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.

 

 

 

Mysteryshrink’s You Get What You Pay For Psychology Tip:  It’s best to keep your limitations to yourself for as long as you can.  Once they are out there, they are etched in the minds of others forever.

Think of something you are uncomfortable doing…say, for example…you are one of those otherwise lovely people who has secretly avoided the role of being the candy-the-giver-outer on Halloween…for years and years.  

I’m just saying… maybe you’re one of those people who turn out all the lights and hunker down in a back bedroom with only the light of the television.  Maybe even, one time when your special person promised a certain group of teachers that he would bring a slab of Mississippi Mud Bars to a meeting on Novemeber 1st, maybe you and he whipped up a batch using only the light from the refrigerator…your heads stuck inside the door…

Dateline:  Not quite dark, Halloween Night, family gathering.

I hadn’t spent Halloween with my siblings and clan since we were kids.  When I walked into the house, I noticed the countertop in the den was stacked with all sorts of individually wrapped candy and I knew what that meant.  Now, usually, I could have gotten away with my “gee, I’m so busy doing something” expression and not been faced with wondering who was going to answer the door for the goblins and such.  But not on this night as my sibs had limitations to their mobility and the always faithful niece had her wonderful girls to manage.

I’m good at avoidance, but even I couldn’t pretend to be lost in the football game while my sister, recovering from a knee replacement, hobbled to the front door on her walker.  Or my brother, who had broken his hand, and on pain meds felt his way along the wall to the door.  Yikes.  What to do, What to do? 

I looked so deceptively capable…walking to the door-wise.  Thus, I decided the fairest thing to do was to step up and nip the old bud.  I announced that I would not be doing the giggling, good-neighborly handing out the candy thing as I am not constitutionally capable of the task.  I admitted my years of cowardly hiding and stated that if they were going to leave the porch light on, I would not be responsible.  My choice would be to leave the light off and go on with our evening as if we were a perfectly normal family.

I’d thought I’d done a gentle, firm job of stating my position.  My announcement was met with six sets of squenched eyes and headshakes of disbelief.  “Not my fault,” I claimed, “I thought you guys knew.”

Clearly they’d never even suspected.   My siblings and various other chips of my Danish father’s block were horrified.  Various gasps of distress filled the awkward space I’d created in the evening.   After the ugly truth that I was not kidding sunk in, the questions began.  “Why?”  “Was it some terrible Halloween experience?”  “Did we do something back when you were a kid?”  “Is it the children?”  “Are you against children?”

Now here’s the kicker.  My fellow evening partners were so absorbed in my admission, they forgot to turn on the porch light.  Not one innocent child or anyone else rang the doorbell.

Thus, I am now, and will be forever, the “one who can’t hand out candy on Halloween.”   Not that my reputation for other weirdnesses doesn’t precede me.  It’s just that I threw in a new quirk…when I didn’t have to.

Thus, my friends.  Learn from my mistake and don’t mention any of those odd little fears until you are absolutely positive you are about to be exposed.

Bumper sticker on the back windshield of a car:  I HATE STUPID PEOPLE.  Ouch.  

In the nonfiction I’ve started (See: Beyond Stress Management, Defining a Self with a Smile), I’ve asked fellow travelers to sign the following pledge.

I,_____________, am as nuts as everyone else on the planet.  As a start on freedom.  To get out from under the burden of a life spent trying to convince ourselves and others that we aren’t.

Is this asking too much?  Maybe.  My special person read the pledge and said, “Whoa!  Lots of people are going to balk at admitting that.”    “That’s just the point,” I say, “the whole point of the book is to quit taking ourselves so seriously all the time.”   He said, ”Maybe that’s what you’re thinking, but I think you will find out most people would rather believe in their superiority.”

“But defending our superiority, defending the idea that we are the only ones who know how to do things right, takes so much time and energy.  We have to be on guard all the time, fending off evidence, arguing, and uselessly trying to convince other people that we are ‘right’ and they are ‘wrong’.  I’m not saying each of us doesn’t have a point of view.  I’m not talking about religious beliefs or political leanings or decisions on how to raise children…I’m talking about the time wasted on issues that don’t matter, time wasted being anxious…whether you should pre-soak stains, avoid sugar, avoid television, drive in the right lane, private school over public school, seek plastic surgery…  I’m talking about letting go of ‘being right’ as a way of life.”

Still, my special person said, “I don’t think your pledge is going to fly.”  Which of course threw me instantly into trying to convince I was right and he was wrong about pledges and how they fly. 

And I held my ground that most people would enjoy the relief of admitting equal nuttiness with our co-inhabitants…I held it until I saw the “I HATE STUPID PEOPLE” sticker.  For sure the owner of the sticker finds stupid people all over the place.  People who spend money, treat their pets, choose professions, choose sports teams, choose books…stupidly.  I wouldn’t want to be married to someone who was ”sensitized” to ”stupid” people, since I’m sure I would fulfill his expectations on a regular basis.  I wouldn’t want to be in his family.  Egad, what if your boss was a “I hate stupid people” fan?   

Maybe “I..H..S..P” guy wouldn’t sign a pledge, maybe IHSPeople guy would say only stupid people would sign such a pledge.  But that’s okay.  I won’t even argue about his choice.  Who has time and energy for that struggle?

Can AVOIDANCE sometimes be a mistake, even when… factually…every attempt has ended in disaster?

Yes.  Now, I’m not talking about the street tacos in Mexico City or risking your life and endangering the lives of others by continuing to take shots at sliding all-lovely off the ski lift chair… those activities we can do without rather easily.  (See previous post on dangers of tacos and chair lifts.)

But… what about when we are telling ourselves we CANNOT ever succeed at an activity and, though we’ve had many painful failures… we’d really like the rewards of that activity? And, when we calm the heck down…the truth is…other people have done it,so it’s possible.  Again, I’m voting against taking another shot at that ski lift chair death trap.  I know other people hop off the lift bench looking like the coolest people alive… and I even accept that, theoretically, given a long life and all winters devoted to the ski lift chair, I, too, could be successful.

To accomplish even complex tasks, all that usually stands between us and success is a little bit of information and the capacity to manage our anxiety through the “I don’t know how to do this” freakout. Now, I’m not suggesting you attempt to fly the plane on your next trip….you COULD…the only thing holding you back is a lack of information….a lack of a really big chunk of information.

But, to return to a task closer to home that has blackened my days, met with unrelenting failure, and yet…I’d really like to be successful.  Oh, yeah.  I’m talking about my pathetic efforts at website building. I really want to build a website.  I’m not done yet.

First, a simpler example of someone coming to the conclusion that a task is impossible due to lack of simple information.

One summer day when my parents were out of the country, they called back from a remote phone in the Alps asking to have certain information located in a file cabinet inside their house faxed to a cruise line address. Usually, this task would be mine.  However, on this fine summer day…defined in Texas as over a hundred degrees and real sweaty…I was unavailable.  Thus, my special person was up to fulfill the request.  Knowing I’d let myself into their house many times, he first spent twenty minutes going through extra keys.  He picked out a dozen possibles from the pounds of keys in the miscellaneous drawer… and headed for the country.

He spent his first thirty minutes and first bucket of perspiration trying each key in the front door lock without success.  Testing for a possible unlocked window led under walls of English ivy growing in layers since the 1950s.  Now he couldn’t breathe and suspected the allergy attack later on would set a new coughing record. He visited the surrounding six houses hoping a neighbor had a key, only to learn that the lady across the street and the couple on one side of the house were still holding grudges regarding certain high school yard decorating mistakes I hadn’t shared with him. Exhausted and out of ideas, he gave up.  He can’t get in.  He’d call a locksmith if his presence in the family photos taken on the lawn… he’d bring along in the morning would be enough proof to that he had the right to enter the house.

When I strolled in later that night, a day earlier than expected, my special person related his afternoon of woe ending with, “I’m glad you’re here since you know where there’s a key that works.”

“Oh, no…” I say.  “I don’t have a key or know where one is.  I just take a screwdriver and ooch back the little dealie, and wha-la, I’m in.”

Today someone gave me the web address of a do-it-yourself website maker “that anyone can do”….and for once…I couldn’t prove them wrong.

What activities have you given up… when all you needed was the right information? And the capacity to manage anxietythrough the learning curve?

What if Eagleman’s first possibility for the afterlife (Sum) is what happens?  What if, after you depart this life, what happens is that you are required to live your life over exactly as you did the first time…except now, instead of living experiences in sequential fashion…you have experience events in lumps…thirty years sleeping, fourteen having breakfast…so many arguing… (See “Choosing Life…”)

Four solid years of being lost would be tiring…. But imagine if you had to re-experience every moment you ever spent worrying…if you were required to go through every worry again… in one long, tedious, hand-twisting lump?  Yikes.

Worrying is the handiwork of the Emotional Guidance System since our Thinking Guidance System deals with facts, not “What ifs.”

The Emotional Guidance System burns anxiety for fuel to create more anxiety.  The Emotional Guidance System pokes us with, “What if you are wrong?” 

The Thinking Guidance System looks at that question and the facts.  The Thinking Guidance System says:  “You are probably are wrong a lot.  It’s not that big a deal.”

The Emotional Guidance System says:  “If you are wrong…Terrible things will happen!  Being wrong is horrible, embarrassing, and you won’t be able to stand it!”

The Emotional Guidance System applies the same formula of fear-generating anxiety with:  “What if you are late?”  “What if you are early?”  “What if you don’t get the promotion?”  “What if you have cancer?”  “What if she gets mad?”   “What if my kid has problems?”

The little big-mouthed fear-monger sitting on your shoulder, shouting in your ear is specifically tuned to scare you about the possibilites most meaningful to you.  Here’s the challenge.  Each time today when your little “What if” Inner Torturer takes hold and starts going on and on exaggerating consequences….Think about Eagleman’s afterlife idea.  Play with this notion: 

If you knew you were going to have to meticulously repeat every second of every day you spent worrying….would you still CHOOSE to worry today?

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.

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.

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.  

 

“Which is more important when someone encounters you for the first time?  The world of facts about you?  Or the other person’s assumptions about people like you?”

When someone meets you or sees you or hears of you, who do they think you are?”  (Of course, what they think of you is none of your business, but we’ll get to that.)

In the Darkened Theater Incident involving the Psychologist, the Innocent Movie-Goer, and the Obsessed Stranger Lady (OSL), I happened to become important to the OSL. I didn’t want to be important to the stranger.  Yet, I was chosen.  And this is how is happened. . .

A local film festival has been showing movies of all lengths and types over the last several days.  As this is one of my favorite local activities, as usual, I settled for the show at a theater far from my personal International World Headquarters.  So far, so good. 

I arrived just as one film was rolling final credits, and as I could see no one remaining in the theater, I entered, walked about half-way up, and opened my laptop to check e-mail during the break.  Which I did.  When the lights came up, a woman I hadn’t seen walked over to say that my laptop screen was very distracting.  I apologized profusely, saying the last thing I would want would be to take away from anyone’s movie experience.  I hadn’t realized anyone was in the theater. (”Or felt they couldn’t stand to be slightly distracted as the last three credits rolled,” but I didn’t say that part.) I kept it to myself that I’d always assumed… to be rude, other people had to be present.

This was the first time.  But only the first time the Obsessed Stranger Lady was to hunt me down.  Round Two. . . Manana.

 

 

 What happens when someone decides they know who you are based on one factor? 

“Which is more important?  The world of facts, or the world we are responding to?”

“Which is more important? The person we are?  Or, the person others think we are?”

Part of the world we are responding to is “what other people think” about us.       Keep in mind . . . Our version of  ”what other people think,” of course,  has little to do with “what other people actually think.” 

Note:  For now, we’re on how other people “make up who we are”, but no smugness here.  Since there’s only one person we can change–our focus on the “other people out there doing crazy things” will be brief.  Then we’re back to what we can do about the crazy world by managing ourselves.

Whew. . . . Let’s get back to the darkened theater, the Innoncent Movie-goer and the scary, Obsessed Stranger Lady.  We’re not talking a simple encounter. We are talking about what happens when a person decides they know who you are, using one feature, no matter how fleeting. (See previous post for lead.)

The Obsessed Stranger Lady in the movie theater decided that the Psychologist movie-goer had a “mental” or at least a serious “moral” problem.  The Innocent Movie-goer kept his opinion to himself, thereby, perhaps, remaining uncategorized in the story.  The “Obsessed Stranger Lady came at me out of the darkness . . . not once, but three times.  Before the hideous series of encounters were over–If indeed they are. . . .( I do suspect that someone is secretly going through our trash because of the rumors about… oh, never mind)– the Obsessed Stranger Lady asked me if I ever considered other people’s feelings (I thought to be rude, there had to be other people around). . . threatened to have me arrested . . . and topped it off by admitting she “just didn’t understand how anyone could be” like me and live with themselves . . . 

The Obsessed Stranger Lady knew only one thing about me. And from observing that one thing (it’s a behavior, not a purple horn or anything coming out of my head) she she . . . she couldn’t get me out of her mind.  She was very angry with me.  I do not know her.  I couldn’t pick her out of a line-up.  She’d like to see me in a line-up.  Or, in front of a firing squad.

Why? . . .  Manana.

Anyone who says they don’t care what anyone else thinks is lying.  So there, we’re all big ole liars.  But, hey.  Remember, those of us taking the journey with a sense of humor can find ways to survive.

Have you ever had someone make up their mind about you… when they didn’t know anything about you except for one element?  Say your size?  Your age?  Your skin color? Your lack of fashion sense?  Your outstanding fashion sense?  Your education?       Your television preferences?  (even though you only mentioned that reality show once and you never watched it again?), Your resemblence to a second cousin in prison? Or maybe the blogs you follow?(Eek!)

What do people think of you?  And why?   “Which is more important?  The world of facts about you?  Or the world of made-up beliefs, half-baked opionions about you?” 

It’s so confusing.  No one agrees what’s important and what’s not. The very people we decide to please, and twist ourselves into pretzels for, turn out to be unreliable.  Sheesh.  They change what they think of us because they hear one unfortunate story.   Or they hear a story in which we are really quite the star, but the listener doesn’t “like” the storyteller and so now they think less of us.  Oh, this is so confusing and hard to juggle.   Could be a person’s entire opinion could be determined by hunger.  I mean I’m over it now, but that twiggy little flight attendant who ran out of almonds just in front of my row… and those rude passengers, gloating and flapping their little foils packs over their heads…

The Psychologist, the Innocent Movie-Goer, and the Obsessed Stranger Lady . . . in the Dark Movie Theater….Manana.

Down with the Blobs!  Stay in charge of you!

In 1958 one of the original horror flicks came out – “The Blob.”   In this movie, two teenagers (one of them Steve McQueen) see a streak of light coming to the Earth, as if something from outer space had fallen nearby.  They investigate and find a Blob of red waxy material.  A man touches the Blob and the Blob begins to devour him.  Now the Blob isn’t large compared to the man.  It’s about the size of a couple of mushed doughnuts.  But, when the Blob attaches, it begins to take whatever it touches into itself and becomes larger.

Imagine that what has landed at the end of that streak of light is a  Blob of negativity. Thus, when you are touched by the Blob and the pores in your emotional skin are too open, the Blob will take you over. You no longer can choose the quality of your inner state.  You feel what the Blob feels.

In the movie, the Blob takes on whole rooms full of people. In the most famous scene, the Bloboozes through a movie theater smooshing in all the people together in one single way of thinking, or a single huge rolling ball in this case. If you think that can’t happen, think back to the underground shelters and secret storage cellars collected to meet the disaster of 2000.  Think of a KKK rally fed by paranoia and hate.

So, here’s the challenge.  Can you encounter a Blob person and just flick that sucker off.  Can you say, “No thanks. Not buying negative today.  Keep rolling, rolling, rolling, right over me. No oozing up with the Blob for me, today.”

Oh, but you say—“Aren’t people whose pores are open the most sensitive people?  If by sensitive you mean “unable to stay separate,” then you are talking–not able people with the capacity to feel and care about the suffering of others– but about people who automatically absorb suffering.  Absorbing suffering immobilizes and helps no one.  Recognizing suffering can change the world. 

Okay, how did we get from dodging a monster red Blob to changing the world?  Let’s back up to changing our inner world, which will have the effect of changing the world.  If you have any doubts, as your special people if you being a more optimistic person would change their life. 

Here’s where we get back to the Emotional Guidance System.  The most likely Blob you’ll encounter will be that little Torturer on your shoulder, saying things in your ear like, “Who do you think you are? You’re not smart enough, strong enough, attractive enough.  Not to mention you’re too tired, frustrated and unlucky to reach your goals.  Time to flick that sucker.

Note:  Steve McQueen was paid $2500 for his part in the movie.

 

 

 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.

   Honestly?  I find this using my THINKING GUIDANCE SYSTEM very hard to put into practice.  Mark Twain said, “I can resist anything but temptation.”  I know just what he meant.  I don’t have a problem with my EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM  taking off . . . and spinning all sorts of ridiculous catastophe fanning “This is awful, terrible, and I can’t stand it!”

Until something DOESN’T GO MY WAY.

Right now I’m sitting on a plane considering the idea that I might actually work on raising my own functioning by applying natural systems thinking to my own behavior, inside and out.  This is big.  Isn’t the whole idea about becoming a psychologist that I’m supposed to have it “together” in all circumstances?  After all, I’ve had the training.  Heck, I’ve taught the training for years.

So, why am I sitting here thinking . . . 

What if the plane crashes?  (This doesn’t really bother me, I just thought the possibility should be mentioned.)

What if someone has the middle seat next to me while everyone else on the plane has a spare seat next to them?   (I’m anxious as hell about this one.)

What if they start serving drinks from the front of the plane and it’s FOREVER before they get to me?

What if they only have dry roasted peanuts,   no honey-roasted? 

What if we land late and it’s hard to get a taxi, and then there’s a lot of traffic, and what if room service shuts down before I get to the hotel, and I think I forgot my cell charger . . . ah, jeez, here comes a really tall guy  . . . yep, “Oh, hi.  Sure, no problem . . . let me move my stuff and shove it under the seat in front of me where it will be very inconvenient to retrieve during the flight and I won’t get anything done . . . Oh, no, I didn’t say anything . . .”

Now, what’s troubling is–you’d think there would be a big drop in stress level between plane crash and no honey roasted peanuts.  That if I could be assured that “plane crash” was off the table, I’d be okay with dry-roasted on the peanuts, sharing my armrest, or even hours of circling the airport without being able to land.  But no. 

This is because my EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM is one powerful sick puppy.  But here’s the deal I’m making with you guys.  I’m am really going to apply what I know about getting my THINKING GUIDANCE SYSTEM a little more in the picture and tell the truth about how it goes. 

  The same night, 10 p.m.  The “sleep timer” does not function on the television.  You know the rest. 

Tomorrow’s another day.     The truth about Mexico . . .  is still a ways off.

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.

  Okay, so there I am standing in the back yard, a hundred degrees outside, and a bleeding knuckle from a scrape on the lawnmower (If you’re lost, see “The Mower Fueling Incident.) By now I’ve stopped whining, “Why am I the only one who ever notices what needs to be done around here?” 

I’ve not stopped, but have begun to taper my exaggeration statements, “I canNOT stand this!  This is horrible, terrible, and hideous. My whole day, probably the whole WEEK is shot, now that I’ve got this knuckle BLEEDING ALL OVER THE PLACE.  Okay, a couple of drops hit my shoe.

And, by now I’ver realized that my AUTOMATIC ASSUMPTIONS in the service of my mighty EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM are what caused me to be in this predicatment in the first place. Had I noticed that the cap on the gas can was a funnel . . . but we’ve covered that.  No sense beating myself up, now that I have this gushing bloody finger and messy shoes.

Let’s suppose someone walks up at this moment and points out my disturbing error.  What will be my response? 

Of course.  I’d start dancing some kind of “it’s not my fault” jig.  “Too hot to think . . . stupid lawn mower gas can designers . . . been working too hard . . . I shouldn’t be the one here in this heat mowing to start with . . .”

But here’s the lesson. You’d think there’s no way for me to not come out looking like a nutcase, right?

Here goes, great big ole psychologist’s tip that has taken years to perfect: When some poor soul wanders up and points out your lastest goof, and says,  ”What are you, crazy?” 

You smile and say, “Yes!  As a matter of fact I am CRAZY  and, let me tell you I’m getting WORSE everyday.”

And, there you go.  You don’t have to play that silly, your fault-not my fault game. You’re out. 

Tomorrow: Fear, Part One.

“Which is more important? The world that is made up of facts, or the WORLD AS YOU SEE IT?”

On an afternoon in August, I was mowing the lawn when I ran out of gas.  Whew.  As if perspiration wasn’t already blinding me.  I located the full gas can and returned to the mower in the middle of the back yard.  I opened the gasoline hatch and rotated the handle off the can. 

Great. The gas can had an opening about four inches in diameter and flat on the top of the vessel and the hatch in the mower was less than an inch across.  How was I supposed to do this?  The heat was killing me.  My EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM was launching me into idiot ramblings such as, ”Why am I the one out here in this heat?  I do everything around here! I’m not even supposed to be out in the heat. Who left the mower half empty anyway? My whole life has been just like this.  Me getting stuck with all the hideous jobs.”  And . . . for leading role in Playing Victim, the nominees are . . .

Okay. So fine.  I could make this work.  (Motto as a child:  If at first you don’t succeed, force it.)

I’m not helpless, right?  I go into the house and search for a funnel for twenty minutes. Right. We didn’t have a hammer.  What made me think I could find something as specific as a funnel? “Why am I the one always stuck without the right tools?  I could use the urn from the coffee machine . . . no, that sounds risky as far as future coffee.  I collect several manilla folders from my home office and head out, patting myself on my sweaty back because I am such a genius. 

Back at the mower, I make a funnel out of one folder and pour.  It collapses.  Fine. My hands are shaking like crazy.  I’m blind. A bit dizzy. Yet, clever girl that I am, I persevere.  I made a tiered, graduated funnel using six manilla folders.  And it works!  I stand over the mower wondering exactly what the chances are that a breeze could set the mower, gasoline folders, and me up in a mushroom of flames.  Particularly since I can’t control my body movements my knees being shot and all.  My mood?  Victim has racheted up to snivelling and just wait until . . .

I turn to return the cap to the gasoline can.  Which is when I notice that the “cap” for the tank, which I had unscrewed and set aside, is actually an excellent, pliable funnel.

This is my world, and welcome to it.

Tomorrow: How Much Does Your PERCEPTION determine your life?

 If you were famous enough to have YOUR OWN ACTION FIGURE would you have Self Confidence and Self Esteem?  More to nail on the Psychobabble Wall of Things that Aren’t True:  If you get enough Praise . . . you will have SELF CONFIDENCE  and SELF ESTEEM. 

But wait!  Praise is a good thing, right? After all, praise makes us FEEL good. We’ve even told parents and teachers that praise (social reinforcement) is the way to get kids to accomplish tasks. We’ve told husbands and wives that praising their spouses can MAKE THEM FEEL LOVED.  Can’t get too much praise, can’t give too much praise . . . right? 

Maybe.  But, What is, “Do these pants make me look fat?”  but one more attempt to suck approval out of another person and duck responsibility for ourselves? (By the way, you regular readers know and have taken the pledge to never, ever, ask anyone that question, or any similar question. You guys remember that any part of your body or personality that you complain about grows to enormous proportions in the eyes of the other.) 

The problem is, if you buy that enough love and praise results in Self Confidence and Self Esteem, it follows then that, if you DO NOT FEEL loaded up with these feathery showstoppers, self-confidence and self-esteem, you must have–somewhere along the line–missed out on sufficient praise.  Now, I wish the worst part of this misguided notion is that we will overblame others (See “What’s Love Got to Do With It?)  . . . but that’s not the worst part.  The most damaging result of this belief is believing –   “I don’t have self confidence and self esteem because I did not get the love and praise I needed AND I did not get the love and praise I needed to be a person with self confidence and self esteem BECAUSE I’M NOT DESERVING OF LOVE and PRAISE”.  And that’s just not right. The whole chase approval, get praise routine is a dead end.  The movie The Wrestler speaks to this issue with clarity, pain, and beauty.   

Warning:  Plot information to follow.  If you haven’t seen The Wrestler and you want to be surprised, stop now. Also, you probably want to avoid the movie if a lot of nudity, a lot, is going to bother you. 

The Wrestler, Randy the Ram (Mickey Rourke), reaches physical maturity to discover he doesn’t know how to participate in adult relationships.  At about the same time he starts spending hours at the gym and learns what body-building enhancing drugs can do for him.  Wha-la!  The Ram is getting noticed.  Being admired.  He even has his own Randy the Ram action toy on the market.

Tomorrow:  Is having an action toy in your image the same as being a real person?

 

 

 

“OPTIMISM” and “CONFIDENCE” are good things, right?

Not always.

Sometimes, optimism and confidence are ACTION STOPPERS.  Often we do NOT ACT because we believe that to accomplish our goal, we MUST HAVE CONFIDENCE.  Before we start, we must be OPTIMISTIC.

The myth of Self Esteem falls in here, but that’s for another day. 

First let’s tackle “optimism.”  Optimism is not enough.  Two examples–

The Case of the Optimistic Husband:  A wife left her husband after being disappointed with her husband’s involvement in, and his lack of enthusiasm for supporting, the family.  As the weeks went by, I’d ask him how it was going as he very much wanted to keep the marriage.  His response was invariably, “I’m optimistic. I think being optimistic is important.”  The problem– he wasn’t DOING ANYTHING to save the relationship.  He was just “being” optimistic.    Optimism didn’t change his functioning and thus, worked against his goal.

The Case of the Aspiring Novelist:  Now I write, (TOO RICH comes out in June.) and I’m the World’s Biggest Weinnie when it comes to showing my work.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, I was so afraid of criticism that at my first writer’s conference, I didn’t even go into a meeting.  Yep, just drove by the hotel, ducking down like someone would be standing on the sidewalk, pointing and saying, “Look at her.  Who does she thinks she is, thinking someone wants to read her manuscript?”

But, a problem I see at writing conferences (Yes, I finally came in.  I used an alias, but hey, baby steps, okay?)– is that many writers think that what’s needed for them to be published is to visualize future success and stay optimistic.    And I see that attitude holding them back.  Yes, optimism is needed to send out those queries.  But optimism is a problem if the writer doesn’t improve their product because he or she is OPTIMISTIC that some agent will eventually like their early draft just the way it is.  Or accept a topic which she can’t sell. 

I see this problem in couples therapy where one partner believes that if someone loves you, he’s supposed to put up with you just the way you are–when some of the ways you are –are annoying.  And if he loves you he won’t ever complain.  I’m not talking about doing the pretzel change thing.  I’m talking about the kind of work on yourself that makes your life better. 

Yep.  We’re back to MANAGING YOUR OWN ANXIETY.    Again.

This is too important to not do more.  And CONFIDENCE deserves it’s own post. So later.

And tomorrow, The “I DON’T DO MORNINGS” Incident.  Postponed to a later date.

  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.”