Choosing Poorly

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I made a poor choice this past Saturday.

I didn’t know it at the time, but by lunchtime today, it was beyond clear.

The broccoli, purchased on Saturday, was bad.

On Saturday, I had no way of knowing that rot lay just beneath the surface of the little cruciferous trees. I make an effort to “eat the rainbow” every week at lunch and I lacked a green hue. The broccoli sported no brown spots and carried no fetid odor. That, and the fact they were on sale clinched the deal – it was to be a week of broccoli for lunch.

Except a week turned into one day when the bad odor greeted me from the microwave today and the blackened and soggy end conformed it. Yesterday, I enjoyed my broccoli. Today, it horrified me. And, upon returning home, I immediately purged my fridge of all of its brethren and found a replacement side in the freezer.

And that happens sometimes.

We choose poorly.

Not just broccoli. But jobs. Homes. Financial moves.

Even, and maybe especially, spouses.

We make subpar choices motivated by the catchy signs that distract us from what we really need to see. Or, we see no immediate impairment and so we assume the coast is clear. We make a decision based upon some factors while we studiously ignore others.

Perhaps we know immediately that the choice was a bad one. Yet all too often, we get to enjoy our choice for a time (after all, there is a reason you made it) before becoming aware of the other side.

Now, you can berate yourself for choosing poorly. Call yourself “stupid” as you endlessly play back the faulty selection.

Or, you can instead be grateful for the time you enjoyed when you thought you had chosen well and learn how to pick better the next time.

Facing Avoidance

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I remember this strange limbo after my ex pulled his Copperfield – I was afraid of facing the totality of my new reality and yet I was also afraid of the repercussions of avoiding the truth. In the early days, the decision was made for me; I was barely able to function, much less process. Flaming bits of reality passed by me like meteors falling to earth, moving too fast to see yet leaving behind an uncomfortable heat. But as time shuffled on, I could no longer use the excuse of not being able to face the pain. I had to either confront the truth or accept the fact that I was actively avoiding it.

I applied a logical strategy amidst the illogical domain that I then occupied. I gave myself permission to avoid the pain until a scheduled yoga and meditation retreat. It was the griever’s equivalent of a decade-long smoker going cold turkey. I went into the retreat armed with a journal, my comforting blanket and plenty of tissues. Not present? My phone and any books. There were no distractions. No excuses. This was the time to face the pain.

After registering, exploring the property and meeting the facilitator, I wrapped myself in warm clothing, gathered the journaling supplies and folded myself into a solitary rocking chair overlooking the mountains. I took a deep breath, and gave the pain that I had been studiously avoiding, permission to enter.

It wasn’t what I expected. I held some image of the pain entering my body like a demon possessing some innocent in a horror movie. But my body didn’t jerk back from the shock nor did the chair begin to rock of its own power.

Instead, I felt a dull sort of pain that began to ebb and flow seemingly at random. The tears cycled from monsoon to dry season and back again with whiplash speed. The words inscribed on my pages danced from past to future and nightmare to dream.

I hurt, but much to my surprise, my most dominant feeling was one of relief.

I was relieved to give permission to the tears with no sense of what I “ought” to be doing.

I was relieved to finally face what I had delayed and, in doing so, quiet some of the fear.

I was relieved that the harsh reality didn’t capsize me and that it seemed that I could handle the truth.

I was relieved that the pain felt more like the bombardment of solitary bricks than running into a solid brick wall.

I was relieved that I was finally facing what I had avoided and I held hopes that by facing it, I could diminish it.

We avoid because we are afraid of the truth. Yet fear only builds in the darkness of the unknown.

We avoid because we do not want to suffer. Yet suffering then becomes the background noise of our lives.

We avoid because we want to pretend that reality isn’t real. Yet the truth will always find a way out.

We avoid because we believe we don’t have the energy to face. Yet that’s only because that energy is being expended on running away.

We avoid because we feel that it is someone else’s responsibility to heal us. Yet you cannot outsource healing. You have to do it yourself.

We avoid because we fall victim to the siren song of busyness. Yet that is just another excuse kicked up by a panicking brain.

We avoid because we tell ourselves that we can get to it later. Yet limbo is no way to live.

We avoid because facing it validates it. Yet it was already real even if we refused acceptance.

You cannot accept something until you face it.

You cannot release something until you hold it.

You cannot change something until you see it.

It’s time to face your avoidance.

To trust that you are strong and capable enough to handle whatever hides beneath the bed. Life under the covers is no way to live.

The Judgement of Pain – Enough Already!

Posted on by stilllearning2b

They’re dropping like flies. The daily bombardment of death and destruction as the bombs render flesh and landscape into unrecognizable rubble is too much to bear and the drone operators are leaving the job behind to retain their sanity. The intimate, up-close view brings the carnage into reality, even when the one operating the drone is safely occupying a padded chair in a cubicle back in the U.S.

And compounding the anguish?

Many of these pilots are shamed for their feelings, since they are not “real” soldiers and their bodies are not facing physical harm. Their healthy-looking bodies belie their broken minds.

And yes, if you had to put human suffering on a continuum, being physically present in a war zone would certainly seem to be worse than viewing it through a television screen.

But here’s the important part.

We don’t have to put pain on a continuum.

We don’t have to adjudicate and rank hardships.

Better or worse is not only relative, it’s inconsequential.

All that matters for that person is how they feel.

And that they receive compassion, support and encouragement (from themselves and others) to feel better.

Because when we judge suffering, we only add to it.

I read a Twitter exchange the other day between two people who had stumbled across my piece on The Huffington Post about PTSD after divorce:

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photo 1-1I know nothing about these two people and what they have endured. I did not attempt to engage them in conversation. But the exchange made me sad. Not for me, but for the many people who find my site by entering in some combination of “PTSD” and “divorce” into their search engine. Those people are in real pain and they are looking for real validation that their feelings are okay. And probably hope that they will again be okay.

And by telling them that they are not allowed to feel that way, all it does is add shame to the mix. Because if they are not “supposed” to feel that way, then something must be wrong with them.

The first step to resolving suffering is to accept it.

Only then can you begin to address it.

I have to be careful myself with judging pain. Every day, I deal with teenagers who are inconsolable because of some issue that, from my adult perspective, seems petty.

Because they are not seeing it from an adult perspective.

They can’t.

All they know is that based upon what they have experienced, this situation hurts.

And my job is to listen, acknowledge the distress and help them move beyond it.

The takeaways –

  • It doesn’t matter where someone’s experience falls on the continuum of human suffering. All that matters is where it falls on his or her personal continuum.
  • Just because someone’s situation was worse, doesn’t mean their pain was. Don’t assume.
  • When we judge pain, we are saying that we understand their pain. And we can’t. Because we haven’t lived his or her life.
  • Judgement does not alleviate pain; it compounds it. Acknowledgement and compassion are the first steps to ease the suffering.
  • By focusing on the similarities in the responses rather than fixating on the differences that caused the pain, together we can learn how to heal.

And, just so you know, the response was not accepted on the Huffington piece because comments are closed due to the age of the article, not because of any censorship of alternative viewpoints. It’s always interesting how we all make assumptions based upon our beliefs and experiences. Myself included.

How to Steer Your Dreams

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I remember feeling safe. Our bodies were pressed together, recesses and curves paired together as though from complementary molds. His smell was familiar, both comforting and intoxicating, bringing contentment with a whisper of passion. My eyes were closed as we began to kiss, slow caresses that were full of promise and affection. As our lips parted, I pulled back and opened my eyes.

In my dream, I screamed and shoved him away in disgust and revulsion.

In my bed, I sat straight up, my pulse racing and my stomach queasy.

It had happened again.

For the first several months after he left, some version of this dream would visit me on a regular basis. It was one of those persistent ones. The kind that leave a lasting mark like the reddened skin after a pinch, coloring the entire day. I hated those dreams. They embodied my shock and confusion at the discovery that my protector had turned into my persecutor as the dream flipped from love to horror. Furthermore, the dream made me feel violated and dirty, as I no longer felt any sort of attraction to him.

I hated them.

But still they came.

Quickening the pulse and deadening the day.

I tired of them.

I tried ordering my brain to stop force-feeding me those images while I was defenseless.

It stubbornly refused, simply providing variations on a theme.

So I got creative.

It’s impossible to fully control your dreams. Yet you can apply some strategies that help to steer them in the direction you want:

Purge

If you fall asleep with a whole bunch of toxic sludge filling your thoughts, it is no surprise that those thoughts will work themselves into an unwanted dream. Before you head to bed, purge your mind of all those worries and fears bu simply jotting them down. This is not a full writing exercise, simply a listing of words and/or phrases that capture the negativity on your mind. Let it go first and perhaps it will let you rest in peace.

Replace

If your dream is like mine where the context is fine and the person is the problem, work to replace them in your mind. Before you fall asleep, picture the replacement in the situation. If you awake from the dream, similarly picture the stand-in. It’s often easier to tweak an element of a dream than to try to suppress the entire thing.

Edit

Another way to actively modify your dream is to rewrite the portion that causes grief. Most likely, the worst part of the “story” occurs at the point where it awakens you. So, once you are awake and in control again, finish out the story, bringing an ending that is less painful. You’re telling yourself, “Yes, that was scary. But it was not the end of the story. I can still change the outcome.”

Listen

Sometimes our dreams contain a message. Sometimes there are themes we need to address in our lives or voids we need to fill. Examine your dream, looking not at the literal components, but at the overarching truths. Is there something there that you’ve been hesitant to face in your real life? If so, this is your wake-up call.

Journal

Journal writing exists in the space between the conscious and unconscious minds. It is uniquely positioned to allow your thinking self to dialog with your feeling self. Write about your dreams without censorship. Explore the paths that appear. And don’t hesitate to build new paths as well.

Prime

Be cognizant of what you are exposed to right before bed. If your reading or viewing selection if fraught with tension and dark themes, it primes the mental pump to continue these in to slumber. Instead, select media that provides a sense of levity or comfort and allow it to infuse your dreams.

Live

This is perhaps the most important piece. Live while you are awake. Don’t allow your nightmares to limit your dreams.

Once I instituted these ideas, the dreams began to lose their power. First, their intensity was lessened as he was replaced by a replacement. I would still wake up, but I would be left with a feeling more of confusion than of horror. Then, the dreams began to lose their frequency, becoming more and more rare as I addressed the root emotions and continued to build my new life. And now, those dreams are only a memory, safely buried.

The “Ikea Effect” in Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My aunt and uncle came through Atlanta a couple of weeks ago on their trek to escape the horrid winter the north has experienced this year. It was their first time visiting the house we bought a year and a half ago.

And as I was taking them on the obligatory house tour, I realized something.

I don’t feel a super-strong sense of ownership of my home. At least not like I did with my old house. With my first property, there was not a wall I didn’t paint, a floor I didn’t redo or a room that wasn’t meticulously planned and executed. I was proud of that house, not because it was so great, but because my then-husband and I created it through endless hours of sweat and tears, late-night marathons of Love Line alternating with the soundtrack from Jesus Christ Superstar and countless creative work-arounds to create our vision on the cheap. We made that house.

I love my home now. Unlike the last one, this one didn’t require endless hours (and dollars!) to make it what we wanted. In most ways, it was move in ready. All we have really personalized at this point is the basement theater and, to a much lesser extent, the yard.  Which has been awesome (especially because it gives us time to live, not just renovate). Yet it also changes how I feel about the house. It’s mine, but it’s not born of me. I live here, but I didn’t have to give it life.

Economists have dubbed the impact of sweat equity on emotions the “Ikea effect” after the attachment people can feel to their inexpensive mass-produced furniture after they have contributed their effort in the turns of a few cam nuts and the insertion of countless wooden dowels.

It’s why people often have an inflated sense of value of a home they have renovated or believe that others will hold their creations in high regard. It is even part of what makes every parent believe their child is special.

When we build it, we appreciate it.

All of these thoughts tumbled through my mind as I led them through the rooms. Honestly, it was starting to make me feel like we needed to fast-track some of the non-essential projects we have planned for the future.

And then I realized the impact the Ikea effect has on my marriage.

Unlike my first marriage, this one was born of intention and effort on both of our parts. We have removed the rotten pieces of our pasts, sanded smooth the rough edges and built upon the reinforced foundation.

And when we build it, we cherish it.

I may not have much sweat equity in my house yet (although this gardening season will change that. literally.), but I have plenty of sweat equity in my marriage. A trade-off I am more than okay with.

Where do you see the Ikea effect in your life?