Two Immeasurable Things: Healing Power of Love and Destructive Power of Hate ... Part 4/5

101 Healing Stories For Kids and Teens

Using Metaphors in Therapy

Author: George W. Burns

Building Problem-Solving Skills

To live a successful life as an adult, a child needs to become a successful problem-solver.

Children need to acquire the skills to help them deal with adult life’s unexpected challenges: how to cope with an unwanted pregnancy, a retrenchment when you have a family to feed and a mortgage to pay, the diagnosis of a life-threatening illness, or the numerous other problems we inevitably encounter. Whether we’re dealing with such major issues or life’s day-to-day hassles, effective problem-solving skills are one of the essential requirements to living a more contented childhood and adulthood.

People who are effective problem solvers report greater feelings of happiness and well-being, while poor problem solvers have fewer choices, feel less in control, and are more likely to become anxious and depressed.

Teaching appropriate problem-solving skills prevents many mood disorders and maladaptive behaviors, and enhances the quality of life.

STORY 72: OVERCOMING ADVERSITY: A TEEN STORY

Therapeutic Characteristics

Problems Addressed

■ Facing tough times ■ Threats to life and well-being ■ Seeming hopelessness

Resources Developed

■ Thinking beyond yourself (of loved ones) ■ Thinking positively ■ Being optimistic ■ Looking forward ■ Being hopeful ■ Becoming action-oriented ■ Maintaining humor

Outcomes Offered

■ Knowing that it isn’t the event but the way we handle the event ■ Accepting that thoughts can determine feelings ■ Discovering that attitude can determine outcome ■ Maintaining a sense of humor ■ Possessing skills to manage trauma

I have a great love of mountains and high-mountain trekking. Whenever I can, I visit places like the Himalayas. Because I love mountains so much I have also read a lot about them and am fascinated by stories of climbers who pushed themselves beyond what you might think humans are capable of experiencing. Of the many stories of climbers who have battled against seemingly intolerable odds, there is one that touches me very deeply and reminds me very clearly of some of those things that help people get through the really tough times in life. Dr. Beck Weathers was a specialist, a pathologist, who fulfilled a lifelong dream of climbing to the summit of Mt. Everest on May 10, 1996. Unfortunately, it was a tragic day in the history of Everest. A blizzard swept down on the mountain and within a few days, fifteen people had died. Beck was thought to be one of them—in fact, about four times he was thought to be one of them

Trying to get down, Beck, with a few other climbers, got lost; their oxygen—which is necessary to survive at those altitudes—had run out, they couldn’t see in the storm and the darkness, they had no tents or sleeping bags, and they didn’t know which way to go. When he took off a glove to warm his hand inside his jacket, the glove blew away, his hand snap-froze, he couldn’t do up his jacket, and his whole body started to freeze in the howling wind. He passed out. Other climbers who came to the rescue of those in trouble couldn’t find him and doubted there was any way that he could have survived the night on the mountain without a sleeping bag and tent. This was the first time he was written off as dead.

The next morning rescuers found Beck, partly buried in the snow. A doctor, among the rescuers, scraped ice off Beck’s face to recognize him, checked his vital signs for life, and pronounced that he was so near death that he was beyond help. For a second time, he was written off. That afternoon, miraculously, Beck regained consciousness, later saying that he had a mental vision of his family, of the people he loved, and that it inspired him to get going. With one arm frozen and only able to see a short distance in front of him, he staggered across the mountain face, again miraculously, into Camp IV. He was given oxygen and hot water bottles and wrapped in two sleeping bags in a tent. For a third time, nobody expected him to survive through the night. Even if he did, he wouldn’t have the strength to face all the hazards of getting down the mountain.

In the tent by himself, Beck’s hands were too frozen to allow him to open a water bottle and have a drink. The blizzard blew the tent flaps open and tore the sleeping bags from his body. His arms were swollen and his wristwatch was cutting off the blood flow to his hand. Being a doctor, he knew that meant he could lose his hand—so he tried to chew through the watchband. He screamed, helplessly, for the exhausted rescuers couldn’t hear him over the howling blizzard. In the morning when Beck stood and even began to walk his rescuers could hardly believe it, but still, no one thought he would survive. They were 26,000 feet up the highest mountain in the world. There was a long, tortuous descent ahead—tough for even the fittest. On the rescue was a famous mountaineer and mountain photographer, David Breashears, who personally helped Beck. Beck’s arms were frozen as stiff as poles, he had limited sight and strength, and his face was so frostbitten that he would later have to have his nose amputated, along with his hands. Being a doctor he must have known this, but he remained hopeful, saying at one point, “I’m gonna lose my hands, but I might just see my wife and kids again.”

David Breashears later wrote a book entitled High Exposure, in which he said he kept expecting Beck to complain—but he never did. In fact, even after having been written off for dead so many times, knowing that he could lose his arms and never be able to work as a doctor again, Beck Weathers was cracking jokes. Climbing Mt. Everest is a costly exercise—probably about the same as buying a small apartment or a couple of cars. As David virtually carried Beck down the mountain on his own back, Beck laughed that before leaving home he’d said to his wife, “This is costing me an arm and a leg,” and then, knowing that he would lose his arms, added, “but I guess I bargained them down.” What interests me is just how people facing such tough times and difficult situations survive and are able to get on with their lives.

I find Dr. Beck Weathers an inspiration and I guess this is part of the reason that I love reading about mountains and the adventures of mountaineers, particularly what they do when faced with such difficult times.

STORY 75: SOLVING A PROBLEM

Therapeutic Characteristics

Problems Addressed

■ Facing a challenging problem ■ Wanting the seemingly unattainable ■ Not having others to help ■ Not having immediate answers

Resources Developed

■ Learning to explore options ■ Weighing up the pros and cons of a situation ■ Searching for new possibilities ■ Learning to use thought over impulse ■ Learning from observation and experience ■ Using lateral thinking

Outcomes Offered

■ Self-reliance ■ Power of observation ■ Creative problem-solving

I once heard a story of a bird. I don’t remember what sort of bird it was, but I suppose we could make it any sort of bird that you want. What sort of bird would you like it to be? This bird lived in a land where there had been a very long, dry summer. It hadn’t rained for a long time. The ground was so dry that even the overnight dew was soaked up as quickly as if it had fallen on a sponge. As a result, the poor bird had not had a drink for a long time. It was really thirsty— so thirsty that it was feeling weaker and weaker with each passing day. Frightened that it couldn’t live much longer without water, it flew high into the air, hoping to see a patch of water somewhere in the parched land. It flew and glided, flew and glided, trying to save its energy as much as possible. Across the hot dry earth, it searched for life-giving water. Can you imagine how relieved it was when it noticed the sun glinting off something on the ground? The poor little bird glided down to investigate. There, in a spot where people sometimes picnicked, somebody had left behind a glass jar. At first, the bird was excited. In the last rains, a long time ago, some water had fallen into the jar. Just enough remained in the bottom for the bird to have a refreshing drink. But then its heart sank.

The jar was tall, the water level low, and the bird couldn’t get its beak deep enough down to get a drink. Realizing this, it felt even drier and thirstier. The water could save it, but the water was out of reach. What could the poor bird do? As it looked desperately at the jar, the bird began to think of many possible options. It could push the jar over, but then the water was likely to spill and soak into the dry ground before the bird had a chance to drink. Maybe by holding the rim of the jar in its beak the bird could tilt it over just far enough for the water level to rise closer to the top without spilling any. But how could it hold the jar at just the right angle and drink at the same time? The bird looked around. There was nobody else to ask for help. It was a problem it needed to solve by itself. I wish I had a straw, thought the bird, and that gave it a good idea. It looked around for a hollow stick or perhaps a long leaf that it might be able to roll into the shape of straw but, unfortunately, it found nothing except pebbles scattered over the dry ground. The bird was frustrated. In front of it was what it wanted and needed but couldn’t reach. There was nothing or no one around to help. What could it do?

In the end, it gave up, weakly launched itself into the air, and flew on in search of water it could reach. It wasn’t long before it came across a small pond. The water was muddy. It might taste yucky but at least it was water. As the bird approached, a huge pair of jaws suddenly launched themselves from the pond and the bird just had enough energy to spring into the air before getting eaten. Great, it thought, I find the only water around and a crocodile lives in it! Hovering over the pond, it noticed the watermark left by the crocodile on the banks . . . and that gave the little bird an idea. You see, it might have been a bird, but it wasn’t a birdbrain. When the crocodile had leaped out, the water level must have dropped. When it flopped back in, the level rose. “Thank you, crocodile,” called out the little bird as it turned back toward the jar. Arriving at the jar, the bird picked up a pebble and dropped it in. The water level rose a little, just like when the crocodile had fallen back in the pond. The bird found another pebble and dropped that in, too. Gradually it kept adding pebble by pebble into the glass jar, and gradually the water level rose. As each pebble was patiently added the water got closer and closer to the bird’s beak; it wasn’t long before its patient efforts were rewarded. The water had risen high enough for the bird to drink its fill . . . and fly on, happily.

STORY 76: ACCEPTANCE

Therapeutic Characteristics

Problems Addressed

■ Lack of self-acceptance ■ Unhappiness ■ Wanting to change what cannot be changed ■ Inappropriate role models ■ Unattainable goals

Resources Developed

■ Learning from experience ■ Seeking what might be helpful ■ Learning to dispense with what does not work ■ Setting achievable goals ■ Learning what can be changed and what cannot ■ Changing what can be changed ■ Accepting your strengths

Outcomes Offered

■ Self-acceptance ■ Ability to modify attitudes ■ Enjoyment of your attributes ■ Happiness

Once there was a very short man—so short, in fact, that he had often been an actor, playing one of the dwarfs in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. The problem wasn’t that he was small but that he was unhappy about being small. Sometimes, some people don’t like to feel different from others. He began to think about what he might do to become tall. Maybe he needed to do what someone tall did, so he went to the zoo to ask Mrs. Ostrich, the tallest bird in the world, “What do you do to be tall?”

“Well,” said Mrs. Ostrich, “I’ve never really thought about it, but I think it must be that I stretch my neck down to the ground a lot to eat seeds or bury my head in the sand.” The man decided to try it. He started to peck seeds from the ground but found it difficult to bend down like the ostrich, and the seeds made him feel sick. He put a snorkel in his mouth so he could breathe and went to bury his head in the sand but, fortunately, he realized it was too dangerous and didn’t do it . . . and didn’t grow an inch taller, either. “There has to be a better way,” he thought, so he asked the tallest animal. “Tell me, Mr. Giraffe, what do you do to be so tall?” “Maybe it is because I reach up to eat the tender young leaves off the top of prickly trees,” answered Mr. Giraffe. The small man, trying to copy the giraffe, stood on the tips of his toes and stretched up. As there was no way he could stretch to the top of the prickly tree, he decided to climb up to the tender leaves at the top. The sharp prickles scratched him, he started to bleed, and when he finally got to the top, it was only to find the leaves tasted worse than seeds. He hadn’t grown an inch, and he felt really sick.

If Mrs. Ostrich and Mr. Giraffe can’t help me, thought the unhappy small man, maybe I need to find a really tall person and see what they do. After a bit of searching, he found Mr. Basketball. Standing barely as tall as Mr. Basketball’s knee, he looked up and asked, “What do you do to be so tall?” “I work out at the gym a lot, run around the basketball court, and bounce balls,” answered Mr. Basketball. So the short man devoted several months to working out at the gym, running around the basketball court, and bouncing balls. He wanted to give this a really good go but, once again, he didn’t grow a fraction of an inch. As tall creatures had not helped, he decided he needed someone wise, so he visited old Mrs. Owl. “Can you tell me how to be tall?” he asked. “Tell me,” asked Mrs. Owl, “why do you want to be taller than you are?” “Well,” replied the small man, “I suppose I could win a fight if I got into one.” “How often do you get into fights?” asked the owl.

“Oh, not very often,” said the small man. “In fact I can’t remember ever being in one. But maybe if I was bigger, people might respect me more.” “Do people disrespect you now?” asked Mrs. Owl. “No, not really,” said the small man. “Is there anything that you could do as a tall person that you can’t do now as a short person?” continued the owl? “Not really,” answered the small man, thoughtfully. “I sure know I don’t want to peck seeds from the ground, bury my head in the sand, eat leaves from the tops of prickly trees, or bounce balls endlessly. I have tried them all and they are not for me.” “So what can you do now,” asked Mrs. Owl, “that you wouldn’t be able to do if you were tall?” “Well,” said small man, “I can play one of the dwarfs in the Snow White plays and bring a lot of laughter and happiness to young children. I can meet young children at their own level and, consequently, enjoy much better times with them than most adults do.”

He saw a smile lift in the corners of Mrs. Owl’s beak and felt a smile on his own happiness, short face as he spoke.

STORY 77: LEARNING TO SHARE

Therapeutic Characteristics

Problems Addressed

■ Relationship conflicts ■ Desire for what the other has ■ Envy and greed ■ Lack of communication

Resources Developed

■ Assessing your own behavior ■ Building better communication skills ■ Learning to negotiate ■ Seeking resolutions ■ Discovering the benefits of sharing resources and skills

Outcomes Offered

■ Conflict resolution ■ Willingness to communicate ■ Mutual sharing of resources ■ Working with others cooperatively

Once upon a time, there were two countries that shared the same border. One country, ruled by a queen, was covered with rocks and stones. The other, ruled by a king, didn’t have any. That would have been okay, except that the queen looked over the border and wanted what the king had. “With clear land,” she said, “we could grow crops and feed my people.” Now, the king was also looking across the border and wanted what the queen had. “With rocks,” he said, “we could build houses, schools, and hospitals.” The queen said to her people, “We need to clear our land if we are going to eat. Throw all the stones over the border.”

The people of the stoneless country went to their king and complained. “The people in the queen’s country are throwing stones at us,” they said. “Don’t we want stones to build houses, schools, and hospitals?” asked the king. “Let’s declare war. The queen’s people are poor and have no other weapons apart from their stones. If they keep throwing stones, we will have all the material we need to construct our buildings.” So the war continued until the stoneless land was full of stones and the stony land was stoneless. Both the king’s and the queen’s subjects were happy for a while. The queen’s people grew crops on the clear land. The king’s people built homes, schools, and hospitals . . . for a while. Soon the queen became aware they had plenty of food but no stones to build new homes, schools, and hospitals. They had no stones to repair their old buildings. On the other side of the border, the king’s people now had lots of buildings but the food was short and they were getting hungry.

“We need a war to get our stones back,” said the queen, so another war was declared. Once more the stones were hurled across the border. The king’s and queen’s people kept fighting, wanting what the others had, but no one was happy. Now, one year, a wandering court jester happened to stop and sit on a hill near the border. Seeing what was happening, he burst out laughing. “This is ridiculous,” he said to himself and asked to meet with the king and queen, together. When they sat down face to face, they weren’t very friendly at first. “This is all your fault,” said the king. “You started this by throwing stones at us.” “No, it is your fault,” answered the queen. “You declared war on us to get our stones.” “Hang on, hang on,” said the jester. “It isn’t going to fix your problem if you’re angry or blaming each other. One of you has stones. One of you has crops. And you each want what the other has until you get it . . . and then you don’t. How can we work it out so you don’t go on fighting?”

The jester saw both the king and queen were thinking about his question. The king spoke first. “The stones are yours,” he said to the queen. “The pastures are ours. Yet the jester is right. We both want what the other has. Maybe we could share. How would it be if we grew food for you and swapped it for the stones that we need. Maybe my people could teach some of your people how to farm and your people could teach us what they know about building. That way we could work to gether and not fight any more.” The queen agreed and the jester laughed happily. After the two countries began sharing what they had and were living together peacefully, the jester would often sit on his hill, watching the people come and go across the border, sharing food and stones.

STORY 80: CREATING A WISH

Therapeutic Characteristics

Problems Addressed

■ Parental conflicts ■ Feeling sad ■ Being absorbed in negative thoughts ■ Feeling unloved and unwanted ■ Wishing for something you cannot have

Resources Developed

■ Learning to ask for what you can attain ■ Showing kind-heartedness ■ Making goals positive ■ Making goals specific ■ Taking responsibility for attaining goals ■ Learning to work for what you want ■ Learning to ask solution-focused questions

Outcomes Offered

■ Personal responsibility for attaining goals ■ Personal empowerment ■ Solution-focused strategies ■ Happiness

Once there was a girl. Shall we give her a name? What would you like to call her? One day she was taking a walk along a beach. Do you live near a beach or go for a summer vacation to a beach? Would you like to set this story on that beach? This girl was walking along that beach one day, sadly, not feeling very happy. She’d left home to go for a walk because her mom and dad were fighting—again—and she felt she needed to get out. She walked along her head down, thinking about her troubles, not hearing the call of the seagulls, or swish of the waves lapping the sand. She didn’t feel the pleasant warmth of the sun on her skin or the damp sand under her feet.

As she kicked her way along the beach, her toes suddenly hit something solid. She stopped, bent down, and started to dig the sand away with her hands. What she found was an old lamp, just like those you read about in storybooks—the ones where, if you rub them, a genie pops out and grants you three wishes. This one was old and battered and had barnacles growing off it like it had been at sea for a long time. The girl picked off the barnacles and got a handful of wet sand to clean it. Poof! As she rubbed it, out popped a genie. Now, this was not the handsome, muscular genie you see in movies or storybooks, though he did have a turban on his head. Instead, he was old and skinny and looked like he needed to sleep for a week. Nonetheless, the girl’s excitement was overwhelming. “Wow! Does this mean I get three wishes?” she asked excitedly. “Give me a break,” said the genie. “I have been shut up in this thing for longer than I can remember. My last master got his three wishes, then tossed me overboard. I had to plug up the hole to stop from drowning, I’ve suffered with seasickness, and I haven’t had a meal in years. I got dumped on this shore and buried in sand, and you want three wishes.” “Oh,” said the girl, disappointed. She’d found a genie that not only didn’t look like a genie but was grumpy as well.

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“Well, can I at least ask for one wish?” she inquired, remembering the thoughts that had occupied her mind as she walked along the beach. “Well, you rubbed the lamp, so you are the master,” said the genie, “but just one for now.” “I wish,” said the girl, “that Mom and Dad would stop fighting.” “Well, that’s one wasted wish,” said the grumpy genie. “What do you mean?” asked the girl, feeling shattered. “You are my master and I can do things to help you change, but I can’t go changing other people just to suit you. What they chose is what they do.” The poor girl looked devastated and, seeing her so sad, the genie softened, a little. “Look, here are some tips about making a wish. First, it needs to be something that you can realistically change for yourself, and second, you need to make it something that you want to do rather than something you want someone else to stop doing. I’m not good at stopping wars, famines, or fights. I’m better at helping people create peace, grow more food, and get on better together. “Anyway, what do I get out of this?” he asked suddenly. “As my master, are you going to look after me? I could do with some food and a warm place to spend the night.” Then, with a poof, he disappeared back into the lamp.

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Great! Just my luck thought the girl, who had been feeling pretty unloved and unwanted at home. When, at last, she thought she might have the chance to change things, she gets a grouch of a genie. Nonetheless, she was a kind-hearted girl who gently carried the lamp home. When her parents were busy arguing over dinner, she scraped some of her meal onto a separate plate that she later took to her bedroom to feed the genie. He devoured it in a hurry but it didn’t do anything for his mood. He just demanded more, sending the girl on several missions to the fridge, then demanding that she not disturb him while he had a good night’s sleep. In the morning he was no better. He spat out the cornflakes she gave him and demanded something cooked. That was hard to do without raising her parents’ suspicions, but it helped to settle the genie’s mood a little. Eventually, he said, “Have you thought about your second wish?” “Yes,” she said, “I want to be happy.” “No good,” answered the genie. The girl looked startled by his brusque response. “What do you mean, now?” she asked.

“Well, I’m only telling you this because you’ve been kind to me,” he said. “How do I know what happiness means to you? If you’re making a wish you need to be specific. When you’re feeling happier, what do you want to be thinking? What do you want to be feeling? What do you want to be doing that is different from what you’re doing now?” “Well, I don’t want to think about Mom and Dad fighting all the time.” “Wrong,” said the genie. “Remember yesterday, I told you it is better to make wishes about what you want, than what you don’t want. What do you want to be thinking?” “I want to look forward to coming home after school, to enjoy time with my friends, to think fun thoughts.” “Good, that’s getting better,” said the genie. “Then how are you going to do them?” “Wait a minute,” said the girl. “Aren’t you the genie? Aren’t you supposed to make them happen for me?”

“You wait a minute,” said the genie in reply. “I’ve been shut up in that damn lamp for longer than I can remember. I haven’t eaten, I’ve hardly slept, I’ve been seasick, I’ve had no friends, and I haven’t had a chance to practice my magic. Granting wishes is like anything else. You stop training for a sport and you lose your fitness. You stop studying and you forget what you learned. If you want these things, you have to do a bit of the work yourself.

“Look,” he continued, “remember the way you were walking along the beach last night, head down, kicking your toes into the sand, occupied with all your worries? How about next time you walk the beach you lift your head up, look at the colors in the water and sky, see what delights the tide has washed up, listen to the sounds of the waves, feel the sand underneath your feet, paddle your feet in the cool water, and let yourself enjoy the experience of what’s happening? “I hate to admit this, but even genies know there are some things we can’t change . . . and some that we can. Our own thoughts, feelings, and actions are among the things that we can change. To do so, you need to practice and practice and practice—just like I need to practice my magic, or soon forget how.”

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The girl nodded. He might be a grouch, but he was a sensible grouch. “One more thing,” he said. “If you want this wish to happen, then you have to decide when you’re going to do the things to make it happen. It isn’t any good just sitting around waiting for the magic to happen. So, when are you going to do something about it?” “I’ll go for another beach walk this afternoon,” she said, “and do what you suggest.” And she did, carrying the genie in his lamp inside her schoolbag as she walked. That night she fed the genie again and went to sleep thinking, carefully, about what her third wish would be. The big bowl of porridge she prepared for the genie in the morning was neither good enough nor big enough, so she cooked bacon and eggs, hash browns, and pancakes until his mood seemed a bit better. She waited her time to ask her third wish, thinking she had learned a lot about wishes and should get it right this time. “I wish that you would stay with me forever and keep granting my wishes.” “Good try,” said the genie, and she saw him laugh for the first time. “You can’t wish for something you can’t have. I can only grant you three wishes, and that is the deal. But if you do what you’ve done already, it will be as good as having me around for the rest of your life. You don’t have to be limited to just three wishes. Remember, it’s okay to wish. It’s okay to look ahead and want things to be better. But what you wish for and what you want needs to be realistic. It needs to be something that you can actually attain. It helps to make it specific, to spell out exactly what you want in the ways that you think, feel, and do things. Then, don’t forget to decide when you’re going to put them into practice.

“Let me share a trade secret with you: the three magic questions that every genie has to ask himself before he can make a wish come true.

He needs to ask: What do I want to do? How can I make it happen? When am I going to do it?” The girl reached out and gave the grouchy old genie a hug. A softness lightened his eyes, the warmth of a smile flickered in the corners of his mouth, and poof, he disappeared back into his lamp.

Managing Life’s Challenging Times?

If it is true that bad things can happen to good people, then really rotten things can happen to undeserving children at times. When they do happen, they may be unexpected and the child may be ill-equipped to cope, not having faced that experience before nor have developed the necessary skills to manage. Put a child in a situation for which he or she does not have the skills and there is a high probability that the child will experience inappropriate patterns of thinking, emoting, and behaving that could be maintained into adult life. How, then, do you help prepare a child for these events? In the words of the old adage, prevention is better than cure. Providing children with metaphoric stories about coping—before a particular life challenge occurs—offers the skills to help when that situation does arise. At the time of crisis, it may take several stories over several weeks to help a child work through the various stages of grief, or process the diagnosis of a major illness, the stages of treatment, and the management of the prognosis. The stories in this chapter examine how to manage challenges such as pain, illness, and major setbacks. They look at dealing with unrealistic parental expectations, changes in life’s circumstances, suicidal ideation, and substance abuse. They are certainly not inclusive of the challenges a child may experience, but illustrate how metaphors serve both a preventative and a management function.

STORY 82: MANAGING PAIN: A TEEN STORY

Therapeutic Characteristics

Problems Addressed

■ Pain ■ Hurting without support figures present ■ Medical treatment ■ Lack of pain management skills

Resources Developed

■ Learning a new skill ■ Learning to shift the focus of attention ■ Focusing on pleasure rather than pain ■ Using distraction techniques ■ Enjoying success

Outcomes Offered

■ Pain management strategies ■ Self-initiated management skills ■ Ability to shift attention

Do you follow basketball (here you could choose any sport or pursuit in which your client is interested)? Which is your favorite team? Who is your favorite player? Larry was a keen basketball fan. His bedroom was lined with posters of his team and favorite player. He went to every game he could and when he couldn’t, he’d watch them on TV. He got excited when they were winning, angry at times when they were losing, and sad when they did lose.

Something Larry didn’t realize was how helpful it was going to be for him that he was such a strong supporter of his team. Unfortunately, there was a time when Larry got quite sick and had to go to the hospital. Things can be pretty scary when your body isn’t working quite right and you don’t know what to do about it. Things can be pretty scary when you don’t have control over what is going on and your mom and dad can’t always be by your bedside. Some of the treatments the doctors and nurses give can be painful and uncomfortable. I guess that’s why being such a good fan of his team helped Larry. Larry was a pretty smart kid. He imagined his illness was like a game of basketball. He had an opponent he needed to beat. He imagined himself being his favorite player—fit and strong, ready to play out the whole game until he won. He thought how he needed to go the distance, even though he might feel pushed to the limit of his abilities. The best of players, he thought, don’t give in, they persevere and play through the whole game. He thought how even the best of players get hurt and feel pain at times. They manage pain and injury better than most people, his dad told him, by keeping their minds focused on what they needed to do.

He’d read a lot about what makes a sportsperson good because he wanted to be one himself. He’d read how top athletes were in touch with what they called the “winning feeling.” They thought about success more than failure. They learned from their mistakes but didn’t worry about them. They focused more on what they did well . . . and on doing it better.

Larry had also read about something called “tunnel vision.” It’s something a player has when he is so focused he can switch off things that aren’t important—the weather, the booing or cheering of the crowd . . . and pain. If you want to shoot a three-pointer you have to be relaxed and focused. There is no room for distraction. You have to apply all your strength, effortlessly. Larry had tried practicing it when he played basketball. Now he practiced it in the hospital. He focused on being well. He imagined what it would feel like to slam dunk the last, winning basket of the game, to know you had won, to know you had overcome your opponent.

Larry kept a poster of his favorite player by his bed. It was a reminder of some of the things that it takes to win. Do you have a poster of your favorite player? How could you get one to serve as a reminder for you?

STORY 83: BEATING A BULLY

Therapeutic Characteristics

Problems Addressed

■ Being a bully ■ Fear ■ Intimidation ■ Lack of strength

Resources Developed

■ Learning about your abilities ■ Thinking through a problem ■ Using your own strengths ■ Doing more of what works

Outcomes Offered

■ Knowing how to stop and think ■ Realizing that might is not always right ■ Valuing your own abilities ■ Building on your strengths

In the woods live many animals and every animal is so different in many ways, perhaps just like the kids at school and the characters in the story I am about to tell you. One animal that everyone in the woods knew was Big Brown Bear.

Now, Big Brown Bear wasn’t very popular because Big Brown Bear was a bully. He’d throw his weight around just because he could, scare the other animals when they were playing, and chase them to hurt or eat them. There didn’t seem to be anyone in the woods big enough or strong enough to stop Big Brown Bear. One day Little Coyote was wandering through the woods, going about his own business when he heard the heavy thump of paws on the ground, and the crunching of dry sticks under heavy feet. It wasn’t hard to guess whose they were. Big Brown Bear was coming in his direction.

Instantly, Little Coyote felt afraid. Should he run as he always did? He was sick of always running, always living in fear around Big Brown Bear. But he was too small, too weak to stand up and fight. Just as he was thinking what to do, he noticed some bones on the ground nearby. Now, Little Coyote might have been small and frightened, but he was smart and much cleverer than Big Brown Bear. Moving over to the bones, he sat down and began to chew on them, his back bravely toward Big Brown Bear. He waited patiently, listening to the sound of Big Brown Bear’s footfalls on the ground until the bear was just about in the striking distance. Then Little Coyote said in a loud voice, “Yummy, that was one delicious brown bear that I’ve just eaten. I’m still feeling hungry. I wish I could find another to eat.”

Big Brown Bear was used to having his own way. He would knock other creatures out of the way if he felt like it. He would trample on them, not worrying how much he hurt them. He wasn’t used to being scared or frightened because there was nobody else in the woods bigger or more bullying than him. However, the thought of being eaten stopped him in his tracks. For the first time he felt frightened. Could a coyote really capture and eat a bear? He wasn’t prepared to take the risk and quietly backed off into the woods, finally turning and disappearing into the trees with a sigh of relief.

“That was close,” he said to himself. “I’m glad I escaped from that mean coyote.” High in a tree, unbeknownst to Big Brown Bear and Little Coyote, Squirrel had been watching what happened. Perhaps if he told Big Brown Bear how Little Coyote had tricked him, Big Brown Bear would look on Squirrel as a friend and protect both him and his family. So Squirrel hurried off ... but not quite fast enough, for Little Coyote glanced back and saw him scurrying down the tree trunk and running after Big Brown Bear. When Squirrel caught up with Big Brown Bear he told him what he’d seen, asking if they could be friends.

Big Brown Bear may not have been particularly bright, but he certainly knew when someone had made a fool of him. He was as mad as a bear with a sore paw. “Climb up on my shoulder, Squirrel,” he said gruffly. “It’s time for you to see what I’m going to do to that conniving coyote.” Just when Little Coyote hoped that he was safe, he again heard the sounds of heavy thumping of paws and the breaking of sticks underfoot. Big Brown Bear was coming back after him, and he had Squirrel on his shoulder.

Little Coyote again faced a problem. He had briefly won an advantage— but what was he to do now? Should he flee as he always had done? Would he have to be running scared all his life? Should he allow Big Brown Bear to regain his role of bully of the woods? No, thought Little Coyote, Big Brown Bear isn’t that smart. I’m a lot brighter. He might be stronger in his body but I have a strength of mind. With that, Little Coyote began to wonder what he could do. Again he sat with his back bravely toward Big Brown Bear and Squirrel, pretending he hadn’t seen them. He waited till the footsteps got close enough for Big Brown Bear to hear him and, at just the right moment, Coyote said out loud, “Where has Squirrel gone? It must be half an hour since I sent him off to bring me another brown bear.”

STORY 84: I AM ONLY NINE

Therapeutic Characteristics

Problems Addressed

■ Parental separation ■ Parental conflict ■ Being caught in the middle ■ Feelings of powerlessness ■ Not knowing what to do

Resources Developed

■ Learning you’re not alone in your situation ■ Accepting that some things can’t be changed ■ Doing what you believe is right ■ Learning to be self-assertive

Outcomes Offered

■ Reassurance ■ Acceptance ■ Self-assertion

Can I tell you a true story about a boy I will call Jason? When I met Jason his parents had separated and Jason was living with his mom but spending most weekends with his dad. Before his parents had separated there was a lot of unhappiness at home. His mom and dad would often yell at each other. Jason hated it and was scared by it. He would lie in bed at night, listening to them fight and feeling frightened about what might happen. It was lonely in the dark of his room all by himself and, though he wouldn’t have said anything about it to his friends at school, at times he cried himself to sleep. He didn’t want his parents to separate, but when they did I think he hoped things would be happier. And in some ways they were—but in some ways, they weren’t. Whenever his mom and dad got together or needed to talk on the phone they were yelling and screaming again. It felt bad that this mostly seemed to be about Jason or his younger brother, Clayton.

You see, Jason loved his mom, and he loved his dad, and he hated the times when they put him in the position of having to choose whether he spent the weekend or vacation with mom or dad. Then a test came. Sometime after his parents had separated, his dad had decided he needed a two-week vacation and planned it at the end of term so as not to miss his school vacation time with the boys. At the same time as Jason’s dad made his plans, Jason’s mom decided to take the boys on a trip for two weeks of the school vacation. That meant a month before they saw their dad and he saw them. Dad was upset. He said he couldn’t change his plane tickets. Mom was upset; she had already bought tickets, too, she said, and the boys were looking forward to getting away.

His dad asked Jason if he would like to stay with him instead of going away with his mother. They would do something special, he promised. Jason felt terrible. If he said yes, his mom would be unhappy and probably even angry. If he said no, his dad would be unhappy and maybe even angry. What could he do? No matter what he did it was going to be wrong . . . and that meant Jason was unhappy. It was Jason’s dad, not Jason, who told me what Jason did. In fact, Jason’s answer made his dad stop and think. He said it made him realize that he shouldn’t be making his son responsible, that he and his wife needed to sort out the way they solved their problems rather than drag in the boys. Now, some parents realize this . . . and some don’t. Sometimes there are things that kids can say that might be helpful . . . and sometimes there aren’t. I have heard it said that there are times when no matter what you do it’s likely to be wrong, so you might as well be wrong doing what you believe is right. Sometimes it helps to let other people know what you think . . . and sometimes it’s helpful just to know it yourself. What Jason said was this: “Dad, I am only nine years old.”

STORY 90: LEARNING TO CARE FOR YOURSELF

Therapeutic Characteristics

Problems Addressed

■ Substance abuse ■ Being stuck ■ Caught in undesired, unhelpful friendships ■ Feeling powerless ■ Lack of self-direction

Resources Developed

■ Acknowledging the need for change ■ Continuing to search when all else fails ■ Finding direction and purpose ■ Acknowledging the need for self-caring ■ Developing self-caring strategies

Outcomes Offered

■ Learning to care for yourself ■ Looking at what matters most ■ Discovering self-empowering strategies ■ Finding that circumstances can change for the better

Let me tell you about a couple of people I know. Well, one isn’t quite a person. He’s Philip, my teddy bear, and he’s right here. Let me introduce you. The other is Peta, whose parents brought her along to see me, too. Peta and Philip met here in my office and had a conversation that would change Peta’s life.

Peta had a big problem: She was hooked on drugs. She knew it was a problem but felt trapped. Most of her friends were into drugs. If she stopped, would she lose her friends and be alone? Her boyfriend, who was a few years older than Peta, had done time for drugs. He supplied her and pushed her around a bit at times. If she stopped, would she lose him and feel even more lonely? Could she cope on her own? A part of her wanted to break free but another part felt powerless to do so. Trying to quit, and withdraw, was not without problems either.

In fact, her family was the big problem here. They were well known in the community and she didn’t want to do anything that would hurt them. She didn’t want to go to any public clinic for fear of giving them a bad name. So she struggled on, stuck where she didn’t want to be, but not seeing a way out. Peta could be strong at times. She stood up for herself by letting me know that she didn’t much like my office. I think she felt confined and uneasy behind a shut door so I asked, “Where would you prefer to talk? What’s going to be the most comfortable way for you to work through this?” She suggested we talk as we walked through a nearby park—so we did. Peta seemed more relaxed and confident outside. It was interesting for me—but more important for her—to see the things that contributed to her feeling happier.

Now, Peta was a pretty smart young woman. She saw the problems of her situation, and knew she needed to change directions, but wasn’t sure how. At first, I noticed, she seemed to rely on me to choose which path we took and which direction we went as we walked through the park, so, when we came to an intersection in the path, I would slow down, hesitate a little and allow her to choose her own path. Soon she was deciding which directions she went. Nonetheless, she still felt stuck on the drug issue. Let me confess, she wasn’t the only one. During our walks, I had tried every card up my sleeve. Subtly, I had sought to encourage her to make her own choices about what she did.

Openly, we discussed the problems of drugs and the drug culture. I gave her homework exercises for taking control over her drug-related behaviors. We explored how she could start to build non-drug friendships and attend a specialty drug-rehabilitation clinic. Nothing seemed to work. Both of us felt frustrated and I didn’t know what more I could do. That was when Philip came to the rescue. Returning to my office after one of our walks, I looked across at my desk. Philip was sitting there, dressed in his tartan vest, a red bow around his neck, and a checked cap on his head. He had been handmade for me by a previous client, a thank-you gift at the end of her therapy. As a result, Philip was very precious. He was my teddy bear and had never previously been out of my possession, so I surprised myself when I took him off the desk and handed him to Peta. “This is Philip,” I said, introducing them to each other. “He would like to spend the week with you. I don’t know whether there is something that he has to teach you, whether you may teach him something, or whether there is something that you can learn from each other. I look forward to hearing what you discover.”

When Peta returned the next week Philip was wearing his checked cap, red ribbon, and tartan vest, but he also wore a pair of red pants. As she cuddled him on her lap, I asked what they had learned from each other. Peta said, “I realized Philip was very special to you. At first I put him in the lounge room, but then my drug friends came around and I felt uncomfortable for him. They were smoking and I didn’t want him polluted with the smell of their dope. I felt embarrassed about them. I didn’t want him seeing the sort of people I mixed with, so I moved him to the dressing table in my bedroom. He sat there looking kindly at me each night as I went to sleep and was looking over me when I awakened in the morning. I thought he looked immodest without any pants so I made him this little pair of trousers to wear.”

“So, what’s the most important thing that you have learned in your time together?” I asked. Peta burst into tears, and the answer that she gave changed the direction of her life. She agreed to go to a specialty substance-abuse clinic and from there to the agency’s rehabilitation farm. She loved being outside, working on the farm. The isolation allowed her several months to separate herself from both drugs and druggie friends. She found that once she was out of sight they didn’t care much. They didn’t write or visit and had no interest in how she was progressing.

After the farm she got a job in radio and the last I heard from her was a phone call from another state, where she had moved to set up a new life for herself. So what had made the difference for Peta? What helped her to change when she and I had felt so stuck and powerless? What had taken place in that conversation between Peta and Philip, my teddy bear? When I asked her, tears flowed down her cheeks. She said, “I realized that I cared for him more than I cared for myself.”

The Script - If You Don't Love Yourself (Official Lyric Video)