I recently moved out of an office building in which I had been renting one office or another for over 29 years of a 33 year counseling practice. In the process of the move out, I discovered that I was, as one woman put it, a legend. I guess if people see you going in and out from the parking lot and to the mailbox or the bathroom for as many years as they have been in their own office, that makes you a legend. I’ll take it. Twenty-nine years is a lot of life. A lot of building a practice. A lot of sitting with people, holding space, hearing their stories, trusting their journeys, watching them gain skills in living, in seeing themselves, in making decisions differently for themselves, in beginning to trust and accept their humanness, trust their own journeys, trust feeling strong and capable, trust their own knowing. What a gift and an honor to be part of that process in a person’s life. To sit in my chair, rocking, holding space for another being’s unfolding, being a witness to their process, saying “yes!”
I have loved my work. And while I moved out of my office, I have not retired. For six months now, we have all been living in a time of a scary, chaotic, sometimes shattering pandemic, which along with the painful, also brought for some, new ways of work, stronger family bonding and creative ways to keep going. Part of the new ways in my profession has been learning to use face to face counseling on computer and phones. As I began this myself, I gradually started bringing home pieces of my office to add to my office setting at home. My rocking chair, a bamboo screen, a small table for my laptop, a place for a plant. Near the end of the move after I had let go of the furniture, among the papers and art and meaningful small pieces of office life I brought home this necklace of worry dolls.
I don’t remember how long I’ve had the worry dolls. 15 years? Maybe 25? They hung on the side of a chair and had long ago been part of what I used to help people learn to leave their most difficult challenges to handle with me in my office until they came the next time to pick them up and consider again. The Guatemalan worry dolls could take any worry and keep it for you to take it from your shoulders, or mind or heart, until the worry either disappeared you had a solution. As I decided to keep these worry dolls, I knew exactly what I would do with them.
My beautiful four year old granddaughter, Ellie, who lives in a city 800 miles from me, has a big, wide open heart, a wide open curious mind, and bigger feelings and observations than a four year old can process all at once, leaving her often overwhelmed by her thoughts and feelings. The worry dolls would be perfect for her. So at our next FaceTime call, which thanks to her mother are frequent, I showed her the necklace and explained how she could hang it on her bed, and tell the dolls anything on her mind before she went to sleep. The dolls would take care of those feelings for her. Ellie, of course, had many questions, and she liked this idea, telling me immediately about the feelings she could tell them about.
The next time Ellie and I talked, I was preparing the worry doll necklace for mailing to her, and I showed her what I was doing. “Do you remember what they are called?” I asked.“Yes. Feel Better Dolls.” Well, of course. Isn’t that the most perfect name for them? In all of the years I’ve had them, I had never thought to change their names from “worry” to “feel better,”,and as far as I know, never in the legend, has the name been changed. But Ellie knew. They are Feel Better Dolls.
Ellie’s four year old’s brilliance regarding what the dolls are called made me think about how various people are handling the crisis in which we have been living for more than six months now … even the multiple crises at once that seem to keep adding on. Opportunities for worry are rampant. I have noticed myself that when I become edgy in an evening or don’t sleep as well as I would like sometimes, the worry/anxiety is creeping up in spite of the fact that we have been beyond fortunate to have our health and our home and our family members have for the most part been able to work from their homes and take care of their families. So I say it’s easy for me to move from worry to feel better, as I remind myself of those things.
But I also hear the stories, as I’m sure you do or have even experienced, of the people who have lost love ones in many cruel ways. Some are on the edge of homelessness and hunger. Others have been through fires, floods, storms and severe and painful racial unrest, as well as anger, fear and disappointment in our political system and the future of our country. Still people find ways to give to others somehow. Such creativity in the giving while the givers live their own personal pain, tells us, like a shining light,quite a truth about feeling better.
How do you move from worry to feeling better? How have you seen others do it? Remembering what Ellie has reminded me, sometimes that switch in feeling can come from focusing in a different way with the words we use. From worry to feeling better. What would it take? What more change could it bring?
Somehow today, as I write, while I am wanting to tell you this story, I can feel something missing from me. A piece of my heart is busy somewhere else where I am not feeling it yet. As you read, can you tell that difference? I do apologize. I prefer to write to you with all of my heart, and as I say that truth, I can feel more of me present here at this computer, on this page. In this moment, by telling you and making that connection, I myself have moved to a feeling better place. Thank you, dearest readers, for being present to me as I write.
I hope you are well as you read here. I hope you can move from worry to feeling better and give yourself that break from inner chaos as often as possible. I hope you know that as always, I send great love to you…
Jan Carter
Thank you for these words. I needed them today. You have meant so much to me through the years. I am glad you and your family are well. Take care.
Dale Midgette Smith
Jan, how delightful to hear from you. I am glad that these words filled a need for you today. And you also take care…
Trish
To my dear Dale-ee. Yes, to all that you shared. I, too, all too
often feel that incompleteness—a hole midway down my esophagus that seems to collect emptiness, a space in the pit of my stomach that seems to hold unrest, and a deep chamber in my my mind that continually steeps dark doubts and fears. Thank you for sharing the wisdom of one so much newer to this planet, so much closer to that before-and-after place. For today, I will shift all of my discomfort to those miraculous feel-better dolls.
Dale Midgette Smith
Yes, oh yes, dear Trish, do shift your discomfort to the feel better dolls or any other place that helps the shift happen. You do so deserve that. Love to you…
Vicky
Beautiful! Thank you.
Dale Midgette Smith
Thank you, Vicky…I guess this is only the beginning of learning from Ellie. I wish we could see you!
Kimball
Just reading this made me “feel better.” Your prose is lovely and loving. Thanks.
Dale Midgette Smith
Thank you, dear Kim.
Dawn Lipthrott
Beautiful, Dale. I loved this story, the worry dolls, and the brilliance of your granddaughter in calling them Feel Better Dolls. I feel sad every time I walk by your office and see it empty! And let me just say, not just as a friend, but as a colleague, you ARE a legend — a brilliant, compassionate, creative and dedicated therapist to so many. You have done wonders when I have referred someone to you and I’ve heard others say how much you have helped them. And just knowing you, I know that would be true. I am SO glad you are not retiring! Big hugs to you. The world of hurting, confused, scared, overwhelmed people and those who are dreaming bigger dreams for themselves still need you.
Dale Midgette Smith
Dear Dawn, thank you so much. I am, of course, humbled by your comments and also appreciate them and you.
Anonymous
Glad to read you and yours are well; I, too, am counting blessings. xNini
Dale Midgette Smith
Hello, there, Nini! Oh yes to our counting blessings. So nice to see you here.
Marilyn
I opened this on a misty chilly day in the mountains, after a long week of some difficult challenges. Thank you. I picked up one of the Feel Better Dolls, took a deep breath…and felt grateful.
Thank you, as always, for helping us see more clearly, even on misty days.
Marilyn
Dale Midgette Smith
Marilyn, I am sorry to hear about your challenging week. And I am so glad that what I wrote reminded you of what you know, helping you see more clearly with your own deep breath and feeling of gratitude. Hearing that what I wrote helped is also a blessing to me.
Heidi
Hello, my Legend,
Thank you for the stories you weave. Leaving your office after so many years gives opportunity for reflection. For me, moving and sorting takes a lot of emotional energy as well as physical. (I am glad you are not retiring, just relocating to on-line.) You have inspired me to find my own Feel Better doll, a comical stuffed sheep toy, that lives by my bed.
Wishing you well, Dale.
Dale Midgette Smith
Heidi, how wonderful that you have your own feel better doll, and it’s a sheep! Thank you for your good wishes…oh yes and affirming my title, too.
Wayne
I loved this “Muse” as I can relate to Ellie. As the youngest of 10 kids with 5 brothers and sisters serving in WWII I had my worries and was very concerned for their safety. My sister in the Navy (Waves) could feel my concerns and brought me a “Worry Bird” made of wood and painted pretty bird colors and having a spring for a neck so it bobbled. I cannot recall how long he was with me but all 5 of my older siblings got to come home after the war. He was a true “feel better bird. Your story touched my heart and I wish you many happy years in your at home counseling office.
Dale Midgette Smith
Wayne, what a beautiful story! Thank you for sharing it. And what a true feel better bird yours was! I am happy that this story spoke to you, and I appreciate your good wishes.
Karen Turner
So beautifully said. So glad you are all well. Love to your family.
Must write you soon!
Miss you,
K
Dale Midgette Smith
Thank you, Karen. Love to you and your family, too.
Diane
Ellie, Ellie, Ellie….what wisdom. I can see the genetic codes at work. This is wonderful and I thank you both. Xoxo
Dale Midgette Smith
And thank you, Diane! I will pass on your appreciation to Ellie’s mother, too. XOX 🙂
Jean Raffa
Dear Dale,
I’ve had a black Beanie Baby bear on my desk for the last 25 years, but never gave it a name. Now it has one. He’s Feel Better Bear. He’s on my lap now.
Why did I just change “it” to “he”? I don’t know…. He just is. I’ve never given him this much attention before and as I look at his adorable face he makes me smile.
While I have also been much luckier than most during this pandemic, I often experience the anxiety-driven, empty inattentive spaces that call me to bring my full attention and love to this moment and task. From now on it will be Feel Better Bear’s job to remind me of that. Thank you for sharing this very effective piece of wisdom.
Congratulations on your non-retirement. 🙂 Feel Better Bear and I send much love to you. Jeanie
Anonymous
I love that your office chair has been a rocking chair! And thanks to you and Ellie for helping me see that worry can be transformed into feel better. I needed that today.
Love from afar and through the years. ❤️
Mary Margaret
Dale Midgette Smith
Mary Margaret, I seem to have lost connection with the last three comments on this post, and I am so sorry that included yours. Oh yes, a rocking chair is a must…a reminder that all is well and all is well. And you are welcome from Ellie and me.
Sue Smith
Lovely, Dale. I have enjoyed reading this more than once. Thank you!