He chose the latter.

Image by vined mind from Pixabay

During the transition, Mason experienced bouts of deep depression. Over time, he learned that such feelings are common when making substantive personal change. Ultimately this process helped him develop faith. Hanging on, even through suicidal thoughts, reminding himself that it will pass, led to an even better life. I can’t help but be reminded of Buddhist quote, “The lotus flower blooms most beautifully from the deepest and thickest mud.”

In time, Mason learned to trust himself, which led to his discovery of the Three Ts: From Trauma to Trust to Triumph: Mason identified a process, a flow, of moving through and healing from trauma. It begins with acknowledging the trauma itself and validating the resulting emotions; then moves into developing trust in oneself and others and establishing and maintaining clear boundaries; to triumph, making deliberate choices that reflect his values and aspirations versus responding automatically. See why I feel inspired by him?

I’m also struck by Mason’s definition of the word “responsible.” He says it’s important that we all take responsibility for our own lives. He doesn’t view the term in a harsh, blaming, “pull up your bootstraps” kind of way, however. Working through trauma has helped him move free of automatic patterns of pleasing others and respond to the world in a way that is alignment with his values and desires. He gained the freedom to act with volition and create a life of joy. He came back to himself.

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NOTE: If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts or emotional distress, call The Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988. The Lifeline provides free and confidential emotional support 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

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Have thoughts, reactions, or comments? ALSO, I’d love to know what you do to maintain your resilience. PLEASE POST IN THE COMMENTS BELOW.

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WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! I’m in the final stages of completing my next book, on resilience following trauma. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and share a series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience. I’m soon to announce my next book’s title (HINT: It includes an architecture reference!), and soon after that I’ll reveal the front cover.

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REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

We talked about more than software and hardware systems, cybersecurity threats, and cloud services, however. Hassan and Jodi seemed impressed to hear that I’m a psychotherapist. “Wow,” Hassan said. “You listen to people’s problems and hardships every day. What do you do to empty your head and recover?”

“I practice exquisite self-care,” I replied without pausing to think. It’s a phrase that came to me in the early days of the pandemic. Stress levels were spiking, and alcohol abuse, anxiety and depression rates were on the rise. People everywhere (literally) were stretched to the max. “We need to up our game,” I told both my clients and my social media followers. “Times like these require exquisite self-care.” It was advice I needed as much as anyone. I allowed myself extra rest, took extra-long walks in nature, and remained connected with loved ones.

The truth is, I heed this recommendation even beyond times of global health crises. As my dining companions suggested, my job as a therapist requires hearing about people’s challenges, traumas, difficulties, and woes. To avoid compassion fatigue, and so that I can show up with clients the way I want—and feel compelled—to, my own self-care requires my careful, daily attention. As I told Hassan and Jodi, for me that involves the following:

· At least a half hour of meditation

· 20 or more minutes of yoga

· An hour or more of walking, pickleball, or running

· Getting out in nature

· Spending time with loved ones

Of course clients come to talk about their difficulties and to work out solutions for them. That’s the explicit goal. As social worker and trauma specialist Resmaa Menakem wrote in his book My Grandmother’s Hands, another reason clients seek psychotherapy is to be with the therapist’s settled nervous system. This is related to the principle that humans are hardwired for what’s called interactive regulation. Even if we’re not consciously aware of it, a settled nervous system invites others to settle as well. Menakem goes so far as to say it’s the primary reason clients come to therapy. Through mirror neurons, my clients benefit from my sense of calm.

The practice of meditation helps me get there. Mindfulness helps cultivate awareness of what’s happening with my own thoughts and emotions. I know when I’m triggered and can self-soothe and refute any irrational thoughts about myself or others that arise.

Another way I attend to my self-care is through paying careful attention to nutrition. I (mostly) avoid consuming junk or heavily processed foods and eat a primarily plant-based diet with lots of fruits and vegetables (though I did enjoy some cheese when Hassan and Jodi treated us to a night out at the Italian Eatery). As Henry Emmons, MD and his team promote in the Chemistry of Joy, meals and snacks include a combination of fats, protein, and carbohydrates. I also pursue hobbies such as making homemade greeting cards and taking improv classes.

“Wow,” Hassan said. “You actually walk the talk.”

Greg vouched for me here, saying I’m probably the most disciplined person he knows (which he also says when people ask how I manage to finish big projects like writing books!).

“And you encourage your clients to do the same kinds of things?” Jodi asked.

Image by Дмитрий Белов (Dmitry-Belov) from Pixabay

“I do,” I said through bites of zesty pasta and tangy Caesar salad. “I’m careful not to impose things on them if they’re not interested. But if they demonstrate an interest in physical activity, know they eat too much junk food, or tell me they don’t have friends or aren’t having enough fun, I underscore and encourage their efforts to move in the direction I know will help them.”

“Exquisite self-care,” Hassan repeated. “I’ve never heard it put that way. It seems like a brilliant way to sum up so many things you do to recharge.”

Attending to my brain’s and body’s needs through these practices not only keeps me calmer and helps restore my resilience, it’s as exquisite as an evening out sharing a delightful Italian meal with new friends.

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Have thoughts, reactions, or comments? ALSO, I’d love to know what you do to maintain your resilience. Please post in the comments below.

* * *

WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! I’m in the final stages of completing my next book, on resilience following trauma. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and share a series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience. Paid subscribers receive updates first! I’m soon to announce my next book’s title (HINT: It includes an architecture reference!), and soon after that I’ll reveal the front cover.

* * *

REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

This book is eight years in the making (or 40, or 63, depending on how you count—40 because I’ve been a professional psychotherapist for almost that long, and 63 because I turn that age in a week or so). But eight years of actual writing. The idea came…

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I was taken aback when, talking poolside one day, he mentioned having lost dozens of friends to AIDS, including two partners. He seemed so happy and optimistic. When I told him I was interviewing trauma survivors to learn how they reclaim their resilience, he invited me to his place later to get the full scoop. We chatted by his fireplace one cool early winter afternoon. Here are excerpts from what I heard him say, edited for length and clarity.

Photo by Jonathan Burton on Pexels

DOUG

“I lived with my older sister and her family when I went to college. She worked the day shift, and her husband worked the night shift; with overtime, their work hours often overlapped. I was Uncle Douggie, the babysitter, so I felt really close to her whole family. She was one of my best friends. She died of cancer when she was 38. I was 24. How could this have happened to her? I wished it had been me who died.

“I was teaching middle school math and science at the time. Being focused helped me survive. I still had to meet the needs of my students, so I couldn’t shut down. I had to show up every day and be giving, kind, loving, and understanding.

“I thought I was putting up a good front, but it must have been pretty obvious that I was struggling. When some parents heard that my sister had died, they invited me to attend their monthly meeting to talk about Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’ book, On Death and Dying. Those parents, meeting once a month, with that one book, helped me, and somehow, I got through and got my life back on track.

“A few years down the road, my partner died of AIDS. Then, years later, my second partner died of AIDS. They were my kindred spirits. I was really tied to them. Many other friends died of AIDS, as well. Eight of my closest friends are gone.

“What helped me was allowing myself time to grieve. Sometimes I just cried. Crying is a cleansing process for the whole body, and it releases emotions that don’t come out any other way. But it takes time. Months sometimes. But eventually the pain lessens.

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“I learned that when I share grief, it spreads out so it doesn't stay inside and fester.

“What is good about being gay is that we learned to support each other as a community because we couldn’t count on anyone else. When we held a memorial, it was a party. We’d go down to Laguna Beach, stand in a huge circle, and go around and share our experiences, good and bad. We set off balloons. If we had ashes, we returned them to the sea or the sand. Afterward, we had a celebration with food and close friends telling stories. We figured out a way of handling the loss and grief so it wasn’t only about the sadness. It was also a good time.

“After my second partner died, even with all the support that I had and all the things I knew to do, I couldn’t seem to get over it. The same thoughts ran in my head like a broken record. Memories. Regrets. Sadness. Confusion. I knew there had to be something that could help direct my thoughts, and that’s when a friend introduced to meditation. With a lot of practice, I could lower my heart rate and get my brain waves to slow down. From there, I was able to create positive visualizations and write affirming statements. Then I could see myself being happy again. And eventually, I did become happy again.

“I learned to reach out, seek help, get information, and be self-nurturing. The answers were all out there; I just had to start digging, and take responsibility. That’s self-care. Self-care is essential, because there’s a very strong mind-body connection. Take care of your body and the mind follows suit.

“In my late 60s I started practicing yoga. I wish I had started sooner! Because it takes concentration; I become centered and all the noise in my head dispels.

“Nutrition, exercise, and community are important parts of healing. So are activities, doing things I love. So I eat decent food and move my body every day. I bike, tend my plants, and take care of my dog. It’s also important to be able to receive. A lot of people don’t know how to accept gifts in their life, and there are a lot of gifts. I’m thankful for what I have.

“To me, resilience is being able to bounce back, which requires a bag of tricks—developing a support group, forming community, taking care of myself, getting education—all are included in my bag of tricks.

“In doing all these things, my perspective eventually shifted. I realized that many people might be better off than I am, but I am better off than many other people. That perspective keeps me centered and moving, so I don’t get stuck.

“‘You’re sick. You're unclean. You’re a pariah.’ Being gay and HIV-positive, I got those messages from the outside world. In the end, that just made me stronger. It helped me understand who I am. Other people don’t define me. I know who I am. Sure, I’m a man with a lot of loss. I also have many gifts.”

Commentary

Despite multiple major losses, Doug considers himself blessed. He is surrounded by friends and engaged in the world. He appears happy. How did he get there? One thing that stands out to me is the devoted group of his students’ parents who sprang into action after his sister died. Moved by Doug’s suffering, likely grateful for the kind attention he provided their children, and recognizing a need, they reached out. Note that they didn’t make it optional. They instructed the instructor: “We’re meeting tonight and we’re going to talk about a book.” They came together to talk about death, a subject many Westerners avoid. Month after month, they came together and explored grief. Through letting him know he was not alone and by providing essential information, they helped Doug face his grief in more manageable, “bite-sized” pieces. Otherwise, grief can be overwhelming. With hardship of any kind, isolation can be deadly, both figuratively and literally. Talking about grief with trusted, supportive others, conversely, is often life affirming.

As author and trauma expert Resmaa Maneken wrote, “Events don’t just happen. We experience them in our bodies—which means we need to metabolize them in our bodies as well. Talking with someone you trust about your experience can help you complete this metabolic process.”

Doug also allowed himself to cry and experience the many emotions grief brings. Allowing himself space to experience and express his feelings was like a thorough spring housecleaning. It flushed his system, making room for crisp, fresh air. As Doug acknowledged, it doesn’t happen overnight. Grief takes time. Often months. Often years.

When he did, sadly, encounter even more loss, Doug had a leg up. He was better able to anticipate the stages of grief he had experienced when his close friends and partners succumbed to AIDS. When he and his friends honored each death with a beach memorial, they shared stories of the departed, “both the good and the bad.” This is not the stilted representation often found at memorial services, which mention only the good. Here, the mourners acknowledged the deceased’s full humanity. While it’s important to recognize how great a person was, to also acknowledge faults and any hurts the deceased inflicted paints a fuller picture, and doing so can help survivors let go and move on. Doug also emphasized that a party followed each memorial service. The survivors gathered to mourn, remember, and honor the life that was lost and to celebrate their own precious, precarious lives.

But after 10 of these devastating losses, and despite all the knowledge and experience he had accumulated, Doug struggled. Like the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, his system became overwhelmed. He found himself unable to escape repetitive thoughts, negativity, and despair. Doug knew there must be a way out. He sensed relief was somewhere just beyond his grasp. Finally, a friend introduced him to meditation. While it didn’t come easily, with time and a lot of practice, meditation helped him replace the negative thought patterns with “very positive” ones. Practicing yoga also helped him clear and center his mind, as do many other forms of self-care.

What most strikes me, however, is Doug’s ability to find purpose and meaning. He finds great satisfaction in helping others and making the world a better place. Being kind and helpful seem to be ultimate driving forces. All the ways he helps friends and neighbors provide a reason to live. Plus, the interpersonal connections no doubt feed his soul. As grief expert Elisabeth Kubler-Ross wrote, “Those who have been immersed in the tragedy of massive death… and who have faced it squarely, never allowing their senses and feelings to become numbed and indifferent, have emerged from their experiences with growth and humanness greater than that achieved through almost any other means.”

As I write about resilience following trauma in my forthcoming book, “under the right conditions, survivors can emerge from a ‘trauma cocoon,’ liberated like a butterfly from a chrysalis, transformed into resilient souls with much to offer the world.” Doug is one such butterfly, flapping his wings in the bright California sunshine.

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Photo by Gary Bendig on Unsplash

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MUCH MORE TO COME!

My next book, on resilience following trauma, is soon on its way. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and share more of this series of my conversations with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience.

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REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could benefit from these musings? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here: www.tomglaserLP.com

When my meditation group (affectionately known as the Lemonade gang, as it was borne out of the pandemic) met in person on a full moon, I decided to stick with the theme and lead a moon meditation. As I began preparing, I became curious: why am I so drawn to the Moon Salutations at this time? I’m sure novelty plays a part. It’s fun and challenging to do something different in a longstanding yoga practice. But what is the significance of the moon?

A quick web search revealed interesting results. “The full moon is the phase when the sun illuminates the entire moon, making her as full, round, and bright as can be. This phase represents completion, fertility, abundance, and transformation, when the seeds from the new moon come into bloom,” I read. Visions of moonlight reflecting on water danced in my head, along with baskets overflowing with fresh vegetables, fruits, and grains. My mind’s eye pictured a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis and a seed sprouting in the ground. I thought of menstrual cycles, pregnancies, and baby yellow chicks chasing furiously after their mothers.

Still curious, I thought to check Yoga Journal again. Here I read that the full moon is an “invitation to become aware of what is occurring…. On an energetic level, during the new Moon, what is going on is often taking place unconsciously, in the dark of shadow, and is not yet ready to be illuminated. By the time you reach the full Moon, it raises your awareness and your ability to receive insights that have been approaching you… This awareness can open you to clarity—and awe—around what is happening in your life and when.”

“That’s it!” I thought, in a moment of epiphany. The moon represents light in the darkness.

To me, darkness is the politics of our time, wars around the world, leaders making questionable decisions (to put it mildly). Even if things are relatively okay in my own life, the broader world often feels dark. The moon literally cuts through darkness, providing light, revealing the path ahead. Maybe that’s why Moon Salutations are resonating so deeply with me. Even if I weren’t consciously aware of it, they may have been helping me both hang on to hope and support doing my part to resist.

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It doesn’t escape me that I could be overanalyzing here (what? who, me?!), but I don’t think so. The charge I feel deep in my loins as I think these thoughts and type these words tells me I’m on to something, as does the knowledge that yoga is more than physical postures (asanas) or a workout. My daily yoga practice helps me see myself, others, and the world more clearly so that I can act in a way that is more aligned with my beliefs, values, and life purpose.

Yoga Journal goes on to pose a few questions of its readers to reflect upon during the full moon:

· What is being illuminated?

· What behaviors or thoughts can no longer hide in the shadows?

· What darkness can no longer withstand the light?

· Specifically, what unhelpful mental patterns, self-destructive habits, or unhealthy communication styles need attention?

I would add these:

· What would help you come more fully into alignment with your life purpose?

· What are you doing to make the world a better place?

· How are you opposing forces that promote violence, racism, antisemitism, ableism, xenophobia, heteronormativity, colonialism, and the climate crisis?

We inspire each other by disclosing what helps us through hard times and what we’re doing to make the world a better place. Please share your thoughts and experiences in the Comments Section.

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Have thoughts, reactions, or comments? Please post them in the comments below. ALSO, I’d love to know what you are reading and creating. Comment on those below as well!

* * *

WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! I’m in the final stages of completing my next book, on resilience following trauma. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and share a series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience. I’m soon to announce my next book’s title, and soon after that the front cover will receive its reveal.

* * *

REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband divide their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

She and I disagreed on whose idea it was for her to be included in my project on resilience following trauma. After I’d gifted her a copy of my first book, she invited my husband and me over for drinks and appetizers as a thank you. I noticed the entryway terrazzo and kitchen cabinets were 1964 original. In her bright living room, surrounded by family photos and a century’s heirlooms, we sank back on her well-used, rust-colored couch and talked about the fact that Full Heart Living was born from interviews with the happiest people I knew. She asked what I was writing next. I filled her in on this resilience and trauma project.

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“As you were leaving my condo,” she later told me, “you said I was going to be in your next book.” Though I distinctly recalled her nominating herself, I was smart enough to know not to counter her. “Yes, Ruby,” I said without missing a beat.

A few months later I returned to her condo to record an interview. I asked what kind of hardships she’d encountered in her life and how she managed through them. Here are excerpts from what I heard her say, edited for length and clarity.

RUBY:

They tell me that I'm a hundred years old. Isn’t that terrible? But what's the big deal? It's just a number. And I don't feel a day over ninety-nine. But here’s the thing: You can't make it to my age without going through some hard things.

My first husband had leukemia, which I had never heard of. They didn't even have a name for it, really. He just kept getting thinner and thinner, and sicker and sicker. The doctors didn't know what to do. Today, they can handle it.

I had a very smart, fabulous mother. When my husband died, she sat on the bed in my son’s room. And the kids said, “What are we going to do?” And my mother looked them in the eye, and she said, “We’ll handle it.” I can remember that like it was yesterday. So that's my inheritance. We're going to get through this.

It was 1962. My husband and I had been together 20 years and had two children. But I made it. I had no choice. I needed to keep going for my children and for myself.

I had never worked but had been active in the PTA. The principal told me that the Board of Education had just opened a program for provisional teachers. They were looking for an older, more stable element because so many of the teachers taught school for two years, got married, and left. So I went down, got my credential, and became a teacher. I had never taught school. And what did I get? A first-grade class. My first class didn’t speak English, and I didn’t speak Spanish. But I taught them how to read. That I did. Yeah. I taught for seven years. When I left, the principal cried.

My second husband died on a cruise. What a way to go, huh? We hadn’t made it to Alaska yet. We were just approaching Vancouver. He just fell on the cruise. In a small plane at night, they flew us to the hospital in Seattle. Was it a heart attack? A brain aneurism? Whatever. He fell over and he died. That was terrible.

I had all kinds of feelings, how could I not? But I mean, it was my problem, no one else’s. That’s taking responsibility. We call that independence. I should lose some of it already. Maybe when I get older.

I don’t know that the grief passes. It just gets, you know…less. I think probably I learned when to hide it. That’s probably more like it. It has to get less, because otherwise you’d be dead.

It doesn't do any good to bitch about it, pardon me. It’s my problem and I’m the one who has to cope with it. It’s as simple as that, really.

There are some people that things happen to. They feel sorry for themselves, and they want everybody else to feel sorry for them. Whereas, my nature, I think I’m more independent. My inclination would be to hide it, slough it off.

You know, really, when things happen, you can't change them, but you can learn to cope with them. How do you cope? The first thing I think is, you can't feel sorry for yourself. And the second thing you’ve got to pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and keep moving. It’s nobody’s fault. It's being at the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s part of life.

I had a nice circle of friends, couples that were always our gang, and so they were very supportive. But you know, in order to have a friend you have to be a friend, too. So I did my share. You can’t be on the receiving end all the time. I mean, you can’t be so grief stricken that you can't have a dinner party for them. You can't just be a taker. I think that’s one of the most important things. Giving. Absolutely.

You have to count your blessings. I mean, our favorite toast when we get together here is, “It should never be any worse. It could be better, but it should never be any worse.” And then after that the Manhattan is delicious.

But it’s true. I mean, you can't complain all the time. And nothing is perfect. I say don’t sweat the small stuff. Let somebody else worry.

Eventually, the sun comes out.

Commentary

What an honor to sit in Ruby’s regal presence and hear both her trials and how she bounced back. Three words helped her trust that she could cope: “We’ll handle it.” In one simple phrase, her mother conveyed that she knew Ruby possessed the wherewithal to endure and that she needn’t do it alone. I had the sense that, like a mantra that became an anchoring force, she repeated the phrase to herself throughout challenging times the rest of her life—a fitting legacy indeed.

This is a cornerstone of resilience. Having faith in one’s own ability to rise to the occasion and the permission to not go it alone. We all need both independence and a tribe to help us when the going gets rough.

This underscores a theme I heard throughout Ruby’s story. While she emphasized independence—it was imperative she not burden others with her troubles—she was never truly alone. Her mom and children, the principal who got her a job, the “gang” she invited for dinner parties even while grieving, the friends with whom she shared Manhattans a half century later, all were there, providing the comfort of their steady presence and doing what they could to help.

It struck me that Ruby did not readily share or express her emotions much. She seemed to shrug away my looks of compassion or suggestions that she had it a tough go of it. When I gently pressed her, she acknowledged that she had “all sorts of feelings” about her husbands’ deaths, but she implied she rarely talked about them. Though it runs counter to our “tell-all celebrity culture” and modern psychological beliefs about “unloading the burden” through venting, Ruby felt compelled to not overwhelm others with her emotions. Given her generation, it’s probably not surprising. People didn’t reveal personal difficulties as much back then. She didn’t want to alienate people by complaining. She seemed to believe feeling sorry for oneself turns others away just when their company is most needed. Even if her grief and trauma were not as explicitly spoken as we might do so today, Ruby clearly benefited from the presence of kind people. I suspect she felt “held” by her communities.

I specifically asked Ruby if she felt she ever “got over” or “dealt with” her grief, as bereaved clients and students frequently ask me such questions. Grief doesn’t pass, Ruby said, but it does “get less.” Over time, the sharpness of the pain dulls. As On Death and Dying author Elisabeth Kubler-Ross put it, “The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again, but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.” This is certainly what I have found. When I lost some of my most beloved things—including my parents, my dream job, relationships—the ache at first seemed near unbearable and constant. In time, it is indeed less, as Ruby says. I still miss my former best friend and my parents and parts of my dream job. And life goes on. Eventually I reintegrated and found ways to adore the things I do have.

“It should never get any worse.” This toast over cocktails may have had its origins at least in part in the three-word legacy her mom bestowed: “We’ll handle it.” To me, it captures the resilience Ruby gained from facing two massive losses. “I’ve made it through worse,” the toast seems to say, “I can make it through this.” This is similar to my own habit when I notice myself complaining. When I found myself moaning to my hair stylist about the adjustment to returning home to Minneapolis after a winter in California, I quickly added, “But this is a first-world problem.” Doing so acknowledges my great good fortune in being able to winter in a warmer climate. While I’m not denying that it takes me a while to readjust after being away for months on end, I’m also acknowledging the fact that I could have it far worse. Or, after sharing with a colleague my woes about my cell phone dropping an important client call, I might say, “If this is the worst that happens today, it’s a good day.” While I’m not minimizing the inconvenience, I’m also conceding my gripe is not the worst thing in the world. As Ruby says, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

We might say Ruby handled shock and trauma like a trooper. She found purpose in raising her children and teaching first graders to read. She took responsibility for her life and her own happiness. She was considerate of others. She maintained perspective and gave back.

Most of all she made others laugh. I’ve been asked if humor like Ruby’s acts as a defense. People sometimes want to know if it it shields, distances, or distracts people from their pain. I can tell you that I’ve seen that in some clients. There’s a way they deflect with humor. When that happens, there’s a falseness that leaves me feeling puzzled. Something seems to be missing in what they’re saying, and their eyes appear muted as they laugh. I saw none of that with Ruby. I never felt unclear or wondered where she stood, and her whole face and body lit up as she laughed. I think she was simply blessed with a great sense of humor. Beyond a doubt that humor uplifted those around her. Perhaps that’s the legacy Ruby bequeathed to those of us left behind.

POSTSCRIPT

A year or so after our interview, surrounded by loving family and friends, Ruby died of natural causes. Many in our condo community now refer to the poolside table where she looked at her mail every day and kept everyone laughing as “Ruby’s Place.”

* * *

WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! I’m in the final stages of completing my next book, on resilience following trauma. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and share more conversations with trauma survivors on how they uncovered and reclaimed their resilience.

* * *

REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband split their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

Then last night I met some neighbors from the building next door when our respective dogs wanted to say hello. Our paths hadn’t crossed before. We got to talking while Rex and Jimmy sniffed each other and wagged their tails.

After making some small talk I learned that while the couple is originally from Turkey, they’ve lived in four countries. “We like it here best,” the man said.

“Why?” I asked, as I untangled the dogs’ leashes for the umpteenth time.

They explained that immigration, assimilation, and economic opportunities are harder in the other places they’ve lived. I got the sense that they feel free to be themselves here—or at least more free than anywhere else. Liberty and equality: the very ideals we celebrate on the Fourth of July.

Today I remembered that millions of Americans attended “No Kings” rallies around the country just a few short weeks ago. They carried signs reading things like, “This is the government our founders warned us about,” “Resist like it’s 1938 Germany,” “Remember your ancestors were immigrants too,” and “Oh, Canada. We’re so sorry.” Here’s one of my favorites: “When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world wins.”

Resilience teaches us to embrace all of what is here. As a highly sensitive person I can’t not notice what is happening and I can’t not feel sad and weary at times. Yet I can also celebrate. I celebrate a land where we still have the right to hold pithy signs at rallies. I celebrate coming together in small and large groups, aligning our hearts and minds, and speaking truth to power. I celebrate the unprecedented creativity and potential and dedication of these magnificent, huddled masses yearning to breathe free. I celebrate the many small and large acts of kindness that continue to emerge amongst these amber waves of grain and purple mountain majesties. I celebrate “We the People.”

Yes, much remains to be done, and it won’t be easy. But I want America to live up to its promises. I want America to reach its fullest, finest potential. I want a land of the free.

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Today I celebrate a country where I meet new neighbors on a humid summer night, immigrant neighbors who enrich me with their friendliness, their presence, their broad experience that helps me appreciate when I’ve taken for granted for most of my 62 years.

As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr said with fewer than 24 hours to live, “We’ve got to give ourselves to the struggle until the end. Nothing would be more tragic than to stop at this point. We’ve got to see it through. Either we go up together, or we go down together.” Let’s harness the power of love, together, so the world can win.

Thank you for reading. And Happy Fourth of July.

* * *

WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! I’m in the final stages of completing my next book, on resilience following trauma. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and share a series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience.

* * *

REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband split their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

Years ago, Melissa Hortman and I met in a memoir class. When the class concluded, a small group of us continued meeting every three weeks or so to review each other’s writing. This was a highly significant time for me—the beginning of my writing journey, as I had just decided to write my first book.

While all writing can feel vulnerable, memoir writing is particularly so. Memoirs tend to reveal the most important and often painful moments in the writer’s life. As a result, in addition to admiring her incredible political accomplishments, I got to know Melissa well on a personal level. She was smart, kind, and funny, and she had an incredible story that I hope the world will someday read. Melissa never said as much, but I sensed that she planned retire from the legislature before publishing her work. How I looked forward to that day. I dreamed of helping her when it came time to draft the final version and publish.

Given the devastating news and nature of her death, I wasn’t sure I could teach yoga. I decided I needed to be transparent, so as they arrived, I told my students of the shootings individually and in small groups. Some knew. Some did not. When I revealed my personal connection to one of the victims, students were stunned. One burst out crying. They were all compassionate and adaptable, leaving it up to me to decide whether to proceed or pass. “We could just breathe,” one offered. “Breathe and meditate.”

I decided to go ahead and teach. As I told the class, I had hoped to lead Moon Salutations. While I’ve been doing Sun Salutations for 20 years or so, Moon Salutations were new to me—and new to this group. But because I was stunned and upset, I thought I’d mostly lead poses close to the mat. Remaining closer to the earth would be good for my agitated nervous system, and I knew I could handle doing and leading those. “I might hold off on teaching Moon Salutations,” I told the class. “We’ll just see how everything feels as we go.” Again, the students were supportive, happy to be together and open to whatever I was able to provide.

As part of the opening centering meditation, I dedicated the class to the memory of Melissa and all those no longer with us who have been important to us. I encouraged the students to soak in the support of Mother Earth, who provides for all our needs and holds us in the palm of her hands. Breathe in this support, I told them, and give thanks when breathing out. “Breathe in support, breathe out gratitude.” I needed these instructions as much as anyone in the room.

I started with our usual poses: Bridge followed by Supine Spinal Twist. I made it through our usual lower limb sequence, which includes Cat and Cows, Thread the Needle with leg extension, Lizard Pose and Lizard Pose variations, and side lunges. All close to the ground. Without meaning to, I skipped inversions—but later it occurred to me: when the world feels upside down, it’s okay to forgo head or shoulder stands.

Having completed so many grounding poses and feeling physically and emotionally stronger, I felt ready to teach Moon Salutations. We started at the left side of our mats, in Mountain Pose. On the inhale, we reached our arms overhead into Upward Salute, and on the exhale, we leaned to the right into Standing Half Moon. Inhaling, we spread our feet wide and brought our arms apart and at an angle, creating figure Xs with our bodies. Exhaling, we bent our knees and elbows and sank down into Goddess, and so on, through Moon Salutations on both sides.

My dyslexia got the best of me a few times as we switched from side to side. We all laughed when I couldn’t remember if Pyramid or Triangle came first. But I did my best. I made it through, trusting the group to remain with me. I was sad, but not distracted by my grief. There on the mat, connected with my body and breath, observing my students’ form and connection with their bodies and with each other, teaching yoga and being with a beloved community helped me come into the present moment.

At the end of class, I reminded students of the preciousness of life. That’s when it hit me: Moon Salutations were a fitting testament to the remarkable Speaker Melissa Hortman, as she enters her long, final night. Farewell, my friend. I salute you.

* * *

WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! I’m in the final stages of completing my next book, on resilience following trauma. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and share a series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience.

* * *

TAROT EXPERT (AND MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND) SALLY DUBATS

INVITES ME TO BE HER SPECIAL GUEST

“Full Heart Tarot: 8 Keys to a Joyful Life”

This Thursday, June 19, 6:00-8:00 p.m. Pacific Time on Zoom

We’ll explore the main themes from my first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, through the lens of Tarot.

Sally Dubats is an author and founder of an online Tarot school. She teaches In-Depth Tarot courses from beginning to advanced practices. Sally views the Tarot as a beautiful vehicle to understanding our personal archetypes, and as a gateway to our Highest Selves.

Direct message me to register.

* * *

REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband split their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.tomglaserLP.com

In a blink, the couple’s muscular, medium-sized black dog rushed at Rex and pinned him to the ground.

Rex was on his back, yelping and whimpering. Through the cloud of dust arising from the tussle I could see the other dog’s muzzle around Rex’s neck. I dropped to my knees, wringing my hands, a cold weight in my stomach. Somehow the couple managed to pull their beast off, and Rex limped over to me. I saw red—not only from the blood that oozed out of Rex’s right leg, on which he couldn’t put weight, but also from rage. Gently, I pulled Rex into my arms.

“I didn’t hear you coming,” the woman said, as if this were a satisfactory explanation. I was too dumbstruck to reply.

“See if he can walk,” the man said, unhelpfully.

“He can’t!” I yelled. “He’s bleeding! He’s limping and he can’t put weight on it!

“We’ll pay for any vet bills,” the woman said. I’m still not sure which irritated me most: her immediate practicality, her calm demeanor, the fact that she seemed unsurprised, or her earlier excuse. We exchanged phone numbers, and I carried Rex the mile or so home.

My husband Greg and I took Rex right to the vet where they shaved his leg to examine the damage: 8 puncture wounds, all on the same leg. Thankfully he didn’t require stitches. After confirming that he wasn’t injured anywhere else and gingerly applying topical antibiotic ointment, the vet prescribed an oral antibiotic and pain medicine. His assistant presented us with an adjustable recovery cone (a.k.a. “the cone of shame”) to keep Rex from licking his wounds.

Upon returning home I let out a huge sigh of relief. Rex was going to be okay. How he ended up getting there is what captured my attention.

The first couple of days the poor creature could do nothing for himself. We lifted him up on the bed or couch for rest, where we snuggled him in a nest of blankets. We carried him outdoors to relieve himself. I hand fed him and held the water dish up for him to drink. He wanted to be next to me, with a portion of his body touching mine at all times. I cancelled all my commitments so I could provide all that for my most faithful companion. After a few days, when I felt okay leaving him with Greg, I went for a half-hour walk by myself a couple of times a day.

Returning from one such walk, from the bedroom where he had been lying with Rex, Greg said, “There was an earthquake while you were gone.”

My mouth and brow crinkled in puzzlement. “That can’t be,” I said. “I’m sure I would have felt it, too.”

“No,” Greg insisted. “There was definitely an earthquake. I felt the bed shake.”

“I don’t think so—"

We both looked over at Rex, and it seemed to dawn on us at the same time: As he lie there, Rex had been shaking the stress out of his body. There were several more “earthquakes” in the days to come as Rex naturally shook to release stress from his body.

Such behavior is instinctual. To release tension and trauma, animals tremble, shiver, or shake. Releasing excess adrenaline and cortisol, tremoring helps them process and move on from stress. It’s nature’s way of dispersing accumulated fear, a form of somatic release or physiological discharge.

After 10 days, Rex’s wounds were healed enough that the vet gave the okay for the cone to come off. Rex was walking normally. I took him back to our favorite trail. He wasn’t fazed at the site of the incident and showed no fear of people or other dogs. He was back to his usual self.

As a trauma therapist, I found watching this process (and being part of it) fascinating. Rex knew what he needed, and fortunately, we were able to provide it. His humans, of course, took charge of the medical side, which allowed his immune system to do the work of physical healing. Psychologically, instinct ruled. In the days after the attack, Rex let us know he needed extra kindness and nurturing, which consisted of more frequent and closer contact—the reassurance only his family’s immediate physical presence could provide. He allowed us to feed him by hand and carry him to empty his bladder and bowels. He needed assurance he wasn’t alone, that we were there for and with him. He slept even more than usual (thanks in part to the pain medicine and also due to his body’s need to recover), and he allowed himself to obtain it. When stress hormones accumulated in his body, he tremored to release them. The combination of all this allowed Rex to process the trauma and return to his prior level of functioning. This is what I call resilience in action. Such a role model for us humans.

We possess the same capacities, but sadly, people too often are without the resources or get in their own way of naturally processing trauma. We believe we should be able to “power through” difficulties ourselves. We push ourselves to and beyond our limits. We blame ourselves for any trauma that befalls us, even when we are not at fault. We don’t move our bodies enough. When we can’t or don’t attend to our inner trauma processing needs, a long-lasting trauma response results.

On the other hand, when people have a caring other (or group of others) who can support them, reassure them, and help them get trauma out of their system (both physically and psychologically—to the degree those can be separated); when they work through all the thoughts, beliefs, and feelings; when they give themselves time and space to heal; when they know or come to know that they aren’t to blame for the trauma; and when they move their bodies as needed and rest when that’s what their body needs; like Rex, they tend to not develop a long-lasting trauma response.

I’ve seen it in my clients, myself, and now, most naturally and elegantly, with poor Rex.

Rex after his full and complete recovery

* * *

PLEASE NOTE IN THE COMMENTS:

How have you shaken off difficulties? How have you been inspired by others’ stories of resilience following trauma?

* * *

WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! I’m in the final stages of completing my next book, on resilience following trauma. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and share a series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience.

* * *

MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND SALLY DUBATS INVITED ME TO BE HER SPECIAL GUEST IN JUNE

“Full Heart Tarot: 8 Keys to a Joyful Life”

June 19, 6:00-8:00 p.m. Pacific Time on Zoom

Sally Dubats is an author and founder of an online Tarot school. She teaches In-Depth Tarot courses from beginning to advanced practices. Sally views the Tarot as a beautiful vehicle to understanding our personal archetypes, and as a gateway to our Highest Selves.

Direct message me for further details.

* * *

REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband split their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE here:

www.fullheartliving.com

www.tomglaserLP.com

“Suriname is near the equator,” Soraya told me, “at the northeast corner of South America, between Guyana and French Guiana. It’s one of the greenest countries in the world.” (Guyana rang a bell from junior high geography. Maybe I’m not so ignorant after all!, I thought.) Suriname’s vast vegetation is due to the country’s ratio of land per population: one person per square mile. By comparison, the U.S. has close to 98 people per square mile. This accounts for Suriname’s great swaths of lush wilderness. Yet despite pristine beaches and 27,799 square miles of tropical rainforest, tourists often overlook it.

“In many ways, it’s a third-world country,” Soraya explained. “Lodging, transportation, healthcare, technology, and education all lag behind many other countries.”

“What’s special, though” Soraya said, “is the people.” She provided the example of a synagogue and a mosque that share the same parking lot. Far from fighting over religion, they cooperate on holidays. In fact, they go beyond: the Surinamese celebrate each other’s holy days. All major religious holidays are considered national holidays as a testament that one isn’t better or more important than another. It’s not uncommon for those of one faith to host celebrations on another faith’s major holidays. A Christian might celebrate Ramadan. A Hindu might invite friends and neighbors over for Christmas dinner, complete with a Christmas tree. A Jew might participate in Diwali, and so on.

“A true melting pot!” I exclaimed. “That’s what this country is supposed to be!”

“I know!” Soraya said, having become an American citizen in 2016.

Such stories give me hope for humanity. In my last blog I wrote about how challenging I’m finding America’s current political climate, particularly as a trauma survivor and highly sensitive person. A month later, as I’m learning of people putting their values into action, a burst of warmth spreads through my chest. Sharing parking lots and holidays, respecting and celebrating differences—this is the kind of world I want to live in.

Early in my training as a psychologist, I was taught a valuable lesson: Look for the Exceptions. A client might say his therapy goal is to become more patient. He provides endless examples of his impatience with his spouse. I listen and validate his experiences and support his desire to become more tolerant and exercise greater self-restraint. In addition, I listen for times he was patient. When I point out the latter, the client is surprised. “I guess I have some patience after all!” he exclaims. Then together we look at what he did differently when patience came more easily, and I help him do more of that.

Note that I’m not denying the problem; I didn’t tell the client he doesn’t need to work on his patience. Instead, noticing exceptions helps broaden his perspective. He has areas in which to grow and at times he’s already doing it. Taking note of the latter helps build his confidence and boost his morale, making change more achievable and sustainable. For me, practices like mindfulness, supported by yoga and meditation, help me see myself, others, and the world at large more clearly. I think of it as Waking Up from a slumber of misperceptions acquired from cultural messages and early childhood experiences that shape inner beliefs and perspectives. Waking Up, we more clearly see who we are. This improved vision clarifies what we need to do to make the world a better place.

Even if it’s 3,000 miles away, Suriname provides an exception to the endless bad news cycle here. As Rutger Bregman wrote in his book, HumanKIND, “the best facets of human nature include loyalty, camaraderie, and solidarity.” I would add cooperation. One way I’m fostering my own resilience in these stressful times is by noticing exceptions—and making the most of them. Hearing stories of cooperation and kindness lifts my spirits and helps maintain my energy so I can fight for what’s right.

Because they lack modern conveniences and are without our Western standard of healthcare and education, some might claim the Surinamese have nothing. To me, they have everything.

* * *

PLEASE NOTE IN THE COMMENTS:

Where do you notice exceptions to what challenges you? What inspires you and helps sustain your resilience?

* * *

WHAT’S NEXT

MUCH MORE TO COME! I’m in the final stages of completing my next book about resilience following trauma. In coming Substack posts, I’ll provide previews and share a series of conversations I’ve had with trauma survivors on how they reclaimed their resilience.

* * *

MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND SALLY DUBATS INVITES ME TO BE HER SPECIAL GUEST IN JUNE

“Full Heart Tarot: 3 Keys to a Joyful Life”

June 19, 6:00-8:00 p.m. Pacific Time on Zoom

Sally Dubats is an author and founder of an online Tarot school. She teaches In-Depth Tarot courses from beginning to advanced practices. Sally views the Tarot as a beautiful vehicle to understanding our personal archetypes, and as a gateway to our Highest Selves.

You’re welcome to join us in combining Tarot with the top 3 takeaways from my first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know.

Please direct message me to register or for more info.

* * *

REFER A FRIEND: Know someone who could use tips like these? Please forward this post their way. They can click here to subscribe (and get a free workbook to boot!)!

* * *

Tom Glaser is a master’s-level licensed psychologist with more than 38 years of professional experience. Following years of childhood trauma, his own journey toward resilience inspired him to specialize in working with trauma survivor clients. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga and meditation, the mind-body connection informs his teaching and psychotherapy practices. He has appeared on more than 100 podcasts promoting happiness and resilience. Tom’s first book, Full Heart Living: Conversations with the Happiest People I Know, was an Amazon bestseller that gave rise to a live performance piece and documentary. He and his husband split their time between Minneapolis and Palm Springs.

FIND OUT MORE:

www.fullheartliving.com

www.tomglaserLP.com