Bobbi Emel

Palo Alto and Bay Area therapist

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Holiday Snippets

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Don’t forget about my articles on grieving at the holidays: Grief at the Holidays and Healing Rituals for Holiday Grief.

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Looking for a gift for the person who has everything? Check out Nicolas Kristoff’s 12/21/10 column, The Gifts of Hope, to buy a gift from worthy international aid organizations you may have never heard of.

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“So,” I asked my client, “Is your little girl excited about Christmas?”

“Yes, somewhat,” she answered. “But in our family, whenever we talk about getting gifts, we practice being even more excited about the gifts that we’re going to give.”

Becoming the Person You Were Meant to Be

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I love, love, love writer Anne Lamott. Her ability to write about life’s adversities with searing honesty and self-deprecating humor has helped me get through some of my own canyons of despair and confusion. I was digging through my files the other day and pulled out an article from O Magazine. It was called “How to Become the Person You Were Meant to Be” and it featured several writers sharing their thoughts on how one goes about this intrinsic task. Anne Lamott’s entry is called “Where Do I Start?” and you can find it in its entirety here.

I kept this article because it not only has to do with Gift-y stuff like becoming the person you were meant to be, but it also is about grief-y, resilience-y, change-y stuff, too. In true Lamott style, she begins,

We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be. The only problem is that there is also so much other stuff, typically fixations with how people perceive us, how to get more of the things that we think will make us happy, and with keeping our weight down. So the real issue is how do we gently stop being who we aren’t? (My emphases.)

She goes on to say that, everyday, she tries to figure out something she no longer agrees to do.

Wouldn’t that be great? One day you could say, “I no longer agree to go along with the world on how I am ‘supposed’ to look.” The next day you could say, “I no longer agree to keep quiet about my own Giftedness. It is for my community and I bring it forth with gladness and a shout!” On the third day you could say, “I no longer agree that some of my emotions are ‘bad.’ I can be enraged, grief-stricken, or silly just as I can be joyful, loving, or funny.”

If you wanted to gently stop  being who you aren’t, what would you no longer agree to?

"I Can Do Anything Good!"

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The other day I met my friend, Judi, for lunch. As it was unseasonably warm, I decided to ride my Vespa to the restaurant. After a wonderful lunch, we headed for our vehicles. “Hey!” I called after Judi, “I’m going to get some groceries. You’d be amazed how much stuff I can get on this scooter!”

Judi looked at me with an impish grin. “I know you can do anything good!” she said.

I laughed at our inside joke. We belong to a wonderful group of women known as The Tribe. This group discovered their individual Core Gifts together a few years ago and, since then, we’ve been sharing examples of Gifts we see in the world. A few months ago, one of our Tribesters posted this delightful video on our online forum. “I can do anything good” has become our Tribe motto.

Isn’t it a bummer that we lose this exuberance in our own capabilities as we get older? We let the dust of life experience build up and hide the luster of our Gifts. Wouldn’t it be great to just stand in front of a mirror – or maybe in front of a vast audience – clap our hands and, with unrestrained confidence say, “I can do anything good!”?

Why not?

Hey, if I can stuff the storage containers on a Vespa full of an amazing amount of groceries, maybe I can do anything good. It’s got to start somewhere.

Thanks for the reminder, Judi.

Living the Change

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When I logged on to the Internet this morning, my news channel home page confronted me with this headline in large font: “Killer of mom, 2 daughters gets death sentence.” Ugh, I thought, how awful on so many levels. As I read on, I was horrified to learn the details of the case. In 2007, two men broke into the Connecticut home of William and Jennifer Petit. They severely beat William, strangled Jennifer, and killed the couple’s two daughters by tying them to their beds, then setting the house on fire. The girls died of asphyxiation. William somehow managed to escape and is the only survivor.

I began to wonder about William. How has he been able to manage his loss and the memories of that awful night? Even with my utter belief in the power of the human spirit and resiliency, I could not see how he could come back from this nor could my shocked mind find any gifts in this horrendous event. 

O, me of little faith.

I ran an Internet search on William Petit. Among the many articles about the murders, a link popped up that said “Petit Family Foundation.” I clicked on the link, and as the site opened, I gasped. The site, which emanates light and love, is centered on a slideshow of the Petit family before the tragedy. My gasp, however, came from the quote next to the slideshow: “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” – Mohandas Gandhi.

How could this be? How could William Petit have the presence of mind and heart to create this foundation of change from such an act of evil? I read further on the website:

The PETIT FAMILY FOUNDATION website is designed to provide a complete portrait of who we are, what we do and why it is important to continue the memories of JENNIFER HAWKE-PETIT, HAYLEY ELIZABETH PETIT and MICHAELA ROSE PETIT. They were taken from us far too soon, but we are determined to honor their memories and to continue their many acts of kindness and activism.

With your help we can promote opportunity for young women, continue the fight against chronic illness and extend a blanket of comfort for others affected by violence. A change for the better does not just happen. We need each and every one of you to help fulfill our mission; you will all help to be the changes that JENNIFER, HAYLEY, and MICHAELA wanted to see in the world.

The PETIT FAMILY FOUNDATION tries to do as many good actions as possible to counteract the evil that truly exists in the world today. We feel that we all must make a commitment to do what we can to make this world a better place.

Incredibly, William Petit, his father, and other family members have taken this horrific incident in their lives and are making sure only good comes of it. They are living the change that they want to see in the world.

William is a long way from being completely healed. He told a reporter, “It’s a hole with jagged edges,” he said. “Over time the edges may smooth out a little bit, but the hole in your heart, the hole in your soul is always there.” Although he may never experience the total healing for which his soul longs, William has made the conscious choice to bring light to the dark, healing the wounds of so many others around him.

May the edges of that hole in your heart grow smoother every day, William Petit, my new resiliency hero.

Falling Flat With A Thud

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I really like this theme of bounce. I like the image of a ball bouncing along its path, sometimes hitting something hard, yet bouncing back up into the air, free. However, as I’ve been writing these blogs, I realize that I have been talking mostly about people who have bounced back up after hitting a hard spot. And they seem to do it quickly. Although I know we all have the capacity to be resilient, sometimes bouncing back up takes a long time.

I played basketball when I was younger and occasionally even now I enjoy going out and shooting some baskets. I love the feel of the leather and the springy sound of the ball as it hits the pavement and jumps into my waiting hands. If I haven’t played for awhile, though, sometimes I get the ball out of the garage and when I push it down for that first eagerly-anticipated bounce, it produces a dull thud and lies there on the pavement. No air. The ball is totally flat.

Life can be like that, too. Several years ago, after my partner died, I felt as though all the air had been sucked out of me. The joyful life I had led with her had suddenly gone flat. And I could not get back up. For a long time.

I tried to pump myself with air by resting frequently, talking with loving friends, and working on the little house that I loved. My bounce would come back for awhile, but it was kind of like a ball that’s not quite full of air. You bounce it hard at first and it jumps up to the right spot but then slowly the bounces get lower and lower and lower until the ball is flat on the pavement again. It just seemed like I would never get my bounce back. I had no idea grief would be that hard.

To be honest, it’s taken me several years to get my bounce back. And occasionally I still feel like I’ve lost some air and am just dribbling along the ground. But now I know that I will get pumped up again. With the perspective of years, I have a better idea of how to fill myself with air. I know I still need rest, loving friends, and lots of new projects to stimulate me, but most of all, I need the patience to know that sometimes it just takes time to get filled back up and be able to bounce again.

I hope that you are not at a flat spot in your life. But if you are, try not to judge where you are right now. It’s just a part of life. To slowly start pumping yourself up, talk with people who have walked your same path. And remember that it may take time, but someday you’ll bounce up into the air again, free.

Raindrop Resiliency

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So, it turns out I like Facebook. I didn’t think I would, but it’s fun to reconnect with high school classmates and keep up with family members across the country. And, sometimes the posts give me some good fodder for my blog.

For example, my friend, Lori, up in Washington State posted, “So I did me some talkin’ to the sun, and I said I didn’t like the way he got things done, sleepin’ on the job, NO!…” Being a Washington native myself, I immediately knew what she was talking about without even asking her: It was the Nth day in a row of gray, rainy skies and she was tired of it. I smiled and continued looking at the other posts, then left my computer to tend to other tasks.

But the familiar tune of Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head got stuck in my mind. I hummed it absentmindedly as I washed the dishes and then started to softly sing the lyrics. Wait a minute, I thought to myself, becoming conscious of what I was singing. What were those words?
The first couple of verses talk about being down:

Raindrops keep falling on my head
And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed
Nothin’ seems to fit
Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling

So I just did me some talking to the sun
And I said I didn’t like the way he got things done,
Sleepin’ on the job
Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling

Then, anthem-like, the singer describes the attitude I’ve heard from so many resilient people:

But there’s one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me won’t defeat me
It won’t be long ‘til happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep falling on my head
But that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red
Crying’s not for me
‘Cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complaining
Because I’m free
Nothing’s worrying me

I love these last two verses! I like the way the singer defiantly says that, although life has its setbacks, he knows that, if he waits long enough, things will get back to normal and he’ll even be happy again. But more than that, he says in the last verse, complaining about setbacks isn’t going to get him anywhere. Instead, he remembers that he’s free to choose his own reactions and his own way of being.

Raindrops will always fall on our heads. (Especially if you’re in Washington.) Will we complain to the sun about it, or remember that we’re free to see the rain as vital to our own growth?


By the way, is the song stuck in your head now? Good.

Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head, lyrics by Burt Bacharach, 1969

Gaining Perspective

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I really believe that part of being resilient is learning to get perspective. To get a different perspective, actually. My client who is struggling with the recent death of her mother feels guilty because she would have spent more time with her mother if she had known when her mother was going to die. Her perspective currently is through the filter of extreme grief where, because she knows now when her mother died, she feels that she would have, should have, could have done more. In awhile, after time has passed, she’ll gain a new perspective. She will realize that she could not have known when her mother was going to die and that she actually had a very are rich and meaningful last few days with her mother.



Many of the people I have talked with who are dealing with financial grief of some sort tell me that perspective has helped them as well. They have found new opportunities after losing a job, a house, or other precious assets. New and more meaningful careers, a simpler lifestyle, and renewed gratitude for life just as it is are some of the gifts born from what seemed to be tragic losses. “I never thought anything good would come from my being unemployed, Bobbi,” one woman told me, “But my relationship with my husband has become so much richer. It’s because we have more time together now!”


Awhile back, I heard an amazing show on Talk of the Nation on NPR. They were talking with people who, because of the poor economy, were in difficult financial circumstances and had to be on food stamps for the first time in their lives. Surprisingly, many of them enjoyed the experience! “I think everyone should have to do it at some time in their lives,” one caller said, “I learned a ton about budgeting, buying healthy foods, and how to cook well.”


One more example: Shortly before my late partner died, I emailed friends and family that she was in a coma. My aunt wrote back and said, “Bobbi, I think Ruth is not in a coma, but a comma. Just a little pause in the journey before she continues on.” This new perspective brought me peace and even some joy as I contemplated Ruth’s “comma” before she passed on to the new part of her journey.


It’s really easy to think that our current perspective is the only one or the true one. But this limits our ability to enjoy new learning opportunities and seeing gifts where we thought there were none. We think a beautiful thing that has become cracked is now ruined. Yet, as Leonard Cohen says, “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”