mysteryshrink.com
A Psycholgist on the Loose
“The Drunken Sixth-Grader Incident,” What Emotional Decisions Passing for “Thoughts” Direct Your Actions?
WHAT ARE the NUTTY IDEAS....RUNNING YOUR LIFE?
“The Drunken Sixth-Grader Incident,” What Emotional Decisions Passing for “Thoughts” Direct Your Actions?
Jul 29th
Dateline: Brownsville International Airport, the Very, Tippy End of Texas.
Probably my older sister is the one who let out the secret ingredient found in vanilla. If not, I’m sure I’m blamed the missing bottle of flavoring on her like I did most everything. Learning that vanilla contained a lot of alcohol, my eleven-year-old hoodlum friends and I decided to have a party. The vanilla coke bonanza came with a drawback. While baker’s vanilla smells wonderful, an actual full teaspoon taken at once brings on the gag response. But, no worry. We were determined to experience intoxication. We got around the taste by dissolving the teaspoon of vanilla into quart-sized glasses of Coke and ice. And we all “became” rolling-around-on-the-floor smashed….Right.
“Which is more important? The world as it exists? Or the world you THINK exists, the one you are making up and responding to?”
Well, of course, our lives are determined more by the twisted reality we’ve made up than the actual facts. How else can we account for gamey first marriages or engagements, and the fact that we only wear the front ten percent of the clothes in our closets?
We humans are reality creating machines. The next several entries will focus on easy-to-see ways our responses are determined by an environment constructed to satisfy our fears and hopes.
When a person who is into voodoo is given a curse, he or she is more likely to fall ill. But, responding to a distorted world isn’t always bad. A couple of decades ago, when ADHD was young, the distractibility of children was attributed to either sugar or preservatives in the diet. Later the connection was disproved. And yet, the children whose mothers’ monitored what they ate actually improved. The act of monitoring in some way lent a placebo effect.
Many studies have demonstrated that pain can be somewhat relieved when the patient is given a sugar pill believed to be a narcotic. The “medicine” is even more effective when you tell the patient, “We have to be careful not to give you too much of this drug. It’s very powerful.”
Personally? I’m all-happy an into placebo meds. Let’s take headache medicine. I walk right past the Walgreen’s knock-off stuff every time. I’m an expert and I’m not falling for cheap imitations of the real “super” medication. I pay four times as much for Excedrin. And not just any Excedrin either. I hunt down the best, most effective pills. There was a day when I settled for the plain white pills. But, I’m not sticking with an old model when a new, more effective tablet comes out. No more pansy white pills once the green capsules , the Express Gels, hit the shelf. Now, who wouldn’t want relief as fast as possible?
And then, just when I’d found the pinnacle of pills, these geniuses of headache relief marketing came out with bright red capsules with the white stripes! My chronic inflammatory diseased fingers felt better just holding the bottle. Oh, what’s that you say? The ingredients are the same? Pa-shaw.
Tomorrow. The Placebo Hotel Room….What Emotional Decisions Passing for “Thoughts” Direct Your Actions?…continues.
Leonardo DiCaprio, Inception, and the “Lady Who Loved Freud Incident”
Jul 26th
Dateline: Home Office, Austin, Texas. Crazy Dog and Sammy Davis, Jr. in charge.
The young psychology student came to me with a question. “Do you, as an experienced psychologist, think there is any value in reading the works of Sigmund Freud?” I said, I thought so, but I can be entertained reading the back of a juice box, so I wouldn’t take my word as the final say.
She explained her reason for asking. She’d been on a plane to New York reading her first real text on personality development which happened to focus on the theories of Sigmund Freud. The subject matter and new ideas had her excited about her chosen field of study. As the plane taxied into the JFK terminal, her seatmate, whom we shall call Killjoy, asked her what she’d been reading.
The Lady Who Loved Freud spilled forth with enthusiasm, sharing a couple of highlights. Her seatmate, a Gentleman’s Quarterly dressed fellow (Why is the culprit messing with our world…always dressed better than we are?)…the sophisticated appearing man said, “Well, I guess some non-scientific people still read that kind of fluff.”
The Lady Who “Maybe” Loved Freud said to me, “I’m asking you because his remark took the edge off my mood. I started thinking maybe I’m not intellectual enough to ever be a psychologist.”
Whoa.
The movie Inception is about a team of experts who can access your subconscious using secret sedatives and gadget machines. Once into your subconscious, the team can “steal” your thoughts. The services of the “thought stealers” are bought by corporations who want to get a jump on impending company decisions and make a killing.
The thought stealing process is difficult for DiCaprio and his team to perform, but there is an even higher level of service offered. This service is more complex and trickier and involves “planting” an idea or thought. The thought plant technique used is a way to win the corporate wars.
As is said several times in the movie, once an idea is planted it multiples on its own in the brain. “The idea grows and grows until it defines you or destroys you.” (Best guess at exact words.)
What I kept asking myself throughout the movie was, “Why are these guys going to all this trouble when planting an idea that grows and grows and changes behavior is really quite simple?”
This is not a movie review. Just one freakish dame in cargo shorts sitting on the second row…thinking.
Remember the folks who built shelters and bought stockpiles of food to survive the turn of the millennium? And what about the Heaven’s Gate followers who consented to castration and suicide as a way to meet up with the mother ship? And Hitler? Who hasn’t wondered how it was possible to convince Nazi underlings to load humans into freight train cars and worse?
The “Inception” technique was nowhere around.
Let’s go closer to home. The girl who ends up battling anorexia switches to a food denial and compulsive exercise after a Saturday night when she and her friends are loading into a car and she is told to sit in front since she’s not “small.” What about those careless words your special person said during an argument years ago, the cutting remarks you bring back to torture yourself when you’re down? What about a criticism that remains with you as a secret fear….What if I am selfish like Mother said?
Sometimes an upset stranger in a passing car can do the trick. Or, we can come up with thoughts, all by ourselves, that grow like bacteria. What about the idea that “I not happy now, but when I lose the weight I’ll be happy….I’d love to write a memoir, but I’m not smart enough…I’d love to travel, but it’s too expensive for someone like me….”
Maybe we step on the scales…or run into a friend who looks so much better than we do…or overhear an invitation to lunch when we haven’t been invited…or speak with a friend whose kids are incredibly successful…
And, thus, Mysteryshrink.com is about how to possibly make a dent in managing our emotions, thoughts, and actions…a little better…not collosal better like Budha or women who look good in shorts and cowboy boots….just a tiny bit better. I’m in.
Inception, “The Lady Who Loved Freud Incident”
Jul 20th
The movie, Inception, is about planting ideas in the brain using great expense, danger, and effort. Come on, think about it….Is it really that hard to tweak any of us into losing our grip? Won’t a simple insult or worry get us going? …..Post in progress.
How to Stay Miserable…And Chase People Away
Jul 16th
How to Chase Away Love, the “Wallpaper Lady Incident”
Remember the Emotional Maturity Seeker’s Pledge: I am just as crazy as every other human on the planet. When I give examples of other’s behavior, I am not, for a moment, suggesting I could handle another person’s life better.
The Wallpaper Lady was in her late thirties and had never been married, though she really wanted to have the experience. She hoped psychological insight work could help her discover why she always seemed to choose “losers.” The Wallpaper Lady was very attractive and had experienced many short-term relationships.
Warning: If you are in the market for a date or a friend and a new prospect claims to have met many people who start out looking good then turn unsatisfying or nuts….Run, baby, run.
I warned Wallpaper Lady that, while I could possibly help her improve her self-management skills, I’d had scant luck in changing the way friends and family respond to a person. I warned that I, too, could prove less than satisfying as her previous therapists, friends, family, and boyfriends had done…and end up on her list of wackos who had failed her.
She’d give it a shot, she said. Nothing else had worked. And we were off. Hours were spent on family and anxiety and what relationships are about. Wallpaper Lady turned out to be pleasant and open to working very hard on managing her anxiety. During the process Wallpaper Lady found a new man who was “perfect.”
They’d dated for several months, rocking along quite well. Thus, I was surprised to hear Wallpaper Lady wanted nothing more to do with the man.
She had discovered his fatal flaw. Wallpaper Lady explained that she had recently re-decorated and up-dated her kitchen dining area. She was excited about the improvements and about accomplishing the decorating work on her own. After she’d finished her project, she’d invited her beau inside her place (he’d been there several times before) following an evening concert. She led him into the kitchen and she had asked, “Well, what do you think?”
Man with the soon-to-be-revealed fatal flaw had responded, “What do I think about what?” Wallpaper Lady said, relating their conversation to me.
Then, Wallpaper Lady looked at me and said, “You can see why I got rid of him.”
I said, “Not sure…”
She said, “There’s no way I’m putting up with a man who doesn’t appreciate what is important to me.”
“Oh,” I said, and, in an effort to suggest a more optimistic interpretation of her man’s response, I said, “His response might not have been anything personal. I probably don’t notice when people make home improvements….I’m just not tuned in…I’ve never spent much thought…”
Wallpaper Lady said, “Great! First he’s a self-centered butt-head, and now ..now you are not agreeing with me. I’m not putting up with a psychologist who doesn’t validate my feelings!”
Oh well. Actually, Wallpaper Lady gave the guy and her psychologist another go. In fact, she found comfort in realizing that holding other people responsible for our feelings is a waste of time and actually drives other people away.
Wallpaper Lady could see that, since this was a nice guy who liked her, if she’d met his less-than-hoped-for response by telling him how much fun she’d had with the project and pointing out details…maybe even kidded him about being an interior design flop, he’d have enjoyed the trip. Wallpaper Lady could see that most of the time when other people fail to respond exactly like we’d like them to respond, it’s not because they do not care…but because their brains are trapped in their skulls paying attention to their lives…managing their own anxiety…. the nerve, the absolute nerve of those other people.
How to Waste Your Time Without Influencing People
Jul 10th
Remember the rule: We are surrounded by crazy people…..Only we’re not surrounded.
Note: When our anxiety gets the best of us, when our emotions are running the show, sentences come out of our mouths….completely short-circuiting the thinking process. Also, our Emotional Guidance System knows everything about how other people should live their lives…
The thinking part of our brain…considers the long-term effect of our words…our thinking brain also but not that chronically insecure demon inside us…ready to tell the world what we “think.”…That cute little big-mouthed demon is particularly adept at noticing ways in which people are living their lives differently from ourseleves…and asking the question, “What’s wrong with those people?”
This is a dangerous and unfortunate practice since whatever monstrous and stupid behavior you dare mock in others…you will be fated to one day to not only accept…but to relish.
When I was in college, if I spotted a car with a small dog hanging his silly head out the window, his ears flapping in the wind…I could be relied on to point out my superior choices in life by asking, “What kind of person wants to tie themselves down with a house dog? What’s WRONG with those people? Do they just not have enough to do that they want to run home a couple of times a day to let out the dog? There are enough things you have to do in life, what could possibly possess a person to voluntarily take on a bunch of extra work?…You know, I knew a person once who let her dog sleep in the bed….actually this wack job had two dogs sleeping in her bed.”
His name is Sammie Davis Jr. after a one-of-a-kind entertainer. Sammie’s mother is mostly shih tze and his father was one of those traveling men with a twinkle in his eye your mother warned you about. He’s getting along pretty well with Crazy Dog. Sammie’s a baby, which means he wakes up in the middle of the night and plays “leap frog” with himself on my back.
Website Redesign
Jul 8th
There will be some changes in the design of the website. You may notice that the look of the website bounces alternates at random times. Thank you for your patience.
How to Be Cool, the “1000 Islands Airport Incident”, Part 2
Jul 4th
Dateline: Mexico City National Museum of Art and my second home, DFW airport.
To make sense of how a very cool world traveler conducts herself…Read Part One of the 1000 Islands Incident.
Okay…Are we caught up? There I am, pretty near passing out, my knees shaking, my face red with the heat after hours lost on the streets of Mexico City….When I spotted the National Museum of Art. Yea! I’m going to live and even see a few fantastic paintings. I’d used all the glucose left in my cells just to buy my ticket…and was headed for the first salon (the air-conditioned bench, that is), when the ticket counter lady called me back.
I turned to face her, willing to listen, but also quite willing to make a run for it. How long could they keep me in prison just for wanting desperately to see art? I couldn’t afford to backtrack. The bench wasn’t fifty feet away.
Then I understood that the counter lady pointed at my purse. (That is the plastic bag with my glasses and loose Excedrin and cashews. I don’t carry a purse. I have my reasons.
Through the pounding in my head, after about four tries on counter lady’s part, I understood that all briefcases and purses, no matter how pitiful, had to be checked. Okay….Then the counter lady pointed to the coat check sign….Under the coat check sign was…a flight of stairs leading to the check-your-stuff counter below. STAIRS. I made the journey and made it to the first salon. And thanks to my cultural time in the museum, I survived to get lost another day. Which I did.
However, as a result of my hours of over-heated lostness…none of which were my fault but the fault of the Mexico City roads department….I was compelled to purchase a fresh bra, if I was to make it through the trip without washing and without damaging my reputation as a delicate flower of a woman. A delicate flower with incredible street sense…who doesn’t need the trappings of a mall or a store or a brand name to make a purchase. I’m cool, my Spanish is kicking…I’ll just buy a bra in one of the hundreds of street kiosks selling everything for cheap.
I shouldn’t have any problem buying such a simple item, right? And, actually, I didn’t. Other than falling prey to just the teeniest error in judgment.
My thinking went like this: Don’t get too picky here. For three bucks you can’t go very wrong. Just go crazy and pick a number you’d never buy under ordinary circumstances. This bra only has to be solid enough to make it through the flight home….So I selected this little red lace push-up number. Those who know me personally are having a hard time breathing, just picturing me making such a choice. Jessica LeFave (TOO RICH and TOO THIN, Not an Autobiography, another to follow soon) is not totally autobiographical, but one element is… Jessica’s lack of fashion elegance. This is because my shopping and dressing skills are so weak, I can’t even write style.)
Okay…I buy the frilly red bra so that my seatmates on my return flights will see me as the sweet specimen I am. The morning of my return trip, I slip into my daring five-dollar purchase. I’m a bit startled at how much oophyou can buy with cheap lace and what looks and feels like spoons edging in on either side. But, overall the effect is okay…reminds me of what prostitutes in the Old West probably wore, which is a look I can live with.
So, what do the Mexico City roads department and a red push-up bra have to do with my humiliation in DFW? On the flight from Mexico City to DFW, I hardly thought about my daring crimson underwear…beyond smilingly mysteriously when anyone spoke to me. It wasn’t until the several hour delay (Surprise, surprise.) that my new sexy profile landed me unexpected new popularity. To kick-off the delay, I first enjoyed a leisurely meal at Cool River. Travel Tip: If you are stuck in DFW (and if you fly through DFW, you will be stuck), go to Terminal D. Terminal D is the new, Euro-style terminal. (What do I mean by Euro-style? I mean the signs say, “toilettes” instead of “restrooms.” Cool, huh? Okay, I’m easily impressed.) All the good restaurants are in Terminal D. The best choice is Cool River.
Then I opted to stroll the terminals. Only later, after I take the Sky Link over to Terminal A, do I begin to notice how much attention my newly defined chest is receiving. Not overly or underly endowed, I’ve never had an issue with men being distracted with my feminine chest ornaments. Until I wore the three dollar magic red lace beauty. The first male I noticed who couldn’t keep his eyes away from my chest was the counter attendant. I don’t actually remember why I walked up to the counter allowing the man to leer, but, my guess I had a complaint. Instead of the miffed expression with which I’m usually greeted, the agent was empathetic.
Just maybe I’ve underrated the importance of undergarments, I’m thinking. Then, I drifted into thinking that, perhaps, I’d imagined the counter attendant’s interest. That maybe he recognized my face from some “watch out for” poster in the flight attendant break-room and was afraid to look at me head-on. But, no. My new popularity continued. As I encountered other men, their eyes predictably checked out my new thrusting look. This was heady stuff.
Having plenty of time…given the above mentioned delay…I decided, why not enjoy my brush with sexual irresistability? It’s not like I intended to spring such madness on the others in my life, or wear the magic bra to see clients. So I did. I practically strutted as I studied displays in the shops across from the gate. I perfected a coy smile. I pictured Miss Kitty in Gun Smoke, Cleopatra adored on her raft. With burden of so much male attention, I told myself I now understood why some women choose breast reduction surgery. We want to be appreciated as women! Not just as a great set of laced and spooned up boobies.
The first boarding announcement is made and I break from my duty of sharing myself with men in the airport so far from home. It’s time to return to reality and the fact that I must not be tempted to wear the bra once I’m back in Austin representing the field of psychology and being loyal to married women everywhere. I head into the restroom (Terminal A is not Euro-cool) for my pre-flight preventative profolactive pit stop.
As I wash my hands, I dare a furtive glance in the mirror checking out the bombshell figure drawing so much attention my way.
That’s when I saw the blob of Thousand Island Dressing…the size of a plum…on my left breast.
And People are Crazy
Jun 30th
Now before you judge me, English tv in Mexico is limited. Which left me watching a Hoarding “reality” show. And I can live with that. My issue here is that the main advertiser for the show was hawking those plastic bags you can vacuum the air out of and turn a pile of clothes you can’t decide what to do with into a flat package the size of a folder. Am I the only one? The show is supported by commercials telling people how to store more junk….
How to Be Cool, the “1000 Islands Airport Incident”, Part 1
Jun 28th
Dateline: Streets of Mexico City in route to Hilton International Branch Headquarters
“If you don’t take life seriously, it’s not worth living. If you only take life seriously, it’s not worth living.”
Or, Let Your Emotions Be Your Guide…
The whole humiliating airport experience is the fault of the Mexico City roads department. How, you ask, could my failure to look cool…in a “blending” sort of way, in the DFW airport, be caused by the roads department in a foreign country?
Because… since the Mexico City roads department cut a few corners and ended up with tiny street identification signs… I spent a lot of time lost….I mean a lot more time than I set aside on a regular basis for being lost. And, if the additional time I spent lost caused by unreadable street signs wasn’t enough torture on my knees, the Mexico City roads department slaps up construction barriers willy-nilly right there in El Centro… just because the water and electricity isn’t working in some parts of town….therefore, if…by some wild chance…I occasionally figured out how to correct my lostness by heading towards or away from the sun…I had random roadblocks to deal with.
Yes, my problems are at the feet of the Mexico City roads department. The extra hours. The extra blocks walking, the anxious wandering. The traffic madness didn’t help, since my primary method of figuring out where I am in a city is to stroll into the middle of the street and gaze around the sky hoping to spot familiar tall buildings…which isn’t all that easy to do when the street is ten lanes wide and the drivers, well…it’s Mexico City. The first time I saw my brother pray was in the back of a Mexico City taxi.
Also, it’s a bit more challenging to look cool when I’m lost. I’m not aiming for “super cool.” I have no desire to draw attention. My goal is to achieve a “blending in” level cool. In Mexico City I was trying to pass for a professional woman late for a business meeting…not that easy wearing stained MBT sandals, my Emiliano Zapata T-shirt, and cargo shorts with pockets so full of stuff I had to hike them up (unobtrusively, of course) every few steps.
And, because of the tiny street signs and random construction barriers, we are talking hours and hours of walking. Hot, humid hours. My knees shake and perspiration blinds me. Crowds press in on all sides, I stumble over organ grinders, policemen shrieking whistles. I suck back as the occasional truckload of soldiers with machine guns whizz past. Still, I plunge on. Finally, I give up. I can’t make it. I’m going down. I’m ready to accept that life ends on the sidewalks of Mexico City as I succumb to the heat stroke I so thoroughly deserve. And who cares anyway? What kind of life could I have, given that my feet would surely required amputation.
Then I looked up….and there before me was the National Museum of Art. I didn’t spend two hours in the National Museum of Art to appreciate the paintings and sculptures. The National Museum of Art on Tacuba was air-conditioned. As I crossed the wide entrance apron, I called up memories of museums around the world and felt confident this museum, like those, would have the one essential ingredient. Benches.
I staggered in. I’m quite sure the counter lady thought I was normal for an Norte Americana. She had no clue that she could have charged me whatever she wanted and pocketed enough change for a new compact car. She handed me my ticket to new life. I was in. I turned for the first hallway, my knees trembling with exhaustion. I could see great art already…a bench…and struck out for my cultural experience.
But then…when rescue was but feet away….the counter lady said, “No! No!” Part 2, the startling conclusion….
Fears or Facts, Do You Have a Bullet Proof Jumpsuit?
Jun 23rd
Dateline: Mexico City Hilton Branch World Headquarters
How would you recognize me here? I’d be the only English speaker around. The rest of the U.S. reads the news before picking a destination.
But then, it depends on which news you read.
#1 LA Times: Mexican police say they have found 12 mutilated corpses in hidden graves on the outskirts of Cancun, the latest sign drug-related violence is spreading to the popular tourist destination. The grim find is at least the second such discovery this month…. Mexico City newspaper: A shootout between Mexican soldiers and gunmen Tuesday left at least 14 people dead in the nearby scenic mining town of Taxco, known to tourists for its silver jewelry. Fifty bodies were recently discovered in an abandoned silver mine shaft.
#2 Mexico City Travel Welcome: 2010 promises to be a banner year for tourism in Mexico as tourism promotion programs recently set into motion begin to bear fruit for the benefit of you, our welcome guests…
“Which is more important? The world as it exists or the world you are responding to? The one your making up as you go along?”
How can you tell if your fears are keeping you from an experience? Or, if facttually, to attempt the experience would be be walk into real danger? The fears that keep us chronically anxious and stressed are, almost always, imaginary fears. What if fears. What if I embarrass myself? What if others think I’m too fat? WHAT IF I WASTE MY WHOLE LIFE AFRAID of being a size larger than….Well, than I am? What if I never get married? What if I’m late?
My goal with this post is to ask you to examine your fears and come a little closer, perhaps, to being able to recognize facts over fears. Now, I’m talking about searching out facts, not about blindly following your dream like the star of the self-made movie,Grizzly. Yes, in spite of every fact from experts who actually were in place to know….this man took his camera to Alaska to make his movie. Which he did. Well, someone else had to do the final editing since he was eaten by his movie stars. Yes, our man looked into his own camera and laughs saying, “Sure, I might die doing this, but just remember I’ll have died doing what I love.”
I don’t think what he loved was screaming bloody hell while a grizzly chewed on his head. I don’t think any he experienced any profound joy watching the girlfriend he talked into coming shared by two grisslies.
Grizzley man ignored facts from those who knew first hand and then played victim, in his case, literally. What I’m suggesting is that most of err in the opposite direction, helped along by media hype. I’m not blaming the media….the job of every form of print, video, and, yes, internet page…is to get you to put your eyes to the screen or page…so that you will see the ads. Therefore, without sensationalism, the system doesn’t work. How long would Nancy Grace last opening her program with, “No bombshells tonight…”
The quest for those of us (however shakily embarking on the journey toward a more self-designed life)…is to separate facts from emotionally driven claims. And, none of us have time to follow-up more than the areas directly affecting our choices.
My point here is that the death roles of the drug cartel wars here in Mexico do not include psychologists on ripped from their computers. Get the facts. Two of the excuses I hear most often when someone laments not following a dream are: It’s too dangerous, or I can’t afford it. People do what they choose to do (maybe just a lifetime of choosing to calm anxiety), and people have enought money to do what they choose.
I’d planned on finishing this up later, but I turned out to have a bit more time in the restaurant. As I attempted to exit the hotel for the Zocalo, the valet pointed to the truckloads of armed federales headed the same way. He strongly suggested I wait a few minutes. I suspect he was a better source of facts than I was., so I had another Cafe Americana. I’ll go later.
Now to finish. Six hours later. After my walk, a good deal of which I spent lost. I got to thinking as I casually looked around for tall buildings to guide me, I thought: Wouldn’t it be just hysterical if I was actually hit by a stray bullet while traipsing around the Zocalo and wherever the hell else I was…Then people would dig out my laptop for clues as to why I was killed in that alley. And the post would have the story of Grissly Man….and I’d have done the same thing, told the world I was happy doing what I was doing and then….It would be like one of those set ups where you look into a mirror and see another mirror…..
The Only Losers are the Ones Who Don’t Try
Jun 22nd
The above is from when Little Miss Sunshine’s grandfather talks with her about being afraid she’ll make a fool of herself in the Little Miss Sunshine contest.
So what about those fears? And what better place to talk about how our fears mold our lives….what better place than overlooking the Zocalo in Mexico City in the company of hundreds of federal officers who are shorter than I am, but their guns aren’t.
Mexico City: Maturity Proving Ground
Jun 18th
Dateline: Mexico City Hilton Branch World Headquarters.
Let’s put it this way. The teenage police officers wear bullet-proof vests.
Mexico City provides an excellent ground zero for testing one’s ability to base decisions on facts or emotions. Make an emotion-driven mistake here and…well, you’ve seen the news.
No way I’m going to miss all my favorite places, which just happen to include Federal Police Headquarters and the Congressional Building where, at the moment, the president is calling for support in the effort to wipe out the drug cartels sucking the life out of this country.
Granted, even coming here was an Emotional Guidance System-driven decision. Joining the mob-filled streets…ditto.
I have, however, decided on a compromise. I make note of nearby doors and shops. When I notice more than two policemen with machine guns gathering, peering around corners, exchanging excited two-way radio conversations… I duck away from the street, a decidedly fact-based move. So far, so good.
Emotional Maturity Super Hero Meets Mexico City
Jun 16th
Fifty bodies pulled out of a mine a hundred miles south. 17 killed in shootout in tourist spot near La Cuidad. Time to reach for that special cape. Report to follow.
How to be an Emotional Maturity Super Hero
Jun 13th
Dateline: Tulsa, Oklahoma, World Headquarters Hilton Branch Office.
The following strategy will change your life. Only read further if you think your friends and family can take the new you.
Strategy: The REVERSE, Pt. 1
Okay. If you completed your assignment (See: Intrigue Your Friends! Frighten Your Relatives!)…and gave up one automatic, annoying negative response to a feature in your world you were previously unable to keep yourself from commenting on.…. you’ve progressed. At least for one day. I can’t advise going more than one day at a time squelching those automatic negative responses….That could cause some kind of brain implosion.
Thus, it’s safe to say: You are no longer allowing your Emotional Guidance System to determine your response to _____________. I cannot honestly say I have accomplished my goal….I could fake it, but there were quite a few witnesses to my comments aimed at the gate attendants WHO WERE NOT EVEN AT THE COUNTER 12 MINUTES BEFORE THE FLIGHT. The gate attendants who returned to the counter….after they closed the flight…and CLAIMED they had not left the counter until 5 minutes before departure time. But that unfortunate encounter is in the past. Letting it go….
Note: “But, wait, dear Mysteryshrink, the other people out there need to know what I think. My friends and family appreciate my astute analysis of the flaws of others and my sharp description of what’s wrong with the world today.”
Trust me. No one misses our negativity. I’m in no way advocating giving up efforts to change what we believe would benefit from change. Go for it. Sign up for the 5K, add your favorite charity or political party to your monthly bills. I’m not talking about doing; I’m talking about talking.
You’ve learned to silence your automatic response. (Or at least you recognize the concept.) But what now? Now you’re ready for an advanced strategy. You’re ready for an even more powerful way to stun those friends and relatives who think they “know you.” Who think you are a completely predictable person.
You’re ready to take on THE REVERSE.
The Reverse is a simple skill…simple like downhill skiing without lessons, poles, or a soft place to land.
Start by once again identifying which subject which, when it is mentioned, or when you are reminded of it by billboards, television ads, or some little random, nagging thought squiggle zipping through the private world in your head….your Emotional Guidance System perks up. An old adage in clinical practice is: What makes a person happy is the same for most all of us. What makes a person unhappy is unique to that person.
So, what is your trigger? Right-wingers? Left-wingers? Immigration? Sarah Palin? Francisco (Pancho) Villa? The Yankees? Trailer Inhabitants? Mansion Inhabitants? Taxes? Healthcare? Nancy Grace? Letterman? Cellphones? White/Black/Brown People? Racists? Bicyclers? Soccer? Professional Athlete Salaries?
Only last week I shared my genius by remarking to a cashier at the neighborhood grocery: “Does it really seem like such a good plan to have sale displays taking up the middle of every aisle, then provide miniature, double-decker SUVs with steering wheels and squeaking mobiles for people with kids?”
The grocery store clerk was as impressed with my store arranging ideas as the American Airlines gate attendants were impressed with my suggestions for changing their flight readiness systems.
You accomplish the REVERSE when you examine that negative remark before you share it with the world…and then you say something which is the opposite of your automatic response. I could have said to the cashier, “It’s so nice of your store to provide basket vehicles for parents with small children. Keeping the kids safe and occupied must help the parents get through a tough task.”
Okay, that’s as far as I can go with Part One of the Reverse Strategy. Just writing the above words has made me a bit queasy. Next entry attends to all the questions about being authentic, real, and the rest of the treasured bunk we have left over from our viewing the world as a child.
Coming Soon: How to Be an Emotional Maturity SUPER-HERO!
Jun 11th
Of course, this strategy can be dangerous to your health. Your friends and family may suspect your body had been taken over by “The Invasion of the Body Snatchers” zombies.
The “Woman Who Couldn’t Stop Therapy” Incident
Jun 6th
The “Woman Who Couldn’t Stop Therapy” Incident
Dateline: Hilton World Headquarters Branch, San Francisco.
The Scene: A writers’ conference, the ballroom of the Intercontinental Mark Hopkins Hotel…high on Nob Hill. The room is magic. The guest speaker is to be a woman whose memoir (The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio, How My Mother Raised 10 Kids on 25 Words or Less) was made into a movie starring Julianne Moore and Woody Harrelson.
As writers, we’re a thoroughly insecure lot…and before meeting the guest speaker, the room is electric with admiration and envy at the same time. The writer’s wonderful and supportive agent, Amy Rennert introduces the movie from the stage. We still haven’t seen the writing star.
The writer is Terry Ryan. Returning to her family home after the death of her mother, she had gone through closets and chests, as all of us must at those times. While clearing the out her mother’s things, Terry came upon the jingles her mother had written to win prizes from companies like Proctor and Gamble, and Post Cereals…prizes which literally kept the family of a housewife, a working man with a serious drinking problem, and ten children…afloat.
We watch the movie.
Terry Ryan had served in an advisory capacity for the film, Amy Rennert explains from the stage after the movie. Amy gives a signal. The huge ballroom crowded with would be storytellers…enjoying our wine and ready to praise the movie…wait. Wondering why the woman living out our dreams doesn’t bounce in from the wings.
Instead, we follow as Amy’s eyes drop to the floor in front of the stage. Four men lift Terry Ryan’s wheelchair up on the platform. Two men would have been plenty. Terry is bald and so whispy, she looks as if ready to blow away at any moment. She is in the end stage of cancer. She knows it. We know it.
The microphone is situated to catch her slight voice. She smiles…and shares with each of us how much finding those jingles changed her life. We’re thinking…well, yes…you’re the lucky woman whose story was made into a movie starring Julianne Moore and Woody Harrelson.
But we’re wrong. Terry’s excitement comes from remembering the incredible positive face her mother put on every family fear and disappointment, and there were many. Her father was frequently unemployed….and did I mention?…10 kids….
Terry is here to share her mother’s strength with a bunch of people she doesn’t know. She hopes people who see the movie realize how powerful her mother was in her life and the lives of many others. And we do. Oh, how we do. The night is magic and we know how privileged we are to hear this incredible, brave woman….We know her mother is with her now, speaking through her daughter’s beautiful face, taking time to pass on her wisdom to all of us fools in our ivory tower.
Fools? Oh, yes. Idiots. Idiots thinking….I’m not so happy now….but when ____happens….when I get a great agent….when I lose thirty pounds…when I fall in love…when…when…when…yes…fools, all.
Ms. Rennert asks if Terry feels up to a few questions and she agrees. The first questioner asks, “What about the movie-making process surprised you the most?”
Terry answers, “How many people are actually on the set for each shot…inches out of camera. There are hundreds.” Her genuineness comes through and we send her every healing vibe we can. “But the most fun was seeing things that actually happened come back to life.” She smiled then, and shared a few mother stories that didn’t make the cut. We laugh with the tiny fading woman on the stage.
She tells us how privileged she feels to have had the incredible childhood she had.
Then the “Woman Who Couldn’t Stop Therapy” waving in the second row, is acknowledged by Ms. Rennert.
The “Woman Who” clears her throat and asks Terry Ryan: “I was wondering….Have you ever been able to forgive your father?”
The frail lady with the bald head and the shaky voice, tilted her face as if briefly confused. “Forgive him for what?” she asked.
The “Woman Who Couldn’t Stop Therapy” stayed true to her name. (Sometimes you have to up the ante, have to shout or repeat yourself to get another person to see things the way you do.) “But your father punched in a wall. He came home drunk so many times!”
Terry Ryan peered from her sunken shoulders as if looking at a creature from another planet. “I don’t know you, Ma’am (I’m paraphrasing, it’s been a while)…But I think you’re talking about how you see my life, not the way I see my life. I haven’t spent any of my lifetime forgiving anyone. I didn’t need to.”
Terry Alan died 5-17-2007 at 11:11:07 PDT.
Intrigue Your Friends! Frighten Your Relatives!
May 30th
Okay, guys, Anxiety Management Pop Quiz Challenge.
Tomorrow… Okay, that’s asking too much. Pick a day next week. A sudden change in your personality could lead friends and relatives to the wrong conclusion. You know…bring up that troublesome branch of the family…and how you do look just like Aunt Franny…you know, when you get that look in your eyes…
So, we’re talking about change here, but no sudden moves.
First, think about your typical day…from the moment you open your eyes until you close them again. Now, find an event, person, wardrobe, phone user, disaster, profession, religion, publication, television show, politician, political viewpoint….that when you encounter “it” you just can’t stop yourself from making a negative comment.
I tried this, and I didn’t make it out of bed. I didn’t even make it to a sitting position before my tiny brain was awash in negative thoughts the world really needed to hear.
You see, my special person was watching ESPN “Around the Horn”…with no sound of course, because he wouldn’t want to disturb me. (At least, I like to think that is the reason, though I strongly suspect he mistakenly thinks that with the sound off, it’s possible I won’t start his day off with an arrogant remark about the ESPN, Tiger Woods and his trumped up “disease,” Lance Armstrong and how he made a big deal out of saving his sperm so that he and his wife who saw him through cancer could have children later…then left her and the kids for Cheryl Crow, or how the NBA is such a height-elitist sport, or how if the overweight, over fiftyish man delivering the sports was a woman, she wouldn’t have a job, how I don’t get soccer, how boxing shouldn’t be a sport, how it doesn’t make sense that young boys are supposed to consider sports figures as role models…and the Olympics, what’s that about? A kid spends seventeen hours a day ice-skating and I’m supposed to proclaim her a national hero?
Or, there’s the more personal route, in which I take a dig at my special person’s character by pointing out that ESPN just repeats the same stories over and over (This from a woman with an addiction to true crime shows, Reno 911, and, yes, there was the embarrassing streak of Nancy Grace back before Casey Anthony went to jail…)…To accomplish the more personal complaint, I turn to him and say, “You’re not buying this, are you?” with the thinly veiled implication that, if he is enjoying the show, he’s clearly mentally defective.
Okay. You pick your little sore spot. And challenge yourself to…just for one day…keep your (clever) but negative remarks to yourself.
Oh, sure. Laugh. It’s not that easy.
How to Impress Your Friends and Frighten Your Relatives!
May 27th
This is what would happen if you could actually CHANGE. I know, bummer. I think everyone else should straighten up and fly right myself.
Lasagna Ends War on Drugs
May 23rd
The advertising industry depends on the dominance of the Emotional Guidance System over the Thinking Guidance System, which isn’t a tough call. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have a five piece set of luggage for only $39.99 folded into a shoebox in my closet.
The method most often used is the LOOSE CONNECTION ploy. Advertisers use what we call a “loose connection” to establish a FALSE cause and effect. For example: Joe Montana (16 years in the NFL) is in good shape. Joe wears ”rollers” from Sketchers. Therefore: Roller shoes caused Joe Montana’s in-shapeness. Put on those Sketchers, baby, and, you too, will be ready to run onto the field at the new Cowboy Stadium….
Shop at Walmart and watch the pounds drop…and on and on and on….The weight loss industry depends on the EGS, particularly the Emotional Guidance Systems advice: “It won’t hurt to buy all this worthless equipment and all these pills.” Yeah, if you don’t count the soul-sucking loss of personhood.
Ah, but the weight issue can wait. We have the War on Drugs to bust first.
Swanson frozen food commercials suggest that thawing their products and sitting around the table as a family results in closer relationships with your children. As soft hymn-like music rises in the background, a blond family of four laughs and exchanges winning smiles around the table as they dish up lasagna.
According to Swanson, these early lasagna experiences mean you’ll have better relationships with your kids when they’re teenagers than will foolish parents who ignored the Swanson advice. Thus: Swanson Frozen Lasagna=Drug-Free Teens.
Why is thinking about loose cause-effect issues important? Because…cause-effect thinking sends us off onto all sorts of crazy generalizations, such as “I’m late, so I have to be in a bad mood….I’m not beautiful, so I can’t wear a bathing suit….my kid’s in jail because I had a job while he was in high school….even….I’m not happy because I married the wrong person…I know. That’s a biggie.
Swanson should maybe pass their incredible good news up the line, say share their genius with the folks in Washington. Stay with me here, this lasagna solution can solve all sorts of problems:
Swanson Frozen Lasagna=Drug Free Teens=Billions of Dollars Saved=Murders Down 40 Percent=Border Problem Solved=Millions Go Off Welfare=Less Unemployment=Fewer Houses Broken Into=Prisons Emptied…Who knows where lasagne can take us?
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