Coaching My Inner Critic

“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.”

― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

As I struggle to produce even the first step per Lamott (a shitty first draft), a friend advises me:  "Lose the inner critic."  My sister teaches creativity workshops in which she strongly encourages her students to "dare to suck."  I was once in an improv jam session with her in which the primary theme, sung and danced with a blues motif, was all about daring to suck.

All the self help books in the world tell you to be aware of the voice of your inner critic so you won't inadvertently censor your every move.  In fact, that's not enough.  I think you have to be acutely aware, and then write down every word verbatim for awhile, every word that nasty little bastard is whispering in your ear. 

"No sense in even starting to write that blog/novel/poem--you know it won't be any good."

"No one will read it"

"You have nothing interesting to say."

"It's a waste of time!"

Then close your eyes and perhaps imagine that a school teacher has said those things to your kid. Now do you feel your talons unsheathing, ready to fight back?

Since the inner critic is really a part of me and probably does have some useful insights, I'm wondering if I can coach him to be more constructive.  If I model the constructive approach for him, next time the negativity sets in, it might go something like this:

My inner critic:  You're just not creative enough to come up with new ideas.

Me:  You know, we need to talk.  You're not helping.

IC:  Hey, it's tough love.  Somebody has to keep you honest.

Me:  All this negative talk just shuts me down creatively and I can't even muster up the guts to suck.

IC:  Well, as I was telling another one of my clients...

Me:  Clients?!  You harangue other people this way too?

IC:  Sure--my genius is relevant everywhere.  This other client is in an African dance class.  She just loves this class and has gotten some compliments about her dancing. At the end of each session, the drummers drum wildly and a dance circle forms where one dancer at a time can prance to the center and show her best moves.  My client would just love to enter the dance circle.  So far I've protected her from making a fool out of herself by sucking. She goes home each week after class sad, but safe and sound, unembarrassed.

 Me:  But she's miserable.  Each week she regrets not having the courage to enter the circle, you bozo!

IC:  Not worth the risk.  She's not perfect, you know.  She'd just disappoint herself and everybody else and we can't have that happen.

Me:  Look, I don't know about the dancer, but I need a change.  From now on, if you can't say something constructive, don't say anything at all.  Otherwise I'm going to switch channels and stop listening to you altogether, got it?

IC:  You're a coward!  You can't take the truth. If you're that sensitive, you'll never get anywhere anyway.

Me:  There you go again!  I'm shutting you down.  Every time you say something negative I'm going to block it, and think of trees instead, since I'm quite fond of trees.  They're beautiful and they produce oxygen, essential for breathing...

IC:  Trees!  What a stupid...

Me:  ...Oak.  Pine.

If:  ...stupid...

Me:  Sycamore.  Sassafras.  Breathe.

IC:

Me:  You know, I'll take constructive criticism...

IC:  You wouldn't know constructive criticism if it bit you in the...mmf.  Bmf.

Me:  Look, since you're part of me, we both have my best interests at heart, right?

IC:  Right, but you don't want your blog to suck, right?

Me:  True.  But right now I'm working on what Anne Lamott calls a "shitty first draft" for my blog. Just getting my ideas down in some form, knowing nobody will ever read it in this form.  It doesn't have to be perfect.  Really.  If you have something helpful to say, I might let you help me edit it later.

IC:   You know you get wordy.

Me:  I know.  We can polish it together.  Later.  Once the first draft is done.

IC:  Okay, if you ever conquer your laziness long enough to finish the boring first dr...   Mmf.  Bmf.

Me:  ....Maple.  Boab.  Eucalyptus.  Ginkgo.  Boojum.  Avoid using words like lazy and boring.

IC:  You said shitty. 

Me:  I'm allowed to call it a shitty first draft--you're not.

IC:  Looks like you've got a good start.  As soon as you finish the first draft, which I'm confident you will, I'm convinced it'll meet your shitty standards and I'll be right here, ready to help.

Me:  Better.   You can do this.  Meanwhile, go tell that other client of yours that she's a beautiful dancer who deserves her spot in the sun, and in the dance circle. 

The Wisdom of Uncertainty and "The Circle"

Happily, my recent retirement frees me to do some things I've always wanted to do, like attending last week's Conference on World Affairs (CWA) at CU in Boulder, the renowned “conference on everything conceivable.”

I was inspired by one standing room only session entitled "The Wisdom of Uncertainty."  The panelists did a great job of outlining the human dilemma in which we dislike uncertainty and take Herculean measures to avoid it, even though "not knowing" and questioning the basic assumptions we’re constantly making can be the very best path to renewed creativity, innovation, and growth.  They also pointed out that every amazing new breakthrough in science occurs when someone decides that they don’t know something, tosses out assumptions, and sets out to learn the truth.  One panelist asked the audience who had seen a sunset – and then explained that none of us had, since the sun doesn’t set, although the phenomenon that looks like the sun setting was only recently understood correctly after the "certainty" that the sun revolves around the earth was questioned.

The panelists also pointed out that there's a difference between confidence and absolute certainty.  For example, you can be confident that your efforts to write a blog will bear fruit, despite a case of writer's block from hell, even though you're not certain exactly what you'll come up with or whether the topic will remotely match your initial concept.  Uncertainty can pave the way toward new connections and ideas.

Speaking of “not knowing,” I just finished an unsettling novel by David Eggers called "The Circle" about a social media company in Silicon Valley that has absorbed all its relatively feeble predecessors (Facebook, Google) and metastasized into a behemoth organization with leaders Quite Certain that their innovations can solve all the problems of the world once they are able to “close the circle” by collecting and tying together all information and making it fully available and transparent to everyone for the greater good of humanity.  Thus, employees are encouraged and ultimately coerced where necessary to constantly share their perceptions and feelings. In fact, privacy is considered insubordinate since it robs everyone of the information and transparency needed to resolve problems and prevent wrong doing.

The novel’s protagonist is new hire Mae, a young woman the company immediately sets out to indoctrinate and who at one point is even led during a company-wide meeting to publicly utter the 1984-style maxims of The Circle:

SECRETS ARE LIES

SHARING IS CARING

PRIVACY IS THEFT

Mae is relentlessly pressured to share more and more of her most private thoughts and experiences, from intimate encounters to medical data.  At a couple of points I felt claustrophobic enough to put the book down and get a breath of fresh air, wishing Mae could do the same.

Kayaking on the bay, Mae escapes a couple of times to that most precious source of centering, solitude and peace, nature.  She paddles to an island, climbs a tree, wonders about the content of a bird’s nest and decides she cannot know this information without disturbing the nest and its inhabitants and so foregoes the knowledge. For a short while she remembers to breathe and acknowledges the value in "not knowing" what's in the nest or below her in the dark depths of the bay as she kayaks back to shore.

But she quickly gets in trouble at work for this, since being alone and not sharing information about her experience are viewed to be willful and selfish acts, unsupportive of the world view The Circle's leadership is so certain is correct.

I can recall a few times in my own career when I saw the same level of arrogant, absolute certainty from leaders, feeling both amazed and disquieted by it.  There is a wisdom in uncertainty, in seeing the world from constantly fresh perspectives and questioning self-limiting assumptions. In the end I would rather lean that way than walk around absolutely certain about life, the universe and everything. 

Also, it occurs to me that perhaps I’ve been way too lackadaisical up to this point about the question of privacy.  When carried to the extreme where it's socially unacceptable not to constantly share, the value of what is shared seems diminished--better to live with a greater degree of uncertainty.

Turning Point

New Year's Eve

Pearl Street Starbucks

A time comes when there are so many reasons to go that you know it's time; the center cannot hold, the balancing act can't continue.  You realize you're needed and wanted much more in a different universe.  I woke up this morning inventorying in my mind the removal and disposal of all the stuff in my office at work--perhaps the tide has turned?  What does one do with heavy glass recognition plaques marking one's 5, 15, 20 years at a company one must ultimately leave?  And what of all the books on leadership, Agile development, and more--would anyone else even want them?

I'll keep the six tiny carved laughing Buddhas; not so sure about the fountain with the stalk of bamboo growing in it.  How about the beautiful flowering cactus?  Yes.  I can surely keep it alive.

Many will envy me if I make this move and never guess how terrifying it is.  Shall I tell myself a different story?  It's not terrifying, but thrilling to imagine moving beyond this phase in my life to something new and potentially far more fulfilling.  

The sun obligingly shines through the Starbucks window and reflects a prism rainbow right across my journal page--purple-blue, then brilliant green fading to yellow, then orange and red.  A beautiful sign that taking care of myself and my family first is surely the right path, not selfish but wise beyond analysis, something that in the end I will not regret because of the new experiences I'll encounter on the next leg of the journey.  It is indeed a journey--not a final destination to save even more money so I'll finally, finally feel secure.  Nothing's secure anyway.  I have only to count already fallen friends and family to know that all is ephemeral, including the prism rainbow already fading from my page but marked by me while it was there in the moment as a sign, noticed before it was quickly gone, giving me a moment's joy.

To notice more--this is part of the journey; to be here now.  The unhappiness comes with fear of the future and regret about the past, but not from now.  Now contains joy and contentment and wonder.  Just remembering to breathe and be grateful for the oxygen can be such a relief.  Releaf?  And my current work becomes less important in a relative sense as my priorities change from more security and money to more time. 

Time to move on.

Martha Beck says:  "The way we do anything is the way we do everything."

The way I do things is to think, think, think.  This has left me with less ability right now to listen to myself (or others) and learn the heart's deepest desires.  But I'm hearing more and more clearly now.

Magically, the prism rainbow returns to illuminate my page!  A sign to be sure, if I‘m willing to tell myself that story. The colors are even more glorious than before and the joy returns.  Surely I'm on the right path.  I don't want to stop writing because I'm enjoying the rainbow so much.  I move the page so my hand doesn't block the light.

The message:  Do not allow yourself to block the beauty and happiness, for it is surely you alone who block them when they're right there!

The way you do anything is the way you do everything.  My way tends to include much cautious analysis.  I seek full assurance that everything will be okay and all my decisions will be the right ones.  In the last third of any life there is only one guarantee:  it will end.  All the rest is a crapshoot.  How do I want to spend the last third of my life?  What things no longer give me pleasure but are instead breaking my heart, and why do I still cling to them?

Martha Beck again:  "Everything I've ever taught boils down to this--I cannot believe people keep paying me to say this--if something feels really good for you, you might want to do it, and if something feels really horrible, you might want to consider not doing it.  Thank you, give me my $150."

Carpe Diem.  

In Praise of Not Knowing

As I continue to figure things out in my new job, I've been interested to observe how horrified I am at the many things I don't understand. I keep beating myself up for not knowing the solutions right away, and have forgotten to feel the joy of learning new things and experiencing the unexpected surprises, insights and connections that come with not knowing.

Acknowledging my not knowing, I changed my password for awhile to a number and symbol ridden form of "humility." Because of some mysterious security configurations at work that require me to enter my password repeatedly throughout the day when I switch environments, I ended up typing the word again and again like a mantra: humility humility humility.

Humility: the quality or condition of being humble; modest opinion or estimate of one's importance, rank, etc. dictionary.com

Humility: the absence of any feelings of being better than others. merriam-webster.com

I have a horror of being considered a know-it-all (although I know sometimes I come across that way nonetheless). So perhaps I lean too far in the opposite direction, acknowledging my not knowing too quickly; not a stellar way to gain the confidence of colleagues with strong intellects who take great pride in, by God, knowing.

Buddhists speak of "not knowing" as the greater wisdom. Acknowledging not knowing makes space for new knowledge; see the famous fable about the university professor, the wise monk, and the overflowing teacup. Remembering to let go of the need to know everything is liberating and opens up the possibility for new and surprising insights.

I have the acknowledgement of not knowing down pretty well. And now I have to stop apologizing for it. Knowing when I don’t know may be one of my most valuable qualities.

Ribe Tuchus (Sit Still)

According to the Observation Deck, the literal Yiddish translation of ribe tuchus is "rub your bottom on the chair."

Flannery O'Connor had a rule that she would sit at her writing desk for three hours each day. If she had nothing to write she would stare at the wall, but she often did have something interesting to say as we know. I also find that by sitting still with my notebook I often surprise myself by having something to say after all--sometimes I get a jump start by observing my immediate surroundings and describing them. 

Right now I see a slender young woman sitting immediately on the other side of the coffee shop window on the patio, feet up on one of the black wrought iron chairs, typing on her laptop. It's hard to imagine how she can see anything on the computer screen in the bright sunlight, but she continues to continue. She's dressed in a green-toned camouflage tank top, extremely short faded denim cutoffs, a two-inch wide belt beaded in orange and turquoise, many silver bracelets on both wrists with one pulled up past her elbow, and large silver hoop earrings--but she wears no rings at all. Her long, dark hair is piled high on her head with a few strands artfully coiling down to frame her face. She wears woven ankle-high sandals. She chews gum furiously as she finally decides to move herself to the shady half of the table where there is some hope she might be able to view the computer screen and opens two books on her lap, pen in hand, a page of notes peaking out from underneath the laptop and flapping gently in the breeze. She takes a brief call on her cell phone and then turns back to her work.

I'm guessing she's a CU student and I once again feel that surge of envy I often have for those whose entire focus in life is learning. I didn't appreciate it as much as I could have in my youth. Of course if asked, this young woman might assure me that her life is far more complicated than simply learning, and a far cry from the bliss I imagine. In any case, I remind myself that I also continue to learn at my work, through my experiences with people and technology and in brief furious spates of research, for example each time I hear yet another technical acronym that is new to me. One of the best things in life is that we continue to learn until the very end; all that's required is that we remain open and curious.

Create a Sacred Space

Since I've had quite a dry spell in my writing, I decided to pull out The Observation Deck--a deck of cards with creative writing ideas to give myself a jumpstart.  The point is to make your self write something about the idea on the card no matter what; there's a little booklet with a few paragraphs about each card to help get the juices flowing.

The first card I pulled read:  "Create a Sacred Space"

I was reminded of my small efforts over the last several months to create a more welcoming spiritual place for myself in my office at work. It's a small corner office many would envy:  huge windows facing west the a clear view of the Front Range. In one corner of my desk I've placed a small cascading fountain and I've arranged my five little ivory laughing buddhas around the fountain and up its steps.  Nearby stands a small white statue of a guardian angel given to me by a friend during some very dark days a couple of years ago.

Next to the fountain is a meditation chime--a metal cylinder cradled on a wooden base with a small wooden mallet which can be used to strike the chime, issuing an extremely clear, bell-like tone that fades ever so slowly back into silence again.  The chime helps me remember to breath and be present.

Also on the desk is a daily Zen calendar with a new quotation for each day; I've saved some of my favorite quotes which are arranged somewhat haphazardly on the desk for repeated reference, including:

"Always stay in your own movie." - Ken Kesey

"Only the madman is absolutely sure." - Robert Anton Wilson

"My father considered a walk among the mountains the equivalent of church-going." - Aldous Huxley

"Awareness is therapy per se." - Fritz Perl

A weekly calendar is on another corner of the desk with beautiful photographs of nature and wild animals;  I look forward to turning the page each Monday morning.  A monthly wall calendar has nature photographs and quotes by that master of the here and now, Eckhart Tolle.  A carved wooden bowl sits nearby which I keep filled with tangerines and apples.  

On the wall opposite the windows is a framed panoramic photo of Boulder's Flatirons glowing pink and orange at dawn.

I spend a lot of time at work and I'm glad I've succeeded in creating a welcoming and spiritual space there.

My bedroom at home is a restful place, with a huge picture over the bed of the ocean viewed through a window with thin white curtains stirring gently in the sea breeze.  Deep blue glass bottles filter the light from the window, pictures of my family grace the walls, a big white goosedown comforter covers the bed.  On the wall by the door is a photograph given to me by my true love of a tree-lined Parisian walkway, the sun filtering down through the leaf canopy.  Perched on one corner of the picture frame is a yellow and purple feathered Mardi Gras mask.

So I think I know how to create sacred spaces for myself.  But when it comes to my writing, I lean toward extreme portability. I like to load my backpack for long walks, carrying with me everything I'll need to write anywhere.  In this case I carry my sacred space inside my head by staying aware and noticing the vastness of the world around me.

Do you have a sacred space?

Do You Want Assertiveness with That?

There are all the other promises to myself, of course--like exercising, losing weight, and connecting more with other people. But my main resolution for 2012 is to be more direct. I am astounded at how often I phrase a desire or intention I have as a question. Instead of making my desires clear, I throw out a query. What often happens next is that the perfectly reasonable recipient responds with what he or she wants and that becomes the plan.

This is not because the other person is an overbearing asshole.

It's because I almost always default to what other people want. So I end up getting less of what I want, and quite unnecessarily. The reasons for this are rooted in the distant past and likely have to do with my childhood; therapy fodder for sure. Meanwhile, a yellow sticky is emblazoned on my computer at work that says, “Be Direct.” I am mildly encouraged that it does not say “Shouldn’t you be more direct? ” or “What do you think of the idea of my being more direct?” Or a crafter, sneakier version: “I’ve been thinking about whether I phrase too many of my ideas as questions lately—what do you think?”

Eschewing Techie Twinkies

"Moderation in all things - including moderation." - Mark Twain

Too much of a good thing...are social networks, computers, and mobile devices of all stripes robbing us of our opportunity to truly connect with each other and with nature as well as our basic ability to think in depth?
An article in the Sunday Boulder Daily Camera called "The Technology Diet" likens our constant high tech connectedness to a fast food addiction. Some folks, even 20-somethings, are going off the grid completely, seeking to again hear themselves think and get to a point where they can read a book steadily for more than a few minutes without checking email and Facebook.

The article mentions Lewis Mitchell Neef who has posted about Internet craving and the damage it does in his "Adrenal Fatigue Project," a "satire on the pointless blurbs of misinformation that the Internet constantly bombards us with, inducing a heightened awareness and fatigue." Neef urges not to drop out completely but to "use your time wisely and be present" (good advice under any circumstances). Use the Internet to find real connections and further good causes.

Also mentioned is Laleh Mehran's and Chris Coleman's W3fi movement (pronounced "wee-fy"), showcased recently at the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art. They outline a three-step approach for being productive and avoiding mayhem on the Internet: know yourself online, be aware how your actions affect others, and know how you can connect with others positively and productively.

Andrew Weil has written another of his excellent down-to-earth books recently called Spontaneous Happiness on finding happiness in the modern world and one of his prime recommendations is to limit digital distractions and seek more connection with others and with nature to find the peace and sense of well-being we all seek.

There was a time I remember, my children, when we didn't carry around cell phones, when we didn't have something called a "digital presence on-line," when we read more, made our own music, had real conversations with each other.

I'm becoming more mindful of that lonely state I find myself in sometimes late at night, continually seeking something real online, long past the point of exhaustion, looking for truth in all the wrong places. That's a strong signal that it's time to power off and tune back in to real life.

Kaizen

Lately I've been mindful of Kaizen, the Japanese concept of continual, incremental improvement. The first step with Kaizen both at work and at home is awareness: clearly seeing the possibilities for improvement.

Since improvement is incremental with small measured experiments to check progress, the concept of Kaizen can overcome that sinking feeling that "this mess is way too big to tackle." It does require a degree of trust, optimism, and faith in oneself and other people, however, since very often an improvement can't be made without some agreement and cooperation from the larger group. Open, frequent communication is essential to Kaizen.

I had a conversation with a colleague who was new to one of our teams at work yesterday. I was (from my perspective, of course) attempting to communicate the benefits of working well across teams, explaining the history behind why this federated group of teams had joined together for common goals, how important it was to maintain respect and collaboration across these teams. "I want you to be successful on this team," I said at one point as I was trying to convince her to be more mindful of how her actions were impacting the group as a whole. "I'm already successful," she snapped back. Just one time in my life I would like to feel that kind of certitude, but I don't think it would help me for the long haul. To understand why, keep reading.

How can you be successful without considering the team as a whole? Kaizen assumes that the group works together to identify ways to improve quality and efficiency, and then incrementally implements these steps, testing progress at each step. It doesn't work well for those who don't want to acknowledge mutual dependencies.

I was heartened the other day during a team retrospective meeting to hear a respected and brilliant software architect comment that very early team communication about how a task will be accomplished can help guide it the right way from the beginning and can therefore reduce waste of time and resource. But this takes time up front, and some patience, and the natural urge to proactively communicate. Not everybody is born able to do this. It has to be encouraged and developed.

My dentist (of all people) has a saying his staff quotes during lectures about proper dental hygiene: "The trouble with communication is that people think it's happened."

True everywhere in life. If you think you know what's going on already, and if you're absolutely positive you're on the right track, you don't bother to ask, and you jump straight to a solution that may have little to do with addressing the root cause of a problem. I've done this so many times I've lost count. But at least I'm mindful of the trap.

My Kaizen thought for the day: ask five whys to understand a difficult problem, and always question what you think you already know.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Rooting Out Resentment

"Resentment is like swallowing poison and then waiting for the other person to die."

I've been thinking a lot about resentment and how it eats at at you relentlessly if you let it. It is a wicked bad waste of energy--like weeds in a garden that are best pulled out by the root.

Roots of Resentment:

1. Comparing your lot in life with others

2. Doing things for somebody else they could be doing for themselves

3. Imprisoning yourself by limiting your perceptions of what is possible

4. Refusing to accept what is

5. Dwelling in the past

Remedies for Resentment:

1. Being grateful for what you do have

2. Setting boundaries

3. Thinking outside the box, trying new things, keeping an open mind

4. Letting it be

5. Forgiving and letting go

Ah. That feels better.

Tiny Bubbles

Though life is made up of mere bubbles

'Tis better than many aver,

For while we've a whole lot of troubles

The most of them never occur.

Nixon Waterman

I spotted an interesting article called "20 Questions That Could Change Your Life" a few days ago--it recommended questions a woman should ask herself on a regular basis in order to have a full and happy life.

The last question listed is, basically, "Really, truly -- is this what I want to be doing? And what could I do to make this moment more delightful?" I was in my office on a Friday on the last of the week's day-long conference calls with people in distant time zones, my joints creaking from sitting way too long in one position, and I asked myself this question. I gazed around the office and my eyes settled on a tiny green plastic container shaped like a champagne bottle that I'd gotten as part of my 20-year work anniversary a year ago. I picked up the little bottle which held a soapy solution and had a tiny bubble-blowing wand attached to the inside of the cap.

As I continued to listen to the call, I blew bubbles, lots of bubbles, which floated briefly in the sunlight in my office like little beacons of joy. I glanced over at the small fountain I have on a corner of my desk surrounded by six tiny laughing buddhas. And I smiled.

Been There, Shrunk That

At M’s recommendation I read an article in the NYT Sunday magazine called “My Life in Therapy” by Daphne Merkin, about one woman’s 40-year epic with psychotherapy—all her hopes for how it would fill the terrible holes in her psyche and finally give her the love and attention she never got enough of from parents and lovers. She describes a sometimes amusing, sometimes harrowing sampling of a wide range of therapies from age 10, including classic Freudian psychoanalysis which I frankly have no earthly use for since I’ve always believed it was demeaning and disrespectful to women (and probably men as well) and seemed more likely to keep people stuck in the past focusing on the inevitable imperfections of their childhoods.

My own experiences with therapy have been numerous. I too was taken to see a woman who was probably a psychiatrist when I was around 10 years old and had suddenly decided I hated school when previously I had loved it. The root cause for this was that I was having difficulties with arithmetic, and this was the first time in my brief school career that I had found anything in the classroom remotely difficult. However, I didn’t talk about this during my session. Instead, I told the attentive white-haired lady about the recurring dream I was having in which I was arguing with a talking skull, and how I had eventually learned in the dream to wake myself up by pushing the skull away with my hand and uttering a “bad word.”

“What was this bad word?” asked the psychiatrist.

“I can’t say it out loud.”

“You can say anything in here.”

“Shut up,” I said.

“Excuse me?” she responded with surprise, since up to this point I had been a very good little girl in the session.

“Shut up was the bad word—we’re not allowed to say ‘shut up’ at our house.” And indeed we weren’t—it was literally considered an unacceptable word in our household.

Later in my 20s and 30s I struggled with shifting moods and depression, and a few severe cases of a broken heart along with a profound fear of failing at school and later at work. I drifted from one therapist to another with little or no progress in my estimation. It was only the year after my mother died, in 1999, that I was forced by a vicious darkness of the soul to do real work in therapy in order to survive that grief and the several more that followed. My therapist then told me that there was no way out but through…and introduced me to the cognitive behavioral therapy. And from that point, I did find a few good therapists who helped me make some progress; I also began reading a large number of books on my own, centered around letting go of rumination about past and worry about future and focusing on living more in the present. And also paying more attention to that blathering negative voice in my head and how to step outside its influence and talk back to it (even telling it to “shut up” on occasion).

Can therapy be an addiction? This is suggested in Merkin’s article and it likely can be, but for me it was more like a journey that simply took a long time and that in the end was productive. It just takes time and experience to finally wake up and see through the fog to notice what’s really going on and how much power you hold in the search for serenity.

Daphne concludes the article with: “Therapy gave me a place to say things I could say nowhere else, express the feelings that would be laughed at or frowned upon in the outside world—and in so doing helped to alleviate the insistent pressure of my darker thoughts.” I agree—in other words, it helped me find my voice.

She also says therapy “provided a space for interior examination, an education in disillusioned realism that existed nowhere else in this cacophonous, frantic planet.” Agreed again—in other words, it helped me wake up.

What about your experiences with therapy good or bad?

What Not to Say

“Silence is the true friend that never betrays.” - Confucius

Silence is underrated. I’m a very verbal person so I almost always have something to say. I have been focusing more lately on examining things I want to say and following Sai Baba’s mindful recommendation:

"Before you speak, ask yourself: Is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve the silence?"

I believe this is a great approach to apply especially in cases where you are struggling to let go—of a grown child who is making his or her own way, of an employee who is smart enough to know what she’s doing and rarely needs your guidance, or of a loved one who is standing strong after a rough period.

In each case, saying less rather than more contributes to their growing strength and self-confidence. Unsolicited advice is an example of “helping” that doesn’t really help, and is one of my worst vices. Advice on every topic comes spewing out of me like a Gulf Bay gusher, and once it starts up it’s hard to cap. I need the Kevin Costner solution—some kind of machine that chugs away efficiently separating the messy, oily crap from the clear ocean water of support and love.

When I’m in doubt, I have found that staying silent listening carefully is often the best course; it’s amazing how much I learn that I didn’t understand before. Try it. Oops – that may have been unsolicited advice. Oh well.

I Stress, Eustress, We All Stress

I learned a new word from a friend’s blog recently: Eustress. It means “good stress,” as opposed to the opposite kind, distress. It’s the kind of stress that’s supposed to give you a positive feeling of fulfillment. Examples might be getting a promotion at your job, childbirth, riding a roller coaster. The challenge is that your body reacts pretty much the same to either eustress or distress; the whole key then is to learn how to adapt to change whether positive or negative.

My “How I Stay Sane” blogs are all about some of the various approaches I’ve discovered for adapting to change and being awake enough to find equilibrium through these changes. It ain’t easy, I know that much. Despite all my efforts it’s still a challenge when I face the inevitable unknowns implied by major life change.

One of the most immediately helpful techniques I’ve found is to focus on the here and now, and finding little ways I can make the world a better place right this second as I take the next small step in my life. If I’m headed somewhere on business and I’m worried about how well I might fare on this trip, it helps me to break the planning for the journey and the journey itself down into very small steps in which I strive to be completely present and do the very best I can each step of the way.

I check my bag and tip the guy a little extra; when he wishes me a good day I look him in the eye, smile, and return the favor. I smile again as I help the young mother who has just dropped the diaper bag near the top of the escalator and is looking lost and flustered; I steer her to the nearby elevator that will be much easier for her and her toddler. I speak calmly to the tiny elderly lady in the seat next to mine whose eyes are large and whose hands are shaking a little as she tells me this is her very first flight. As the plan takes off, I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and remember a peaceful walk through the forest I took awhile back.

These are all little choices that make the world a tiny bit better for me and often for those around me. They take me outside my inner world of anxiety and what-ifs and disaster scenarios and help me remember the Desiderata mantra: No doubt things are unfolding as they should. They work for both types of stress: the distress of a flight back home to help a very sick family member, and perhaps the eustress a person might feel about a flight to San Francisco to start an exciting two-month internship in a genetics lab.

What are your methods for dealing with *stress?