Skip to main content

JoAnn



"It is my o-pinion..."

I heard those words hundreds of times in the 18 years I knew JoAnn Costello, my therapist. And I was always grateful to hear them, because they usually preceeded some general truth about life, some specific advice based on her own personal experience, or some intuition (which was always right).

JoAnn died of cancer on Dec. 30, 2011.

I will miss her spirit, her spunk, her smile, her intelligence, her humor, her turquoise eyes (as described by a friend at her memorial today), and her hip Italian shoes, but mostly I will miss JoAnn's influence in my life.

When I first went to JoAnn in 1993, I felt paper-thin. I was sensitive, supremely self-conscious, and doubted my own thinking and abilities. Every nerve felt raw and exposed to the world. JoAnn heard my story and said, "Of course you feel that way. It makes total sense to me."

As healing as those words were, JoAnn was not one to simply shine you on. She was not warm & fuzzy. But you knew that she saw something that you didn't see in yourself; something good and strong and original. And it was your job, with her help, to find out what it was.

At her memorial today at the Swedenborgian Church in San Francisco, I heard things about JoAnn that I didn't know. That she was adopted. That she'd had a difficult childhood. That she went to UC Berkeley and graduated with a 4.0. That she liked tequila. That she often sent back food. That she treated her son Jesse like a prince, which was not encouraged in her parenting circle. I was not surprised, however, at the depth of love and admiration that was expressed in that intimate, little, candlelit church.

Afterward, while standing out on the church courtyard lawn while Randy, JoAnn's husband, and her friends danced to the Bourbon Kings Brass Band, two of us "group" members were marveling at our amazing good fortune at having found this woman--out of the thousands of therapists in San Francisco (many of them fantastic)--to give us her o-pinion on life and how to live it.

I will miss you, JoAnn. But I will forever thank my lucky stars for leading me to your little cottage in the Castro and later up the steep stairs of your house in Glen Park. And I'll forever thank you.

With deepest love and gratitude.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Formerly "Church" here: don't post my comment public. Just please
list doctors/places on your blog please...I'll read. A real mess, all over, "mcCarthy list" sort of stuff seems to be going on and no laws that I knew to be laws in USA are being honored as far as I can tell.
February 14, 2012 at 11:25 AM
Anonymous said…
Everyday we each make choices. It is only ourselves that will answer for those choices...in time...sooner or later. Evil is live spelled backwards because it won't allow "life"...the infinite flow of God within each fingerprint, no one alike. Fear often is a fist that feels? justified to judge and crush anything it chooses. FEAR, false evidence appearing real. Physical abuse, by proxy, or in person, property theft or damage...tactics of those who chose to believe their methods work. One day at a time...if not, one minute at a time...obsession driven by domination will find it's own demise. Keeping the one side of the street clean that is mine is what I am responsible for, nothing more. It's all an inside job. Sometimes we don't learn that till we are given the gift of knowing life is limited and has consequences. I know there is another side to this world, when I get to "go home" remains unknown. I have a lot to look forward to...till then, one day at a time. My gratitude list today begins with: 1. Today my eyes can cry and I have feelings and emotions...2. You and yours were there. Thank you.
February 15, 2012 at 10:43 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Love Me (Day Three)

I’ve just completed Day Three of abstaining from self-derogatory comments. How’s it going for me? Let me just say that it’s the self-esteem equivalent of Everest without oxygen. (And I say that with a lot of self love, as usual.) The 31-day plan came about one night at the end of November while driving home from work. As usual, I called Sam. We kvetched about the usual stuff—including the guys in our lives—during which time I told Sam about a conversation I’d recently had with Ocho: [Scene: Ocho and I are walking my border collie, Marge, back from the beach.] Me: “I am one more day closer to being super cute.” Ocho: “?” Me: “With each new day, I am 24 hours closer to being skinnier and having longer hair.” Ocho: “Hm,” Me: “And then you’ll tell me I’m pretty again.” Ocho: [making eye contact] “I tell you you’re pretty all the time.” Me: “No you don’t.” Ocho: “Yes, I do. You’re just too fucking stupid to remember it (big smile).” “That’s a great line,” said Sam, quickly adding that I abs...
27 comments
Read more

It's Not About the Bike

It's not about the bike...it's about the hair. But you already know that, as I go on endlessly (and some would say annoyingly) about it. In the event that you live farther than 75 miles of my house--and therefore cannot hear me every morning at 6:30a.m., sobbing and spewing profanities in front of the mirror as I wield a giant round brush, a 2000-horse power blow dryer, a pricy flat iron and four different hair potions in a harried rush to get my chemo curls (only kind of) under control before racing out the door to work--here’s a hair update: It absolutely defies the laws of gravity. Most people don’t believe me when I tell them my hair grew back in a fro. Ergo, the faux-finish fro foto. I’m not quite ready to debut the fro without the help of Apple’s Photo Booth effects. And Ocho was kind enough to join in the foto fun. I don’t have a good transition for this, as it has nothing to do with my hair, but I rode my mountain bike up Mount Montara with Ocho today. The bike trail is...
20 comments
Read more

Peace

I am delighted at having met this group of women writers who make me laugh and think and feel. I feel blessed and honored to be in their company. Thank you, Sherry, Katie, Jen, Bella, Jena, Hedgie, Deena, Jacqueline, Dee, Rachel, Church and anyone else who's crossed my literary path these past four months. I'd like to end the year with an email written by my Community Breast Health Project writing group leader, Karen Jandorf, to a group of her friends, which--luckily--included me. Like Karen, this message is full of love, meaning and grace. And as I read it, I felt an upwelling of joy that I simply had to express before the year ended, at having met Karen and having met you. Abundant peace and love, Jill Dear Friends,   For a number of reasons which interest me, friendships seem to be harder to sustain, connection harder to maintain. I suspect that all human contact is suffering from the stresses of our times. “Catching up” seems almost impossible. Accumulated experiences seem...
13 comments
Read more