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Showing posts from May, 2013

How To Make a Terrorist

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Tamerlan and Dzkohar Tsarnaev, the Boston Bombers It seems that when someone plans or executes a multiple murder, I have mentioned  schizophrenia . Some say I see it in my sleep, but there is reason to the madness. James J. Lee Discovery Channel James J. Lee  didn't like the Discovery Channel's programming. He thought Planet Green should encourage mandatory sterilization of the human race. His website is replete with paranoid ideation. He didn't kill anyone, but was prepared, carried weapons. James J. Lee went down when police raided the building where he held his hostages. James Egan Holmes, the Joker who pumped 33 bullets into twelve people in a Colorado movie theater, had been treated for mental illness. Unable to communicate verbally, he drew the doctors pictures of what went on in his head. He didn't just go postal. James Egan Holmes-Batman Joker Cho Seung-Hoi,  a student at Virginia Tech, murdered 32 and wounded 17 others before killing himself. With a diagnosis

On Mother's Day

It is like a Memorial Day, but in reverse. Rather than look down, we look up. Many are not happy with what they see, is the problem, making a celebratory day more of a day of reflection.  It's not so easy, showing gratitude to mom, sometimes. Much of a therapist's ordinary week is about the mothers that are difficult to see, to understand. There are the ones who are selfish (narcissistic), who think every day is supposed to be Mother's Day, and that every day their children should be gazing back at them with love, appreciation, and attention. We speak in therapy of those mothers who are confused, too, who feel too strongly, whose emotions spill over on us, far too often, for whom life is black and white, or mostly black, and their children are supposed to change that, at least understand them. Their children are to think of them, consider them, respond to them right,  as if there is a right way, right for everyone. It is very hard to understand these moms and their needs wh

Teaching Them Things

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(1)  Strike Two! Spring League It is baseball season, and my grandsons are old enough to throw a league much better than me. This hasn't always been the case. H aving had two athletic brothers, w hen other girls played with Barbie dolls,  we  played running bases. You learn to use a mitt. I never looked back.    Except I haven’t had my own mitt for a long, long, time. When it would have made sense to play catch with my own sons, work got in the way. If you don't work the afternoon/evening therapy shift as a young therapydoc, you don’t establish a practice, not quickly. If you do work until late evening, you won't see the afternoon sun, nor the sunset, not in the winter. Or your kids, either, you won't see them. It is a trade-off. The dues we pay.  You hope quality trumps quantity, and that you will get by with your charm. Wilson A300 baseball glove But Thursday, because it is spring and because I can work as little or as much as I want, I stop at Target, pick up my mom’