You ever do hot yoga in a mask? I have. I have to be a honest it wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be. Don’t get me wrong it was horrible. But on the inside I was still doing a happy dance that I could be doing hot yoga again. I finally was warm. 101 degrees warm with 58% humidity.

I also got into this pose recently that I have never been able to do. It’s called Bird of Paradise. You have to start either in Lizard or Warrior II and then you take a bind with one arm looping under the bent leg and one arm going behind your back. You hold your hands now looped under a bent leg. Take a big step forward with your straight back leg. Then keeping the bind you stand up and raise the leg that was bent and still bound.

The thing about yoga is that no one knew the first time I did it in a class. Because I’m often in class with different people. This year I’ve been in Zoom class in my living room and I can barely see any one else in their little rectangle on my iPad.

So as I first bound my hands together I was surprised I could actually bind them because I never could before. Then when I clumsily stepped forward and attempted to stand I was so excited that I could do it I almost fell over and then I did sort of fall over but I had this stupid grin on my face because fuck yeah. Year three of yoga and I finally nailed Bird of Paradise.

I think there were a lot of contributions to this success. One- my perseverance. Every time we would go into extended side angle I attempted the bind. For three years. I could feel my hands getting closer and closer and then touching my fingertips was a small victory. Two- I lost fifty pounds in the last two and a half years. I don’t know how having a small stomach helped me bind my arms behind my back but I know it did. Three- Fuck COVID.

I wasn’t going to let the pandemic stop my yoga practice. It was the one thing I have engaged in during my thirty’s that I loved. I felt so connected to hot yoga. I felt empowered. I felt warm; literally. I felt challenged physically and mentally and finally an hour of intense physical work out that also let me zone out of all my stress. I don’t have my phone during yoga. I am completely disconnected.

In March 2020 when my studios closed I moped and pouted and found the Zoom classes. I kept practicing. With my cats. With my sons. Through a separation. Through possibly the most stressful year of my life. I kept practicing. While other people were expanding their waistlines (I say that with love because no shame in an expanding waist line I’m just not a stress eater. I’m a stress non-eater) I was reducing mine.

Then my studios were open. Then I was vaccinated. I attended cold yoga first with my sister-in-law. That was actually where I first got into Bird of Paradise. With multiple layers, feeling chilly, I smiled as I took the bind and had to stop myself laughing from joy as I stood and attempted to extend my leg.

Then I stepped back into a hot studio. There’s not really a way I can describe it other than a sort of coming home. The first class kicked my ass. So did the fourth one. I’ve clumsily still been getting into Bird of Paradise trying not to grin like an idiot as I’m doing it.

I’m proud that 2020 was not lost. I’m so relieved that I can see the actual growth in my practice over the last year.

I videotaped myself getting into it. I asked my son to hold my phone to “videotape” me and he asked me what a videotape is. I didn’t really know what to say. I said just hold the phone and record me. He did. I felt old. But I also felt cool. Because I got into a pose that I wasn’t sure I would ever grow and fold and bind into.

Post-COVID life will never be the same. People have died. People were born. People divorced. Married. Loved. Hated. And for me, I’ve been through a lot. My therapist validates that it’s been a little extra. But through it I’m grateful for my constant practice of yoga. The poses don’t change but every time I get into one or out of one I change. Yoga has helped me understand that change will happen. That sometimes it’s scary but ultimately through change we grow.

It’s good to know your strengths and weaknesses. I am brutally honest with myself so I am generally aware of my own. Strength- baking. Weakness- brownies. I can never get them right. I’ve tried. So I don’t try anymore. Ask my sons. They didn’t even know what a brownie was recently when my Mom brought them some. Banana bread, yeast breads, cakes, frostings, ganache, chocolate chip muffins, etc. I can nail anything else. Not brownies.

Strength- Fighting and working hard for underserved communities. Weakness- general annoyance sometimes developing into anger toward entitled non-underserved individuals.

My friends and many of the therapists I work and collaborate with know this about me. The white cis-het male APRN who works for me knows this about me. Because as I’m passing him all the cis-white-het males who call for intakes I am…maybe complaining about them. I do apologize for dissing “him” in a general vague sort of way. He laughs it off and keeps working for me. I dunno; I give good bonuses.

The last year has highlighted the strengths and weaknesses (great chasms) of our healthcare system. Strength- Our healthcare workers. We rock. Weakness- Our infrastructure, our costs, insurers, and the lack of support financially, emotionally, and every way you can possibly imagine for our healthcare workers, and the complete inadequacy of our mental health services and systems.

I receive upward of five calls a day for adolescent referrals. I’m closed to adolescent referrals.

Strength- Love the teens and they usually love me or hate me initially then grow to respect/fear/love me. Weakness- Fucking parents. I generally rub them the wrong way eventually. For my trans teens I tell their parents to stop being transphobic. God forbid. For my teens depressed because their parents scream at each other daily- I tell their parents to stop screaming at each other daily and to maybe recognize the impact they are having on their teen’s mental health. Strength- Honesty. Weakness- Honesty.

I had a parent tell me that if they started using their child’s preferred pronoun and gender “they win”. I’ve had parents tell me, “I know you think it’s all because of the stupid sexual abuse. You think I haven’t heard that! I’m not getting a divorce. They are going to have to learn to live together.” If you are thinking the worst case scenario you are correct. That is not the first nor the last parent treated who has forced their child to continue to endure close contact with a known perpetrator (yes investigations were done etc. etc. this was always reported to the appropriate authorities).

I recognized in 2020 that the parents were burning me out. Not the teens.

I saw too many teenagers over my career destroyed by their parents physically, emotionally, and in so many other ways. After I became a parent I became more horrified than I used to be at parental behavior.

I’m no angel as a parent. I yell sometimes. I talk loudly and firmly when we are in public if they are misbehaving. I have no shame in reprimanding them in front of other people because if they can act the fool publicly they can be corrected publicly. I also have spent more time with my kids in the last twelve months then I imagined I ever would. I have to be honest though I never got too sick of them. We keep busy and those little buggers know how to get to my heart with their hugs and snuggles and dimples. I unashamedly mushy gushy love my kids.

I would never knowingly harm my child though physically or emotionally or otherwise. I also would not invalidate them by not respecting their preferred gender/pronoun/name and I hope I would never invalidate them by not believing them or ignoring them if they disclose something to me. And if I knew some one was harming my child; well I would go for the throat.

Strength- Fierce love and loyalty for my family and few close friends Weakness- I would totally land in jail if some one messes with some one I love.

I found in 2020 so many things about myself. Strength I didn’t know I had. Weakness and empathy I didn’t know I could still access. I also recognized that treating teenagers, and in turn their parents, as a parent, was burning me out. Because I could not ever imagine treating my children the way I have seen so many children treated. Literally right in front of me. There are no filters in the psych world.

When people ask why there is such a shortage of pediatric providers it’s not because there is a dearth of actual providers who can treat children. There is a shortage of providers who have the stomach and heart to stick with it for years, through their own parenting journeys, because the transference and counter-transference is real and it’s not helpful or healthy.

One of my greatest strengths has always been recognizing my limitations. This was a hard one because I so enjoy working with teenagers. But I needed to distance myself from parents. Because they were breaking my faith in humanity.

Hearing accounts of sexual abuse and physical abuse from children and teens is heart wrenching. Hearing that they have told their parent and their parent confirms this, and that their parent doesn’t believe them makes me ill. I’ve had to tell grown adults that children generally don’t make up sexual assault and rape stories. The number of kids who have not been believed by their parents is staggering.

I’ve tried to figure it out. I’ve wondered if it’s generational. Most parents of teens are now born between the 70’s-80’s. I try and figure out what the hell happened to those people. Then I wonder if it’s a white suburbia thing. Most parents center themselves and is that a symptom of white entitlement? But I treat minorities also and this issue is not confined to white families. By September of last year I stopped trying to figure out why and stopped taking teenagers. The why doesn’t matter. The result of me being burned out mattered.

My days are less interesting with fewer teenagers in my schedule because they are fun. I can’t be as sarcastic with any other age range than the teens. I also love that little smirk they try and hide when they hear me call their parent out on bad behavior. It’s like they finally are being seen and heard and justice has come. It’s tough work getting to that moment with the parent and the kid. They both have to be comfortable enough with me that they won’t get mad when I call them out. They have to be open enough to change to really hear me. It’s a labor of love because the reimbursement will just never cover the emotional energy that goes into treating teens and their families.

But I’ve selectively only taken adult LGBTQ clients for intakes which makes me happy. Some day I’ll circle back to the teens but for now I need a break. I need to stop trying to figure out a generation of parents and focus on my own kids. Who I love. Who will never know how good they have it thank God. Because I would never want them to have it so bad.

If you are reading this as a parent I hope you do not identify with any invalidating behaviors I’ve mentioned. If you do I’d encourage you to explore that part of you. Is it shame that is coming up? Fear? Avoidance? Don’t turn away from that dark part of yourself. Be honest with yourself. Be honest with your teen.

If you are reading this as a teenager or former teenager and you identify with this; I’m deep from my gut sorry. But I promise you that your life can go on even with an experience of emotionally abusive or unavailable parents. Watch “Hanging Up” with Meg Ryan. It’s from the 90’s; obviously so out of date. But there’s this scene where she’s talking about her messed up alcoholic father and she says, “This! This is what I’ve got as my Father! This is it! This mess!” It’s a beautifully done scene and movie about acceptance of our parents faults and about not letting our parents faults define us or break us.

I feel like I’ve spent the better part of seven years helping teenagers see that they may have a mess as parents but they are still valuable and worthy and deserving of love. It is hard to let that go but I know it will only be for a while. In the mean time. Parents let’s get our shit together. Our kids deserve the best parents we can be. Play to your strengths. Acknowledge your weaknesses. And be nice to their therapists otherwise there won’t be any of us left.