John Steinbeck referred to twilight as “the gloam.” Word nerd that I am, I read it and tucked it away for future use. As it turns out, he didn’t make up that word; he simply used it effectively. I believe it was in the book Cannery Row, a favorite of mine.
I once read somewhere that on average, it takes an adult about seven minutes to fall asleep once they lie down at night. My wife Renee might chuckle at that, as she might testify that it takes me about seven seconds.
I almost wish it took longer, as it is my body’s own sunset. It is my gloam.
Counselors come from stuff. That is, every counselor I’ve ever known came into this field after some particular distress in their lifetime motivated them to sit in the helper’s seat. I am no exception.
I think back to about age 12, a particularly difficult personal era for the boy I was. That young Brian developed some bad coping mechanisms, some of which took years to untangle. Some of his coping mechanisms, though, were surprisingly solid.
One was an intentional shift in daily mindset. At that point, any given day could have been affected by bullying, domestic violence, neglect and much more.
But even now, I can almost picture that boy deciding that no matter what, there is always something good to look forward to. Whether it was a new album, a weekend with Dad, a sleepover away or a trip to see my grandmother, something good was coming. At times, the only positive thing imaginable might have seemed insignificant. Still, it was something to latch onto, something that would be better than the now.
[Fun fact: I often greet my patients with, “Hi! Tell me something good!”]
Looking back as a professional, I’ve got to smile at that kid’s grit, resilience, and ingenuity. He had no idea that from the perspective of neuroplasticity, intentionally replacing one’s negative, repetitive thoughts with positive ones was a healthy emotional habit.
There in the gloam, that boy made a habit of finding any positive thing, big or small, and focusing on it. I still do it sometimes, though thankfully mine is a life of love, peace, and comfort.
Tonight in your dark room, after the lights are off and the covers are tucked under your chin… what good can you find to hold onto?
