Conclusion of United Flight 6960 from Chicago to Columbia, South Carolina.  Parts 1 and 2 immediately precede this tale of unusual punishment.  

Whoa.  Finishing up my tale of woe is going to be a bit more difficult than I’d planned.  I’m now in my Hilton branch office the next day.  I have the television on the History Channel…and, right there, splattered all over the big flat screen is a re-enactment of the Battle of Valley Forge.  At the moment, three emaciated soldiers, their frozen bare feet wrapped in rags, their eyes blank from pain and starvation…are sitting against a tree.  “Only the bravest, most loyal men stayed the winter,” the kind-voiced narrator explains.  “The weaker men long ago ran away in the night.  Those with wounds died horrible deaths, gangrene taking over their legs, inch by inch. The rest…too weak to break the frozen ground, can do no more than drag their comrades’ bodies a few yards into the woods to be devoured by animals in the night.”

Even the boney scavenger wolves competing over the gangrene ridden dead soldiers are starving.  This makes it really hard to complain about the meal I finally secured once I reached Columbia, South Carolina.  Really hard, but not impossible. I hesitate to continue….Much can be said for ignorance. …and whining is so unattractive…BUT, as I was saying…

Eventually, a guy in a blue jumpsuit delivered paperwork to United 696o on the tarmac at Chicago O’Hare  Airport.  Our plane is backing away from the gate–which you’d be thinking is a good thing. But aha!  Leaving the gate is only a delaying ploy…sort of a decoy move to keep passengers in the delusion that something is happening.  I glance over my shoulder to soak in Army Arnold’s admiration at how I’d called the situation perfectly.  How the guy in the jumpsuit delivered the needed paperwork.  In sort of in a long JIFF.  My Army pals and I sigh with relief.  It’s been fun getting to know each other…but all that was over…time to get back to our separate lives….Army Arnold and pal land cots at Ft. Jackson and I slide between cool sheets at the branch Hilton.

Army Arnold, hanging on to our relationship, punches the back of my seat asking if it is safe to fly in a blizzard such as the one outside his window?   Further flaunting my extensive flying experience and all-around travelling cool, I related several air travel stories for Arnold’s amusement.  He said he envied how I was so relaxed, so able to go with the flow.  “Oh, I dunno,” I say, “I’ve learned to take these little changes in stride.”

Once we’re in line for take-off, Arnold remarks at the number of planes ahead of us and I throw out some random number that I claim is the number of planes O’Hare handles every day. …Now our plane initiates a slow left turn out of line.  “I knew it!  Something’s wrong with the plane!” says Arnold.

Denial Danny, designated flight attendant, is already digging in his bag of fabulous free treats.  This is not good.  Pilot Positive Pete comes on the intercom:  “Well, folks, because we had to wait for the paperwork…well, enough time passed for ice to collect on the plane.  (Arnold gasps and punches the back of my seat.)  So, ladies and gentlemen, we’re now returning to the gate to have the wings de-iced.”

The plane goes a few yards and stops in a cross track.  Positive Pete amends his promise: “Actually, we cannot head into a gate to get in the line to be de-iced….We cannot locate an open gate, so we are now in in line to get a gate,  where we will get in line to be de-iced, then will return to get in line to take off.

Tick…tick.  We begin hour three on the plane.  

My Emotional Guidance System is going berserk, screaming:  This is horrible!  I can’t take this!  However, since I have Army Arnold behind me saying out loud what I am thinking, I must not crack, I must continue to feign sophistication and self-control.  Next to Army Arnold’s genuine terror of flying…if I were to unleash my relentless bitching over my inconvenience….Well, I’d look a bit petty.

Thus, I am repeating to myself: “While the changes in my plans… are unfortunate, uncomfortable, and inconvenient ….this is not a disaster unless I decide to make it one….While the changes in my plans are unfortunate, uncomfortable, and incon….”

Okay.  We’re in a gate, in line for de-icing. Denial Danny unleashes the beverage cart.  Not good. We aren’t going to be airborne in any hurry.  Army Arnold is asking his buddy if it’s true that if you’re in the military you can order alcohol on planes?  As Danny hands Arnold his Coke (full can, definite bad sign), Arnold asks Denial Dan if the pilot has ever flown in a snowstorm before.  After beverage service is complete, Danny is back to pushing ‘free’ pretzels.

6960 is now almost four hours old.  The Army boys aren’t going to make Ft. Jackson by midnight, but I should be under those comfy covers by then.  Because now the craned de-icer equipment is spraying us down.  The plane swaying like a baloon as the de-icer pressure spaxxrer sweeps along, ArmyArnold is starting to babble about how maybe he should have gone to college first, but he needs the Army money to go, but maybe college isn’t that important…..

“Alright!” Positive Pete exclaims as if we’d just safely swung across the Grand Canyon on a rope.  “De-icing is complete. We are ON OUR WAY, ladies and gentleman.”

You’d think the words…ON OUR WAY would indicate imminent movement.  But no.  We sit, tray tables in upright and locked positions. Denial Danny pops into the aisle with his plastic goody bag informing us that silly old Positive Pete meant that we were now waiting for a runway assignment. As he passes my row, D. Danny warns he only has two ‘free’ granola bars left.  I pretend I can’t hear him.  A move I shall deeply regret.  (Note eventual menu for the evening.)

Snow swirls outside.  Army Arnold pushes his knee into the now familiar dent in the back of my seat.  I turn around.  Nothing to worry about, time-wise, I say. Because we’re already late, traffic control is probably waiting to give us a good spot, I said, because I’m so cool and know everything.  Arnold squints at me.  “It’s snowing,” he says. “We never had snow in California…I should have taken the bus the whole way.”  He drains his Coke.

Tick…tick…tick…an hour passes since Pete’s jolly send-off. “While the changes in my plans….are unfortunate, inconvenient…”  Denial Danny comes by and asks me if I need anything.  From his expression I’m pretty sure that uncontrollable, self-destructive part of me that takes over when I’m pulled over for a speeding ticket…has now taken charge of my relationship with D. Danny.  Now that my true self had slipped out, like the many lawmen before him, Danny isn’t going to be cutting me a break.

Tick…tick…tick… Then Petey said, “Oops! Sorry about this ladies and gentlemen, but we’ve waited so long here in line to get in line that we’ve iced up again. We’re going back to get in line for the de-icer.”  He keeps making statements like the one above as if we were supposed to be thrilled.  An hour later the de-icer returns.  Tick…tick.  “Oh happy Day!” the de-icer runs out of anti-freeze.  We get de-iced.  We wait to get in line for take off. We are into hour six.  Six. Army Arnold is asking me stories about my childhood the way people do in movies where the players all know they are going to die. 

Tick…tick.  Take-offs currently suspended due to visibility. Denial Dan doesn’t come around much any more. He did take a bathroom break in the rear luxury spa, but he blew by me so fast I wasn’t able to stick my foot out in the aisle.

But, get this…this is the best part….It is now 3:15 in the morning.  We take off….and here it is…wait for it….Denial Danny picks up his mike and ACTUALLY SAYS…”We at United want to take this opportunity to thank you for choosing United Airlines and PERSONALLY extend an invitation for you to join the United Frequent Flyer Program….Just fill out the brochure you can find in the seat pocket in front of you….

 Oh, and the final menu on reaching my destination….to be revealed in next post.  Not a picture post.  No one should have to see what I stuck my plastic fork into that early morn…with dreams of granola bars in my head.

If you’re not up to speed on the ‘Power Hose’ incident, review ‘How to Ruin a Relationship’, Part 1.

At the close of Part 1, I am standing in my underwear, soaked, and holding a power hose packing enough force to blow asphault off the interstate.  This is not the pretty picture you may be imagining.

Having completed washing the ‘doggie pad’, I now need my special person to do the ONE THING I have asked that he do in the process…I need him to go downstairs and turn off the water at the spigot.  That’s it.  All I ask.  I will do the scrubbing and rinsing (picture a bent woman, gasping for air, working so hard and going unappreciated)….The trip downstairs and what….a couple of twists of the spigot is ALL I ASK.   Twenty minutes earlier my special person had stuck his head out the French doors announcing he was going to run an errand….

At which point I sighed deeply…hoping to remind him of the burdens I bear…then I’d said something gentle, such as:  ”Fine.  Just leave me up here in my underwear to run back and forth …barefoot and soaking wet…through a tile-floored house, slamming into furniture, slipping and crashing into walls, breaking my neck going end-over-endo on the stairs….then sliding out the kitchen door the veranda, where, if I’m lucky I can watch the power hose explode instead of having my face blown off when it detonates in my hand.

….Something sweet like that… 

He said:  “Oops.  Sorry, I forgot.”

I said something (on the inside) straight from the sickest part of my Emotional Guidance System ….Something like, “Perfect.  Just what I needed.  Another reminder of how important I am in your life.”

Back to what’s really happening.  I’ve finished the task.  I open the French doors and call for help with this  just one lee-tle bit of help I’m needing.  “Honey, I’m  ready for your to turn off the hose….Honey?….Honey, I need your help here!  Hey!  Need a little help here!  Help!”

Hmmmm….My special person does not seem to be home.  At this point, I could survey my circumstances and pay attention to the facts….my Thinking Guidance System…but this entry is about how TO RUIN a relationship.  Consulting my Emotional Guidance System, these are the words tripping through my head:  It appears I have been forgotten…standing on the upstairs terrace with a power hose going full blast in my hand…. “OBVIOUSLY, in spite of the years showing me otherwise, my special person does not love me….In spite of years of evidence proving otherwise….in spite of what I would have said about him thirty minutes ago…I now realize he must get a kick out of torturing me.”

I recall our earlier interaction when he mentioned the errand during which I’d been a bit snippy. Using the ‘logic’ of my Emotional Guidance System….and ignoring all facts to the contrary…I conclude that he’s mad at me and his leaving is some kind of punishment.

I know.  Pathetic, but I’m hoping my brutal confession can help someone else….

And then….my tiny, struggling Thinking Guidance System managed to be heard over the noise….Pointing out that my ‘conclusions’ about my special person made NO SENSE given everything I knew about the man.  He is a kind person who goes out of his way often to make my life easier… and, I like to think he does so, not just because I can be really unpleasant when uncomfortable, but because he is a good person and he cares about me and takes our marriage seriously.  Those are the proven facts.

How can you ruin a relationship?  Always expect the worst of the other person.   Always jump to the worst possible conclusion.  Always assume he has no good reason for disappointing you.  Always assume he doesn’t care.  Always assume he doesn’t care if you’re uncomfortable.  Always assume he’s selfish. 

And, after a while, your special person will start to wonder….”Why do I feel like a good person everywhere else in my life…everywhere except when I’m with you?”

When you find yourself in your undies on the second story verandah with a power hose in your hand.  Just maybe he didn’t leave you hanging on purpose. :  Practice words “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure you had a good reason….I have confidence in you….You have good judgment….Everyone has a lapse now and then, I have plenty…”

 And, if you learn that he did leave you hanging on purpose….Well, you still have the power hose.

 

 

 

One hot day a man is walking along a narrow mountain trail with steep sides dropping off hundreds of feet into the canyon below.  At one point, the man steps into some loose gravel at the edge of the trail and slips off the path.  (Work with me here.  Think of Nepal…fog.) 

The poor man is destined to plummet to his death.  And, yet, just as he begins his descent, several yards from the top surface…the man notices a thin branch sticking out from the wall of rock.  He grabs hold of the branch and ‘whew’ holds on for his life.  But all is not well for long.  The branch has only weak, spiny roots, which are quickly loosening from the wall. 

His time on earth is definitely brief.  For a moment, the blather of his panicked Emotional Guidance System dominates his life experience screaming:  “This is horrible!  This is terrible!  I can’t stand this!”

Then, at the moment of his greatest soul-gripping horror, the man notices a wild strawberry plant growing out of the wall next to the slipping roots of his lifeline branch.  The strawberry plant offers nothing in terms of a hold.  So what possible use is a stupid plant?  The man’s brain is going wild.  “This is horrible!  This is terrible!  I can’t stand this!  What good is a stupid plant if it won’t help me in my life?  What good is a strawberry plant if it can’t help me live longer?” 

The man’s mind clearsfor a fraction of a second.  He iss able to set aside his desperate demand to live forever or even longer.  The man realizes all any man or woman has is the present moment.  He becomes accutely aware that, though he is clinging to a brief …and getting briefer…lifeline, his life now…is no different from the life possessed by any man or woman.

His mind quiets and with his sudden clarity, the man notices that…on the strawberry plant are several plump red berries.  He glanced up at the branch which is now barely a sputtering string.  He glances down.  No question, within minutes, maybe seconds, he will be a lifeless body on the canyon floor.  Above him is the past he so longs to continue and improve upon.  Below him is the sure future he feared and dreaded.

Then, he noticed how red, and full, and perfectly ripe the berries were on the plant in front of his face.  Okay, then…he decided.  He CHOSE then to focus on the strawberry plant.  The man dared to loosen his grip on the branch long enough to pluck one of the fruits.  He popped the strawberry in his mouth.  The flavor took over his mind…his life experience. The strawberry was sweet and tart and wonderful.  Wonderful.

If your Christmas late evening was marred by a relative knocking over the Christmas tree (again) after too much eggnog…if or you ended up dodging flying turkey bones as one of those always charming inter-family political debates blew up….you likely looked out the bay window at the stars thinking….”Next year, I’m jetting out of the country as soon as the presents are opened.”

Ahh….not so fast.  You were only able to imagine the bliss of escape on a jet to faraway, because you’d not yet heard of the Rude Lady in Seat 20B, American Airlines 875, Dallas-Ft.Worth to Cabo San Lucas.  Prior to experiencing RL20B, I’d been considering working on being less judgmental as my New Year’s Resolution.  By the time we were over Juarez, RL20B had proven ”being less judgmental” was too big a reach for a weenie like me in 2010.

Everything started out okay.  My special one and I are seated in 21 E&F, middle and window, exit row.  The exit rows (20 and 21) are much prized for the extended leg-room.  The exit rows can only be pre-reserved…by very frequent fliers (sort of a hazard pay) and only by signing up very early for the flight.  Which is to say…a passenger goes to a lot of trouble to reserve an exit row seat…like say…Seat 20B…Aisle, Exit Row.  The plane is fairly empty on the ground in DFW until the last five minutes when crowds came aboard.  The flight attendants immediately started in prompting people to quickly take their seats to try and make an on-time take-off.

In front of us a nice older couple has taken their months-ago reserved exit row seats–Seats 20 D and E (Aisle and Middle).  Across the aisle, a young blonde woman travelling solo, has taken her long ago reserved Exit Row seat, Seat 20A against the window.  Thus, Row 20 is full except for the 20B on the aisle and 20F, across the aisle.   (Now you can forget Row 21, since all of the outrageousness has to do with Row 20.)

Move 1:  A loud young man and his wife roar up the aisle.  The man stops at Row 20, starts waving his hand over the couple in front of us as says, “Hey!  You guys don’t mind moving over to the window and middle do you?  I’d like to have this aisle seat so I can (this is a quote) “Holler up to my friends up there?…And, this way I can sit with my wife.”  Not knowing what was to come, the sweet couple said, “Sure. We’d prefer the aisle and middle, but if it’s important to you, we’ll move over.”  Which they did…thinking the Rude Guy was through messing with them. 

But, they’d be wrong.  Once settled across from each other on the aisle, Row 20, the husband turns to the nice couple to his right who’d accommodated him by switching from their preferred aisle and middle, to a middle and window on Row 20.  Now, this guy makes a fresh proposal: “Say, you guys wouldn’t mind getting up and switching with my friends up in Seat 14E (center) and 12E (center), would you guys? Me and my friends, we’d like to talk on the trip.”  (I’m taking down the quotes as we fly).

The sweet man in 20E answers in an admirable tone,  “But sir, you’re asking us to give up extra leg-room Exit Row seats for middle seats…” he said, thinking that would be enough.

But no.  The Rude Guy says, “Come on, now.  Me and my friends, we just want to sit together.  See we’re traveling with our friends.”

Nice guy points out, “But, sir, the seats you want us to switch to are not even close to each other. My wife and I would like to sit together.”

“Gee, Mister,” says Rude Guy, “I thought you’d want to help out.”

At this point, particularly if you’re not a frequent flier, you may be thinking….this doesn’t sound like all that big of a deal. 

But then, of course…. You are assuming what the rest of us on the plane (and this party of six had by this point buried all other conversations with their ‘hollering’ back and forth from the front to the back of the plane)….we, like you, are assuming that the Rude Woman who plunked down in 20B across the aisle from her Rude Guy husband….we’re assuming that the Rude Woman had actually been assigned Seat 20B…that she had pre-reserved the premium seat.  But we…like you….like the flight attendant would be wrong.  And when the woman who had the assignment of 20B, who’d been given a temporary seat by a flight attendant who’d been in a hurry to get the plane off and who had assumed she’d been mistaken about her seat….when this woman shows up to claim her seat 20B….that’s when the fun starts.

Tune in for Part Two: Rumble in the Skies Over Mexico.

 

There I was in Vegas… with a surly waitress and some crummy little shrimp and… I was as disappointed as a four-year-old staring out the window at the rain.  See the “Surly Waitress” incident. 

What to do?  What to do? sought direction.  I called on my two guidance systems.  

The Emotional Guidance System said:  You are being a brat here.  This meal costs twenty-five dollars, you CANNOT just leave an expensive meal.  You’re making too much of this!  You are too picky.  Hundreds of thousands, no, millions of people around the world, are going to bed hungry, and you, you are turning away from an expensive meal of shrimp.  There was a time when you and the special person travelled with a steno pad and wrote down every penny spent, staying in ratty motels and able to get lunch for a dollar (loaf of bread and a can of bean dip).  What’s happened that you are now such a brat?  It’s your fault for ordering seafood in the middle of the desert. These shrimp were flown in over many miles.  Think of it, woman.  These shrimp have given you their lives!

The Thinking Guidance System said:  Okay, probably life would be easier if you were a bit more adaptable, but the FACTS ARE…you can afford to walk this joint and find a cozier place with a happier staff. While there was a time when you would have to do without something else that day if you spent five dollars extra on a meal…but that was then.  This is now. You can afford to escape. The reality is, no one but you will be inconvenienced by your changing restaurants.  No one. 

I decided to split.  I asked for a to-go box and packed up the shrimp. (Which I dumped in the trash on my way to the next restaurant, as intended…but I thought taking the shrimp to-go and faking a mild emergency made me look less foolish….Okay, I know…I didn’t say I escaped the waitress from the frowny side of the street and her tiny shrimp without some concessions to my Emotional Guidance System.)

I left the waitress a ten dollar tip and a smile, hoping her day might pick up and headed for the buffet and a really perfect booth where I computed and piddled for hours. (Did you know the buffets in Las Vegas now have all day passes for tourists wanted to have it all and often?  I ask you, could this be a good thing?)

The Point:  Sometimes you can escape.  Remember the people who grew up in the depression and couldn’t spend money in accord with current circumstances?  Of course, many people attempt to spend themselves out of anxious situations when they cannot afford the cost … and end up causing all sorts of long-term problems.

An important contribution of the Thinking Guidance System is in avoiding generalizations.  The Emotional Guidance System lumps situations together saying, “If you allow yourself to switch restaurants and end up paying for two meals, what’s going to keep you from buying a bunch of timeshares in Tahiti you can’t use?”

What?

The way I see it, each of us has plenty of uncomfortable situations we cannot, and actually, do not want to avoid.  Situations and relationships that our BEST THINKING tells us we’d better grow up and manage ourselves, if we are to have a long and positive life.

The situations requiring us to “get over it” and manage our anxiety are many, including physical illness and discomfort (yep, we all get sick)…aging (yep, that, too, even if hours at the gym and a little help from the surgeon delays reality)…friends who are not at their best, anxious family members, the anxiety that comes with learning new skills or meeting new people, war, elections, colonoscopies, dental work…the give and take that makes for a solid long-term marriage…

These situations require us to grow rather than run.  And there are plenty of them.

But, then, there’s the occasional uncomfortable situation when we can simply escape rather than grow up.  Now, of course, I’d like to be the Buddha, I’d like to say I am now, or think I could at some point in the future be, completely in charge of my anxiety…that I can or hypothetically could…respond to discomfort, criticism, and all the hard parts of reality without experiencing painful anxiety…but that’s not going to happen… it’s a journey…

Given the non-Buddha probability, a little skill in figuring out when you can afford to duck…that is, when ‘ducking’ has no significant long-term downside….and when ‘ducking’ an unpleasant situation is going to come back to bite you…or peck you.

Which situations can you afford to ‘escape’ or ‘make go away’ with money or a little extra slippery effort?

Example:  When you are on a full flight and an unusually tall or expansive person is assigned the seat next to you…this is one of those situations you’re best off to call on your skills of managing anxiety. 

However, if you are seated in an uncrowded movie theater and an unusually tall person sits down in front of you, all that’s necessary to relieve your discomfort is a little extra effort on your part. 

Of course, your move could still tie you in a knot if you’re not at the theater alone and the other person disagrees with your decision to move… or takes the moment to recite all the ways you are too demanding.  In this situation your decision to escape has sparked an anxiety in your movie-going pal.  If you and your movie-going pal had an argument on the way to the movie, or if your movie-going pal is hungry, the counter-move, sometimes called a ‘change back’ move can be more intense.

Last night I had one of those ‘tall guy sits in front of you at the movies’ events occurred.  And a chance for an example was born. 

Right there in the glitz of Las Vegas.  Yes, even Vegas is no more than fodder for the struggle between the Emotional Guidance System and the Thinking Guidance System….Maybe Las Vegas was the place the Emotional Guidance System was born.

Next Las Vegas, the Playground of the rich and anxious….and the just anxious.

A while back– before the results of being tossed on my head too many times started to become obvious– a friend and I took to the road following up a tip on a horse who just might turn out to be the next state Green Hunter Champion.  For those engaged in more meaningful pursuits, in the horse world, ‘green’ means ‘new’ and ‘hunter’ means…’horse who jumps over fake gates, walls, and streams, and other obstacles of the sort you’d find on an old English estate’.

My friend and I parked the truck on the edge of a huge pasture and set out to find the five-year-old bay thoroughbred with the official track name of Parker Poker. Parker turned out to be a less-than-stunning boy, as far as I could see under the mud, the snarls, and the choppy mane.  Still, having driven forty miles and walked a couple more through high grass, we led him back to the trailer, loaded him up, and gave him a ride to one of the finest show barns in the Southwest…or at least that’s the label I’ve used for many years to explain away the bizarre proportion on my income I deposited at that location.

Once Parker Poker was out of the trailer and cross-tied in the main barn, he looked more forlorn and out-of-place than ever.  Always ready to absorb the fears of others and queen of the Don’t Expect Much and You Won’t Be Disappointed gang…I plunked down with my own forlorn look, a Coke and a long, knowing sigh.

Not my friend.  Let’s call her N.  N dragged out her best box of grooming tools and went to work.  Heavier equipment was needed for Parker’s matted tail mud-caked hooves.  N dug out shoeing tools, show day yarns, rubber bands, and oils.  While N frittered away her time, energy, and equipment on the lost cause horse…I watched her through the dust, slightly bored, sipping my second Coke, and commenting on N’s commitment… in that way that passes for a compliment, but is really a thinly veiled crack about the other person’s judgment.

My remarks not having the intended effect of discouraging my busy friend, I finally stood and proclaimed, “I have no idea why you’re going to all this trouble.”

And N said, ‘I can’t say what will happen to this horse or if he’ll ever win a prize.  But I have learned that if you want a horse to be a show horse, you have to treat him like a showhorse first.’

“Oh…” the future psychologistsaid, brilliantly.  Thinking…hmm…maybe N has something with this ‘treat a horse like a show horse business’…Maybe N’s theory has something to say about marriage?  What would happen if I treated my special person like a show horse…not the oats and hoof clippers…but with the good faith?

“Anyway, no matter how this horse turns out…I know I’m having a happy afternoon,” N said.

“Oh…” the therapist said.  “Oh,” she said again, thinking…Maybe I’ll write about N and her showhorse theory someday.

Mysteryshrink’s You-Get-What-You-Pay-For Psychological Tip:  Comparing yourself to wildlife can provide excellent excuses for your bizarre behavior.  In general people feel possitively about the creatures of the forests and the trees…here’s how you can cash in.

Now, the wildlife comparison technique works best if you have already informed people, that, indeed you are nuts.  As a refresher, the rest of your life will go much more pleasantly if you will cease and desist from further defending yourself as a sane person.  Let it go.

When someone says–

What’s wrong wrong with you?  Why do you do it that way?  How could you think like that?  How could you possibly have made the same mistake eight times?

Squench your face into a ‘very puzzled’ expression and answer:  “Because…I think I’ve figured it out…it’s because I’m crazy and I’m getting worse!”

Comparing yourself to wildlife works in all sorts of situations.  When you show up late to an event, you can say:  At least I’m not a middle-aged Schnauzer.  Did you know they sleep twenty hous  a day?  At least I’m not sea slug.  Did you know they can impreganate themselves?  At least I’m not river rat. Did you know they can get up to twenty pounds? 

Now, about the chipmunks.  (This part about chipmunks is factual, the above is just wild guesses, but facts matter so little when you’re defending yourself.)  Chipmunks bury nuts all the time in all sorts of places. However, their memories are only good for three days.  Lucky for the chipmunks, many tend to live in the same areas.  Thus, many of the nuts the chipmunk finds and eats were left by other chipmunks who’d forgotten where they’d buried them… just as  the feasting chipmunk’’s poorly remembered efforts were providing forgotten nuts for others.  Pretty neat system, eh?

Now to the most recent opportunigy for comparing self to wildlife to distract from bizarre behavior.  I’ve been traveling a lot lately (this is my human-based excuse).  Last week, I was returning to town on a Wednesday, thus scheduled a slate of appointments for Thursday.  Groggy and achey, I woke up Thursday and steeled my body with an Excedrin triple-shot.  My special person wished me well as he left for his regular Wednesday bridge game.  After he left, I showered and dressed in what would have to pass for professional togs.

Then I realized that my special person had just left for his WEDNESDAY bridge game.  And, pow!  Right there in front of me was one of those bonus…I didn’t hide it…nuts!  I didn’t put the day aside, I didn’t sacrifice, I didn’t trade a nut for a nut.  I just stumbled on a free nut!

Dateline: Changing Hearts… a a home for abused, abandoned, and neglected girls in Nuevo Laredo (starred project for mysteryshrink)–
Nine year old Christina had come with her mother to “observe” the home as a potential charity recipient of her wealthy and kind parents. Christina’s family lives snuggly and well in the best part of Austin. She has had all the experiences, learning opportunities, resort travel, and material provisions expected in the life to which she was born.

On this day, Christina had joined the girls in the home in their cramped and sparse activities. At the end of the day, Christina was laying on the bare floor with 50 girls she couldn’t understand, watching Spanish T.V., and eating popcorn.  Just moments into the movie she got up off the floor and whispered to her mom, “This is the best day of my life!”

Christina’s mother smiled and tears ran, realizing what she had been able to provide her daughter on this day.

Small animals, with their short lives, remind us to live in the now. 

Head colds remind us to enjoy good days when we can breathe and our head doesn’t feel like it’s caught in a fan belt.

This human is “currently being serviced.” 

When a machine is broken at the gym, instead of a sign saying it’s broken, a placard is placed on the machine explaining, “This equipment is currently being serviced.”

The wording “is currently being serviced” takes into account that the inconvenience is temporary, that with time and tweaking, the equipment will return to regular duties.

Today is a Maintenance Day.   

A Maintenance Day is a day when you don’t try to “get any better” at anything.  When the best you can hope for is to keep from sliding backward…in your work, your relationships, in the journey toward your goals. 

A Maintenance Day is a day when every time you reach for an item, you knock something else over.

A Maintenance Day is a day when you turn corners, and bang your knees.

A Maintenance Day is a day when no good ideas are coming to the front of your brain.

A Maintenance Day is a day when you make a clever remark and realize you’ve hurt someone’s feelings.

A Maintenance Day is a day when the long-term goals you set for yourself mock you as impossible. “Who do you think you are?”

A Maintenance Day is a day when your Emotional Guidance System is running your show….you are taking everything personally….your refection in the mirror is a monster….you are throwing generalizing words—never, always, everyone, those (old, young, leftwing, rightwing, reality-television watchers, people who don’t like reality television, techno-geniuses, techno-duds,)…the guy who ran the yellow light, and the guy who honked when you ran the yellow light….

A Maintenance Day is a day when, first and foremost, you must be your very own very best friend and take care of yourself.  Breathe.  Cool air in, warm air out.  Remind yourself of the facts about you.  You are a hard worker. Most days you have good ideas.  Most days you can take a step toward that distant goal. Most days…but not today.

Today the goal is…to keep from sliding backwards.  To keep from turning everyone we meet into a target.  Sometimes we are the equipment “currently being serviced.”  

Want to have a good day today?  You can.  Hold your hands waist high in front of  you about four inches apart.  Let the fingers curl slightly forming personal vessels.  Now imagine a little bird in each hand, bright little eyes, full of life.  These birds are “you.”

Imagine these birds are you, maybe one is “heart,” one is “soul.”  But they are you, and you are in charge of taking care of them.  How will you hold “you” through today?

Kindly, gently?  Off and on today they will flutter a little.  Will you crush your little bird selves with criticism and fear?  “What’s wrong with me?  When will I ever get things right?  Why don’t I have more self-control.  I’m an idiot!”

How forgiving should you be of your bird-selves?  What about when your birds are tweeting, even squealing in pain?  Should you clamp down then?  In pain, those tweety babies will cause the middle finger of your non-driving hand to jump out the car window and wave at a passing driver.  Struggling for air, those birdies will have you spreading gossip, trying to get air from others. Some people even make cuts on their birdies.

It’s such a responsibility to be your own best friend.  To take care of your birds.  It would be nice if we could manipulate someone else into taking over the job of holding our birds.  And we try, we audition for feedback, for a lover, a friend, a spouse to take over the job. In a movie titled, “Shopping to Belong,” immigrants talk about consumerism became a lifestyle once they were in the U.S., because “In America, people assume they know everything about you by what you have and what you look like.”

So we should spend our lives buying golden bird shelves, tightening up our little birds’ butts, and spend the time we have left over, decorating our birds?

That’s what our Emotional Guidance System says, because that loser, fear-driven part of our brain is incapable of making choices based on anything except “What if” and exaggeration.

You’re in charge of your little bird’s day.  No one else can do it for you, because their “hands are full” of birds.

Our Thinking Guidance System is capable of saying, “Hey, no need to panic little birdies.  We’re going to be just fine.  Because, I’m in charge.”  

Coming: The Incident of the “The Psychologist, Two Movie-Goers, and the Obsessed Stranger. ”

 Okay.  Now you know the method the evil husband in “Gaslight” used to drive his wife insane, (How to Drive Someone Insane).  Now, here’s the catch, the reason that using your ill-gotten knowledge to change the world, won’t help you take over the world or even your household.

Why?  No one’s really listening.  Other people are too determined to be themselves to take our helpful attempts to change them seriously. While we can, and probably do, add some misery to the lives of those we love, most of them have tuned us out years ago. Our helpful hints on how they could make their life better have become like gnats in countries where gnats swarm so continuously that people no longer flinch. Occasionally, I get someone in my office whose goal is to change their spouse.  What they’re wanting from me is, to agree with them on the changes needed, and then talk their spouse into changing– as if I have some sort of magic wand.

Trust me.  If I did,  my husband would not still insist that separating clothes by color before you wash them is over-rated.  And his shoes, which I trip over dramatically daily, even when I must go out of my way to do so, would be in the closet. Sigh.

To make things worse.  While our harping doesn’t change other people, our harping on ourselves is not only effective–it is relentless and very successful in scaring us away from life experiences. And while our special others can turn us off, we cannot turn off our own crazy-making critic and this is a really big, life-changing problem.  Picture this.  That evil husband beautifully personified in the image accompanying the instructions on the how the bad man drove his wife insane… imagine that that little devil is on your shoulder.  He’s small.  He stands on your shoulder with his mouth even with your ear.  And he does to you just what the evil husband did to drive his wife around the bend.

Yes. Each of us comes equipped with our own little Torturer. Your Torturer is the official spokesperson for your Emotional Guidance System.

Your Emotional Guidance System is that part of your mind operating with only one purpose–to rid you of anxiety.  And what ’s not funny is that the yakking of that mean little guy is exactly designed to KEEP YOU ANXIOUS.

 Trying to shut up this little guy lead to all sorts of symptoms–eating, not eating, over-drinking, temperance, putting off tasks, taking on too many tasks, over-washing, under-washing, lecturing on politics, over-spending, under-spending, worrying about money, body shape, the future, the past… and on and on.

I haven’t forgotten …  Mexico. The opening image is my reminder.

 Well, you do have 45 minutes to live? Starting NOW.

Our Emotional Systems, designed to help us outrun predator, does everything possible to keep us focused on what doesn’t matter. On the “what if’s” and the “what will people think’s?”

Plus, there’s so much to get done before I can enjoy just being in this day. The yard, the writing projects, the birthday cards I’m late on, more money in the bank, get in better shape…before I can just LIVE.

Late one night in my International World Headquarters Mexico City Hilton, I happened to catch a television special featuring the most spectacular plane crashes ever. I know. Real bright choice when you’re alone in Mexico City where the police wear masks and the country’s Secretary of State went down in a rigged LearJet firey crash two nights ago, ten blocks over.

Still, I didn’t click off the channel…which is probably all you need to know to send you running for higher psychological waters.  But, don’t feel bad if you don’t.  I didn’t switch the channel when I had the chance either.

I’ve never seen ”most tragic plane crashes” replayed here in the States, but the same can be said for a lot of what I enjoy in Mexico City, one of my heart places. Painstakingly produced, actual photos and sound bites were used when possible.

The one I’ll never forget involved a jumbo jet in China (or close, I wasn’t paying much attention to the map). The pilots knew there was a control problem, but were unable to pinpoint the cause.  They radioed for a small plane to fly nearby and eyeball the plane to see if they could identify the problem. Oh, yes. The tail of the jumbo jet had come off. The plane could not land. Ever. All that could be done was to let the fuel burn out and then . . . As it happened the flight path was mountainous. The pilots knew that soon, unable to steer, the plane would crash into a mountainside.

The pilots talked with each other and ground crew deciding whether or not to inform the passengers.  What would you want?  45 minutes of oblivion then fade to black? Or would you want to make use of that time? The pilots decided to let the passengers know their fate. After an initial horrified panic, each settled into his or her own space and got busy. No one told anyone else what they SHOULD do, no time for that. Some prayed, many wrote to their loved ones placing the notes inside luggage most like to survive. Recovered letters were filled with assurances of love and that the writer was not afraid, that no one should fear for them, or have nightmares of them swept up in a terrified hell.

Now, my automatic reaction to watching these calm people would be to picture myself in the same circumstances screaming and, since being charged with murder was off the table, likely being shoved out a cargo bay by more mature individuals who frankly didn’t have time for my crap.

But something different happened as I watched. What occurred to me was that these passengers were ordinary people, just like me. No more or less mature, no more or less anxious, no more or less unique. In that moment, I realized that, in those circumstances, I, too, would pull out of the petty worries and neuroses that governed my life before. That I, too, would THINK instead of letting my emotions–those evil torturers always living in the future–take charge of the last minutes of my life.

You would, too. Which means this better life, this life less controlled by run-away emotions…is within your grasp. Onward…big grin.

 

    A couple of weeks ago, I had an “unfortunate” experience.I had an hour before my flight and the airport cafes were packed. The only table left in Earl Campbell’s Longhorn Barbeque and Bar was practically in the lap the singer-guitar player in the corner. What could I do? I settled my Baja tacos, opened my computer with business-like efficiency, and pointedly, placed the screen between myself and the singer–like a low fence. And yet, after the man sang a couple of songs, he put down his guitar and SPOKE to me. Now I likes his music, but was he blind? I had WORK to do. 

He was interesting and knew some muscians I did.  He gave me a card.  StevetheTruck–invited me to a jam at Freddy Powers house. What? Freddy Powers wrote more hits than you can imagine.  So, the spouse and I leave Crazy Dog and head out this afternoon.  Unbelievable.  Songwriters, singers, whole bunch of favorites–   Yes, I said over and over like a great big dork, “I’ve got his CD!”

The most incredible experience–and all because there was only one chair left by the singer. 

How much of luck is luck?  And how much is walking around in the world being open to possibilities?  I know this much.  There’s lots of interesting people out there and you never know what might happen. That’s the THINKING GUIDANCE SYSTEM talking, because the statement that there are a lot of interesting people out there is a FACT. That anything can happen is a fact.

Those voices holding us back, the little creeps on our shoulders whispering in our ears, “Be careful, there’s danger everywhere.    Don’t take chances because if a new experience turns out to be a dud, that would be terrible and awful…”  Those are the Non-factual emotional show stoppers. Here’s another FACT.  If you don’t go for it nothing will happen.

After a banquet with leaders of a school district, I was headed for the podium for my keynote when one of the administrators pulled me down slightly to share a secret.  The look of concern on his face made me suspious that I was about to flash some part my anatomy I’d hadn’t planned on sharing.  He said, “Don’t worry about what Mr. X said.  He lives in his own little world.”  I was thinking–”Don’t we all?” But I didn’t say my question out loud as this was the guy who’d hired me.

Which is more real?  The world we can touch?  Or the world we are responding to?  I hadn’t noticed that Mr. X had said anything of note.  Clearly Mr. Y had created a Mr. X in his head, and it was this co-worker he worried about.

   Mr. X stated the obvious.  Only, sometimes we lose touch with the fact that we are operating out of “our own little world.”  Sometimes we behave as if our little world is THE world. 

How can we tell when we’re behaving if our little world is all there is of reality?  One way is to notice when we are stuck in push-pull accelrating arguments about something that doesn’t matter–though, of course, we are behaving if convincing other person to agree with us will change the course of world events.  You can bet your EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM is running that show. It’s pretty easy to see from a factual THINKNG GUIDANCE SYSTEM perspective the long-term result you get with this kind of arguement is not what you get. 

You’ve been there.  You come in from work.  Both of you are in a good mood and looking forward to a pleasant evening.  Then one person says, I’ll really like to have pasta tonight, but you forgot to buy pasta when you went to the store.”  The other says, “Pasta wasn’t on the list.”  Person number one says, “You’re wrong, it was on the list.”  “No, it wasn’t.” 

Then we shift to second gear.  One says, “Why are you always like this?” ((Now we’ve switched from pasta to ‘what’s wrong with the person.)) The other says, “Me? You‘re the only who always has to make a big deal of things.” ((Best defense is a good offense.))  “You’re the one who gets loud and hurts my feelings.” ((Now we call into question the other person’s love.))  “Right. And you were the one who blew up at the poor parking meter reader?” ((Now begins the exchange of real life examples of each other’s least attractive moments.  That always works.))

Challenge:  At least one time tomorrow …when you find yourself chastising someone for being different than you…or having a different opinion…even a different political stance or solution to the economic situation…or even chastisg a stranger for being more interested in making good time on the freeway themselves…rather than devoting their driving efforts toward making sure you have a stress free and time-efficient drive…give them PERMISSION to be different from you.

This is VERY HARD. More….

   These are hard times to work on becoming a bit more emotionally mature.  Worrying about the economy and worrying about the size of our behinds at the same time–this is not easy. There’s only so much time in a day.

“Life isn’t worth living if you don’t take it seriously. Life isn’t worth living if you only take it seriously.”  So here we are, stuck worrying about not taking in enough money and taking in too much food. Somebody’s got to start laughing.  I nominate you.  If an ADDICTION is anything we can’t stop doing, even when it’s become self-destructive…WORRYING fits the bill.  Downward changes in the economy and upward changes in the average weight of a teenager–are facts.  And it’s a fact we NEED to WORRY, right?  It’s our duty as Americans to worry about the economy.  It’s our duty as women to be worried about what we eat.

The EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM says, “We have to worry.  We have to worry all the time because… if we are not deadly seriously fretting about these facts every second of everyday, the bad money news and the fat cells will sneak up on us… and wham! We’ll wake up tomorrow weighing four hundred pounds and living under a bridge!

The EGS is the inventor of the phrase DEADLY SERIOUS. . . .DEADLY.

The THINKING GUIDANCE SYSTEM says, “If there’s something you can do about it, and you want to do that something (get a second job, lose weight)…then do it.  If there isn’t anything you can do, or you choose not to do anything at this time…get off it.”   Grin.  Play.  You might get a response that you’re not taking the situation seriously enough. Which means . . . heh. . . .heh . . . it’s working.

Don’t miss the misadventures and eavesdropping of MysteryShrink :  http://twitter.com/mysteryshrink

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  The good thing about horse shows is that when you’re showing your stuff in the ring, you don’t have to be good all the time.  You only have to be perfect when the judge is watching you. 

I’ve been thinking about how to set reasonable goals on this becoming more functional through taming the EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM.  Which took me to thinking about horse shows and treatment centers.  That’s a match, right?  (Ah, perhaps more of a match than you’d ever believe.)

Because when you’re in the ring atop your expensive steed–no matter how horribly your horse behaves, no matter what kind of deadly mood he’s in, no matter if he’s bucking like crazy the entire way around the ring–you must have an expression on your face showing what an absolutely lovely ride you’re having.  Your horse’s head can be between his knees and his heels over your head, and you gotta be smiling as if you’re having the best time ever!  Your expression is saying that WHAT’S HAPPENING SIMPLY ISN’T HAPPENING. 

In the treatment center we teach a similar skill, FAKE IT ‘TIL YOU MAKE IT.

Thus, what about making a goal, for now, of toning down our EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEMS  when the judge can see us?  When you’re in the ring, it’s okay to twist yourself into a pretzel and pull all kinds of obvious gimics to keep yourself aboard–when the judge is turned the other way.  So, here’s the deal.  We “fake it ’til we make it” and “smile like we are having the finest, comfortable ride” when we’re in public. Or pick one arena and make that your showring.  Home or work.   Or, maybe just with one other person you want to relieve of your easy to erupt anxiety.  (I know one…no two…no…)

Why put on a show?  Why not just “go with your feelings” all the time.  For starters, you will drive other people crazy or away.  More important, you’ll pass up the chance to gain a little management over that inner force. As “real” as emotions “feel” they’re just feelings and not in line with facts. People who are not ruled by their EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYTEMS have better relationships, work experiences, and better lives. 

What’s fun is that by pretending you’ve got it together you get it more together.    

  I haven’t forgotten the Mexico confession. Working up to it.

Now, technically, if you have a decent psychologist on your weekly schedule, you are IMMUNE  to the DOWNER  kick.  But, let’s face it, if you had those kind of bucks you’d be at the opera right now.

So, let’s work with what we have. 

The human has two guidance systems:  The EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM is dedicated to one purpose–to get rid of ANXIETY.  The E.G.S. operates AUTOMATICALLY and does not consider the FACTS of a situation.  The THINKING GUIDANCE SYSTEM does consider facts. 

Examples of the E.G.S. in charge:  educating (screaming at) other drivers, defending yourself claiming nothing bad that has ever happened to you is YOUR FAULT, not exercising because “if you don’t have an hour, it’s pointless”, procrastination in all its many forms, overspending, overeating, over-drinking, oversleeping, doing whatever is necessary to have the approval of certain people, who IF THEY GET ANXIOUS–YOU automatically GET ANXIOUS.

Posting Live:  My husband is working on his laptop across the room (practicing bridge hands).  When his screen does something he doesn’t expect (which happens often with the new wireless server I set up), he let’s out this big sigh and complains about his computer.  Of course, what I hear him saying is “I wish you’d just leave things the way they are and stop messing with my computer, overdoing it, like you always do.”  “Hearing” this I lose my “zone.”  I do what most of us do when picking up prickly signals from other people.  I TELL HIM WHAT HE SHOULD STOP DOING.  I make it very clear HE’s RUINING my mood.  That if HE CARED at all, he’d stifle himself.  Wise psychologist he is, he JUST KEEPS ON BEING HIMSELF.  Which is really annoying.  From here I usually start quoting people who agree with me or lay out an argument comparing his sighing to being laid waste by Hitler.  Of course, I just made that example up.  Okay, I didn’t.  So the DOWNER is when you react, when you put your EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM in charge and EXAGGERATE the affect someone else’s behavior has on you.    When you CLAIM what the other person does AUTOMATICALLY    changes your “zone.”

It’s a really tiring way to live, or so I’ve heard.

Tomorrow:  The Antidote.  Okay a beginning.

  Reactivity. That’s what we’re talking about.  Learning to manage our reactivity a little bit better. (See Wildebeest post)

Reactivity to other people and the world–not as it is–as we are AFRAID  other people and the world might be.  This is particularly easy to see with the SENSITIVITY to CRITICISM.  And I know I’m not alone in this. I watch way too many shows on men and women in prison.  Prisons are petri dishes of bubbling sensitivity to criticism.

While we’re not in prison, our homes and workplaces are where we dip into the BUBBLING, SEETHING, WRETCHED, EVER-WAITING POOL OF OVERSENSITIVITY MISERY.  We are in prisons of our own making when we react to criticism.   I like the prison example because when we give up power over our own sense of well-being we give up self-possession of our lives as inmates give up physical freedom.

 Yoda Note: “The more things you take personally, the less happy life you will have.”  

Lighter Moment:  Two old guy Austin musicians chatting on stage.  One asks the other about an event they’d both played some years ago.  The other singer knitted his forehead and explained, “I can’t tell you what happened that night.  You see, I’m at the age where I can hide my own Easter Eggs.”