Wood's Rules

You may have noticed the new name on the banner. Or perhaps not.

You may be wondering what it means. But perhaps not.

I am going to tell you anyway.

There is a pretty good blog out there already with a version of the shrink wrap pun, which confirmed for me my suspicion that I wasn't being very original when I named mine. Wood's Rules, on the other hand, are my own invention, and since what I am offering here is more of the same, to wit, my opinions on nearly everything, "Wood's Rules" makes a better title.

Anyone who has been in therapy (or class, for that matter) with me for any length of time has heard of Wood's Rules. Wood's Rules are little maxims for therapy and for living that I share occasionally, always with the comment, "That's one of Wood's Rules." There are not many--less than a dozen--developed over my last 30 years (most in the first six months, actually) as a therapist, and I will be posting on them over the next few weeks by way of explaining the title further.

For now, they are, simply:

1. Rule 1: Where there's breath, there's life--and the corollary, where there's life, there's hope.
2. Rule 2: I never wait for anyone, not even God, for more than 20 minutes.
   
3. Rule 3: Never be afraid of a fact.
4. Rule 4: If you don't have a problem right now, then for all practical purposes you don't have a problem. (Also, see Rule #5.)
   
5. Rule 5: If there's nothing you can do about it right now, you don't have a problem right now. If you're still convinced you have a problem, refer to Rule #6.
   
6. Rule 6: This, too, shall pass!
7. Rule 7: For the first year after your divorce (or its moral equivalent) becomes final, you are forbidden to say "I love you" to anybody or anything who/that weighs more than 50 lbs.
8. Rule 8: You can (indeed, should) say anything you are thinking or feeling in therapy--this is not, after all, Amy Vanderbilt's Manners Class--but you may not do anything to hurt yourself or me, or to bust up my place.
9. Rule 9: If you come to therapy drunk or drugged, I will not meet with you. And, of course, the corollary: You're not driving yourself home.
10. Rule 10: Never lie to your kid(s).
    

There may be more, but if there are, I can't remember them right now.