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.

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

Bored? http://Twitter.com/mysteryshrink

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 . . . ah, Mexico.

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?