Alive and Messy

A friend of mine knocked on my door last Saturday, hoping to have my ear for a few minutes. She was struggling with a decision about what kind of help to seek for herself. She was in the middle of a self described "mid-life career crisis." She was in pain over it.

Her husband is not a very motivated guy, and while he brings home a decent paycheck, he is not interested in advancing their financial situation. If they are going to be able to help send their two kids to college, or stay in their house long term, it would, seemingly, be up to her to pull in some extra bucks.

This part she did not have a problem with. She has long since accepted that her husband is not a ladder climber. A self described plodder, he is not enough in touch with his own aggression, or blocks to it. He is not going to lead the way financially. He is (often irritatingly so) content with his desk job. My friend, however is a bit more driven. She has a host of anxieties, and more than a few hungers. While this has sometimes gotten her into trouble in the past, by way of untamed addiction and restless indecision, she is successful at her day job. Though she herself feels like she a bit of an under earner, and now has a real wish and drive to overcome it.

She is altogether too sleepy at her current job, she tells me. And she is now ready to deal with herself and her own quest for something more. The director of student programming at a prestigious private high school, she wears many hats. But she has been doing it for a long while, and she wants a change. She wants to be a writer. Her dream, she tells me, is to quit her job, and immerse herself in the world of the written word. She wants to hammer away at the keyboard and put all the things she has been doing and teaching and experiencing with her students these last 15 years into articles and essays, reports, reviews, stories and poems. She wants to see her name under titles, on glossy pages. No Internet publishing, she wants to feel the page with her name on it between her fingers. She wants to be read. But she has no idea how to do this without tossing her current income out the window.

Yes, she knows she could start slow, but she does not want to. She wants to quit and run. She wants a total, abrupt and jarring statement about who she is and what she is going to do. She wants her desire to lead the way. And it she does not mind if it will be messy.

What does she want from me? She just wants someone to know that she is thinking about this. That she may actually do it. She may leave her kids to find scholarships. Maybe the house will have to be sold and replaced by a nice little apartment. She wants to know that she could do this. She does not yet know if she should, but she could.

And she wants to live her life fully aware that she has choices. That she knows what the choices are. She thinks there is freedom in this. That there will be relief of some kind for her emotional pain. The pain of feeling trapped, stifled and not creative. Of not accomplishing something that she really wants to accomplish. And the pain of not feeling like she has possibilities. Somehow, again, knowing she could seems to lift the heaviness, open up the ceiling and see the sky.

And she wants to know that I don't think this is crazy. And that I will help her to tolerate all the feelings that may come along with tossing her stability in the air and changing up her life. Of course she knows that her actions will effect others, that she may not exactly really want to act recklessly in regard to her marriage, or her children's future. We are not talking about the mid life proverbial race car purchase, after all.

No matter what she chooses, there will be feelings to tolerate. Big ones, at times. Down any road, there will urgencies and disappointments, loss and fear. She knows that some of these feelings are familiar themes in her life. That somehow, even in their difficulty, the bad feelings have kept her feeling some kind of safe. But now she wants to talk about a new script. Perhaps to learn to tolerate new feelings, some glorious, some not. She is not sure. And that too will have to be tolerated...the ambiguity of it all.

There is much hope, I tell her. Its good to be with her in her confusion. Its okay with me.

Toward the Pain or Living the Life I Have Always Wanted to Live

The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere

~Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I recently had the (good?) fortune to run into an old friend. We got to chatting, caught up on where life has taken us these last few years, and where we would like to be. She told me that finally she feels happy, joyous and free. That she is living the life she has always wanted to live. Her kids are growing up, requiring less of her than they used to. No diapers to change or baths to give. Meals run themselves pretty much and the sports schedule is at a minimum.

She is working for herself now, consulting and freelancing, with plenty of time to write, her passion, as it turns out, and take long walks with her husband. For about 39 seconds (okay, 2 minutes and 23 seconds) I was rip roaringly, unabashedly, wholly and completely jealous.

What does this mean, I am wondering. "Living the life I have always wanted to live." I wanted to know. Does this mean she is happy, like, all the time? I, who, am in the business of understanding people, helping them understand themselves, their desires and wishes, hurts and fears, and unpack what it is they want in life, from life, was baffled. (As well as momentarily green.) Does this mean that she has very few obligations, or financial worries? Or that she does not mind the ones she does have? Does it mean that she does not struggle with any bad feelings, have any difficult relationships, or questions yet unanswered about herself that keep her up at night?

Does she get along well with everyone in her life? Is she no longer burdened by other people's pain or the troubles of the country or the world. Is she not worried about the two journalists who are trapped in North Korea or Gilad Shalit? Is she free from addiction? Has she accepted her vices and made peace with her limitations? Does she no longer look at herself in the mirror with a critical eye, or lament that she may soon be going grey? Are her current accomplishments satisfying enough, and future ones only icing on an already rich cake? Did she have a gratifying and satisfying sex life? And a spiritual fitness that meets her own ideas of connectedness with the Gd of her understanding?

Or is it all false evidence appearing real? Am I comparing my insides (and almost everyone else's I know) to her outsides? After all, its not often someone tells you that they are feeling so well, overall, and specifically. Its not often I meet up with someone who seems so, well, determinedly content.

I did not get the idea she was being casual or conversational. Or boastful. I really thought she meant it, deeply. So I asked, and she explained.

She said that she has always had a difficult default setting in her brain. Her thoughts, feelings, ideas, always seem to go toward the pain, toward the fear, toward the not. It was wasn't so much a glass half empty problem, or an issue of not enough gratitude. Nor did she feel she had a block against focusing on the solution rather than the problem. It was, she explained, an historic comfort, a familialiarity with sitting psychically in some sort of deprivation, loneliness and sense of being misunderstood and unsupported. Perhaps because of biology, even. If not also family history.

She said that she has become aware of this, and of her own resistance to letting go of what does not work in her life, and going toward what does. She said that she became willing to take a good look at what her motivations in life were, and what she was really aiming for, and in small ways, she said that she has become a lot easier on herself and those around her. And that she gave herself permission to figure out what she wanted to be doing with her time, and makes sure that she does at least some of those things each week.

I know, it sounds a bit self-helpy. But I felt better after hearing it. I had started to think she found the golden ticket, and that it was the only one.

I think that when you are hurting it can look like the whole world is living the life they want to live, and you are stuck in the dense fog of pain and hopelessness. But I think we can spin our stories to end better. We parted in good spirits, my old friend and I, after a somewhat heavy street corner conversation. But I was glad she was feeling good about her life. I know she did not always have it so easy. And that there is something to be said for finding yourself and gracing yourself and saying so.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell (yourself): On Honesty

"If a thousand old beliefs were ruined in our march to truth we must still march on." ~Stopford Brooke

"I tore myself away from the safe comfort of certainties through my love for truth - and truth rewarded me." ~Simone de Beauvoir

I couldn't decide. So I've brought you both quotes. Here is what I have been thinking about lately: Being honest in therapy. Being honest with one's self. Being honest with G-d. And of course, for all the couples I work with, the pros and cons of being honest with each other. Sometimes honesty hurts, or we think it will. And since, I think, honesty does not always come easy or fast, we need to be honest about that too. About the fact that we don't always know what the truth is.

That there are different kinds of honesty. There are the facts, reality, as it is. And then of course, reality as it seems. There is emotional honesty, which sometimes, often times, actually, takes a bit of psychic exploratory surgery to discover what feeling(s) is really present. And there is very real and understandable problem of just not knowing what the truth really is.

So I am thinking about all the layers of the onion. That here, in the therapy room, is the place to say everything. To get curious, to be willing and brave and interested in the truth. Even if the truth is subjective. I suppose we could debate (and many have and do) the use of knowledge of the truth...does it really set you free? Does it really cure your addiction, relieve your rage, send the right message to your spouse? Release you from the trappings of your past? Does knowing how you were shaped and influenced, what effected you, how and why, really lead to progress and better things for your present and future?

Does unpacking your memories, facing your fears, fessing up to angers, resentments and desires really have a benefit? What if you could really get good glimpse of your unconscious? Would it matter? What if you could give yourself permission to really get to know yourself, flaws and assets, bumps and bruises, urges, wishes and secret longings?

The truth? I don't really know? How can we know this? But I think, honestly, from the therapist's chair, that honesty, at least in here, in my office, pays life quality dividends big time.

I am not talking about confession. I welcome it if it helps, but its okay with me if you are drinking a pint on Friday night after your spouse has gone to sleep, and you just can't seem to tell your sponsor. Or you really are spending a lot of time with the guy in the office two doors down, and you promised your partner you don't talk to him anymore. Or that you really watch Oprah when you work from home.

You can confess all you want in my office, I am listening. It helps to unload it, and this is a good place to do it. But. And. What next. Therapists don't have collars. We have mirrors. If you' d like. And hopefully a sense of when and how to use them.

Most people come in to get relief, to understand some things about themselves, about life, about their past, how it affects their present and future. How to have better. Better love, sex, money, serenity, sense of self, direction, self value, connections. Better.

Honesty, honestly, (makes me want to sing that old Billy Joel song), is sometimes a slow riser, like the sun, but I do think it brings light, to dark days, dark moods, dark lives. Even if the ideas are just guesses sometimes, even if we have to live with, or settle for, workable true enough ideas or insights. Even if, and since, in therapy-speak, not knowing the truth, or wanting to know the truth is a defense, and we respect and even protect defenses, unless and until they are no longer needed.

Its just some food for thought, that being open to learning about your own truths can go a long way, in here, out there. Its not always easy, so I tend to go lightly sometimes, but I believe its worth the go. That there is a benefit, and that honesty's close friends forgiveness, engagement, and relief and acceptance are always close by.

Passion

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." ~Harold Whitman

Okay, I am not advocating selfishness by bringing you the above quote. I am advocating interest. In what makes you tick. And you can always use that to give back to the world.

We all want to have passion at least somewhere in our lives. Some are afraid of it, and go to great lengths to avoid it. Some are afraid to live without it, and go to great lengths to create it. And, not to be confused with hunger, desire or drama, passion or lack of it really is what brings many people through the therapy door.

Some of us want it in our friendships, some want it in our careers, and most of us want it in the bedroom. We are frustrated, despondent, depressed even, when we feel that we have gone too long without it. But we don't often know how to create it. And we don't know how to make it jive with serenity and contentment, with order and routine and acceptance of the normal ebb and flow of relationships and jobs.

I see lots of attempts to ignore passion, and lots of attempts to find it. In the eating disorder community, we don't talk about passion nearly enough. And I see many folks confusing passion with compulsion and competition. Or letting passion turn into compulsion or competition.

And its often about squelching hungers. Sometimes there is a deep seated fear that knowing what you truly hunger for will shake up your world. Or someone else's. Or that you will not be able to have what it is you really want, or what really lights you up. Or that you will in fact be consumed by. The refusal to know your passions, the fear, is a common experience of many who suffer from eating disorders, as well anxiety and depression.

In the therapy room, passions of all kinds are welcome as a topic of discussion. They can be ushered out into the light and studied. There is no need, often times, no mandate, to act on them, but just to know them, to talk about them, to not squelch them back down inside - out of fear. Good decisions can be made when one is passionate. Passion does not have to be impulsive or clumsy, or hurtful or forceful. It can be life giving and useful. Quiet and steady.

The point is this: lots of energy often goes into to avoiding knowing ourselves. We may even fear we are dangerous in some way. But I think the danger is in not talking about passion. I think that depression and anxiety and eating disorders are all well treated when we put passion into the picture and get to know where it lives in us and for what or whom. Our relationships usually benefit as well. For all the attention we give to unpacking panic and depression, communication difficulties and addiction, we should not forget to weave passion into discussion and learn what it means to us, what ideas, fears, images, memories or feelings the word itself brings up. And then we can use it to move forward toward whatever it is we are seeking. We can use it to have more what we want and be more content with what we have.

Ducking Shoes ~The Rule of Three: Impulsivity, Waiting and Not Acting on Feelings

You know the old adage..."If I had a dime for every time I......" fill in the blank...and in this case..."for every time I acted impulsively and wish I had not..." or " that I did not stop to think things through."

It is rarely a good idea to act on a feeling. And yet, we do it all the time. In both large and small ways. Some more destructive than others. We are angry, we yell. Or leave. We are stressed, we overeat, or drink or fill in the blank. We feel hurt, we insult whoever hurt us, or we ignore them. When we get flooded with an emotion, we often act before we really can pause to consider what may be in our best interest, or in the best interest of the relationship.

What are we after we when we do this? A few things maybe. Understanding, revenge, relief, release, connection, attention, assurance, validation. To begin with.

If we stop to reflect or discuss things with a third party, a good ear, and to study what we do and when, and why, we often learn a lot about what goes on in the relationships we have. Sometimes, when I suggest this, I am met with the fear that I am implying that whatever is going on is our own fault. That's true, in some ways, but really, it's not a matter of fault, but a matter of effect. When we are naturally caught up in a torrent of emotions, we are not usually in the frame of mind to consider the effect our words and actions might have on the situation, or relationship, past the relief of the moment. And sometimes, certain people bring it out the reactor in us, for a variety of reasons. This too is worthy of study.

There are times when we do have to act or react right away. We have to call for help if there is a fire, or accident. We have duck if someone hurls something at us. (For some reason, I am thinking of former President Bush and the shoe incident). I suppose its because we sometimes have to duck words as well. Verbal shoes. And we have to gather up our cool to not react in the moment.

Of course we did not learn our reactions in a vacuum. We have life stories, histories, both psychic and environmental, familial, and cultural. These histories have shaped us, and often we repeat what we have learned. We do this consciously sometimes, but more often, its unconscious. In therapy speak its called repetition compulsion. Doing what we do is a complication of learned behavior and survival, of coping and dealing and taking care of ourselves. But when we don't have the success we might like in our careers, relationships, and the feelings we want in our lives, day to day, and overall, its time to take a good look at how we operate and why. This can take a while, but I think its worth it. We can get a lot of mileage out of unpacking the past, and seeing how it affects the present and future.

In the meantime, there's always the rule of three. Before making a big decisions, or little ones for that matter, and before yelling back, or throwing a verbal knife, before taking any action, that is based on a feeling, teach yourself to wait three. Three minutes. Three hours. Three days. Take three. The more urgent it feels, the more we need the rule of three. Unless its really a fire.

Not an emotional fire. A real fire. All other things, usually, are better off tended to with care and whatever calm we can muster.

Of course there are those of us who really like a good fight. S'okay. More on that one day soon. And I am all for passion, and plenty of it, in the right time. But its good to know where we walk, and what the point, or purpose of it is. Breathe, pause, pray. Talk, walk, write, slow it down. No doubt we need relief from our urgent feelings, but at what cost? I think it pays to wait, when we can. However we can, and go gently.

Sad, The Upside of Down vs. Emotional Suffering

I am already feeling sad writing this post. Truth is, I have been thinking about it for some time now, trying to figure out to what extent I agree with defending sadness. And wondering as always about the slippery slope from sadness to depression....where is the line? When does it get crossed. Is sadness really painful? Does it count as emotional pain? How much emotional suffering can one bear? And how?

In the medical arena, society subscribes to doing whatever is clinically possible to control physical suffering. Though religions differ in philosophy, especially with end of life and terminal illness issues, extreme comfort measures are usually the standard course.

But what of mental illness? And what of extreme sadness? What of emotional pain that brings thoughts of death? Some would say that emotional pain rivals physical pain, is worse, even. Betrayal, abandonment, neglect, trauma, shame, fear, anger. Powerful stuff. Life altering stuff.

We don't hesitate, usually, to medicate physical pain. And of course, we medicate emotional pain in many ways. The nuances are many. What is a mood disorder? What is biological, hormonal, genetic? Organic? The debate is particularly intense when it comes to emotional pain that manifests into physical pain. And vise verse.

We are relief seeking. Most of the time. Even the folks I work with who take razors to their own skin, or drive with their eyes closed, or vomit, starve, burn their bodies with hot match tips. They are seeking relief from pain by out-paining it with another. That's only a piece of the puzzle of course, but it fits.

But what about sadness? What about extreme sadness? How do we know when we are just deeply, humanly, unchangeably, peacefully, even, profoundly, sad. When is the feeling something we have to learn to live with. Live around. Endure. Enjoy even. In a life embracing sort of way. Some think this is the way to go, to defend sadness. To employ it even. To help us be in our own skin, to recognize the deeper more poignant, spiritual side of life. To get in touch with Gd, with ourselves, with a higher wisdom, a higher faith. To hang on to the idea that if we let sadness wash over us, it will not wash us out, but fortify us, fill us, and help us to experience our ourselves in whole new ways. And it will pass. It will not always linger and darken into depression.

For some sadness is welcome, connective and appropriate. Its not something to treat, but rather something to tend to. To feel, to talk about, to give permission to. Out of it comes all the things that its defenders suggest, contrast, meaning, connection to others, to G-d, to our own sense of self.

So how much is enough sad? How much is enough grief? When should we hope, pray, talk, walk out of the feeling, and when should we just give it grace to live on until it dissipates at its own initiation. When do we put it in the attic of our mind for another day, and when do we move about with it wrapped around us like a blanket?

The answer is: it depends. We are influenced by so many things. Our thoughts, of course. Hormones, chemistry, sunlight. Our past, our belief systems, our religion, spirituality, environment.

It never ceases to amaze me how much words can effect moods and feelings. Someone's unasked for advice, or analysis. Someone's criticism or abruptness. How words can be the seeds of resentment or self pity. Or fear. And sadness.

In my office, where all feelings are invited, all words welcome, all ideas and thoughts allowed to step out of the psyche and into the room, sadness often hedges. But sadness is often one the greatest gifts. Not only because it can be sign of life, but because we don't have to rush to cure it, and we don't have to subscribe to the notion that we can have only one feeling at a time.

We can be sad and be relieved, hopeful, interested, happy, even, about other events, people, parts of our lives. We can be grateful even. And we can both sit with the sadness, and use it. I think that when we impulsively, or compulsively, rush to eliminate it, we are missing out. Of course, when it begins to cloud everything, for too long (and how long is too long?), then we may have to take a look at why. But to go slow with sadness, not to fear it. To allow ourselves to feel it freely, to know why we are sad, and then perhaps to see if there is something to be done or not, that's better I think, than ducking it.

Meditation ~ Spontaneous Thoughts ~ Words

Sigh. I am the biggest fan of words. I study them, I help people speak them. I encourage the free flowing spontaneous uninterrupted stream of them. At least in my office, to my private, trained analytic understanding ear.

I put words together on paper, on the computer, in my mind. I marvel at the impact they can have, to hurt, to heal, to destroy, to bring together. I consciously come up with words, and I listen attentively to the random thoughts, chains of words, single words, ideas, impressions, feelings, that are not quite words, but could be, or would be, if they are allowed. My own, and those of my clients, my family, my friends.

I study word choices, meanings, cadence, tone, emphasis and volume. I unpack sarcasm (hostility, usually, or anxiety), and humor, and silence. The vacuum where words would be if they were not jammed up somewhere. And sometimes I take it all less seriously, and just let words glide around like thin stream water, or float like tiny bubbles, up and away. Sometimes, I hang on them, and wonder about them a while, especially if they may contain clues to someone's relief or pain.

I have witnessed words setting people free, dissolving pain, releasing anger, fear, frustration, worry. I have see words bring on comfort, relief, joy and rest. I have subscribed to Dr. Freud's idea of the Talking Cure. Which, I would really think is more of a listening cure, because I think that even though talking does help, we usually find it most helpful when someone is listening to what we are talking about. Maybe then, we should call it the being heard cure. Or the being understood cure. Or the being listened to well and gently cure."

So why the sigh? Well, this. With all my dedication to words, to finding them and saying them, or writing them. Or praying with them. And all my belief in their power, especially their curative uses. I also believe in quiet. I believe that we sometimes need a break (and a brake) from the words.

I think there is a deep and powerful benefit to meditation. Which of course, in many of its forms uses words, or chants, or phrases, to help quiet the mind, to elevate the spirit, to bring and find peace, and G-d, and grace. And of course meditation can be used to focus words, to contemplate an idea, made of words. To get new ideas, and new words. Or, and I think this is a big plus, to let go of old words, and old ideas, that don't help us anymore. Or that pop up spontaneously and try to poke us with old pain and old problems.

We can use meditation to help stop or redirect thoughts that come at us unrequested, from our unconscious, bringing us bad feelings or distraction or pain. I am not suggesting that talking out old pains and problems isn't useful or necessary, sometimes it takes a lot of talking, a lot of necessary talking, but sometimes we can benefit just as well from the quiet. From a cease fire in our minds of the things that bother us. We can need and have both, in our quest for recovery and meaning, and fullness in life.

I think that the practice of meditation in healing emotional pain cannot be underestimated. The practice of quieting the mind, and reaching the spirit is something that goes a long long way toward easier living, gentle relationships and grace in the world.

I suppose it could seem contradictory. To say that we need words to heal, and that we need a break from words to heal, but I think its true. I think that in my own practice of meditation, I have found much joy, and much calm and much relief.

Meditation can be used to help with OCD, with eating disorders, with anxiety, panic, and depression. I think that in the practice of psychotherapy and healing, and in the living a good life, it is vital. And it does not always have to be fancy or long, or require dedicated training, though certainly training is good for those who want to go deeper. But for those who want to just incorporate a bit of spirituality and mindfulness, or bring in some pause to otherwise busy days, meditation in all its form can carry us along to better feelings, and help bring in an overall sense of wellness and progress. Like letting fresh air blow through your brain.