What’s In Your Pillow?

  “Which is more important?  The world you can touch, facts, or the WORLD YOU ARE RESPONDING TO?

The movie “Doubt” is a story about that question.  In it, a priest is accused on very little, no, on no evidence of molesting a boy.  Interesting statements of the accusing nun (not exact quotes):

See he IS who I THOUGHT HE WAS.  Proving that the priest is WHO SHE THINKS HE IS quickly becomes more important than the truth.  The priest: “What proof do you have?”

The nun pounds her chest as says, “None.  But I have my ‘CERTAINTY’.”

The priest:  “Your ‘certainty’ is no more than your ‘feeling’, it is not a fact.”

I’ve always been impressed by how we make other people up as we go along.  How much of WHO WE ARE is our playing out of our parents’ “certainty” of who we would become?  In what ways have we limited our goals playing out the expectations of others? 

Okay, here’s where I usually slip into a guilt bog thinking, “And what about the children I’ve influenced and limited?  And my husband?  He’d probably be president if I didn’t work out my anxiety by being critical of him?

Enough about that.  I have to sleep at night.

Where I end up on this is another interesting question.  If in my head I SEE OTHER PEOPLE AS DANGEROUS and CRITICAL . . .  . . .how much of that is the WORLD I’M RESPONDING TO IN MY HEAD that doesn’t even exist?

In what ways am I LIMITING MYSELF by the ME I’ve CREATED IN MY HEAD that doesn’t REALLY EXIST?

ba-deep, ba-deep, ba-deep.  More hard stuff to come trying to engage the THINKING GUIDANCE SYSTEM ain’t for sissies.

Optimism:  A company running an ad on television which says, “Find all the gold in your house, put it in a brown envelope (that we will send to you for FREE!) and mail it to US!  Then, once we receive your envelope, we’ll pick some random amount of money out of the AIR and send you a CHECK (for however much we decided, while giggling hysterically, we wanted to send!)

Oh, the pillow thing?  Later. I won’t forget.  Cause it’s important and has feathers in it.

The Crouton Lady Incident

  Yesterday, as I walked up to the fancy “to go” window at Mimi’s Restaurant to buy a gift certificate, I noticed flying food.  The lady ahead of me, on receiving her to go salad with a clear plastic top, was screaming, “I said NO croutons!”  She picked off each one (and it was big salad) and threw it into the air.  The little chucks of toast landed in a scatter pattern around her.

I mention the Crouton Lady not to point out how “unevolved” she is next to me, but to say, I can go from cool to food-tossing just as easily.  I’m bringing this up because i still carry some guilt for last week’s “Let’s all just be happy” post.  How flip.  How easy it sounded.    Just smile already.  Someday I may confess my “contract negotiations” on the phone last night with T-Mobile.  Let’s just say for now, during the “conversation” my husband came downstairs because he thought someone must have broken into the house.  And before I hung up, I told the young lady she deserved a gold star and T-Mobile should use the recorded conversation as a training exercise.  That girl was cool in the line of fire  and made the sale. 

We are all working on taking more charge of our lives, working on having less of our lives determined by shear, raging emotions.  But it’s hard.  And we can’t always be successful.  I think of my efforts in terms of the migration of the wildebeests. 

You’ve seen them on Discovery or National Geographic.  There they are thousands, all running full out (I don’t know why they have to migrate at full speed ahead?).  Dust is everywhere, their eyes are wild. Then comes the voice-over of the narrator:

“If you look carefully in that clump of trees off to the side, you’ll catch a glimpse of the lions lying in wait for their prey.  A wildebeest is a good meal.  The lions choose the stragglers, the weak, the slow, the old, the sick wildebeests on the outside edges of the herd.  The easy take-downs.” 

What I’m going for as far as being able to manage my emotions, to not let my feelings, primarily my desire to avoid anxiety, run my life–I just want to work my way a bit into the herd.  I don’t need to lead the pack, I just want to be a tad less vulnerable to my “lions in wait.”

Compassion

  First, thanks all of guys for your good words on the news that Murray’s now “traveling” as they say in Jamaica.  What kind of self-esteem must that boy have had.  Everyone who met him loved him.

I’ve been thinking some about that.  Murray wasn’t the brightest or most playful.  He wasn’t the first to meet me at the door.  So what was it?  Murray was kind.    Always kind.  He let anyone who wanted a pat or even a squeeze to take their turn.  If someone in my office cried or even shouted, he’d hop up (back when he could hear) and move over close to them.  He forgave all human emotions without pushing himself on you.

I’ve been thinking about the Holidays and all the anxious pleasing we do in our “togetherness.”   What if we could be the gift of providing for others a “non-anxious” presence?

Notice the word “presence.”  We do not provide the gift of “non-anxious” caring when we are not fully in the presence of others. 

What does a non-anxious presence look like?

A man sits down with a friend and     asks what he thinks about the football rankings.  We women like to make fun of this scene.  But what we have is one man saying to another.  “Hi. I’m ‘in here’ for you.  Are you ‘in there’ for me?”

Your spouse (a friend, family member, co-worker) comes in complaining.  You ask them TWO questions about what’s bothering them.  You resist giving your opionion of what she should do or what you are just “so sure” you would do in her shoes. 

Oh, and to be with yourself with passion, compassion, dump your scales (no one needs that kind of detail) and if you find yourself in one of those hotels with three-way mirrors in the bathroom, well closing your eyes, is not only your option, it’s the thoughtful choice.  The way your clothes fit is the only guide you need.

At the gym, the slip of a girl at the front desk is always inviting members up for a free body fat percentage study.  What is she nuts? 

Who’s In Charge?

2963_75x75.jpg  I was going to lie low until the Spring as I have a book coming out in early summer, timing and all.  But I can’t wait.  Yesterday on the plane the man behind me chastised his wife, “You make decisions based on your emotions while I make decisions based on what I see and hear for myself.”

I had to mention this because so many times this argument is used as if WHAT YOU HEAR and WHAT YOU SEE isn’t determined by your emotions.  Example later.

I’m A Big Wennie, Too

avatarnemo.gif  Lest there be any question, I did not intend to put down the struggling wife mentioned yesterday.  Never.  Some people have better “front offices” than the rest of us. 

They hold in their anxiety, and thus they come across cool 04674828_.jpg  instead of HYSTERICAL like the rest of us.  But the husband in the example was no more functional than the wife, just using means other than obvious “relationship dependence” to calm himself down.  Who knows, maybe he had someone on the side (or gets someone) using relationship dependence in spades. 

“Relationship dependence” is when we need   mv5bmja5nji5ndy3of5bml5banbnxkftztywndmwnjq2__v1__cr340381381_ss100_.jpg     a particular response from a particular other person    to CALM DOWN, START THINKING AND GET BACK IN CHARGE of our lives. 

And what’s particularly interesting and self-destructive about this method of calming ourselves down is that it DRIVES OTHER PEOPLE CRAZY.  It drives AWAY the person we want to keep close.  mv5bmjeznji1nti2mv5bml5banbnxkftztywnta0mzc0__v1__cr00289289_ss100_.jpg

How nuts is that?

RELATIONSHIP DEPENDENCE

frida1949.jpg  A supreme and successful effort to manage . . .  RELATIONSHIP DEPENDENCE.

I was seeing a couple, both of whom were university professors.  (All descriptions are disguised and combined to not apply to actual persons.  I have enough wacky people in my family to use anyway.)  marchpenguins007.jpg  The husband was frustrated with the marriage and had moved into his own apartment.  Things were improving with therapy as each learned more about their reactivity and anxiety management, but the husband was not ready to re-commit.  The wife had a research report tour scheduled which would take her on the road for two months and require her to make presentations to large groups, a process that was hard for her. 

In the last session before she was to leave, she asked her husband to promise  mv5bmtywnde4mjg4mf5bml5banbnxkftztywmdy4nzg2__v1__cr800324324_ss100_.jpg that their marriage was going to work out.  Though she made it very clear he could cure her current anxiety by saying what she wanted to hear, he held his ground that he was still unsure.  He was particularly worried that if they got back together she would end up leaning on him again for her sense of self.  Prior to separating the wife had suffered panic attacks if left alone and all night bouts of anger insisting that her husband was not caring enough.

She upped the ante saying she couldn’t go on the trip,  mv5bmtkzmta0ode1nf5bml5banbnxkftztcwmjgwmdkxmq__v1__cr00335335_ss100_.jpg couldn’t fulfill her obligations unless he said they were going to make it as a couple.  He did not give in.

The wife headed out on the tour.  During the second week, while she was in New York, the husband called at around eleven to ask how she was doing.  The first few minutes was enjoyable for both.  The husband said “Goodnight,” as was pleasantly signing off when the wife shouted, “Stop!”  mv5bmtm5mtqwmdq5ml5bml5banbnxkftztywnjgynzy3__v1__cr1040417417_ss100_.jpg  He did.  She started crying and saying he’d ruined her tour, that he’d never loved her, and that she was going out to find some man who did.  He pleaded to continue the discussion the next day.  She refused continuing to list his crimes and her own faults.  After several more attempts to close the conversation, the husband hung up.

The wife called him back with more emotional blasting.  forbidden-kingdom-movie-04.jpg  After ten minues, he hung up.  She called again.  He hung up.  She called again.  He’d taken the phone off the hook.

The wife threw herself on the bed hysterical, more because she’d made such an absolute mess of things than anything else.  The urge to hear from her husband was almost unbearable.  She “felt” out of control and absolutely hopeless. 

THEN, she remembered a word or two about taking the energy she was using to TRY AND GET A RESPONSE from another person . . .

And using that energy to MANAGE her OWN anxiety.  mv5bmtm0mje1oda0mv5bml5banbnxkftztcwotiwnzuymq__v1__sy140_sx100_.jpg

Instead of rolling around on the bed, feeling worse and worse, ABSOLUTELY CONVINCED SHE COULD NOT FEEL BETTER, until she got the feedback she wanted from her husband–SHE DECIDED TO TAKE CHARGE.  mv5bmti4mta0nzgwnl5bml5banbnxkftztcwmtg2ntkymq__v1__ss100_.jpg

As she told me:  “What did I have to lose,” I asked myself.  “I got up, got dressed and went out on the sidewalk and started walking.  I was in Times Square, so there were plenty of interesting people.  Even though every cell in my body (okay, that’s my phrase) wanted to either try to contact my husband or wallow in continuing misery, I started LOOKING at the interesting people.  I looked at the marquees.  I told myself I was going to walk and walk and walk until I WAS IN CHARGE OF MYSELF.  vm__cr00450450_ss90_.jpg  And I did.”

When her husband called, she apologized for dumping her anxiety into the phone call.  He heard, for the first time, that she understood what it meant to be responsible for self.

Who’s Life Is It, Anyway?

mv5bmtm0mje1oda0mv5bml5banbnxkftztcwotiwnzuymq__v1__sy140_sx100_.jpg  Two phrases from two older movies will be the theme for a few days.

“I’M IN CHARGE!”  mv5bmtm2ntawmdywm15bml5banbnxkftztywmte3nju2__v1__cr620325325_ss100_.jpg  from Hustle and Flow.  (Think of both of these guys inside your head trying to be in charge.)

    and “I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF!” from a whole bunch of others.  vm__cr00334334_ss90_.jpg   Not to mention, these are the people who spend their lives in prisons — real and fabricated.

It’s about who’s deciding what goes on inside your chest cavity.  Who decides your level of motivation.  Who’s in charge.

Back later.