Bobbi Emel

Palo Alto and Bay Area therapist

Resilience

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.”

An Inspiring Run of Resiliency

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Teamwork, trust, faith, overcoming handicaps, facing challenges head-on. These are but a few of the hallmarks of resiliency you will see in this short video. I’m interested to hear your thoughts, too, so please comment below.

First, a little background about the video. If you’re not familiar with dog agility competitions, the idea is that the dog must run an obstacle course guided by his handler. It involves a lot of practice and incredible communication between dog and handler. Sometimes even just the dip of a shoulder will cue the dog which way he is supposed to go. Experienced teams don’t always make it through a run cleanly.

Watch as a blind man and his dog complete the course. Make sure you see the wonderful celebration at the end. Gives me goosebumps each time I watch.

The Magic Of The Moment

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I was sitting on the patio at Starbuck’s the other day passing time before I met a friend for lunch. I had a book with me and was trying to read it but, to tell the truth, my mood was down and I felt distracted from reading by my inner melancholy. As usual, I ran through the gamut of self-recriminations: “You shouldn’t be feeling this way.” “Everything is fine, just stop it.” “You get gloomy too often for no good reason.”

Finally, I caught myself, took a breath to let go of the negative thoughts, and went back to my book and mocha. A flash of pink caught my eye as the patio door opened in front of my table. A young woman came out with her coffee in one hand, a diaper bag in the other, and a tiny baby girl in a pink onesie carried by a frontpack on the young woman’s chest.


“Do you mind if I sit here?” the young woman asked an older man sitting by himself at a table. “Go ahead,” he nodded. She sat down to my right across an aisle. I looked over.


I couldn’t help but smile. The baby was so tiny, perhaps just a few weeks old. Her little head had wobbled gently from side to side in time with mom’s steps. Her eyes opened wide as she tried to focus on the objects surrounding her. “Cute,” I thought, going back to my book.


After reading a few pages, I became aware that the young woman and older man were starting to converse. First in short sentences with long gaps between them and then the conversation slowly picked up. They were talking about the baby, of course. The man alternated between speaking gently to the baby and chatting with the young woman about how babies are at that age. She glowed and bounced the baby gently as he cooed to the child, then eagerly shared her experience of being a mother for the last few weeks.


I realized how much I was enjoying eavesdropping on their interaction. The tiny baby, so full of life and potential. The two adults, strangers, but effortlessly connecting through the shared experience of parenting. I always love watching the magic of these moments unfold.


I became aware of something else: my gloominess was gone. I had stayed present in the moment and my perspective had changed; my blue mood erased by a flash of pink and the choice to indulge in a special encounter between strangers.

The Resiliency of Jeannette Walls

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On a long drive across the country last week, Andrea and I listened to a book on CD. I had seen The Glass Castle remain in the top-seller section at Kepler’s, my favorite independent bookstore, for months. I noticed it again when browsing the library for books to entertain us on our trip so I checked it out. Andrea and I started listening to the 10-hour audio book on the third day of our trip.



Wow, talk about resiliency! Jeannette Walls, an accomplished journalist, tells the story of her chaotic yet magical childhood in The Glass Castle. Walls’ father was an educated, articulate alcoholic who told his four children that someday he would build them a glass castle in the desert. Her mother, an artist, was a self-absorbed optimist who believed children should be taught to fend for themselves. The family moved from place to place, avoiding bill collectors and law enforcement who were often after them.


There was very little money in the family that wasn’t spent on the father’s booze, so the children were frequently hungry. One poignant and painful scene recalls Jeannette and her sister, Lori, eating the last bit of food in the house: a stick of margarine that they covered in sugar.


Despite extreme poverty and inept parenting, Jeannette Walls – and two of her three siblings – became successful adults. How? They had a few protective factors in place:


Reasoning Ability: Walls’ parents were educated people and taught the children how to solve problems, both through logic and through experience. Unfortunately, the experience portion was often neglectful and abusive, which it need not be in order for children to learn to reason.


Internal Locus of Control: The Walls children had no option but to rely on themselves. They quickly learned that they were able to impact their own destiny and were all high achievers in school.


Autonomy: Having little parental guidance, Jeannette Walls and her siblings were quite autonomous. They got into a few scrapes because of this, but also knew they had to act independently of their parents.


Sociability: Amazingly, Jeannette Walls was able to keep her good intentions toward others and this always helped her in the long run. In one instance, she was able to befriend a bully by showing kindness toward a child in the bully’s neighborhood. She also had a special teacher at her high school who held high expectations for her and saw past the poverty to Jeannette’s amazing potential.


Is this the way we want resiliency to form in children – through neglect? Of course not, but the fact that Jeannette Walls and her brother and sister were able to capitalize on the positive in their experiences and become successful adults is a true testament to the power of resilience. In an online interview, Walls herself verifies this:


Interviewer: At this point in your life, if you could change how you grew up would you?


Walls: No, absolutely not. You don’t get to the destination you are at if you don’t travel the route. I think I would be someone totally different. I am a happy person. I wouldn’t want to re-live it but I wouldn’t want to change it.


Have you read The Glass Castle? I would love to hear your thoughts about it. Post your comments in the box below.