Stranger Anxiety….INVASION OF THE CRUISE PEOPLE…

Dateline: Seattle Hilton Branch Headquarters.    

Reasonable success is to be reported from the behind the lines attempt to approach a new experience with the Thinking Guidance System a bit ahead of Emotional Guidance System.  In other words, in the attempt to let the facts, rather than fears, direct behavior.

How many experiences have we not tried because we’ve made up scary barriers that do not exist?  Scary people who do not exist?  Who among us hasn’t approached an educational experience–like graduate school, for example–sure we are the only moron who slipped through the entrance requirements?  Personally, I always enjoyed the fantasy that brain surgeons were in a whole different category of brilliance from rest of us.  If someone is opening my skull, I wanted to think that person had something the rest of us didn’t….I especially wanted to believe their Emotional Guidance Systems never got the best of them.  Then I had to put out that marriage counselor shingle and shot the dickens out of that little fantasy. Oh well.

The ”Cruise People Fantasy,” is shared with the hope that the next time you are facing a new situation with new people, you can think of the Cruise People Fantasy and relax.

We were planning a cruise to celebrate our tenth anniversary.  That same summer the girls had a favorite retro show called “The Love Boat” featuring a cruise ship on which wonderful little romances happened. One evening we’re watching an episode which involved a gathering around the ship’s pool….and intermittently discussing what little tidbits we might need to add to our wardrobes before launching ourselves into the cruise people jet set.  The characters on the Love Boat were one hundred percent… women in bikinis and stilettos and men mostly preening in deck chairs with fancy cocktails siting on their  rock-hard abdomens.  Everyone had great hair and walked with grace. 

We studied the people around the Love Boat pool and concluded that investing in those expensive bathing suit covers was definitely called for.

Now picture what people on a cruise really look like.  Yep.  You got it.   We’re everyone of us…nuts.  Have a school reunion coming up?  Remember the Cruise People Fantasy and go forth.  And, don’t underestimate the value of a swimsuit cover.

Can People Change? Behind the Battlelines

I’m going in.

Teaching children with cerebral palsy to ride horses presented many challenges.  One I always remembered was when the child’s skills had advanced to the point she was ready to jump, I’d present the good news, then set a cross-bar.  Often my student would shrink back, saying she wasn’t ready, she was too afraid.  I’d insist, even urging the horse from behind if needed.  I’d explain…and this was a fact born of experience…that I’d push her forward even when she didn’t believe she was ready because I’d taught many students through this stage and… each and every one survived and was happy to have made it over that first jump, no matter how messy.

Now the truth was, in my head I’m thinking… “Take a jump on a horse chosen because he’s safe, a horse maybe not even awake?  You’ve got to be kidding!”  But I’d push, they’d limp over, and all ended up happy.

Often when I’m talking with someone in my office about working on managing anxiety, the picture comes back of the student rider on the ancient steed, and how I expected the rider to do what I didn’t have to do.

Thus, today…I’m going in behind the lines.  I’m going to knock the spider webs off my Thinking Guidance System and see if I can loosen up a self-defeating habit.

The Mission: Infiltrate a group of unknown people and function with an open heart and open mind.

To stretch…instead of allowing my (self protective) Emotional Guidance System’s warnings to run the show:  “You don’t have anything in common with these people.”  ”Just get in and out as quickly as possible, don’t obligate yourself or you will be sorry.”  And the biggee:  ”What if everyone there is a genius, is model thin, actually has spiffy coordinated outfits with scarves and big purses with designer buckles, drives a Bentley, has a house in the South of France, is a perfect wife who cooks and actually decorates her house instead of using the space to collect stuff from Mexico, is a great sister, a medal-winning mom, an acclaimed writer with a has a killer New York agent…What if?

Full Report to come.

You Can Change Self Defeating Habits

On the notion of finding (even welcoming) an opportunity to break the habit of  ‘push-pull’ power struggles over who is ‘right”… I can report two successes today, one mine and one my spouse’s.  And neither was easy.

Remember, acting out the need to be right is the body’s automatic self-defense (the Emotional Guidance System), the automatic action to rid ourselves of the anxiety that comes with not being seen as ‘right’.

The first occurred when a song came on the radio and my spouse said, “Who wrote that song, do you know?”

Sounds innocent, right?  Never.  If a person asks you a question like that, isn’t he obligated to accept my answer?… Well, apparently not. 

I said, “Hank Williams.”… He said, “No, I think it was Lefty Frizzell.”  (Okay, hold back on the disbelief and laughter on the age and music of reference.)  I say, “That’s not even possible because Hank Williams sang that song and he was dead before Lefty Frizzell started singing.” (I’m pretty smug at this point. And, by the way, I am RIGHT.)  He says, “No, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong on this one.”  (I know!  He’s the one who asked me!)… Now comes the big moment.  I felt the rise and fall of my chest, exasperated with the lack of cooperation of my listener….and then… I actually thought:  Hey, this is my chance!  Then I said, “I do think it was Hank Williams, but could be I’m not right on that.”

Yea!

A few minutes later, I was backing out of a tricky spot when my spouse said, “Come on back, you’re clear on this side.”  I said, “I don’t feel comfortable when I can’t see where I am.”  I pulled forward and repositioned.  “I’m telling you, you have plenty of room.  Why don’t you just trust me?” he asked.  I said, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just paranoid about this and I’d rather take it slow.  I know I probably overdo it, but that’s the way I’m comfortable.”  He says, “I don’t get you… (pause)… Then he said, “There’s no reason you have to back up my way.  I’m sorry.  I should just let you drive when you’re driving.”  He said this.  He really did. 

Doesn’t matter that I’m talking about two psychologists with years of training and experience.  This stuff is hard.

Only One of Us Can Be Right, Right?

The Air Conditioning Controversy that Ended True Love

Our Emotional Guidance System is designed to rid us of anxiety.  Differences of opinion often, maybe even usually, generate anxiety.  Thus our Emotional Guidance Systemwill do whatever is necessary to obliterate differences of opinion.  The simplest method of disposing with differences of opinion is to insist on DUALISTIC thinking.  That is….Either I am right and you are wrong or….You are right and…naah…that’s unthinkable.

A woman was dating a fellow she really liked and he seemingly felt the same.  As they were leaving her house for their fifth date,

The lady paused and said, “Wait. I need to go back and turn up the air-conditioning.”

He said, “How high do you turn your air-conditioner up?”

She said, “I put it on eighty degrees.”

He said, “Eighty? Really?  I’ve heard that it’s actually harder on the system to turn it up that far, that it costs more to re-cool the house when you return, than if you’d just left the temperature down.”

She said, “That makes no sense at all.”

He said, “Well, actually, what I read was… etc.”

She said, “Ridiculous.  Do you believe everything you read?”

He said, “Ha.  Where are you getting your information?”

The rest isn’t hard to imagine.  The relationship ended without a fifth date.  Challenge:  To promote the development of the Thinking Guidance System, find at least one sticky situation today in which someone holds a different opinion, and allow the difference to ‘be’.  Strategy:  Have a freeing phrase handy such as, “That’s what makes for horseraces.”  Or, “That’s one of the things I like about working here, we’re not all alike on every issue.”  Or, “I guess none of us knows what we would really do if we were in someone else’s situation.”

Sometimes it helps to remember that each person has a right to their opinon.  I know, I don’t really buy it, either.  Secretly I believe that the only reason my spouse does not agree with me on absolutely everything is simply that I have not repeated myself often enough.  That one day, I’ll say, “You know, if you’d didn’t feed Crazy Dog from your plate, she’d be a more pleasant dinner companion.”  And, he’ll say, “Wow, you’re right.  I can’t believe I’ve been so thick-headed all these many years….Got any other ideas on how I can improve my life?” 

How to Ruin Everything

How can you ruin everything…before anything thing even happens?  What are the thoughts you use to prepare yourself for the day?

Dateline:  Jim’s Restaurant Local International World Headquarters

Event:  More shameless eavesdropping.  Remember the E-Harmony Lady…(See April 1…”Guts, the e-Harmony Lady”)…

E Harmony Lady is amazing because instead of allowing her Emotional Guidance System to clog up the highways of her life…even though her figure doesn’t fit the American ideal…she puts herself out there, day after day.  Had her Emotional Guidance System been in charge…terrifying her with images of what terrible things ‘could’ happen… slide shows of potential humiliations…no way she’d keep trying.  But e-Harmony lady listened to her Thinking Guidance System telling her just the facts:  “If you don’t put yourself out there and meet people, you have no chance of making a match or finding a new friend.” and “Nothing really horrible can happen.  You can always walk away. It’s not a disaster unless you decide to make it one.”

Now the other side of the human guidance network.  Today, e-Harmony lady isn’t in her booth behind me.  Instead two ladies between 40 and 50, one in a yellow polo shirt and the other in a denim jacket, are sharing lunch. 

Yellow Polo Shirt says:  “It’s June….I guess you know what that means.”

Demim Jacket:  “Your anniversary’s coming up?”

Yellow Polo Shirt:  “Our 31st, in two weeks.  And I can tell already he’s not going to do anything special.  He remembers, and he’s already avoiding me.”

DJ:  “He hasn’t said anything?”

YPS:  “Of course not.  If he did, then he’d know I’m noticing, which he does already, and he’s ignoring me.  Thirty-one years and he treats our marriage like it was nothing.”

DJ:  “That’s how men are.  No deep feelings.  Sometimes I think Ben is sorry he’s married.  He treats his dogs better than he treats me.”

YPS:  “I just know he’s going to act all surprised on the day of our anniversary.  The way he’s snaking around now…”

Alternate Strategy:  Take a stack of copy paper.  On each page write variations of:  “If you forget our anniversary [date], I shall be forced to sing “Delta Dawn” in the shower everyday for a year….I love you.”  Tape up notices all over the house. 

 

.

 

She leads with her Thinking Guidance System, making “If you don’t try, it will never happen–” which is a fact … while all the Emotional Guidance System is hawking fears and untruths.

Do you know what today is?    anniversary is coming.  i can tell he doesn’t remember….

Pick How You Want the Other to Be…You’ll Be Right

And… if you believe something to be true about a person…you will ’see’ it…you will prove that what you believe about him or her is true.  You will look for what you believe…what you fear…and you will find it.

The “Mean Farmers are Everywhere! Incident”

A man was out for an evening country drive when he had a flat tire.  On opening his trunk he discovered he had no jack to raise the car.  He’d seen no traffic, thus spotting the lights of a farmhouse in the distance, he struck out to ask for help.  After walking for a few minutes, the man started wondering about the people in the farmhouse.  What if they got mad at having their evening interrupted?  Maybe they were having supper and would feel like they had to interupt the pleasant meal just because a stranger was so careless he didn’t have a jack in his car?  What if they insisted he join them in supper?  He didn’t have time for supper, now they’d think he was rude.  What if they have a jack, but it’s out in the barn and they expect him to find it own his own?  What kind of people wouldn’t help a guy who just needed a jack?  Yes, but what kind of people would invite a stranger into their house?  What kind of person would expect him to find a jack in a barn?  It was pretty late.  They weren’t going to trust him to return the jack, that was for sure.  They’d say, “You didn’t have the sense to make sure you had your own jack. What kind of person is that foolish?”

About this time, the man reached the door of the farmhouse and knocked.  When the farmer answered, the man said, “Fine!  Just keep your damn jack!”

Other “Keep Your Damn Jack!” scenarios when the EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM … (FEAR AND ANXIETY)  is running the show:

The wife waits at the airport for her husband who is late picking her up.  While she waits, she rehearses worst case  possibilities based on her fears.   ”Well, thanks a lot,” she says, climbing in when he arrives, “I can see how important I am to you!”  (This before knowing why he was late.) … Alternate (Just a suggestion, this is hard) “Hi, sweetie. Don’t worry about being late.  I’m sure you had a good reason.”  (Lose interest in whether or not you are right. That’s a dead end.  We’re just going for what works… the facts about what works….by way of the THINKING GUIDANCE SYSTEM.)

A husband comes through the door with a dozen roses.  His wife is on the phone with her sister.  She smiles and shows excitement, but stays on the phone for another twenty minutes, then says, “These are gorgeous.  Thank-you!”  The husband shrugs and says, “Thank you doesn’t mean much to me now.”  …Alternate, (see above re: thinking running the show)… “I had to wait, honey, but you’re always worth it!”

What happens next after first responses?  After alternative responses?  Which outcome do you want?

If you believe you are not lovable, no one….absolutely no one…can convince you otherwise.  If you believe you are not lovable…you will not recognize love. 

Deciding to live “as if” you are lovable or “as if” you are not lovable… is something like deciding to live believing in an afterlife.  You have to go one way or the other.  There is no middle.

Part Three: If Only You Loved Me, and Treated Me the Way You Should…

 

Triple Blame Whammy, Part 3, is for all the other people in your life who aren’t doing what they could to keep you on an even keel.

Sisters and brothers who consistently ‘make’ you uptight and are completely impregnable to your efforts to show them a better way to live.  And there are the friends you’ve tried to train…and also that sniggly therapist who isn’t buying into how you are the only person in your family who isn’t a complete wreck. 

Heck, I’m even including those people who cut in front of me.  (Okay, sometimes it’s the drivers ahead of me that let them in, but they are still slowing me down, they are still responsible for me gritting my teeth, still responsible for making me at least 20 seconds later getting home and that’s not fair!)  Coming off the freeway to reach our house, the road is two lanes.  Between the exit ramp and the main road heading to the hills, there are four stoplights.  Before the last light there are four signs indicating that only the right lane continues when the street breaks off to the right.  There are fifty foot fat painted arrows indicating the upcoming narrowing.  Any person looking out through the windshield can see that at the last light, the right lane, and only the right lanes peels off and continues through a yield.  I’m willing to wager that the majority of drivers in the five o’clock traffic drive the same route home every day.  Thus, the one lane only curving off to the right is no surprise. 

Yet, every day, a bunch of these people roar past the line of cars stacked up in the right lane –because we are kind, law-abiding, emotionally mature, just-plain-better-than-the-average people who can flippin read.  These people whizz past those of us in the stack–you know the rest.  They sit there in the left lane at the head of the line…and have the nerve to turn on their blinker, like, “Oh dear, I didn’t see this coming.”

As of this moment, I give those people the right to keep right on being themselves.  They no longer owe it to me to change.  I will find another way to deal with the extra 20 seconds I now choose to donate freely to my ride home. Now as for my siblings….

No, My Feelings Can’t Be My Responsibility

Have you ever told your version of a family situation from your own point of view making sure to highlight “bizarre and unacceptable” of another family member” …She made me furious!”  “He did xx again and just ruined my day.”  “I can’t believe xx is still xx.”  “Did you see what xx did?”…you say…only to have that person refuse to jump on your emotional bandwagon?  That’s what it felt like for me when I switched from a relationship-diagnosis-focus on-what-other-people-are-doing-wrong way of thinking about behavior change…to a self-focus model.

Before introducing the third leg of the Triple Blame Whammy, I thought a bit of a review on the self-focused way of thinking about bettering one’s life…might help.  Because taking responsibility for one’s feelings isn’t the popular way of thinking about human behavior and behavior change.  And it’s very hard to work on one’s own reactions.  At least I can be thrown off a good day by a random rude driver or a bit of discouraging news.                     Our Emotional Guidance Systems urge us to tell other people to change.  The easiest response to anxiety is to criticize.  The easiest response to criticism is defense.              And here we go. Not that other people aren’t making life difficult. Just because you’ve decided to take charge of what goes on inside your chest cavity… doesn’t mean other people aren’t going to go on being themselves.

Let’s face it, some people are easier to be around than others.  All people are easier to be around sometimes and harder at other times….depending on their level of anxiety and our levels of anxiety.  Technically, if we had ourselves perfectly together, it wouldn’t matter who we were around, we’d always be hunky-dorry happy.  But, I’ve never met anyone that together.  For most of us, while we could ideally be happy with anyone, it’s a lot easier to be happy with some people than it is with others.

Taking charge isn’t for everyone.  Words from a cartoon:  Guy A:  “My therapist says you are too controlling.”   Guy B: “My therapist says I need to take responsibility for my feelings.”  Guy A: “My therapist says you are narcissistic.” Guy B: “My therapist says I need to work on managing my anxiety.” Guy A: “My therapist says you have authority issues.” Guy B: “My therapist says….I think I should get a new therapist.”   

Wouldn’t the easy way be to blame the driver in front of us, our siblings, the right wingers, the left wingers, the cat people, dog people, our spouse, or our ex-spouse for the way we feel? 

Actually, no.  Because then we’d live out our lives as victims.  If we have no contribution to our negative feelings, if they are only something that happen “to” us.  Then there is nothing we can do to make our life better….and we are powerless husks in the wind.  This is hard.

Second Ingredient in the Triple Blame Whammy, the Spouse

Triple Blame Whammy

Part 2:  If my spouse only loved me enough to treat me the way I should be treated, I wouldn’t be having these problems now.

Following this line of reasoning can mean wasting your whole life.  I’ve spent many an hour explaining, I thought quite clearly, the specific personality flaws my spouse needs to work on and how 24 hour happy I would be if he’d cowboy up.  And yet, he goes right on being himself. 

Now, I’m not talking about extremes, where you really should start over–I’m talking about the 98 percent of us married to special someones with the same level of emotional functioning, but turn out to be different from ourselves. 

I know of only one exception so far and that would be my marriage.  My spouse surely must have snagged me during a temporary low functioning moment in my life.  Hey, you were thinking the same thing about your relationship.  I know it’s scary to think we are muddling through along at about the same level as our spouse, and we may have a better “front office,” but people marry people who are similar in level of emotional functioning.

So, what if we fired ourselves from consistently pointing out how our special other could be different and make us feel better?  Notice I said firing ourselves from our consistent efforts.  We’re not stones, we will slip.

Am I saying we should roll over and take whatever other people dish out?  Of course not.  I’m talking about switching our focus to more productive means of changing our lives to better fit what we want. Doing something that works and, just maybe, is less annoying.

Example.  When having friends over, the worst part, anxiety-wise, is the first few minutes.  My special other had the habit of finding himself conveniently occupied during the first fifteen to thirty minutes of a gathering.  Usually, “things came up” which rendered him unable to start his shower until showtime.  After many years of psycho-babbling why he was the way he was (running his parent’s through the wringer, making up all sorts of cute explanations), then trying to convince him to own up to his “problem” and promise to greet guests with me now and forever after.  Which of course he did.  The promise part I mean.  My harranges and psychobabble left him no choice but to promise to change as the trumped up alternative I provided was to admit to acceptance of life-long emotional disorder that was clearly “causing” me too lose my grip.

As for the being present when guests arrived?  You know the answer.  But, rolling over isn’t in my nature.  The next time we had guests coming over, I didn’t say a word and I stayed happy and pleasant.  I did, however, make sure that my getting ready procedures did not get out ahead of his.  If he hadn’t showered and he asked me if I was taking a shower, I’d answer, ”That’s okay, I’ll wait until after you…I’m not sure what I’m going to wear”….”But, people will be arriving soon,” he’d say.  “That’s okay, the door’s open,” I’d say. “I’ll just hollar down….I don’t know…I could wear the black Polo polo with the eagle…or the one with the white collar…what do you think, honey?”….”I think one of us should be downstairs when our guests arrive,” he’d say.  “Me, too,” I’d say, pausing to give him a long kiss that had him totally confused.  “It’s just that I have this eagle-white collar dilemma…”  Smooch, smooch.

Manipulation you say. Darn right, it was.  And exactly what was all that haranguing and psychobabbling?  At least this way, I didn’t have to pretend I didn’t want my way or that my way of doing things was some kind of moral imperative.  I also wasn’t mad. We ended up laughing about it and kind of playing a dare game about who was going to crack first and go down where the guests were helping themselves to hospitality.

Parents, Part One of the Triple Blame Whammy

While on the topic of  not wasting so much time and energy wishing other people weren’t themselves, why not really go for it and give parents permission to be themselves?

Which brings us to the infamous Triple Blame Whammy.

And, no, you don’t get the Triple Blame Whammy at Dairy Queen.

Part one of the Triple Blame Whammy:  “If only my parents had loved me enough… (and showed me appropriately)…I wouldn’t have the problems I do now.”

Take a look at the photo.  See how young these people are?  Your parents were them.  Yikes!

There was a time a few years out of graduate school when I was ready to switch professions.  This was the era when ’hospitals’ sprang up in every neighborhood for the treatment of addictions and insurance paid big money for 28 day programs for ’co-dependents’, ‘family jesters’, and ’scapegoats’.  Each family member was given a title to identify with and each was encouraged to take time out to remember all the ways they’d been wronged by family members… and how these wrongs caused their current problems.  The ‘theory’ was that by family members (courageously) taking turns describing just how they’d been terribly wronged, some sort of change miracle was supposed to happen.

And, as is true in lynch mob behavior, most participants do, for the moment, feel as if something life-changing has occured(I guess for the lynch-ees, something life-changing events has taken place), when all that’s happened is a big burst of emotional togetherness (momentary closeness based on fusion and group think) and…people swinging in nooses.

**Self-loathing alert!  I’ve vented with the best of them, justifying myself the whole time.  Pitching my version of victimhood…ala the family from my point of view…Oh, my view isn’t reality?  This is not a case to pretend nothing bad happen–our goal is to get free of  the powerless position of hanging on to ‘reasons’ we are the way we are…that define us into mindsets wasting time and energy and even hope.**

After all, can we really buy that we are the first generation of adults having children who have tried their hardest and done the best they could by the children?  Are we so arrogant as to think such a thing?  Are we really so different?

Of course, the relentless Emotional Guidance System encourages false superiority.  Could be…parents are products out their emotional systems just as we are.  Not that much worse, not that much better.  If this is too scary, you can cheat a little and hang on to the illusion of functioning way up the ladder from your parents. But it is kind of annoying.

Cheater phrase when others or self tempts you into discussing what messes your parents are and how they messed up your life….” Oh well. I guess everyone comes by who they are naturally. Say, did you here about that guy who tied a bunch of weather balloons to his aluminum lawn chair and floated up into the flight path at the local airport?”

Get Over It? You Can’t be Serious?

How can we give people permission to be themselves when what they’ve done has hurt us?

In a Divorce Recovery Workshop I was leading, we’d reached the stage where I’d asked each person to come up with the one thing their former spouse did that they would never be able to forgive.  Going around the room, each person would have their chance to confess their favorite private grudge.  I’d started out by confessing an incident involving Cheetos and Ping Pong and must be kept private for the sake innocent bystanders. The idea was to soften hard edges by having some fun with ourselves….that once you’ve confessed, then mooshed around, and even laughed at whatever you have a death grip on, well…the death grip loosens a bit.

We were halfway around the room and having fun topping each other’s ‘hideous, unforgivable incident’ when the woman who’s turn it was, looked me straight-on and vowed: “My husband of thirty-three years left me to marry his twenty-two-year-old secretary. I will never forgive him and if my children forgive him I will have nothing to do with them.”

Well, that was a downer.  I don’t remember how the bump in the smooth workshop road worked out, but I never quite forgot the intensity with which that woman gripped the piece of the past.  And, I’m not saying I would be right in there gripping, if I’d been in her place.  She had a right to go at life however chose.  Thirty-three years is a big piece, but it’s not now…so’s it’s still a piece.  A piece that’s over. Over.  Nothing can change it. Keeping a death grip on the bad stuff cuts off our own circulation.  And the person who did us wrong….grrr…

The Emotional Guidance System isn’t logical or even reasonable, even when it’s trying to protect us from further hurt. Yet, just maybe ‘giving other people permission to be themselves’ when they’ve hurt us is the most important time to do so.  We don’t have to agree with their choices.  We don’t have to put ourselves near them again.  But we do have to let it go. 

Next, what about family?  Surely, we don’t have to give them permission?

 

Achew! Don’t You DARE say, “God bless you”

The more you take personally, the tougher life you’re going to have. 

From an article in one of the many free magazines that come to my office. (Why is it my little practice gets fifteen to twenty free mags a month and all I find in my doc’s offices are vintage Field and Stream and Parents’ Weekly?):

 ”I wish people would stop saying ‘God bless you’ when I sneeze…”  Complaintant goes on to rant about how distressed he is that when he sneezes people he doesn’t even know foul his private space and push their version of religion on him. 

What?

“Which is more important?  The world you can actually touch?  Or the world (full of rude, intrusive, mean religion-force-feeders) you are responding to?”

Now I’m pretty twitchy and quick to expect criticism.  (Especially from those ladies in lab coats at the cosmetic counters.  They see right into me and know about every night I’ve landed in bed without a thought to taking off make-up, which would be would every night).

But, demanding that all the people in the world stop trying to be kind?  Does he really think people ignoring other people is a swell way to go?  Does he really think that when a stranger takes the time out of their day to say “God bless you” their plan is to invade…  This has to be a terrible way to live  if allergies where he lives are anything like they are here.  Maybe this guy should stay in his house or wear a sign, “In case I sneeze, do not say ‘God bless you’.”  That probably won’t work though, because, what are the odds that the same people who see your INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO LIVE their lives will be the same people on the other side of the cereal aisle when that sneeze comes on?  Not too good.

I mean, I can go through the cosmetic department at warp speed with my eyes slotted straight ahead like I’m late for an appointment inside the mall.  But, you can’t time a sneeze like that.  Could happen anywhere, anytime…poof, the guy’s invaded by rude people. 

Oh well.  I’m reminded of a long ago woman who, like the rest of of us, was experiencing major pre-Christmas stress. On this particular day she lamented how she dreaded going to her mother-in-law’s for Christmas because Grandmother always went so overboard buying presents for the children.  “What kind of values are the kids learning?”  (This, save the character of the poor children argument is commonly used to justify what we want. Apparently, if we don’t stop relatives from being themselves, our children will all end up in prison.)  “She’s just ridiculous with the gifts,” she said.

“That’s it?” I asked.  “Grandma’s too generous and must be stopped?  That’s all you got?”

She smiled.

Relationship Heaven..Let People Find Their Own Way

A while back, I wrote a book on stress which resulted in myself and my spouse booked into separate speaking engagements five days a week in five different cities. I was in charge of travel arrangements, etc. (There is the rumor that I grabbed this position at birth, leaping out of my mother’s belly to complain about the temperature. But those are  rumors.)  This particular morning, the spouse was driving and I was rattling off his literary.

His  Monday keynote was in Brownsville which is the southernmost tip of Texas, his Tuesday was in Kerrville, ninty miles south and west of Austin, from there the week bounced all over the nation.  But we didn’t get to Tuesday before I began with  get resistence from the troops. 

I’d announced the following:  “Drive to Austin airport Sunday afternoon…fly to Brownsville (two hour flight, counting switch in Houston)… fly Brownsville to Austin, pick up car and drive to Kerrville… and…and…

“But wait!” comes from the driver.  “That all sounds efficient and I really appreciate your efforts, but I think I’ll get up Sunday morning and drive to Brownsville.”

I did mention that Brownsville is that little bump of Texas, waaaay down at the very bottom…I recovered from being stunned at having my plan questioned and replied sweetly, “Are you nuts?”

I went on to elaborate on the geography of the state, in case he hadn’t noticed, finishing up rather nicely reminding him how tired I knew he would be on Monday after speaking in Brownsville, and how he couldn’t possibly want to face that drive from Brownsville to Kerrville.  I threw in how I’d grown up in South Texas and he was from Oklahoma–as if this fact made my map skills more accurate.

He persisted.  “I know it’s a long drive back and forth, but I have the new car with all the gadgets and a great sound system. I think I’d enjoy settling for the drive and playing some music I’ve put together.”

“What?”   I repeated the geography lesson on Texas and reminded him that I am much better at determining what will make him tired than he is. I ran by a little scenario involving running out of gas coupled with the lack of good places to eat in the Austin-Brownsville corridor.  He mentioned his favorite Mexican restaurant in San Antonio, his capacity to read the gas gauge, and did he mention, HE WANTED to drive to Brownsville?

Having been married a while, I stuck with it a few more rounds. (Marriage means believing that the only reason your spouse hasn’t agreed with your position is that you have not repeated in enough times.)

Then he said.  “Look.  I know YOU wouldn’t want to drive back and forth from Brownsville.  But we are NOT the SAME PERSON.

Here’s the thing.  I actually knew we weren’t the same person, that his tastes and preferences were different from mine.  It just hadn’t occurred to me that his tastes and preferences were on equal footing with mine.  After all, I work  pretty hard on getting everything right.  The notion that, not only did he have an opinion, but he had a right to his opinion…(If this is too much, remember you can always follow Dr. L on the radio, a woman who has never had a thought or statement she needed to take back.) 

Now, this was quite a bit back, and since I’ve done a little better at letting other people be themselves. 

This is a huge stress relieving strategy.   Not only give others your permission to go on being themselves. Recognize that they have a right to be how they are , as long as no one is harmed. 

That means the Obsessed Stranger Lady gets to keep on hounding laptop openers, that guy in front of you in traffic gets to keep putting those decals on his car, the people next door can leave their Christmas lights up, Taco Bell can advertise late night specials as “the fourth meal America’s been needing”,  Dr. L has my permission to blame every husband’s infidelity of his wife’s whining, Nancy Grace can keep the helmet hair, your co-worker has your full and gracious permission to vote the way she does, your siblings have your permission to choose their lives according to their own distorted (oops!), their own views and determination of the best way for them.

This means you’re going to have a lot of free time on your hands.

How to Get Other People to THROW ROCKS at You…

During my first year of graduate school, one of my friends who’d married a wealthy man seventeen years her senior, called with marital troubles. Already after midnight, we met at an all night restaurant near campus for coffee and burgers. 

My friend was a mess (unlike me, already married, divorced, living on Fresca and Vienna Sausages in the back room of someone else’s house). “I’m so confused, I don’t even know what to order,” my friend, let’s call her ‘Jane,’ said. “I’m really hungry and French fries sound good, but I don’t think I like French fries….At least, I know I haven’t ordered fries in a very long time and I’ve been saying I don’t like them…. I think I only started saying that because my husband is worried I’ll get fat.”

One advanced psych course under my belt, I leaned forward, bubbling with stereotypic warnings about domineering men. Jane listened. She ordered French fries. I felt like a well-loved missionary.

Jane went on to explain that things with her husband had been bumpy from the start. He turned out to be a screamer, and she’d told herself if he ever went so far as to hit her, she’d leave him. He did and she didn’t. Six months into the marriage signs popped up indicating that her husband’s playboy ways were still active. Jane said she’d told herself if she ever knew for sure that he’d cheated on her, she’d leave him.  That afternoon she’d found irrefutable evidence of an ongoing affair.  She was leaving him and needed help.

Well, now ‘help’ was my new middle name.  I bought a newspaper and circled rentals in her price range. I made a list of the calls she needed to make to the electric company, cable company, and a good lawyer of course. I raved on and on about how much better my life had been since I’d split the blanket, how I’d learned my lesson, how now we could be better friends again.

Jane dipped fries in catsup and nodded.  A couple of hours later we hugged ‘good-bye’ with Jane saying how lucky she was to have a friend like me who knew what to do when she did not know where to turn.  She’d be in touch in a week or so, when she had things settled.      

I heard nothing for over a year. Then Jane and I ran into each other at a movie theater.  She’d moved out from her husband about two weeks before and had been thinking of calling me. (Only two weeks before?)   “I should have called you,” Jane said.  “But the funniest thing happened after we met at that restaurant. The next night I had a dream where I was walking alone on a deserted beach. It was evening and a storm was brewing, though I didn’t feel any danger. Then something hard hit me in the head. I turned and there you were, behind me. You were throwing rocks at me.”

… Oh.  

 

Lighten Up, the “Chicken Noodle” Incident

In a former life (when I was nineteen and knew everything), I worked for Coca Cola at a Maryland Club plant because who needs an education?  Having come up with a unique way of avoiding growing up–getting married–I quickly met any questions regarding my future with the statement that just because my Danish grandmother got her doctorate in 1929 while other Americans were jumping off buildings–didn’t mean higher education was for everyone in the family.  After all, when you’re married…doesn’t that qualify as a life?  Oh. . . . I know.  No one bought my act and the marriage was a rather pathetic several month affair as was my soaring career with Coca Cola.

But I learned a bunch. (Maybe not as much as I would have at the university….)

My job at the Maryland Club plant was in the accounting (now that’s a fancy term for it) department and consisted of being handed a stack of data cards, verifying the accounting math on my ten key calculator, and handing the cards to the woman at the next desk. 

Actually, it wasn’t quite as exciting as I’ve made it sound. Certain things start to take on epic importance in a mind-deadening job such as the one I’d landed with my extensive credentials in food service and braiding horses’ manes.

One these things is “break time.”  Because, I’m sure, of some human rights protester mowed down by fire hoses in years past, we had a twenty minute break in the morning (sigalled by a ring through the Muzak), thirty minutes for lunch, and a twenty minute break in the afternoon. We filed out to the break room (a small school cafeteria without the charm) where we sat with our co-workers, most of whom were already grown up like me, that is, married.  It was the break room that unraveled my little pretend-married-lady-I’ve-got-my-life figured-out charade. 

The doo-loo-(pick up those chains) chimed.  On the day of the chicken noodle incident, I grabbed my lunch, and trudged out with the other career ladies. I took my usual spot with the other young marrieds, and set out my warm chicken noodle soup, my coffee, my crackers, and some chips.  With the thirty minute dining experience, one little item out of order, and poof you’re not ready when you hear the doo-loo again. 

I scooped my plastic spoon through my soup and managed two or three bites before the inevitable happened. I dripped chicken broth on my blouse.  “Oh well, I’m thinking. It’s not like I have an audience with the Queen later.”  I dabbed the spot a bit and continued chatting with my pals. It’s probably not my most attractive trait, but with clumsiness as my constant companion, usually when I get a stain, or lose a button, or the hem falls out of something, I just let it evolve and wear it anyway.  Scotch tape  is stronger than you might think.  Thus, I didn’t think more than a nano-second about the chicken noodle smudge.

I was alone in my ignoring of the SMUDGE.  “Do you know the best way to get out a stain like that?” asked one woman.  Before I had time to confess my ignorance, another friend jumped in. “Most people think you should soak the material right away if you expect to get your shirt looking like new.”  The next five minutes went thusly…”Fab is good, but you have to rub it in before you put it in the wash…Fab ruined one of my shirts; you have to use Tweety-tweet Super (I was confused…I could keep up)…”No! Tweety Tweet is the worst mistake.  And it’s expensive. I’m telling you any detergent will do fine, it doesn’t have to be Fab….It has to be Fab…No, it doesn’t. I’m telling you Tweety-Tweet is the only way, what do you want her to do, ruin her ENTIRE LIFE?”

That’s what I heard, could be she was talking about the shirt. The doo-loo came through the Muzak and I made a run for it that ended up with me the token divorced sophmore at the University of Texas and the tiny closet in my one room apartment stuffed with spotted clothes. I’m pleased to say that my fellow grown-up imposters moved on as well.  We’ve decided that the “accounting” department at the Maryland Club coffee plant is a form of intervention.  And what does this have to do with the Secret of Life (See previous post)?

We humans get invested in the way we believe other people SHOULD do things, even the best way to remove a stain. When our Emotional Systems are in charge, we exaggerate how critical it is that another person hears what we are saying and acknowledges that we are right.  Next Post.  “Freedom: Giving Other People the Right to Be Themselves.”

NOW…BE HERE… NOW

There is a man walking a hard and narrow high mountain path.  Below him all sorts of horrors await should he make one false step …tiny flies sting his eyes so desperately he’s tempted to close them and avoid even trying to continue his journey.

The lofty goals he set for himself are now lost in clouds so thick he cannot remember what they are.  Why is he even here?  What’s the point of one foot in front of the other, and by the way, his feet are hurting.  He’s thinking, “I’m too old for this.  I’m too fat for this.  I think I’m getting a headache which could mean another virus is about to ruin my week.”

He slips.  Suddenly, he drops off the side of the mountain. On the way down,  his hands grasping as he slides, his fingers close around a branch.  Not a strong branch.  Not a branch that will last forever, but a branch for NOW.

As he hangs there…. he sees just in front of his face a wild strawberry bush with one strawberry on it.  Only one, but it is a perfect strawberry. He picks it, enjoys the rich red color, then takes a bite.  Not looking down, not search the mountaintop for rescue, he pops the rest of the strawberry into his mouth.  His whole attention is on the wonder of that strawberry. 

This is you.   That is me.  Now.

Guts, “The e-Harmony Lady”

The eHarmony Lady.  There is a woman I’ve “overheard” many times but never met, who impresses the flip-flops off me. Being a creature of habit (off the charts obsessed), I have a regular booth at my my local international world headquarters, Jim’s Coffee Shop, and this lady prefers the booth just behind me.

Note: The booth behind me is not a good choice if you want your conversation to remain private.

About three times a week, eHarmony Lady shows up at around 11:45 by herself and with everything perfect–hair, outfit, nails, faint hint of perfume. She watches the front door of Jim’s. Eventually, a man will walk in alone, looking around….eHarmony Lady then jumps up and introduces herself to her latest match. They take a seat right behind me for that horrible first-thirty-minute emotional death march. Which is, no doubt, great for me since by then I’ve been re-working my own stuff for two hours.

And eHarmony Lady is great. She’s not a “ten,” body-wise, but she’s over a ten in her emotional responses. Instead of letting her Emotional Guidance System scare her off with thoughts like, “I’ll never find anyone,” “I’m not attractive enough to get anyone,” or even, “This is humiliating to keep trying and drawing a blank.” Everytime, she has the same positive approach even when it’s clear from the outset we have a mismatch.

She leads with her Thinking Guidance System, making “If you don’t try, it will never happen–” which is a fact … while all the Emotional Guidance System is hawking fears and untruths.

My Hat’s off to you, eHarmony Lady.

Double Standard? Me?

  I believe I am just as big of a pain to others as they may seem to me. I recognize the natural double standard that we humans operate from in our lives.  My brain is in my body with the job of keeping me alive and no one else’s brain has that job. 

In the quest to stay alive, I over-react all the time.  It’s a brain thing.  My EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM  telling me I’m in danger, when I’m not. Telling me I have to be right and other people have to be wrong for me to not feel threatened.  Telling me other people don’t try as hard as I do to make life work. 

I believe I am just as hard to live with as my husband is to live with, that I cause as many anxieties for my sister and brother as they might for me. I recognize that sometimes I’m the goof in the wrong line at the grocery store, I lose count of whose turn it is at a four-way stop. And, yes, I am the devil’s own:  I was in a hurry on the way to the airport and rear-ended someone while I was talking on my cell phone.   believe I am someone’s nightmare as often as I complain about someone else. If you think you don’t have a double standard, you’re really sunk, but hang on to that notion and turn on that radio (see “Miss Lake Superior.”):

All of this is to point out something I was thinking about yesterday.  When I get into an emotional tennis match and say things I don’t mean–with me it’s usually a statement that I will stop doing things I enjoy but don’t come with a lots of ego-massage, or a statement that I’m going to break off communication with someone.  I’m not really going to give up writing mysteries or any important relationship.  My husband knows that.  He knows not to take these EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM threats as real.

Here’s where the double standard comes in. Let’s say we are into a downward emotionally guided spiral and he counters my proclamations with his own EMOTIONAL SYSTEMS statements. . . . Well, I NEVER forget what he says at that moment.  This conversation isn’t going to end until he torturously takes back everything he said. I’ve got the lower lip out until he convinces me that he’s not going to follow through on his threats to cut off activities he enjoys or cut off from an important person. All the while, I expect him to let what I said go, because after all he KNOWS I don’t mean it.

The double standard is: When I say stupid things in emotional moments, other people are supposed to understand and just let them go.  When other people do the same thing . . .

…. And, Mexico?  That was like me having a triple standard… 

Avoidance Anxiety… Will You Calm Down so I can Calm Down

  I’m an “unabler,” the fella on “Intervention” admitted.

Of course, he meant to say he was an enabler.  I like his version better.  He was describing the “unabler” as someone who gets rid of her anxiety by taking the other person “off the hook”–paying their bills when they are spending their money on drugs or cars and apartments they cannot afford…for starters.

Bored? http://Twitter.com/mysteryshrink

Enabling is just way we respond because we are “intolerant” of other people being anxious. We are “allergic” the other person being anxious.

Well, guess what? No matter how perfectly we try to arrange our lives and how carefully we try to arrange the lives of others…People we know and love get anxious.  Sinking into their EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEMS, they spray anxiety on us.  “I can’t do it!  It’s not my fault!  The teacher didn’t tell me!  I’m going to miss my plane and then I’m REALLY GOING TO FALL APART. No, it’s hopeless, there’s no way out of total disaster!” they insist.  And we are infected. We dive into our own endless pools of EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE.  We are stuck trying to get rid of OUR anxiety by ridding them of THEIR anxiety.

If you’re as porous as I am, if the “other” is someone I know, much less love, or care about–(Okay, could be the sacker a the grocery in a bad mood, but he’s really a hard worker)–if the person is someone close, all he has to do is open the morning paper with a “whack” and I’m in there… boom… trying to talk him into having a good day.  Just to help him, of course.

The many faces of the please CALM DOWN so I can CALM DOWN routine are too many to cover in one day, but here are a few favorites:

Minimization: “Oh, it’s not that bad.”

The Judge: “You      caused this to happen, you know.” 

Miss Lake Superior:  “You know what I WOULD DO…”

The Miss Lake Superior First Runner Up  whose response is so enlightening she (ah, yes, our Dr.L) is awarded the tiarra:  “I’m not listening to your whining. In the same situation I would not have: EVER MARRIED THAT GUY, GONE ON EVEN ONE DATE WITH THAT GUY, OR SPOKEN WITH A GUY who had a friend whose mother was a smoker or didn’t agree with me…if you had been lucky enough to BE ME,   you wouldn’t have these worries now, but here you are…so tough.”

We’ll go with these few for now, minimizing, judging, claiming we’d do better in the same situation.  Guilt Alert: Remember, if you are reading this, you are probably a person who’s not much of a problem for others and most importantly, you have a capacity to look at YOUR OWN BEHAVIOR. So, pat yourself on the back for having that kind of guts as you catch yourself doing back-flips to calm someone else down because you too, are a little pourous.  THE REALLY GOOD NEWS: When we breathe, “Cool air in, Warm air out,” in place of the above routines, we reduce our stress. Along with not being quite such a pain to other people.    

 . . . ah, Mexico.

The “Iced Coffee Incident”

  Fear, Part One. One way of treating certain cancers is by “planting” a device which emits medicine.  Think of it as a clicking machine buried deep in your being.  A masterpiece out of which beams rays that change the way your cells work.

This is the way fear works.  Fear changes your cells. . . Fear changes your muscles and your organs and YOUR BEHAVIOR.  Which is how I ended up sucking back hideous iced coffee when I could have been enjoying a frosty Coke.  This happened in the sixth grade  and as far as I can tell, it’s been downhill ever since. 

(Keep in mind, if mysteryshrink is just too tainted, and you need the illusion of a psychologist with an unblemished background, there’s always Dr. L on the radio.  Though she’s not a psychologist.  She a “moral advisor” who hasn’t and doesn’t make mistakes.) 

In the middle of my sixth grade year, my family moved.  That summer, I returned to old small town to meet up with my thirteen year old buddies.  We went to a movie then swung by the drugstoreand settled into a booth like we had “back in the day.”  Before I had a chance to figure out what was happening, my friends had all ordered ”coffee” without a flinch. 

Well, I didn’t drink coffee and it had never crossed my mind that I WAS SO BEHIND MY FRIENDS.  I panicked.  My “loser-hood” was about to become obvious since I hadn’t considered myself cool enough to order coffee and just the thought of the hot steaming beverage scared me.  (Don’t forget, there’s always Dr. L.)  I had to recover quickly, so I said the first sophisticated thing that came to my head.  “I’ll have iced coffee,” I said, with a slight tilt of my chin hinting that “iced” coffee was what my super-cool crowd   in the big city were into.

And, in order to avoid criticism, I sipped up every bitter molecule of that awful drink that only grew more disgusting with the half cup of sugar I dumped into it.

So, that’s what fear of criticism can do.  Maybe I learned something about how my EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM can take charge of my life. Maybe my honesty (read: willingness to reveal total weinniness) gives the rest of you guys some ideas. 

Or at least, we can pair that bitter iced coffee afternoon with what I heard a coach say about a recent loss.

“We’ll take it and use it.  The boys made some bad choices this afternoon.  We’ll do better.  Good choices come from Experience. Experience comes from bad choices.”

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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