The Woman's Book of Resilience. Beth Miller

treatment after the trauma of the surgery, the cancer (which had metastasized) had abated long enough for both of us to catch our breath. I found myself so depleted from the previous months that I wondered whether I could hold up for the duration of her illness and likely subsequent death. My circuits were near overload.

      A quiet voice of wisdom kept murmuring to me that I needed to rest and soak up warmth. When I stopped resisting (and stopped listing the dozens of reasons I could not afford to take care of myself at this time), I took several days off and checked into the Miyako Hotel in San Francisco. The Miyako Hotel has Japanese baths in every room; just what the Great Doctor was ordering. I followed the Japanese ritual of washing and rinsing outside the bath and then settling into a deep bathtub filled with hot, scented water, and spent three days taking so many baths and soaks that I lost count.

      I left the room long enough to get a couple of Shiatsu massages and explore a new restaurant for each meal. I had a new novel by Robertson Davies in my room and a special handpicked pound of See's chocolate candies. I spent luxuriating time watching the clouds form and reform, wondering at the beauty of the sunrays bursting from the seams and partitions of the clouds. I deeply listened as the rain fell, bringing such welcome refreshment for a thirsty and dry Earth. I could identify with the earth and feel its gratitude at being nourished and brought back to a moist life through the washing sprinkle of the clouds.

      In just three days I was returned to health and contentment, as I remembered all the parts of me back into one whole. This was not a matter of escape or a dalliance. This was essential for synthesis and for recovering the resources sorely needed to continue to face, endure, and resolve the ongoing issues of my mother's illness and our two roles in her life and death.

      When I do groups for women who want to increase their resilience quotient, we do a powerful exercise for needs. I ask them to pair up and face each other, each holding a blank piece of paper. Each woman is given fifteen minutes to answer the question, “What do you need?” Her exercise partner acts as a recorder, writing down each need the woman verbalizes and asking the question again. “What do you need?” You would be amazed how long fifteen minutes is when faced with looking deeper and deeper into an area that has been unused and undervalued.

      The answers get richer as the women delve into the parts of their psyche holding this information in reserve. “I need help.” “I need some rest.” “I need to know I am loved.” “I need reassurance.” “I need to exercise my authentic voice.” “I need proper medical care, with dignity.” “I need to know my place in the world.” “I need to have compassion.” “I need to forgive.” “I need the laundry to disappear.” “I need my kids to stop fighting.” “I need to be accepted for being gay.” “I need to exercise more.” And so on and so on.

      We also spend a great deal of time committing to getting some of these needs met. An assignment might be to spend the week looking for unmet needs and declaring to yourself that you will find ways to fill the need. Here are a few stories that have come out of this group process: