Compartmentilization: When to Build the Walls and When to Tear Them Down

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I ran over a turtle the other day.

God, even typing those words makes me feel ill. It was an accident, the turtle mixed in among the leaves on my driveway. As soon as I heard the terrible crunch, I knew what had to have happened. I said a blessing for the animal and expressed my sorrow as I dealt with the aftermath.

And it’s still haunting me. Even now, writing this, I’m crying.

This is a time where I wish that I was better at compartmentalizing. At building a closed-off drawer in my mind and safely tucking this incident in it.

There are times when it is necessary to wall off emotions or even entire situations. When you’re in a crisis that demands action, whether it be soldiers on a mission or a bystander administering the Heimlich, feelings and extraneous facts are a luxury that cannot be afforded. And even for longer-term mental health, there is often some “putting away” of thoughts and memories that needs to occur to avoid rumination and fixation.

And there are times when compartmentalizing is dangerous, when it is used as a denial tactic, allowing complacency in the face of wrong-doing. Addicts, sociopaths, narcissists and politicians (okay, so maybe that’s redundant:) )are all experts at creating uncrossable lines in their minds that permit them to behave egregiously without having to face much of the internal consequences. When building a mental barricade is effectively walling off the human side of a person.

So how can we tell when it’s healthy to compartmentalize and when it’s healthier to open the gates and face the facts or feelings?

It’s Time to Face It If…

  • You’re in denial because you’re afraid to face the reality. This would have characterized me during the end of my marriage; there were some things that felt wrong, but I pushed them away because I was afraid to face them. Here’s the thing with fear – the more you try to silence it, the louder it gets. If you confront it, you take away its power.
  • Your walling off of certain things is causing harm to self or others. An example of this would be addict who doesn’t want to hear about their actions while drunk or high because then they can pretend they didn’t happen. Even as their loved ones deal with the consequences.
  • The situation is ongoing and needs attention. If you pretend that it’s not occurring, you’re either shifting all of the responsibility to somebody else or allowing it to grow untethered. I see this sometimes with the parents of my students. The child is struggling in school and the parent is in denial of the issue and so isn’t on board with interventions to help.
  • You are avoiding thinking about it only because it makes you uncomfortable. Maybe it reveals an aspect of yourself that you would rather deny or highlights a mistake you made. But discomfort (different from pain) is often a sign that there’s something there that needs to be explored.

It’s Time to Compartmentalize If…

  • It’s a situation that demands immediate action and clarity of thought. This is the compartmentalization of first responders everywhere. When there is a crisis, tunnel vision is an asset and everything else can be pushed aside to deal with later. Do you want the person performing CPR on you to be busy processing the circumstances that caused your respiratory failure or do you want them focused only on giving you breath?
  • The circumstances are not your circus. This doesn’t mean that you cannot have empathy for others, but that you do not take on their burden as your own. I first learned this one while working in a pediatric oncology ward. And that was only one of the lessons those precious children taught me.
  • The difficult reality has been faced and the necessary lessons have been extracted. In that case, the leftovers are just a rotting shell that  can cause unneeded infection. Divorce often falls into this category. After you’ve dissected what went wrong, assumed responsibility for your role and found acceptance if not forgiveness, there is little benefit to be found in reliving the most painful parts. Put them away.
  • It’s old news that you cannot change. If it’s major enough to be of concern, it was probably major enough to change you somehow. And that’s okay. We are influenced by what happens to us, yet we don’t always need to hold onto what happens to us. This is child that faced abuse that now is an experienced marital artist. The abuse is over and done with. The coping strategies realized. There’s no reason to allow the abuse to occupy prime mental territory.

Unhealthy compartmentalizing is avoiding. Denial. It’s being weak and letting yourself be controlled.

Healthy compartmentalizing is prioritizing. Letting go. It’s being strong and deciding who and what you will allow to occupy your thoughts.

As for me, I’ve already laid that poor little turtle’s body to rest. I’m now trying to do the same with my thoughts. And I’ve made a vow to be extra careful surveying the driveway before driving in.

 

 

 

Why the First Reaction Is Often Not The Real Reaction

Posted on by stilllearning2b

“What am I going to tell my mom?” were the first, shameful words out of my mouth when I learned my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend was pregnant.

I was 14. He was 16. We had only been dating a few weeks. I was still years away from being ready to be sexually active. He welcomed that because he had felt pressured to have sex in his previous relationship.

There was no infidelity involved; the conception had occurred towards the end of their relationship and before ours began.

So really, the news had nothing to do with me.

But that wasn’t my initial reaction.

I had been put on birth control pills a few months prior to manage painful cycles and I was afraid that doctors (and others) would assume that they were also (or even only) desired in an attempt to prevent pregnancy.

And in that moment, my reactive brain thought that this evidence that my boyfriend had been sexually active before me would lead people to assume that he had been sexually with me.

And in that moment, I said something I shouldn’t.

My boyfriend looked shocked. Hurt.

And rightfully so.

It took some time, for him to recover from my misstep and for me to process the news, but eventually I responded with the compassion that I really felt and he realized that my first reaction wasn’t my real reaction.

The first reaction upon hearing big news is impulsive, bypassing any usual filters and mental processing. The initial response is most likely selfish because that is where our thoughts go when controlled by our more primal and reptilian brain. Those opening words are spoken by fear, untamed by rational thought and often amplified by shock.

And those words are frequently a blow to the person who spent time and energy gearing up for this conversation. They may have spent countless hours dissecting their message and carefully selecting the right words with which to deliver it.

Only to be struck with the hammer of the first reaction.

But the first reaction is rarely the real reaction.

If you’re preparing to deliver big news,

  • Remind yourself before the conversation that you’ve had hours/days/years to process this information and that it is brand new (and perhaps a huge surprise) to the person you’re telling.
  • Try to find a way to phrase things so that the information is more of a ramp and less being slammed into a brick wall. This may take more than one conversation.
  • Prepare yourself ahead of time that the recipient of the news may respond poorly. Inappropriately. Even painfully. A little reminder ahead of time can help you not take it personally in the moment.
  • Be patient. Don’t make any major decisions based upon the person’s initial reaction. Give them some time and some space to deal with this on their own before they’re ready to deal with it with you.
  • Gather your support ahead of time, whether this is a person who already knows and has processed the information or simply a favorite walking path. The person just hearing the news won’t be able to be your support person immediately. Don’t expect that of them.

If you’re reciving big news,

  • Breathe. Be aware of your physical responses and work to regulate them. Your fight or flight response has probably been triggered. But you don’t need to do either just yet.
  • Realize that when information is new and unexpected, it is not understood and our brains often catastrophize it just in case. The way you feel about it right now is not the way you will feel about it tomorrow.
  • If you say something you don’t mean, apologize. Sincerly. And then stop talking. The other person has a built-up need to talk right now and your job is to listen and work towards trying to understand what you’re hearing.
  • Understand that a lack of a response in that moment is not an expression of acceptance or approval of the information. Communicate that you need more time to think about this. And then follow up.
  • Remember that no matter how hard this news is to hear, it’s better to have it on the table than covered and rotting beneath the floor. Now you know and now you can process your real reaction.

 

Are You Tired of Hearing, “It Will Be Okay”?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
be okay

“It will be okay” is sometimes a platitude, uttered in ignorance by people who have not ever tried on your shoes, much less walked in them. And that pat phrase, along with its twin, “You’re never given more than you can handle,” can spark ire in the one who is in the midst of the very-much-not-okay and there-is-no-way-I’ll-be-able-to-handle-this. It those cases, “It will be okay” feels dismissive, empty, hollow. A brush off followed by a watering down.

But those speaking in ignorance aren’t the only ones to share that phrase. Others come from a place of experience. They’ve been on the floor amongst the ruins of their life. They’ve lost everything and felt that overwhelming ache of the unfilled void. As they listen to your cries, they are transportated back to their own fresh pain (when nothing ever felt like it would be okay again) and they contrast it with where they are today (okay or even better).

And when they tell you, “It will be okay,” they’re speaking from experience. Not ignorance.

Sometimes we think of “okay” as “the same as it was.” And that will obviously never happen. In my mind, “okay” means adaptation to the change, accepting what is and building upon that base. “Okay” doesn’t mean that there isn’t loss, that there isn’t pain. It means that the loss is no longer all-consuming and the pain is no longer your identity. “Okay” doesn’t undo what was done, it doesn’t erase the past. “Okay” is a place of hope, a whisper that tells you one more breath, one more step. “Okay” means that the way you feel right now is not the way you will always feel because everything changes, even pain. “Okay” says that no matter what has happened, you can still find happiness and peace.

Everything really will be okay.

Use This Trick to Set Yourself Up For Happiness

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I did it again the other day.

I was a few chapters into a new book when my initial positive feelings about the characters and the story began to wane. Instead of either committing to the story and giving the author the benefit of the doubt or returning the book mostly unread, I searched for the book on Amazon in order to browse the reviews.

It’s a silly habit, really. I’ve already purchased or borrowed the book. At this point, the opinions of others should hold no merit and I should instead focus on my own interest and my view on the merits of the book.

But I often don’t.

And in doing so, I’ve noticed an interesting phenomena.

Sometimes, I gravitate to the one-star reviews and read scathing comments about the error-filled writing, unbelievable characters or pointless story. It comes as no surprise that when I limit myself to the one-star reviews, I heighten my own sensitivity to the downsides of the book, often deciding to skim the remainder or throw in the towel altogther.

Other times, I really want to like the story and so I filter the reviews to only see those that praise the work in an attempt to see the book in a new and rose-colored light. But this often backfires, the compliments ringing hollow and syncophantic, causing me to become more aware of the gulf between those lofty expectations and my reality of the book.

After much trial and error, I’ve finally settled on a strategy that usually leads not only to my finishing the book, but also increases my enjoyment of it: I read only the three-star reviews. Those assessments that acknowledge the book’s strengths while also being realistic about the weaknesses. A balance between anticipation and assumption. An acceptance that nothing is perfect and that it can be appreciated nonetheless.

A recent study explored the idea of high expectations in marriage. It found that high expectations were associated with a happier marriage only when those expectations were realistic. When the marriage was characterized by a lack of relationship skills, lower (and attainable) expectations actually were correlated with an increase in happiness.

It makes sense.

Sometimes we mistakenly believe that happiness is the absence of sorrow. The lack of struggle. That happiness is only found when everything is going great and all five stars are shining.

But like those glowing reviews, that sort of happiness can ring false as it often ignores or suppresses parts of reality.

Happiness is found when faults are acknowledged but not focused upon. When expectations are high and yet attainable. When perfection is not predicted or pretended. When there is a balance between what is enjoyed and what is tolerated. When concerns are contemplated but not ruminated upon. When each good moment is enjoyed for what it is without worry about the moment before or after.

Happiness is found in the three-star reviews.

 

 

Speaking Out: Why Hiding Your Struggles Makes it Worse

Posted on by stilllearning2b
hiding

At this point, the only real regret I have about my first marriage was that I didn’t know.

Not about the financial and sexual infidelity (although it would have been nice to have had some insider information!). And not even about his plan to leave and secure another wife.

I regret that I didn’t know about his struggles with addiction and depression.

Because when it comes down to it, that is the real tragedy.

And unlike the bizarre secret life and the bigamy, hiding battles with addiction and depression* is exceedingly common.

And the consequences of trying to conceal these struggles are far-reaching and often devastating.

*I limit my emphasis here to addiction and depression partly because I believe those are the struggles my ex faced and because those are the two areas that I still witness the most stigma around. These same ideas hold true for most struggles – from weight loss to divorce, from anxiety to dealing with loss. These are the hard parts of the human journey. And they share a common language that we all speak if we’re willing to listen.

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—–

At this point, I can only guess at what happened. At what demons my ex was wrestling with behind closed doors and only witnessed with closed eyes.

I know that he was taught from a young age the skill of hiding. He covered for his father when he was drunk at his son’s birthday party. He created stories to keep classmates away from his house and its concealed secrets. He learned to keep his tears in and his shoulders up.

I knew these things. I saw these things. But I also thought he was different with me. That he could open up. Feel safe. He showed me some secrets. I mistakenly thought he revealed them all.

I learned otherwise when I opened the cupboard doors in the basement after he left. The clutter of empty bottles spoke of another side of my husband. A darker side. A struggling side.

A side he never let me see.

Part of me wonders if is some strange way, by living this other life in secret and then leaving suddenly, he was trying to protect me. Shield me from his shadow-self. He had always seen himself as my guardian.

Or maybe he was too ashamed to reveal his internal conflicts and fears. His concern with his outward appearance and perception increased while his downward spiral accelerated. Ever afraid as being seen as less-than, something he perceived in his own father.

Perhaps he was afraid at the repercussions of speaking out about his problems. I have to admit, I would not have taken it well, especially if it had been hidden for some time. He may have been fearful of my anger. My disappointment. And my own fear.

Or maybe it was more about the fear of being judged by his family. His friends and coworkers. The world. At being distilled down to a single word – “depressed”. Or “addict”. Instead of a singularly complex man.

Conceivably, his depression or addiction had him feeling spun out of control. And so orchestrating his own magic show of misdirection and misinformation became his way of exerting control. Of making the pain somehow a little more bearable. I’m no stranger to that trick.

Of course, he may not even have possessed that level of self-awareness, simply seeking refuge from his pain wherever it could be found. Doubtful that true help could ever be obtained. And instead of seeing himself as struggling in the moment, he may have seen himself as permanently broken. Or maybe he couldn’t even bear to face himself at all.

And that’s the part that breaks my heart.

For him. And for all the others like him that are too stoic or too afraid or too ashamed to speak out.

Because no matter what his reasons were for not speaking out, not reaching out,

Keeping it in only made it worse.

—–

I Don’t Want to Hurt Them

It’s natural to want to shield those we love from excessive pain or ugliness. We care for them. We want the best for them. Even when it’s at the expense of ourselves.

There’s a magical thinking that can occur – if I can only keep this hidden from them, I’ll fix it on my own and everything will be the same. Yet upon reaching that point, things have already changed. For one, it’s impossible to be fully present when you’re presenting with a facade. You’re playacting. And that’s not fair to you or to them. Also, one of the strongest human drives is to be seen and accepted for who we are. And by wearing a mask, you’re isolating yourself.

We all need a human connection. We wither away without affection, attention and connection just as easily as we do without without food. When you make a decision to keep it in out of a sense of obligation, you’re starving yourself of the very sustenance you need to get better.

Furthermore, although you may believe you’re holding this in out of altruism, it’s ultimately a selfish act. You’ve decided that you are the one in control of their reality and you’re guiding it along based on your script alone.And when they find out – and they will eventually find out – the fact that you have kept the truth hidden from them will prompt anger, frustration, sadness and self-doubt.

Truly acting in their best interest occurs when you present them with the facts and allow them to reach their own decisions.

It is not your responsibility to ensure that others never feel pain. It is your responsibility to not willingly inflict needless suffering. And trying too hard to protect somebody often results in the pain magnifying needlessly.

I’m Afraid of Disappointing People

It’s not unusual for those stricken with depression or addiction to be people-pleasers. To want to be liked and often to find their own validation through that of others. And so when depression or addiction, with its inevitable impact on daily life and productivity, rears its ugly head, it can be easy to try to keep it under the covers for fear of letting down those around you.

You don’t want to go from being seen as “the smart one” to “the sad one.” From “the person who is always there for me” to “the person who never shows up.” Or “the responsible one” to “the don’t-trust-them-with-anything one.” And so you keep quiet. Keep the illusion.

Yet, just like you are not responsible for making sure that nobody ever feels pain, you are also not responsible for making others happy. For pleasing them. You do you and don’t worry so much about them.

Witnessing disappointment in the eyes of another is like a reflection of yourself that you have been avoiding. And maybe that’s exactly what you need to face.

I’m Afraid of Being Judged

And sadly, you will be.

By people who don’t understand, who believe that it can never happen to them and that you are somehow “less than” for letting it happen to you. By people that refuse to see you as a person with an illness rather than simply a walking label. By people who believe that strength is found in silence and that you are weak by speaking out. When in reality, their judgment is only because they’re cowardly with facing uncomfortable truths. By people that see depression and addiction as character flaws instead of character-builders. By people that have narrow minds because they are threatened by the inclusion of the unknown. By people that believe that they can control everything in their lives and are not willing to concede otherwise.

You will be judged.

Not because of who you are. But because of who the adjudicators are.

Don’t let them define your life for you. Be stronger than their fears and more forthcoming than their views.

Let them judge. And seek to prove them wrong.

I’m Ashamed of Who I Am

One of the most important things to realize about the illnesses of addiction and depression is that they lie to you. They devise reasons why it’s  imperative that you remain secretive. Not because it’s better for you. But because it’s better for the illness. They grow stronger in the dark, unchecked by outside influence.

They tell you that because you have failed at something, you are a failure. They whisper that you’re hopeless and then feed upon your despair. They convince you that you’re broken, unlovable and that anyone would recoil upon seeing your true nature.

Shame is perhaps the most malignant of human emotions. It is the root of so many bad choices and behaviors as it tries to distract from its own misery while inadvertently feeding it. It is the wound that screams at the sight of the sun, when light is the very thing that will bring healing.

And here’s the thing with shame – it tells you that you are alone in your feelings. When in reality, they are feelings we have all shared. And it’s only upon sharing them that this truth becomes evident.

—–

If you are suffering with addiction or depression currently, speak up and get the support and help you need. There is no shame in asking for help. In fact, recognizing your need for help and being brave enough to ask for it shows your strength. You are not your illness. You are so much more. Begin by refusing to listen to your illness’s orders to keep it hidden. Because that only makes it worse.

If you have suffered from addiction or depression in the past, speak out about your story. Do your part to help remove the stigma and assumptions about mental illness. Silence implies complacency with the status quo. So refuse to be silent. Allow your story to become one of understanding for those with a tendency to judge and one of inspiration for those further behind you. You don’t have to be perfect. In fact, it’s better if you show that you’re not.

If you love someone who is suffering from addiction or depression, speak with compassion. Facing a loved one’s struggles is hard. Accepting that you cannot control their decisions is scary. And setting and maintaining healthy boundaries is an on-going cycle of hope and heartbreak. Understand that they are not doing this to hurt you, they are doing this because they are hurting. So be kind. Both to them and to you. After all, we’re all in this thing together.

For all of you who have spoken out, I respect you and your courage. I hope my former husband has joined your ranks.

Related:

Hurt People Hurt People and the 7 Keys of Conscious Compassion

It’s Nice to be Important