Take Me to the Other Side

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I have a person in my life who is currently in crisis, a breakdown at the intersection of environment and predisposition. A brain hijacked and a life on stutter.

For the sake of brevity and anonymity, I’m going to refer to this person as A.

But this isn’t really about A.

It’s about all of us.

Because at some point, all of us break.

And the stronger we are, the harder we fall.

As I sat listening to A replay the scene in a deadened and distant voice, I heard my own voice telling and retelling the story of the text. As I listened to A’s fears about losing self and the possibility of the loss being permanent, I recalled my own similar fears. As I heard the desperation to simply survive each day, I felt an echo of my own panic each dawn. And, as is so often the case with ones we care about, I wished I could take on A’s pain rather than watch A endure. I wanted to be able to fix it, to make it okay again.

I wanted to hold A’s hand and escort A to the other side.

To where the pain and fear are a memory, not reality.

Here is some of what I told A and what I want to tell all of you who are also in the breakdown lane:

Understand Your Brain 

I remember my fear and frustration one morning soon after the text when I tried to make an answer key for my class. I sat and stared at an equation for twenty minutes, unsure how to proceed. I had been solving similar with no issues for 20 years. But that morning, my brain was not working. In fact, it didn’t really work right for almost a year. When anxiety and depression move in, they displace normal functioning. Your brain won’t function correctly until the interlopers have been removed.

Accept Help 

Call in the professionals. If medication is suggested, take it. Your friends and family want to help. Allow them. Recognize that they each will help in different ways.  I resisted medication at first, believing that I was strong enough to go at it alone. But I wasn’t. And that’s okay.

Suicide Hotline

Trust in the Help

Give the medication time to work. Have faith that therapy will start to unravel your stuck mind and help you make sense of it all. Trust that your loved ones want what’s best for you, even when they struggle to show it. It’s easy to get frustrated that progress isn’t happening. It is; it’s just slow going at first.

Live Breath by Breath

I remember looking down the horizon to the divorce being final and it felt like untreadable terrain. So I stopped looking at the “end” and just focused on the next step. And then the next. Progress is progress, no matter how small.

Breathe

Discard Shame

Shame, often hand-in-hand with guilt, is a favored weapon of the malfunctioning brain. Try to see it for what it is and leave it behind.

Allow Dreams

When your brain isn’t functioning properly, it is difficult to make decisions and plans. That’s okay. Table them for a while. But in the meantime, allow yourself to dream. Brainstorm. Even if none of it actually comes to fruition, it is not wasted energy.

Embrace Impermanence 

The way you feel right now is not the way you will always feel.

You will make it to the other side.

The Masks We Wear

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I read this response to Robin Williams’ death this morning and it struck a nerve.

The author, also in the comedy business, discloses the dark underbelly that is often present beneath the laughs. He describes how childhood trauma or a sense of unworthiness leads to the development of an alter ago – a front man who entertains the crowd while distracting from the scared and broken child beneath.

He spoke of the yin and yang of depression and comedy. The pull of the audience and the isolation inherent in the belief that the performer is only loved for the performance.

Not for the child within who only wants to be loved.

 

The piece struck a nerve this morning. Caused my coffee to cool as I read.

I don’t fit that personality profile, although I have seen many in my personal and professional lives over the years (some of whom also tragically took their lives).

I don’t fit that profile.

But I fit another that I recognized as I read.

 

The performer is driven from a need to be loved.

I’m driven by a need to not be abandoned.

The performer learns how to entertain and draw a crowd.

I’ve learned how to be needed.

The performer struggles with depression.

I struggle with anxiety.

But we both hide behind masks.

 

In fact, to some extent, we all do.

 

The following are some of the masks and underlying causes I’ve seen. I see them in adults and I see them in my students – 13 and 14 years old. We all have the same basic needs and the same basic fears. We all try to hide them from the world and we begin to develop our own masks in childhood as we encounter stresses and learn from other’s responses to us.

These are caricatures of people. Oversimplifications. We are much more than the fears that drive us and the costumes we select to shield us.

But even though these are but a brief sketch, there is power in recognizing your own mask of choice and why you may have decided to wear it.

 

Mask – Performer or Funny Man

Behind the Mask – A sense of being unlovable

This may have the fat kid in school. Or the one who suffered abuse or neglect at the hands of his or her parents. This child felt alone and wanted nothing more than to loved and accepted. The performer found a love of sorts through making others smile. Even though inside he may have crying.

If I make you laugh, you’ll love me.

 

Mask – Worker Bee or Caregiver

Behind the Mask – A fear of being abandoned

This mask is usually picked up after a childhood event – death, divorce, desertion, or  neglect- leaves behind a fear of being abandoned at an age when adult support is needed. In order to temper the anxiety of being left again, the worker bee becomes an efficient taskmaster and the caregiver becomes a necessary nursemaid.

If you need me, you won’t leave me. 

 

Mask – Strongman or Overachiever

Behind the Mask – An insecurity of being unworthy

These are the people that grew up always being compared to others and found wanting. They internalize the message and feel that they will never measure up. They learn to overcompensate in a visible way to try to prove their worth and lessen their insecurities. Although often envied by others, they still never feel they will never make the grade.

If I work harder, I’ll meet your approval.

 

Mask – Professor or Distancer

Behind the Mask – A fear of being vulnerable

This is the person who refuses to show emotion. Who either responds with analytical perspective or indifference to any situation, even those that are emotionally charged. They are often read as cold, uncaring. But often they are soft and sensitive on the inside. So sensitive that they have learned to hide it well.

If I don’t show myself, you can’t wound me.

 

Most of us wear our masks when we feel threatened – a new situation, a large crowd, a demanding client. But most of us also feel comfortable enough to slip them off around our loved ones, revealing the fears and drives beneath.

It’s lonely living behind a mask for too long. You’re not alone yet you feel no one values you for the real you.

Only for the character you play.

It’s okay to shield your inner child sometimes.

But it’s also okay to let him out to play.

And teach him to trust that he can be loved and accepted as he is.

Fears and all.

 

 

 

Back to School Blues

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’m in a funk.

A stressed-out, down-in-the-dumps funk.

I have a precious few days left before the intensity and insanity of the school year returns.

And I feel like I’m wasting them.

I feel pressured to make the most of this time while also also allowing anxiety to build from the other direction as I start to think about what needs to happen for this school year (the local paper constantly reporting on the changes to testing/teacher evaluation doesn’t help!).

It’s not unlike the mad dash of an Alaskan summer to get everything done before the harsh winter sets in.

But I’m letting the upcoming winter cool my summer.

I’m allowing August to seep into my July.

It’s like a steroided-out version of the Sunday night blues – when you mourn the loss of the freedoms of the weekend while berating yourself for not accomplishing every goal and allow thoughts of Monday’s tasks to intrude.

Ugh.

It doesn’t help that the intense humidity and near-constant storms have kept me from my usual cure for anxiety and too much thinking – a long run. I managed to get in four (very sweaty) miles yesterday, but that wasn’t quite enough. I still feel the pent-up energy building in anticipation along with the frustration that my days will no longer be mine to schedule.

I’m giving myself a series of goals and intentions for the last few days and I’m sharing them so that I am held accountable:

– Embrace rest. Time resting is not wasted. Give yourself permission to just read or nap or chill by the pool. It’s okay.

– Don’t waste time thinking about the changes and new pressures coming at school. You’ll have plenty of time to think about them when you’re there. And, really, they matter less than you think.

– Do something special each day you have left (favorite lunch buffet. hike, yoga class, paddleboard rental,  etc.). Mark each day with a smile.

– Don’t add to your pressure. If you want to write, write. But don’t force it. The blogs will be there.

– Rather than focus on what didn’t get accomplished this summer, be happy about what did get done and, even more importantly, what did get enjoyed.

– Prioritize sleep.

– When thoughts of school come up, shift them to thinking about how good it will be to see your teacher friends again.

– Run in the rain and try not to get struck by lightening:)

 

 

 

 

 

You’re Getting Warmer

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do you ever react defensively to someone’s words?

I know I do.

I’m the queen of, “Yeah, but” and “I can’t” and “You don’t understand.”

Someone says something that justifies my ex’s actions and I respond with anger and righteousness (actually, this is not so true anymore, but it was for a long time!).

Someone else tells me that I can make this whole elderly car thing work out for the best and I want to stomp my feet like a frustrated two-year-old and scream in indignation.

Even Brock is not immune. When giving advice on my new career in real estate based upon his years of successful sales experience, I felt myself shutting down and becoming defensive rather than receptive.

So why do I respond this way?

It’s certainly not adaptive.

Or rational.

But there is a reason.

In every one of these cases (and in countless others), I picked up the armor and shield (and, yeah, sometimes a sword too) because the person was getting warmer.

They were dangerously close to touching on some hidden fear. Some inner wound that I preferred to protect rather than expose.

The remarks about my ex used to tweak that nerve that still stung with the betrayal and his words that I was the one responsible. I was still struggling to separate myself from his claims and actions and accept myself as whole and lovable and deserving. When someone validated him in some way, I saw it as reinforcing his false blames and devaluing me in the process.

The claims about my future triumph over the conundrum of reliable transportation triggers my deep-seated fears and shame around money and debt. I’ve been a bit head-in-the-sand about my car. I chose to focus on the assurances that it still has years of life remaining while not wanting to face the realities of its aging body. I take it to the mechanic’s and pay the bills as though I’m making a virgin sacrifice to the car gods – I will burn this $500 and in return, you will give me 12 more months of carefree driving. So I don’t always appreciate it when reality buts in.

And the advice from Brock? That tickled yet another insecurity. You see, Brock is a salesman. An excellent salesmen. And me? I literally freeze at the thought of making a cold call. In fact, I get nervous making any kind of call. Luckily, real estate is not sales in the purest sense. In fact, I see it as more customer service, an where I excel. But I’m still insecure, especially as I begin my career while overhearing Brock, confident in his, negotiate with the best of them. So, at the moment, I’m a bit oversensitive until I gain my footing.

In all of these cases, I have worked to address my deep-seated fears that triggered the defensive response. I’ve been very successful with that in terms of my ex and I’ve made progress on the financial anxieties. As for real estate? I suggest you approach with caution:)

Pay attention to your own protective reactions.

Be alert to when your guard goes up.

Or you respond with a firm, “I can’t.”

Because often, those reactions occur right at the area where you have work to do.

So instead of simply building walls and turning away, use that instinct as a sign to dig a little deeper and begin the needed repairs.

When you respond defensively, it means you’re getting warmer.

Keep searching.

You’ll find it.

 

 

 

 

The Impersonator

Posted on by stilllearning2b

With the advent of the warm weather, Brock and I have taken to practically living on the porch. The house is surrounded by mature trees and shrubs, which provide food and shelter for numerous birds. And squirrels. Always squirrels.

We enjoy sitting with our beverages and watching the live Nat Geo production unfold around us. Several weeks ago, Tiger became interested in the drama, taking an unusual obsession with one corner of the deck where a small tree has wrestled its way through the concrete that surrounds the driveway. We noticed that a blue jay seemed to take special interest in the beast around the same time, often protesting the dog’s presence with loud squawks while practicing an aerial routine fit for the Blue Angels.

During one of these early episodes of bird vs. pit bull, I heard the unmistakable screech of a hawk from high up in a maple that towered above us. I scanned the branches, looking for the large bird that was sounding the warning.

“Look. There it is! It’s a blue jay!” exclaimed Brock, pointing to a much smaller bird than expected whose beak was indeed moving in concert with the avian screams.

I had to chuckle. When the warnings of the blue jay weren’t enough to frighten Tiger, the clever bird decided to impersonate a much larger hunter.

Tiger, being a confident sort of dog, was unimpressed.

But I was.

I had fallen for the ruse, believed that the cry came from a hawk on the hunt rather than its songbird cousin.

It led me to contemplate all of the impostors I have encountered in my own life, from my ex husband pretending to be loving to an innocent basement impersonating a dragon’s lair. I had fallen more than once for the mask, not looking to see what was really hidden in the depths.

Mimicry is ubiquitous in the animal kingdom.

And it’s important to remember that we are members of that kingdom as well.

Things are not always as seem.

Take the time to look. To listen.

Be more like Tiger who approached without assumptions and let his other senses connect the dots to conclude that there was no threat (not that he would find a hawk all that frightening either!).

And less like a human, leading with the ego of experience and expectations.

 

And I’m happy to report our little deck-side drama has a happy ending. A little searching that day revealed a nest buried down in the small tree next to the deck. Inside the nest were three newly hatched blue jays, blindly looking for their next meal. We trained Tiger to avoid the area for the next several weeks as we watched the young birds grow and eventually leave the safety of their nest.

And we haven’t heard the screech of the false hawk since; the need for the mask has past.

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