Category: Self-talk

“Need” is not a four letter word

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Ever since the Declaration of Independence 237 years ago, the concept of self-reliance has been instilled deeply into our consciousness. As a nation, the fledgling United States was not going to have to answer to some mother/’nother nation. Fast forward a few years to frontier days, and the concept of the lone cowboy or sole homesteader reinforced that independent ideal.  Perhaps the Women’s Movement piled a few more bricks onto this wall of expectation, with quotes (widely attributed to Gloria Steinem) such as “a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.”

No wads of panties, please; I’m an ardent feminist (actually humanist) and do feel there is value in self-reliance and independence for all. The problem once again is the all or nothing bent the culture widely attributes to the concept of needs, given the above background: needs are bad. I’m a good person if I can take care of all my own needs, and a pitiful loser if I don’t. No one wants to be needy, and of course our dichotomous brains snap like a magnet to that interpretation of needs.

Recently, I heard the phrase that is the title to this post, and realized how often we do actually treat our needs as something to be denied, avoided, even damned. The need to look strong and run from any possibility of being labelled as needy is endemic, and I hear sad stories again and again about the toll this belief takes.  A woman with breast cancer who revealed her illness only after treatment left her so ill she could not function. A family suffering the loss of a loved one who refused the help of meals. A friend traversing a divorce who revealed the fact only once the divorce was final.

We fear that if we speak up about our need for help, not only will we violate the unwritten code of strength, but we’ll bother or burden those who love us. We’ll slip into that category of needy, and they’ll shrink from us, unwilling to take on one more task in their already swamped lives.

Perhaps the best perspective to adopt when evaluating whether you should clamp your own mouth shut and not reach out to others in time of need is to practice a reversal. How would you feel if you found out a dear friend or family member was traversing one of life’s dark valleys and denied you the ability to help? Almost universally, we want to help–and feel deprived and even insulted if our friends don’t trust us enough to reach out and honestly express their needs.

Back to the pioneers. They weren’t really completely self-sufficient, but traveled in wagon trains because that increased odds of survival. The founding fathers had an enviable network of support, like-minded souls sharing lively debate over a beer. The reality is like the potty-training book Everybody Poops. Everybody has needs.  No shame. Not an unspeakable expletive. Accepting support, emotionally or practically, is a great way to bond with others, as well as get what you need out of life.

Holding up half the holiday sky?

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Grumble, gripe, and moan seems to be the less than merry refrain from nearly every woman I’ve encountered in the past week, as the break-neck pace of parties, school events, shopping, decorating, planning and scheming, card-addressing, and baking hurtles us toward Christmas. Women as a whole make Christmas happen, seemingly holding up way more than half the proverbial holiday sky. It’s a time of year that challenges the ever-teetering balance that we’ve carefully wreaked out for our lives. Yoga class, a daily run, healthy meals, time to sit and breathe, or any other form of hard-sought self-care seems to vanish like snowflakes in Dallas.  What’s a mother—or any other woman, for that matter—to do?

Change that harried voice in your head, the one that says either “I’ll never get everything done” or “I can’t stand this craziness.” Here’s some new phrases to try:

Mantra #1:  It will all get done. Just like one of my favorite lines from Shakespeare in Love, one of my favorite movies: “It all works out—magically.” That’s paraphrasing,  but you get the gist of it.

Mantra #2: You are not alone. Every other woman in your age/life group probably feels exactly the same way. Take solace in the fact that we’re all holding up this Christmas sky, shoulder to shoulder.

Mantra #3:  You are not a bad person because you hate the crazy preparations. Who can enjoy such stress?!! Try another version of one of my favorite mantras: love the kid, hate the job. You can love the end result, and still hate the process that gets your loved ones to that magical Christmas moment.

Mantra #4: It will all be over soon, and you’ll survive. Women do. Every year.

Meanwhile, just squeeze in twenty seconds for a great big exhale every hour or so. Calms that revved up fight or flight mechanism and brings a teensy bit of sanity. You’ve got twenty seconds.

Happy Holidays!

Fifty Shades of Grey You DO Need

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Fifty Shades of Grey, the first book in the Fifty Shades trilogy by author E.L. James, has been on the New York Times bestseller list (along with the other two books in the trilogy) for thirty-three weeks, and counting. There is buzz about the film.  Even bigger buzz is about why the book has been such a hit, and inspiring either “love it or hate it” reactions. I confess, I haven’t read anymore than the first sample chapters that I could get for free on my iPad–and that didn’t drive me to instantly download the rest of the book. Since I was only mildly intrigued, the book has slipped to my “spare time” reading list.  Seems to be another way that psychologists are just like you, for there it stays, waiting for either a classic Dallas ice storm stay-at-home day or a broken leg.

While I am not recommending that fifty shades of grey, there are fifty shades of gray that most of us all-or-nothing thinkers need in our lives.  All or nothing thinking is that thinking trap that I write about frequently because it fuels unhappiness so powerfully:  success or  failure, with no grace in between. Either I parent perfectly, never yelling at my kids, or I’m a bad mom. I earn all As, or I may as well flunk out. My house is spotless, or I’m a rotten housekeeper.

This black and white thinking pattern is so common that we can probably write it off to simply being human. In the course of the evolution of the species, questions with yes/no answers contributed to survival. You steered clear of the saber tooth tiger, or you got eaten. You avoided the poisonous berries, or you died.  Humans who had this “all or nothing” decision tree burned into their brains are the ones who survived. AND lived to reproduce. Here we are, their descendents, only doing what we have evolved to do: reasoning in very black and white ways. We get it honestly.

But the world is not very black and white any more. Decisions aren’t as clear. We stress ourselves less when we learn to look for the shades of grey, particularly when evaluating success or failure. There are innumerable shades of grey along the continuum of our lives, degrees of accomplishment. In defeating this all or nothing thinking in your head, it helps to consider the grey. Count what you have accomplished.

Here’s a little tool for remembering to look for the shades of grey in your life.

I give these out as bookmarks, to remind black and white thinkers to look for the grey. Yes, it’s a paint sample strip.  If you, like me, are plagued by all or nothing thinking, drop by your local paint store and pick up your own.

What form does your all or nothing thinking take? How can fifty shades of grey to shift your perspective?

 

Won’t she just grow up?

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Hardly a girl escaped exposure to middle school terrorism: biting criticism about clothing, mean notes circulating, gym class taunting, teasing about lunchbox contents, cliques loudly discussing parties from which some were excluded. Even if you weren’t a target, bullying was surely on your social radar. You may have cringed as you witnessed it, rigorously monitoring your own behavior to avoid attracting the same fate. Perhaps you eventually breathed a sigh of relief, finding your high school or college niche, feeling strong in your network of supportive women. You grew out of it, beyond it, and trusted you were done with that phase of your life, having to dodge or defend against mean girls.

Then you joined a mom’s group, the PTA, or even a work setting;  flashback to middle school. Gossip flies: “did you hear what happened at Joni’s bachelorette?” Criticism is thinly veiled: “can you believe she doesn’t vaccinate her kids?” Exclusive social events are whispered or bragged about: “girls’ escape to the lake house this weekend.”   You dash out of work at lunch to volunteer for the band, only to have other volunteers ignore you and chat among themselves. When you excuse yourself for the return dash, one exclaims, “oh, too bad you’re a working mom.”  You proudly dress for a party, feeling good about the style you assembled from Nordstrom Rack, until other guests begin to brag about their $465 boots and $800 jeans. Bullying is not confined to middle school.

Relational aggression (RA) is one form of bullying. According to Cheryl Dellasega, PhD, author of Mean Girls Grown Up, RA is verbal violence in which words, rather than fists, cause damage. October is Bullying Prevention Month, a good time to look at the ways in which RA continues to have a sneaky presence in women’s lives, regardless of age.

Competition and comparison seem to be human nature. An inherent gauge of success is how our accomplishments measure up to those around up. So keeping score–and possibly bragging or lamenting about it–doesn’t stop. Social media such as Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest are injecting it with new adrenaline for all ages. How many friends do you have? What glorious picture of your life can you paint with your tweets, pins, posts? Even at midlife and beyond, opportunities to “top this” and criticize abound. “Can you believe her son still hasn’t graduated?” “They spent that much on that wedding?!”

If you find yourself a target of RA, your first thought might be “I thought I was done with this; can’t she just grow up?” Here’s my short list of quick tips to cope with adult relational aggression directed at you:

1)  Expect people to be who they are. Bullies don’t automatically grow out of it as they grow up. If an acquaintance seems like a bully, trust your gut that you are reading it accurately. Expectations are our biggest enemy (check out my list of posts under “Expectations” to the right, for further reading) and thankfully, one category that we can control to improve our well-being. Bullies just are. Don’t expect them to be otherwise, and their tactics will lose some power.

2) This is not about me. You aren’t the problem, the bully is. You are not deficient, weak, or unlikable. Behavior like this says it all about the bully, nothing about you.

3) Toxic people aren’t toxic if we fail to react. If you apply the first two tips, it’s much easier to step away and not react. Breathe. Dismiss. Let go. Invoke the mantra “what other people think of me is none of my business.” The final authority on approval lies within you.

Have you been a victim of adult relational aggression? How have you coped?

 

 

Eschew approval? Think again.

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While I know this dates me, one of my favorite shows when I was a kid (granted, there were only about three morning kids’ shows from from which to choose), was Captain Kangaroo. Kindly, portly, huggable Captain Kangaroo was like a grandpa in the living room, jollying us along to learn those kid-focused life lessons, supported by his sidekick, Mr. Greenjeans. Not unlike a 1950s Dr. Phil, mustache and all. And at least as I recall, each episode ended with the mantra-like repetition of this message:

“You can please some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time.”

(and it’s funny that I can’t find any internet verification of this, so I guess I’ll just trust my memory!)

This lesson about the need for approval became well-ingrained in childhood, probably my first exposure to how unrealsitic expectations can set us up to feel unhappy.  From an early age, I tried to accustom myself to the idea that I didn’t need everyone to think well of me. Whenever I got caught up in that, I remembered the Captain, reminding me that a universal fuzzy blanket of approval simply wasn’t possible.  Fast forward to my college years of studying psychology, where I learned that, according to Karen Horney and other psychoanalytic thinkers, the need for approval and admiration were deemed “neurotic.” In other words, psychologically healthy people don’t need others’ approval. Instead, psychologically healthy people can offer themselves that approval.  I have preached to clients–and in my own head–that we don’t need any approval beyond our own. It’s just a nice bonus.

Yet, in my personal life and in the lives of my clients, that need for approval seemed pretty prevalent and powerful–maybe even universal. This means either that the psychoanalysts were wrong, and need for approval is simply human. Or that we are all a bit neurotic, all “bozos on the bus,” as Elizabeth Lesser proclaims in Broken Open. The truth is probably contained in each of these assertions. There is no such existence as perfect psychological health: we lowly humans all like approval. And as I wrote about in another blog, Captain Kangaroo was right, too. We can’t expect everyone to approve of us, all of the time.

Recently, some new research has shown that affirmation from others is indeed a major component of happiness. In a series of studies, participants rated themselves on measures of how respected and admired they felt, how happy they perceived themselves to be, and earned income. Repeatedly, the sense of feeling admired and a respected, contributing member of a group, was more strongly related to happiness than was financial well-being. The researchers dubbed this “sociometric status,” compared to “socioeconomic status.” Similar research has shown that an overall sense of belonging is related to happiness. These new studies expanded the finding to focus on how affirmed and respected you feel, above and beyond belonging.

Who says we don’t want to have approval from our peers? Sounds like a basic human need to me. Giving approval to ourselves may still be the cake of wellness, but a resounding sense that others agree with us about our value appears to be the icing on that cake. And the frosting has always been my favorite part.

Psychologists: they’re just like us!

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During the phase of parenting teens, I was introduced to one of my daughters’ favorite features in Us Weekly Magazine called Celebrities: Just Like Us. In this feature, photos of megastars were shown in everyday, human activities: shopping for groceries, playing fetch with the dog, wiping noses of small children. This was a healthy dose of reality for our celebrity-worshipping culture, where airbrushing has given most of us an unrealistic view of the bodies and lives of those in the media spotlight.

Once recent research study pointed out the time-honored reverence we have for the title, and  in particular the clothing, of  “doctor.” In this study, those who wore white doctor coats commanded significantly more attention and focus than those dressed in white painters garb. Anyone claiming the title of expert does not need to don a white coat, however. By writing this blog and hanging out my shingle as an expert on human behavior change, I may be subject to this pedestal-placing. One psychologist friend and I were talking about how we, as health professionals, may lose track of our impact on others. We’re here in our offices, doing what we do day after day, and forget how difficult it is for new clients to call, make that appointment, and present themselves, sharing their stories openly on our cushy couches. We are often surprised when a client quotes back to us, “you said X, and that really changed my life,” when we may either a) not remember that specific statement and/or b) wonder silently “is that really what I said?”

Which leads me to today’s story, with several goals. Partly to question: who says psychologists (or doctors) are anything special, to be raised up to the status of all-knowing guides? Partly to explain my sporadic blogging. And partly to demonstrate that which I’m always urging others to practice: self-compassion. Health professionals like me may look like we have it all together, when in truth, we (at least I) have terrible days–and even strings of days–just like everyone else. And pitiable, overreacting responses to life as well.

I awaken Monday morning, feeling good, enjoying my newly-remodeled, not-quite-moved-into bedroom. I love the deep green wall color, the smooth, glistening amber wood floors, the stark white crown molding. I take a meditative shower in my new glass-walled shower with the rainfall showerhead. All is well and I am cruising along, ahead of schedule. I release the three cats from their night time containment in the laundry room, and real life begins. There is cat pee all over the room. Some prolific peeing feline has overshot the monster cat box, spilling gallons onto, and beyond, the protective tray designed to prevent such problems. I slip in pee. I clean up, using several rags and lots of spray cleaner, while harnessing my flowing skirt, picked to impress today’s clients with my graceful sense of fashion. I wonder how good client noses are. I turn with a sigh, and another cat is behind me, straining to release drops of blood-tinged pee, due to her flaring interstitial cystitis (who knew a cat could even get such a thing?!) Uh, oh, better take her to the kindly vet on my way to work. I search the cluttered, post-remodeling project garage, then dash to the attic, in search of cat transport device. No cat carrier is to be found!  I recall it was lent to kind neighbors, and perhaps not yet returned. Check my schedule, to alert first client that I will be late. Said client has new phone number, which of course I entered into my work computer but did not transfer to home records.

Regroup: will take cat on my lunch hour instead, dashing home to corral sick cat in a cloth grocery bag, her favorite mode of transport anyway. Now I’m covered with cat hair and urine. Hastily wipe my shoes on the grass as I dash to the car.  Maybe I can still get to work before the client decides I’ve goofed on the schedule and departs. Traffic is snarled at malfunctioning red light at major intersection. I’ll use my secret, scenic neighborhood short cut. Feeling triumphant, I dash up the side street, round the bend, and am stopped by a construction flag man, guarding the white barriers ahead. I roll down the window, asking if I can get through. He responds in Spanish. My second language (a description that’s stretching it) is French. I consider move to Quebec. Or maybe some Caribbean island where French is spoken. I cut down an unknown side street, and find myself dumped back out into the same traffic mess. I exhale deeply and turn on the “Spa” channel on Sirius. Time to practice what I preach, or risk dissolving into sobbing mess.

Psychologists: they’re just like us!

Just say no!

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A good firm “no” is hard to come by in most women’s lives–and we’re not talking about the campaign related to drugs that most of us heard in middle school. Socialized as we are to please others, we buy into the unrealistic expectation that pleasing is even perfectly possible.  And so we say “yes”–to another event, another task, another responsibility, all in the hopes of making everybody happy. Creating happiness and getting approval are worthy goals–until we find ourselves getting pulled into the depths of too much responsibility. The Berenstain Bears and the Over-committed Woman never made it into print, and Jan Berenstain, coauthor of that series, died last month at the age of 88. So I guess we won’t get to read that one over and over at bedtime.

I learn so much from my clients; thanks to one for this shift in perspective on saying “no.” Every time we say “no,” we are actually saying “yes” to something else. This realization freed me a great deal, as it settled into my brain, allowing some old perceptions to release and drift away like the cotton from the North Texas trees. Wow. Sayng no to another work commitment means saying yes to more down time. “No” to a second helping translates to “yes” to a smaller size. “No” to a volunteer job turns into “yes” to time to vacuum my own kitchen floor, reaping the benefits of greater control of my home. Or maybe saying no to bothering about dust bunnies and scattered cat litter means saying yes to time for creativity. Letting go of anger–“no, I don’t have to react to that”– opens the way for compassion to flow in.  “Yes,” replacing negative feeling for positive, like water finding it’s level.

A simple little word. It’s another powerful shift in perspective, just the kind I love, that can transform the whole world. What can you say “yes” to today?

“No” to a longer blog means “yes” to running off to yoga.

Another thought about life’s pits

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While I don’t usually do ‘themes’ over several weeks, lately I seem to keep finding more to say about navigating the really tough parts of life. Part one noted that all of life involves struggles, and we fool ourselves if we believe 1) that life is harder for us than for others and/or 2) that we can avoid this part of life if we just behave in the right way. Part two stressed that the challenge of life is to navigate these trials; just see that they are essential to the path we’re living and we don’t have to like them. Reading while I enjoy my breakfast on a patio this lovely spring morning placed part three squarely in my face.

Too often, when faced with unavoidable challenges, we wish we were stronger to face them. We don’t want to be we scared by them. We believe if we were stronger/smarter/more well-adjusted, the tough mess we’re about to have to tackle wouldn’t seem so awful. Again, second guessing of our abilities is powerful. Lacking confidence, looking around, we are certain others don’t shirk from their challenges. Confidence would mean breezing through, unphased by the bumps in the road, right?

Wrong. This morning, in Everything Happens for a Reason, Mira Kirshenbaum reminded me what it’s like to be inside someone who is confident. Mira says:

“Confidence only means something when you’re talking about a task that’s difficult. If the task is easy–something like making toast–you wouldn’t even use the word confident. It would sound pretty weird to say “I’m very confident I’m going to be able to toast this slice of bread.” If the task is easy, you just do it without thinking about it.”

The inner world of confidence in the face of difficulty means trusting that 1) yes, it will be tough to navigate the challenge ahead AND 2) I can do it. That’s how confidence manifests itself: that you have an inner knowing that you will be able to survive whatever happens. This is the best script I know for getting through anxiety, depression, loss, and other bad stuff. In other words, the usual path of life. You know it will be hard, AND you know you will be able to do it.

As Mira says, “deep in the heart of confidence is a shrug, not a swagger.”

Shrug on, survivors.

What a waste!

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In that stuck place of our all or nothing, black and white thinking, this phrase is uttered often, particularly when contemplating change.  Having invested in a certain path, we think we must stay the course. For how long? Basically forever, it seems. This is how I hear it–again and again (and even have been known to utter it myself):

“But all those years in school to prepare me for this career! Seems like if I switch gears, all that is a waste.” (This seems particularly pressing when the speaker has student loans, but time invested is also important.)

“I’ve been in this relationship this long. How could I throw it all away?”

“We bought this house–or made this move–certainly we should hang in there. It would just be money down the drain.”

“I lost all this weight. It’s a shame to gain it all back. Guess I’ll just quit trying.”

This is one key moment to exclaim “who’s says?” I believe every path, every choice, every bit of time spent in any portion of our lives is an invaluable investment in shaping our lives. What have you learned in this open-to-question adventure? How has this lived experience brought you to where you need to be, launching you into the next step? There is no incorrect step, no perfect path. What you have done is the ideal preparation for what comes next.

Cognitive dissonance theory explains how our thinking automatically adapts to believe that wherever we are is THE RIGHT PLACE.  That car you purchased, the house you bought, the partner you chose? Your brain wants equilibrium, so adapts to believe that there is a single correct choice. And that choice is where you are. The problem arises when this line of thinking prevents us from moving forward, growing, changing. Yes, we loved that first Commodore 64 computer! But it’s laughable today, when our phones contain more memory and power. To continue to stick with that device, just because it was the choice you made, would be a waste.

Unquestioningly, you would not be where you are now without those very steps that you are second-guessing or dismissing. No waste. Just what you needed to do, or learn, or live. Accepting where you are moving i’s just another way to practice self-compassion. Embrace it.

Truth in advertising

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The phone rang. I still have a land line, though callers on that line other than political, nonprofit, and home remodeling solicitors are few. So I check the caller ID before I pick up. And this is what I saw:

I was literally rolling on the floor laughing. How transparent! I didn’t pick it up (hmm, did I really need to clarify that point?). The machine did, promptly recording a message about the super low interest rate I could receive on my credit card if I’d just call promptly. I wondered how this happened. What company lists it’s business name as “phone scam”? Really?!?

The more I pondered, however, the more impressed I became. How freeing, to be able to be completely honest about who you are. Moving through life, how often do we truly embrace this concept? It’s a socially-accepted construct to put our best self forward. Everyone wants to look like they’re breezing through life, no problems, loving their lives, ever-confident. Sounds like another version of pretending to be superman/woman to me.

It takes so much energy to hold up that mask. Exhausting after awhile. It also distances us from each other. We back off on sharing trials, angst-ridden moments, frustrations, fearing that we will look weak. Certainly we are the only ones stumbling, since no one else talks about it. Must be we are deficient. The problem seems our ability to excel–not the less-than-honest story-telling.

When I turned 50, the impact of having lived half a century felt heavy. I no longer wanted to put on a front, hiding my true self. And I ran with the sudden impulse to present myself as I am. Some friends drifted away, confused looks on their faces as I spoke up in matter-of-fact ways they’d never witnessed. Some activities I let slide. I got pretty good at saying “I don’t know” and “I’m sorry, I screwed up” and “I disagree” and “Please don’t treat me that way.” I started honestly living my full warty self.

I’m human. I make mistakes. I’m good at many things and lousy at others. Being honest about who I am is freeing, and while difficult at first, appears to take less energy eventually, leaving more for creating the life I want to live. Proclaiming the equivalent of “phone scam” in my own life is not a single event, however. It’s a step down the path to living the right life. This step for me was important ground work for growth, for embracing self-compassion, for building a life infused with joy.