Thought Patterns

The way we pattern our thoughts has an enormous impact on our mental health and happiness. Thought patterns can be divided into two main categories. I’m going to call these recursive and input-output. A note to those who are math-phobic: I am going to use some math concepts to explain these thinking patterns. Stay with me; I promise I’ll make it simple:)

Recursive Thinking

In math, we can look at functions (think of these like a rule or pattern) recursively by only considering the output. The rule ignores the input completely and only considers the starting output and the pattern to get from one term to the next. For example, in the table below, the rule would say, “Start with 12 and add 3 each time.” Recursive rules feed upon themselves, with each output based on the one before. They are like a chain, with each term linked to the one before and the one after.

InputIn recursive thinking, your thought pattern is initiated by something: a memory, a trauma, a comment. Your thoughts then feed upon themselves with no regard for any external input. This type of thinking can lead to depression or anxiety as the brain simply continues the emotionally equivalent of “plus 3” with no end in sight. When you feel stuck emotionally, this is the type of pattern you are experiencing. When your reaction builds well beyond the initial stimulus, you are thinking recursively. When you feel sad or angry or anxious even in the face of calm, you are allowing the chain of thought to continue unbroken.

Input-Output Thinking

An input-output rule in math relates the output to the input. For example, in the (identical) table below, the input-output rule would say, “Multiply the input by 3 and add 9.” The output is dependent upon the input. Change the input, and you alter the output.

In input-output thinking, your reactions are based upon the external stimulus rather than your previous thoughts. You may be sad, but the emotion and associated thought patterns are due to your situation. You may respond in anger or feel fear but these are due to the inputs you experience. If you change the input, the associated thoughts will change with it.

Recursion is easy, effortless – which is why it is so valuable in computer programming. Its endless loops create the self-similarity needed for programs to run unaltered. Recursive thinking can be beneficial when it is positive in nature, but all too often it is the negative thoughts that pull us into its pattern.

Recursion has a weakness. Since each output is dependent upon the one before, if you break the chain, you break the pattern. If you catch yourself in this cycling thought pattern, find a way to interrupt the flow. Do something differently to break the cycle. Whatever you normally do or say, don’t. Recursion requires a hands-off approach to survive. So get your hands dirty and change it.

Then, consciously shift your thinking to input-output and deliberately choose positive inputs to encourage positive outputs. Surround yourself with nature, connect with friends, do something that feels good. Change the input and your thoughts will follow.

Input

Facing the Dragon

It. Happened.

Almost four years now and it happened.

The event I’ve been anticipating and dreading since the text.

I saw him.

Let me go back a bit.

I received the text in July of 2009. I have had no direct communication with him since – only a single text conversation with my mother (detailed in the book) and through layers of lawyers during the divorce.

The divorce was final in March of 2010.

I kept up with his whereabouts (and his other wife’s location) during that time. The last time I looked was the day after the divorce was final. I have not know where he was living or who he was living with.

But today, I saw him.

I was at an annual Atlanta festival, one I used to go to with my ex and one which I now attend with my fiance and our friends. At the time I saw him, I was sitting on a tarp with a single friend while waiting on Brock and the others to make it to the park.

It’s strange. The last time I saw him was three years ago in court. My mom and I walked right past him and I didn’t recognize him, even though I knew he may be there. Today, I had not thought of him at all, yet when he crossed my path, I recognized him immediately.

He had the same walk. The same gray Banana Republic Shirt. The same hair. He was heavy. Fat, even. His weight varied quite a bit through our relationship, from a scrawny 160 on his broad 6’1″ frame to a high of 250. When I saw him in court, he was back to his skinny high school frame. Today? He must have been 280. His belly strained the fabric of his designer t-shirt.

But I knew him instantly.

He was hand in hand with a woman. It may have been the other wife. I’m not sure. She was blond and hippy like her, but I only knew her from pictures, phone and email so I cannot be positive. It doesn’t matter.

From our vantage point on a hill, I saw him several times. I felt sick. Ill. The shaking returned. Even now, home again after a purifying shower, I’m emotional yet I can pinpoint no singular emotion.

I certainly felt no love. No jealousy. No desire to speak to him.

I wasn’t angry.

But I feel violated in a way. I don’t want him here. In my circles. My city.

I came here for him but I’ve claimed it now.

I chose to not to run but also not to approach. I watched him for almost thirty minutes. By the time Brock and others showed up, the crowds had thickened and I did not see him again.

Part of me thought of alertng the swarms of police to the wanted felon in their midst. I guess they didn’t check for that when they checked IDs at the gate.

I watched him and I remembered being at that festival with him four years ago.

I watched him and I remembered a 4th of July festival on the second to last day we were together as husband and wife.

I watched him and felt a strange sense of disconnectedness, adrift from my old life.

I watched him and felt my body tremble with the release of emotion.

I watched him and felt relief that I faced the dragon.

I watched him and felt nothing.

So why am I still shaking?

Why the tears?

 

A few hours later… Raw.

And then humor returned…Slaying the Dragon

 

 

 

 

I’m Blaming the Aliens

 

I woke up this morning, on my last official day of spring break, to more cold rain and an empty Kindle battery. I was feeling lazy and wanted to enjoy my coffee, so I clicked on the TV. Surprisingly, there is a dearth of programming at 5:00 a.m. on a Friday morning. As I scrolled through my options, I found myself drawn to Super Nanny, a show where struggling parents call on a professional nanny for help and advice.

In this particular episode, a newly divorced mom was having a very difficult time with her six (!!!) children. Her face radiated pain and fear as she revealed the events of the past 18 months: divorce, the death of the family nanny and the loss of the home to foreclosure. I felt tears start to slide down my face as I watched.

I’ve never been much of a crier (well, since I outgrew my temper tantrum stage). I’m not a sucker for sappy movies nor am I drawn to “chick lit.” I’m not hormonal and I don’t have a biological clock ticking (I knew from my late teens that I didn’t want kids and I’ve never wavered in that decision).

So, why the tears? Although I could not relate to the challenges of raising six kids as a single parent (much respect!), I could relate to the series of losses that the family faced. But understanding and empathy is one thing and tears in my coffee is another.

The truth is that, since my divorce, tears come easily. I have become the person that cries from commercials or greeting cards. I am now that woman whose eyes well up when watching a family at the park or a passage in a book.

I’m sure it has something to do with my acceptance of my vulnerability and my willingness to let go of the strong facade I wear so well.

But I’m blaming the aliens.

Trigger Points

Collage of several of Gray's muscle pictures, ...

As a runner and weight lifter, I am very familiar with trigger points – painful balls of muscle or fascia caused by acute or repeated trauma. They are  hyperirritable, overresponding to even the slightest pressure or pull. They cause intense pain at their source and can often lead to referred pain in a distant area, frequently occurring along predictable pathways.

As a survivor of a traumatic divorce, I am also very familiar with emotional trigger points – painful memories and associated responses caused by repeated or acute trauma. They are areas of hyperirritability where the response far outweighs the preceding factors. They cause intense pain at the time of their trigger and can cause referred pains in seemingly unrelated areas.

I am consistently amazed at the magnitude and quantity of my emotional triggers. A snippet of a song last night brought me to tears as it reminded me of one of the dogs in my other life. Nothing is safe – smells, sights, words, movies, a date on the calendar. Sixteen years is a long time and it doesn’t leave much untouched. Triggers are like a black hole through space-time, pulling me back to a place of fear and pain.

Not surprisingly, most of my triggers have to do with fear of abandonment or betrayal. These are the ones that petrified me in the early months as their intensity would take me back to the moment I learned that my life as I knew what over, curled on the floor in a fetal position around my phone.

As with physical trigger points, emotional ones also improve with time. My trigger points are fewer and further between and the response is somewhat muted.

But time is not enough.

My triggers have the potential to be a source of tension in my current relationship. It’s not unheard of for Brock to commit a level 1 offense on the Relational Transgression Scale (RTS) and for me to respond as though it is a level 10 misdeed. That’s not fair to him or our partnership, nor do I want to respond in that way.

Aware of the potential damaging nature of my triggers, Brock and I agreed early on in our relationship that I would make a concerted effort to neutralize them as much as possible. These are the strategies that I found useful:

Awareness: The first step was for me to become aware of my triggers, especially when the pain and reaction was referred to a different area. I learned that when I reacted strongly to something, it would behoove me to look deeper to see if my response was actually due to something in my past. Often it was.

Avoidance: Avoidance has its place. In the early months, I simply could not handle certain known triggers. I gave them wide berth until I was strong enough to face them.

Preemptive Strike: Now, when I am going to encounter a known trigger, I work to calm myself ahead of time. Some exercise, meditation and a reminder of my gratitude for my current life go a long way to preventing an overreaction.

Layer: I have reclaimed certain triggers by intentionally layering new and happy memories over top. The old pain is still there, but it muffled by smiles.

Plan: I also have backup plans for those times when the triggers do strike. I am better at stepping back. I remind myself to breath. I know that a long run will help to dissipate the pain and allow me to think again.

Trigger points are difficult to treat. If you try to force them to relax, they will grip and the pain will intensify. The mind almost has a fear of letting go of those painful nodules; it seems as though it works to protect them, those memories of our trauma. Be patient and apply gentle, yet persistent pressure at the point of the pain. Breathe into the tightness and give it permission to fade. The past will be there. The pain will never be forgotten. But you do not have to allow it to keep you bound in agony.

Embracing the Blues

IMG_3633

“My ears are in ecstasy,” whispered Brock as he turned towards me.

He sure wasn’t talking about the dulcet tones of my exceptional singing voice. It may work to help my 8th graders remember the quadratic formula, but it sure wouldn’t lead to any claims of ecstasy.

The sounds that elicited this response were instead coming from the guitar of the young blues master, Jonny Lang.

English: Jonny Lang

We were fortunate to be able to secure tickets to see Jonny Lang and Buddy Guy perform at a nearby venue. We were treated to 3 1/2 hours of incredible blues.

The blues were born from suffering, their name taken from the indigo dye used to color mourning garments in Africa. Their simplistic backbone, consisting of a basic chord progression and a liberal use of repetition, allows the emotion behind the music to take center stage. Gifted musicians speak not only of playing the blues, but of feeling the blues. Without the feeling, the music falls flat.

The uniting structure makes the blues predictable yet the freedom to improvise makes the next not impossible to forecast. It is familiar yet volatile.

The simplicity extends to the stage. From the grittiest dive bar to the fanciest hoity-toity venue, most performers dress plainly and shun any fancy stage decorations. Jonny Lang and Buddy Guy were no exception – their entire set-up could fit in a small U-Haul, with the guitars taking up most of the room.

The blues don’t whisper. They don’t speak in nuance and hide behind closed doors. The deep, melancholy tones are played loud, with no shame. There is a repeated pattern of building tension and then release. It is as visceral and cathartic as good cry.

Buddy Guy at the Long Beach Blues Festival
Buddy Guy at the Long Beach Blues Festival (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The players stand alone on the stage. They are together yet each is in his own world, bound by the edges of the spotlight. As they engage in call and response, they each speak through the music of their suffering and their own loss, creating a common bond.

The blues don’t rush; there is no hurry to complete one song to move on to another. A tune is played until all of the emotion has been wrung out. As Buddy said, “Don’t be afraid of getting a little funky”.

Blues musicians know that tears and laughter are not mutually exclusive. Many are not afraid of injecting humor into their doleful tunes, the resulting laughter purifying the soul.

The blues started out as way of dealing with suffering, the tunes shared only with friends and family. It evolved into a performance art, the pain transformed into something that could bring happiness to others through a common language of sadness and loss. By embracing the blues, they have created beauty from the sorrow. How can you do the same?