Most diets possess at their core a sense of giving up something that you want. Relinquishing that which you desire.
A sacrifice.
But we don’t view sacrifice as simply releasing something from our lives.
We see it as a trade. A bargaining tool. A giving up of one thing with the promise of gaining (or, in the case of dieting, losing) something else.
The rational mind realizes that the short-term denial of dessert will lead to the longer-term goal of a smaller waistline.
But the rational mind isn’t always at the reins.
And the more emotional brain steps up to the podium to present its case:
I went to the gym today. I deserve a cookie.
I ate well at breakfast and lunch; dinner out won’t kill me.
And those statements are literally true. A single cookie won’t derail a diet. Indulging at a single meal won’t make much difference. But it rarely stops there.
The problem comes from our deeper psychology. Because when we feel deprived, panicked that we may lose something, we quickly go from scarcity to splurge.
So, before any diet books are purchased or points tallied, the successful “dieter” begins with the mindset. Shifts the thinking from a perspective of paucity to one of abundance, focusing on what is to be gained rather than the feared losses. When approached from this angle, it’s amazing that what once were viewed as sacrifices, simply become matter-of-fact. The martyr mindset is replaced with an appreciative one.
This sacrificial mindset doesn’t only derail diets.
It also derails relationships.
When someone approaches a deepening relationship or marriage focusing on what is being given up, it creates a sense of loss and lays the groundwork for future binges.
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.
I have two friends – sisters – who sadly lost their mom to cancer when they were teenagers. At some point, they decided to celebrate Mother’s Day with an annual trip to an amusement park. It turns out that this is one of the least-busy days of the year at the park; I guess most families don’t celebrate maternal love and care with adrenaline rushes.
Several years ago, the roller coaster sisters decided to invite a mutual friend of ours, also motherless, to join them. It wasn’t a successful partnership as it turns out that this friend had an aversion to heights which is certainly a liability for an amusement park.
So, the next year, they invited me. I’m not motherless, but I am devoid of local matriarchal connections. Oh, and I love adrenaline and I’m not overly afraid of heights. It’s been an awesome tradition in which to be included. We’ve gone down to Florida, up to North Carolina and sometimes stayed put at Six Flags in Atlanta.
Regardless of location, we ride coasters. And then more coasters.
And, without fail, there is anxiety built before the first ride of the day. There is uncertainty, especially if it is to be a virgin ride with unknown drops and loops. One of the sisters always comes close to backing out and regrets not throwing in the towel as the ride clacks to the top.
And then, without fail, our delighted screams fill the air. And the sister that was the most hesitant becomes the most excited to run to the next ride.
Throughout the day, the supply of adrenaline is literally exhausted; the short lines do not allow ample time for the body to replenish its stores. By mid-afternoon, we can be seen completely relaxed on even the most terrifying ride.
Fear thrives in the unknown.
The sisters proposed a new adventure this year- zip-lining. I was by far the most experienced yesterday. Although this was my first visit to this establishment, it was my 5th time zip-lining. It was a known for me.
zippity-do-da!
But it was unknown to the sisters.
The first challenge was to cross a 50 foot bridge that was built from widely separated (and swinging) boards. The bridge started at an elevation of around 25 feet and climbed to 40 feet where it ended at a small platform surrounding a large pine tree. The bridge felt unstable. The planks moved and the gaps between them were easily large enough to swallow even the largest man in our group and the holes drew the eye down – way down – to the ground below. The cables that acted as handrails were anything but solid. Even the anchor point of the tree swayed.
I can do this with my eyes closed. Not!
But all that was an illusion. We were each tethered to a cable running above the bridge with heavy ropes and clips. If we should fall and lack the strength to hoist ourselves back onto the bridge, three guides stood at the ready to lift us back to the planks. They even carried pulleys, ropes and bandages in their packs.
We were completely safe.
But one of the sisters didn’t believe it.
Or, more accurately, her primal brain hijacked her rational one and the former was screaming out the dangers on the bridge.
It was wild to watch. I crossed the bridge first. After clipping myself safely to the pine tree on the far side, I turned to look at the progress behind me. The sister, calm and confident moments before, was frozen a few steps onto the bridge. She knew she was safe. But her brain convinced her she was not. And her body listened. No amount of encouragement could convince her to complete that walk. She finally unlocked enough to back off the bridge and back to the known of the solid ground below.
Fear believes illusions.
Fear was not my companion yesterday. It was a comfortable environment for me and I knew the illusion of danger was just noise. But that’s not to say I’m not more than familiar with that powerless and incapacitated feeling when fear moves in. I’ve written about learning how to ski and overcome my apprehension of downhills. I’ve had similar experiences with biking (go ahead and laugh – I can zip line without a problem but a 3% downhill grade on a bike makes me nauseous!).
This was actually fun! Promise:)
But I’m mainly familiar with the mental origins of fear. The psychological equivalent of the swinging planks and depths below. Those times when we have the safety systems we need, but we worry anyways. Where the body may continue forward but the mind freezes in place, unable to trust in the journey forward. It’s a place of internal lock-down. No amount of encouragement will release the mind from its hold.
But it doesn’t have to be permanent. We don’t have to live suspended on that bridge between where we are and where we want to be.
Be gentle with yourself. Self-flagellation may alleviate guilt, but it is a horrible tool against fear.
If the unknown has you frightened, make an effort to learn. Information is soothing.
When you’re frozen in fear, back off. It’s not a time to be a bull.
Distract the brain. Take a break in your comfort zone. It builds your confidence.
Recall times you were fearful and preserved. It builds your confidence even more.
Wait until the fear has subsided.
And then try to approach again.
That’s exactly what the one sister did yesterday. When we arrived back at the lodge, we were thrilled to hear that she had elected to take part in a later tour. And she came back smiling.
The unknown had become known.
And the illusions of fear had been revealed.
Leaving behind a sense of accomplishment and confidence.
We all know about The Five Love Languages, but do you know about the five voices of divorce? You may not refer to them by name, but if you have faced the end of a relationship, you have certainly heard their call. Unlike the gentle languages of love, the voices of divorce are harsh, often abusive in tone. They tell us that we are broken, they implore us to lash out at ourselves and others and they plant seeds of fear and doubt. If we listen to the voices for too long, we risk believing their lies and falling into their trap. Learn the tricks that the five voices of divorce use and how to escape their grasp. Click here to read the rest of the post.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 