Archives for category: Mindfulness

The Hand Off

March 20, 2015 //

My daughter used to run on a track team every spring. She is naturally fast and coordinated. However, she is also quite independent and back then, difficult to coach. She had her own ideas about technique as well as what distance was best for her. Oh yes, she was also highly distractible. Whenever she ran, you didn’t know what would happen because the range of her performance was wide. One of of the meets had an 8th grade co-ed relay, with each student running 400 meters. Her team was small. They didn’t have two 8th grade boys and two 8th grade girls. So the coach put younger kids on the relay team, three younger girls and one 8th grade boy.

My daughter was one of the younger girls. They had not practiced prior to the meet. As I recall, she was second or third in the relay. The hand off to her was seamless; the hand off to the runner after her was seamless. She was ready to start when it was time to go and she absolutely flew down the track, passing all of the other teams by a rather large margin. The rest of the team ran well and held on to the lead she’d created. They tied the record time for the Archdiocese. The whole thing was really quite marvelous to watch.

In a relay race, speed obviously counts. But the most critical parts of the race are the hand offs. One has to hold on to the baton for exactly the right amount of time, not too long or too short. And the other part of it is taking the baton at just the right moment.

Much is written about painful feelings, especially those associated with grief. How long do we keep them. When do we let them go? When do we take them on. The relay race keeps coming into my mind. We can’t stay out of the race, altogether. We can’t deny or suppress painful feelings. To do so is a recipe for unhappiness and often leaves us alone. It is too hard to connect with others when one is coping by disconnecting with oneself.

Then there is the other problem, hanging on to the painful feelings too long. This is also a recipe for unhappiness and suffering, often alone. It is hard to connect with others if holding on to pain leaves no room in our hands to hold onto positives in our lives.

This all strikes me as rather complex. Sometimes I need to hang on longer than others want me to. Sometimes, I need to move on, at least temporarily to be functional in my life, to be good at my job, to be a good mother, to be a good friend, and to be a good wife. Sometimes I move on just to give myself a break.

It can all seem like one big game of trial and error. I know that practice helps and life provides frequent opportunities for holding on or letting go of painful emotions. I’m not keen on trial and error, though. I am a pattern maker, an observer.

I have taken on more work lately. My concentration and stamina are improved. I am happy to be able to participate more fully in my professional life, especially since my business operating costs have increased due to my new office’s significantly higher monthly rent. But this change has also made it harder for me to go walking everyday. I am still walking regularly, about five times per week.

Over the past few weeks, I have noticed a pattern. Overall, I am much more patient and less irritable with my family. But sometimes I get my feelings hurt, feel anxious, and get a little heated. My reaction is not huge but it is out of scale with the situation. This almost always happens on a day I have not gone for a walk.

Hold on.

Let go.

Put on the walking shoes.

Tags emotions, exercise and emotion regulation, grief

Categories Family, Feelings, Marriage, Mindfulness

Second Chance

March 15, 2015 //

His name was Kurt. We went to high school together. He was a year ahead of me. I think it was my junior year. We took creative writing together one semester. I remember his appearance. He had very fair skin and very light blonde curly hair. I am pretty sure that he wore glasses. I also think he sat kitty corner across the classroom from me (we sat at tables in a “U” formation instead of in rows of desks). I remember his being nice but not really knowing or noticing much about his personality. As I recall, he was fairly quiet. He was one of the boys at school who was into muscle cars and he had some kind of old but “cool” car like a Ford Mustang, or something.

One day, as I was walking in the hallway from one class to another, he stopped me. I don’t recall ever having had a one to one conversation with him previously, but then again, I could have forgotten many. I am and was pretty friendly and talked to many people. Kurt looked assumed a very relaxed stance and with apparent nonchalance, asked me to his senior prom.

You may already know that I never attended a formal dance at school: No prom, no homecoming, and no winter ball. I did not attend any university formal dances; those were mostly for sorority girls. I was not in a sorority and honestly, at that time, would have avoided attending any event like that.

So, if I was asked to prom and didn’t go, I must have told Kurt, “no”, right?

Strictly speaking, that’s the truth. But the part that still embarrasses me and makes me feel guilty is that I told him, “yes” when he asked me and then changed my mind and cancelled on him the next day. I was afraid. I didn’t really know him. He wasn’t one of the boys who I was wanting to ask me out, either. And he drove a hot rod! I was afraid that he would be one of those boys who would pressure me for sex on prom night or try to get me drunk! I backed out in as nice of a way as possible. I later got to know him a little better and he probably would have been a good date. I could have been able to attend a major high school “coming of age” social event and NOT hurt a boy’s feelings. Oh yeah, I may have even had a good time.

About four weeks ago I was reading my neighborhood’s community blog. I saw that a “Second Chance Prom” was to be held as a charity benefit, at the golf course down the street from me. The tickets were very reasonably priced and it looked like a small, low key affair. So I bought two tickets and made an additional donation to the charity. Then I told John that he was taking me and as I had hoped, he readily and enthusiastically accepted.

I spent more time choosing clothing and accessories for my Second Chance Prom than I did for my wedding. I got my hair and make up done professionally. For my own wedding, I cut my own hair, styled it, and did my own make up using drug store cosmetics. But this is grown up prom! I wanted to get the best out of it and enjoy the process leading up to the event as much as I could. I trusted that I would not go crazy. After all, I will always be a discount shopper.

I tried on a lot of dresses. The one I ultimately chose was not my favorite based on photos. But it fit almost perfectly, required no uncomfortable foundation garments, was comfortable, and fit the James Bond theme of the prom. Also, it had an open back, which I knew John would like, and I looked about as good as I could.

Yesterday started as “glam day”. After my walk, I spent about 45 minutes online looking at photos to inspire hair and make-up ideas. If I were going to look like a Bond Girl, I wanted to go retro. I started getting a few ideas from photos of actresses from James Bond films from the late 60’s and early 70’s. Then I just started thinking about actresses from that time period and I thought, “What about Ann-Margaret?” Ding, ding, ding! I found an old photo of her with glam hair and make-up well suited to the time period as well as my hair.

My husband did not want to see my dress so I wore a coat over it, though he could see the bottom of it since it was a full length gown. He had still not picked out his outfit. Most of his button-down shirts are Hawaiian shirts. Knowing how overheated he gets, I even told him that I didn’t mind if he wanted to wear one. My only request was, “Please, no sneakers.”

He drove me to the salon with the plan that he would pick me up later and take me to dinner. This would be his way of picking me up for prom. I thought that was really sweet. I have gone to this salon for many years, so people know me there. They loved the idea of my going to prom and were excited to see John pick me up. I was seeing a different stylist for my make up and hair, Candace, who was recommended by my regular hair stylist, Megan.

I showed Candace the photo. She immediately understood what I wanted. Megan also came over during one of her breaks and said, “Good choice!” Candace was funny and sweet. I had arrived with a clean face and clean, frizzy hair. She styled my hair first and then did my make up. At one point, she said, “You are looking really glamorous, Dude. You clean up well.” When she was finished, I could tell that she was proud of her work. She said, “Let me parade you around the salon.” I followed her to the other side of the salon, where Megan was working. She also approved.

I was very pleased. Candace took a couple of photos of me for her portfolio and sweetly gave me a hug before she left to work with her next client. My husband arrived and responded in a positive but slightly stunned way. Then we got our photo taken together. John then kept asking me to pose for photos. And by “pose” I mean he instructed me on how to pose, a good thing because I have one pose and that is it. I think he said, “Wow” about five times. We had a great dinner.

We knew no one at the dance. But we were both ready to have a good prom. We danced when we wanted to even if we were the only couple on the dance floor. John sat down when he needed to. (It was hot and his back is still bothering him.) I danced even if he wasn’t dancing.

I danced even when I was the only one on the dance floor. I just enjoyed myself. I enjoyed the experience of dancing, which is something I love to do. I’m sure that I raised a few eyebrows. When I “get into the zone” with dancing, there is a certain level of abandon that people typically associate with um, intoxication. If this had been high school, there would have been mean gossip. As I keep saying, age has its benefits. After about 1 1/2 hours of dancing, I took off my shoes and went barefoot because I could tell that my feet were going to hurt, if I didn’t. After another 1 1/2 hours, we called it quits. My hip was hurting and John was drenched with sweat.

I missed my first chance at prom because I was afraid. I could have missed my second chance by being self-conscious about my body, my age, or being the only person on the dance floor. But I didn’t miss it and I had the time of my life with the man I love.

Hubby opted not to wear a Hawaiian shirt and his one blue dress shirt perfectly coordinated with my dress. And for those of you who have had breast construction, the little dent under my right underarm would probably be described as a “deficit” from a reconstructive surgery standpoint. Does it bother you? It didn’t bother me, either! And if the appearance of symmetry is important to you, the neckline of this dress is helpful in that regard.

The best kind of smile comes from laughing in delight at your husband’s insistence on taking a million photos of you.

Dinner at “the most romantic table” at Salty’s, which has a splendid view of Elliot Bay and the downtown skyline.

Corsage and prom bling on display.

Tags breast reconstruction, fear, high school prom, Marriage, mindfulness, second chances

Categories Breast cancer, Marriage, Mindfulness

The Whole Truth

March 11, 2015 //

Last week I had dream that I was in a car accident and ran over four people with my car. I was horror struck. The dream did not last long. It was interrupted, as my nightmares increasingly are, by a lucid though. “You are dreaming. No one is hurt.” I immediately opened my eyes. My heart was pounding very fast. As I looked around the room, I quickly became calm. It was just a bad dream.

It may have just been a dream but my horror was real. And my horror matched my thoughts. But my thoughts did not match actual concrete actions and events. Yes, I had real feelings. Yes, I had real thoughts. But no, the action I was carrying out was sleeping. My location was my bedroom. I had not been driving or hurt anyone.

Feelings and thoughts do not always align with our actions or external realities. We think about thoughts and feelings as being unreal if they do not align in this way. Feelings and thoughts are real. They have some reality. They have meaning.

A tricky part of life is knowing when to take thoughts and feelings at face value and when I need to interpret them as a communication to do something else like eat if I am irritable because I’ve skipped breakfast or to take better care of myself if I am getting my feelings hurt easily because I am working too many hours.

One of the skills we have been learning when emotions and thoughts seem to be out of synch with other realities is called, “Checking the Facts”. Our instructor prefers the name, “Checking Your Thoughts”. I prefer the latter as well.

I have to say, this is one skill in which I excel. I am typically able to come up with alternative explanations for situations when I sense that I have jumped to conclusions or when a situation is upsetting but the pieces just don’t seem to add up.

Sometimes, in my quest to be restrain myself with thoughtfulness and understanding, I have a different problem. I over explain and over understand. I work too hard to find the whole truth.

We never know the whole truth or the full story. I have been working for many years on this, especially when it is a need to master reality to reduce my own anxiety and I just end up creating more anxiety to myself and others by being a know-it-all. My dear husband of 25 years gets the brunt of this, I’m afraid. We will have some kind of minor misunderstanding based on a different recollection of an agreement. Usually, this is an agreement during which I remember him agreeing to do some kind of chore at home. I’ll ask him about it and he says, “That’s not what I agreed to do. I agreed to do _____.” Then I start feeling guilty because I had been annoyed with him. Then I feel anxious because I stress out about forgetting things and dropping the ball. So I start doing an inventory.

“But John, don’t you remember. You said that you’d stop at the store to pick up ice for the party. You were just finishing a phone call with your mom when we talked about it. You said you’d do it as soon as you got your shoes on. I asked you if you were sure that you could do it. You said yes, I asked you to pick up two bags of cubes, not solid ice. Also, I was wearing a blue dress, that one I picked up on our last vacation to the San Juan’s. You know, it was the time we took the ferry that had a public puzzle set up that was so fun.”

Okay, I am exaggerating and that situation is fictional but representative. Is it really necessary for me to go on in this level of detail?

Is it really helpful?

Is it really that big of a problem that I need it to be acknowledged and fixed immediately?

This brings me to the next skill I am practicing. It is called, “the wave”. Basically, it’s allowing oneself to feel uncomfortable feelings in their entirety without trying to fix them. It is a type of exposure in cognitive behavioral terms. All feelings go down if you let them.

Yikes, this is one of those passive skills. I. Am. A. Problem. Solver. This is one of the hardest things for me to do. To sit with my own distress without trying to fix it. To sit with the distress of my loved ones without trying to fix things for them.

But I am getting better. I am accepting, bit by bit.

Tags cognitive behavior therapy, emotion regulation, mindfulness

Categories Marriage, Mindfulness

Bride’s Room Revisited

March 10, 2015 //

My husband, John and I were married in the late winter of 1990. It snowed that morning, creating a slight but unnecessary panic. I remember waiting A LONG time in the bride’s room. My niece, Tricia, who was about 5 or 6 years old at the time, kept unwinding the greenery from the rose she was to carry in the ceremony. She picked off the leaves and then dropped a couple of them down the front of my dress, in the space between the satin lining and the lace overlay. Tricia also entertained us with comments like, “I wonder what would happen if a MAN came in here while we were all getting dressed?” She seemed to find the whole bride’s room experience to be titillating.

I remember a few other things but honestly, I remember so very little from the actual ceremony and reception. My friend, Lisa, who had gotten married a few years previously had advised me to try to pay attention to what was happening so that I would remember my wedding day. I remember feeling nervous being the center of attention especially when I realized that my butt, clothed in a form-fitting mermaid style dress, was going to be facing the guests for nearly the entire ceremony. Yes, this was silly. And you may be thinking that this was an awful lot of self-consciousness for a 10 minute long ceremony. However, it was a Catholic wedding and an hour long! My butt was on display throughout Bible readings, songs, and candle lighting. Go ahead and judge me; I just want to make sure that you have your facts straight. Kidding aside, although our wedding was very meaningful, it was also very stressful. I was not as present as I could have been.

That wedding day 25 years ago today. A lot led up that that day in March. We had dated for three years. We were young but we did not rush into anything. I was ready to get married, as ready as I could be. After all, I’d caught six wedding bouquets! It was my turn! I’d also purchased my dress before John proposed. (There is a reasonable explanation for that. Just believe me.) Seriously, we were seriously in love and although like any relationship, ours was imperfect, I was confident that John was the man for me.

I have thought a lot about what to do for John for our silver wedding anniversary. We exchange gifts, though typically not lavish ones. I thought I might write some wedding vows for him to cover the next 25 years of marriage and post it here.

I started thinking about a lot of promises, old and new. I started thinking about the challenges were are likely to have in the next chapter in our marriage. Every marriage is different. Our marriage is built on a foundation of love, honesty, and genuine fondness for one another. Even a foundation made from the strongest materials needs, mortar however. Ours is being engaged with one another.

My vow is to work my hardest to be present. And when I find myself stuck in a past that will never change or in a future that I will never know, I will find my way back to you as fast as my legs will carry me.

This is where we celebrated our anniversary last weekend, Salish Lodge at Snoqualmie Falls. This is about a 45 minute drive from Seattle.

On the drive back home, we stopped on Mercer Island for a walk along Lake Washington.

Tags anniversaries, Marriage, mindfulness, Silver Wedding Anniversary

Categories Marriage, Mindfulness

Temple of Doom

March 1, 2015 //

Back when I was a researcher, I used to travel to conferences to make presentations. One of them was the meeting for the National Association for the Education of Young Children (NAEYC), which was held in Anaheim, CA. Yes, the largest conference devoted to the education of young children was held at Disney Land. The conference attendees were offered a special rate to go to the park. It was less than half the price and since it was for admission, after hours, there were no long lines for the rides.

Since this was a professional conference, I was attending with other people from the not-for-profit for which I worked. One of the people from work did not like me. She was the director of one of the other departments in the organization but since my position involved work in her department, she was one of my direct supervisors. And when I mean that she didn’t like me, I mean that she pretty much actively disliked me. She also did not like my work. As you could imagine, it was awkward hanging out with a group of people, one of whom had a lot of power over my job not to mention constantly emitting, “I don’t like you” vibes.

As I have mentioned previously, I do not like to go on scary amusement park rides. The group I was with wanted to go on the “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” ride. Ordinarily, I would have just said, “No way!” But my boss was there and I knew how much she believed in employee togetherness. I asked an employee how scary the ride was and she told me that it wasn’t. So I agreed to go on the ride.

The ride began and within about five seconds I realized that it was way too scary for me. I closed my eyes and started doing deep breathing. Soon, I felt calm. I was aware of the way the air felt on my skin as the ride accelerated in speed. I noticed smells of liquid vapors and of machine part lubricants. I could also hear the gasps and yells of the people who were experiencing the ride. I noticed sounds of surprise, fear, and exhileration. These are all strong emotions. I felt no strong emotions but I noticed and observed.

As a child and adolescent psychologist, I often work with children and families when they are in distress, experiencing strong emotions, mostly painful ones. It would not be helpful for me to join in with the distress. “Oh no! That’s terrible! What are you going to do?” I need to be present and engaged but not swept away. I need to avoid adding drama. I am there to carefully observe, interpret, and to provide assistance.

It is a complex process. Clinicians who do not demonstrate enough empathy and emotional connection are described as cold. Clinicians who demonstrate too much emotion are described as having poor boundaries. And the definition of what is too little or too much varies person to person. To be the right amount of present, calm, and connected is incredibly therapeutic to someone who is in distress. To be too little or too much is not only counter-therapeutic, it is also not healthy for the clinician.

I started formally practicing mindfulness nearly three years ago as a way of dealing with my breast cancer diagnosis as well as to live a healthier life. It occurs to me that many years before this time, I was already practicing it in session, with my patients. This helps me be effective and also minimizes the amount of stress I take home with me. It has been trickier to apply mindfulness to the rest of my life. But I have been doing it and I plan to continue. It has greatly enriched my life and helped me cope with the scary hurts and heartache much better. I still experience all emotions, at all levels. I experience pain. I am having more and more moments of acceptance and less and less suffering.

I have noticed some shifts in my personal relationships. Some of the shifts have been uncomfortable. I initially found myself getting annoyed at how upset people got at what I considered to be minor annoyances or future catastrophic outcomes of low probability. And it’s not all complaints or expressed fears. It’s the ones tinged with helplessness or hopelessness that really get to me. Anger turned to worry and worry turned to sadness, over time. I realize that some people in my life are on a much different ride. We are no longer experiencing the same ride. Although this is helpful as a therapist, it is harder with relationships that are more intimate and more expecting of reciprocity.

At this moment, I feel a bit sad about it. But I also know that my feelings have changed about this and will likely continue to change. I do know that I have selected the right ride for me and will try to live the healthiest way I can since that is best for me and my family.

Tags Breast Cancer, mindfulness, relationships, therapeutic boundaries

Categories Breast cancer, Mindfulness

The Mountains

February 27, 2015 //

I am not much of a sports fan most of the time, but I do love watching the Olympics, especially the winter games. One of the most thrilling of the winter sports, at least in my view, is the luge. I watch the athlete careen down the luge run at literally, break neck speed, with their legs held out in hair-pin formation. I think to myself, “Holy crap. That’s crazy.” Yes, they wear head protection but those hair-pin legs and arms are covered in space-age stretchy materials. And what about one’s neck? I know that I am not a physical risk taker, but it looks like a pretty dangerous sport major spinal cord injury potential not to mention the orthopedic horrors that could occur. Mostly, what I see on my television screen, however, is highly controlled chaos. These are highly trained athletes at the most elite level. By and large, they love what they do. They are driven to do it, to take the risk, over and over again. I imagine that mastering the luge feels like becoming a force of nature.

I love the mountains, looking at them, and hiking in them. I dreamed a few nights ago that I was driving to the mountains. There was compacted snow on the road. I was driving really fast and following very close. The car was flying along the road. In the dream I had some recognition that the conditions were dangerous but I was determined to make it to the mountains and uncharacteristically non-plussed about conditions. And I was getting to my destination.

This was not a normal anxiety dream for me. Those are the ones I have when “bad guys” are chasing me or when I am stressed about work, my anxiety dreams involve my finding myself, at my current age, back in college or high school, scrambling with my classes. “Oh no. I’ve had a class I forgot to attend all quarter! I must have failed it!” Because I have evolved, the latter dreams end with my realizing that I have a diploma for a Ph.D. Why would I need to be in high school or college?

This was a different dream. It involved anxiety but it also involved a kind of moving forward in life and enjoying it. I was really enjoying myself in the mountains. It was beautiful. And I don’t really think the dream was about my taking dangerous chances or being an Olympic level snow and ice driver. I think this dream reflects how I am coming to deal with the anxiety of my life.

In reality, I am not a very skilled or experienced snow driver. Seattle may be near the mountains but it is a temperate city, at sea level. I entrust the winter driving feats to my husband, who spent his teen and early adult years either living in Eastern Washington or driving back and forth over mountain passes, to visit his parents there. But I am learning how to drive through life, despite its break neck speed, the dangers, the hidden and out in the open.

I am not a person who seeks out danger. I am not a thrill seeker or a reckless person. The mountains can be a beautiful destination. Sometimes the mountains can be barriers to where we want to go. And some of those barriers are K2’s of our own making, towering anxiety without sufficient basis.

I don’t want to live a safe life in my own home. I want to see mountains. I want to enjoy the beauty in my life right now.

Tags anxiety, dreams, managing anxiety, mindfulness, stress

Categories Mindfulness

Given up

February 20, 2015 //

Never, never, never give up.
-Winston Churchill

Yesterday was Thursday, a clinic day for me. I had scheduled an interview with a 5 year old boy, a kindergartener at one of the local Catholic schools. I went out to the waiting room to greet his mother and him. “Hello, I’m Dr. Elizabeth.”

He looked up at me and I saw a black mark on his forehead. I immediately thought of Ash Wednesday, which had been the day prior. However, this was more of a defined mark than a smudge.

“Did you get a tattoo on your forehead for Ash Wednesday?”

And he had, a temporary one, in fact. It looked like the remnants of a larger tattoo, perhaps a red race car. The boy put it there because his ash smudge had worn off before he wanted it to.

I found this to be a rather delightful perspective and one that was very different from my time smudged memories of smudged foreheads past. I remember, as a teen, feeling very self-conscious about them. Teen like to call attention to themselves but typically not when it is an authority’s idea. I was taught that it was disrespectful to take the ashes off. They were to stay on until God, gravity, or the bed sheets, rubbed them off.

I was a pretty devout child and young woman. But I do remember taking it off once. I don’t remember quite how I did it because I would have wanted to make it look accidental or gradual. “Mom, I slipped in the bathroom and a hand towel that brushed past my forehead, broke my fall!” You know, some lame excuse like that.

Ash Wednesday is the first day of the Lenten season, which last 40 days. A strong theme of Lent is sacrifice, namely Jesus sacrificing his life to cleanse humanity of sin. As such, there are traditions of Lenten sacrifice. People “give up” meat (terrestrial animals) on Ash Wednesday and Fridays of Lent. There are fast days when people eat less, and more simple food than usual.

Then there is the question, “What are you giving up for Lent?” When my mother was a child, it was common to give up candy for Lent. She used to tell us how some kids “cheated” by putting their candy in a drawer during Lent but then binging on it as soon as Easter came. I don’t remember what I used to give up but I know that I did it. I remember having mixed feelings about the sacrifices of Lent, about giving up.

“Given up” has so many meanings. However, it typically connotes a loss or weakness.

We have given up when we make sacrifices for the greater good.

We have given up when we view ourselves as helpless and neglect our responsibilities to ourselves and to others.

We have given up when we accept painful realities, lessening suffering.

Only one of these examples involves passivity and weakness. The other two sources of “given up” require fortitude.

I no longer follow most Lenten rituals but in my 30’s, I decided that I would use it as a time to “give up” on things that were adding suffering to my life. I have attempted to give up guilt and impatience, for example. I knew that I really couldn’t totally give these things up but what I realize now is that I was working on being my mindful, less judgmental of myself and others, and thereby more accepting of myself and others.

Cancer is by no means a gift, but it certainly is a time for reflection on suffering and acceptance. When I decided to study mindfulness nearly three years ago, I had a much narrower definition and experience of it than I do currently. And currently, I believe that I have just scratched the surface.

I give up for freedom.

I give up for peace.

I give up for acceptance.

I give up to be who I am and where I am in this given moment of time.

And then I do this over and over and over. For as many opportunities that I have to repeat myself, I am most grateful.

Tags acceptance, Catholicism, Lent, mindfulness, sacrifice

Categories Mindfulness

The interview

February 13, 2015 //

We had our weekly “how to keep your shit together” class last Wednesday. We are currently completing a unit on emotion regulation, which basically centers on what to do when an emotion is so big that it needs to be reined in. The list of emotions that need regulating from time to time don’t include things like contentment. Instead, the list reads partly like the list of the Seven Deadly Sins with a surprise or two added: Jealousy, envy, anger, fear, sadness, disgust, guilt, shame, and LOVE, yes love. (Think of those times you may have had to break off a friendship because it was unhealthy.)

An emotion only lasts 30-40 seconds. Can you believe that? That’s not a very long time. They seem to last longer, sometimes hours or days, due to our response to them. If we are angry and start yelling, the yelling is going to keep the anger refiring in our brains. If we are sad and keep thinking hopeless and helpless thoughts, we also keep the sadness going.

We learned a particular emotion regulation skill, which is called, opposite action. It basically means finding a way to act in a way that is opposite to how your feelings prompt you to act. So if you are angry, instead of lashing out, you might be just a little bit nice by saying calmly, “I need to take a break from this conversation”, and leaving the room to calm yourself down. If you are feeling ashamed, it might mean that instead of isolating yourself, you go out in public and behave as if you have not violated whatever social norm your feelings are telling you that you have violated.

Opposite action is used when an emotional response does not line up with the facts of the situation or when our emotions are so high as to prevent us from functioning effectively. In respect to the former, have you ever felt guilty about something even though you’d done nothing wrong, but figured that you must have done SOMETHING because you felt guilty? That’s an example of an emotional response not lining up with the facts.

Opposite action also requires taking it all of the way. It means not only behaving in an opposite way but also making sure your nonverbal communication, your body language, facial expression, and tone of voice are opposite. Yes, this means faking it and there’s even the expression, “Fake it ’til you feel it.”

The acting part of this may rub people the wrong way. Personally, I kind of think about it like when we teach children to smile and thank their auntie with apparent sincerity when given a gift that they already have or don’t like. There are things we fake in order to prevent hurting other people. If we can use opposite action to disrupt the patterns we have of negative thoughts and behaviors, we can prevent ourselves from hurting our own feelings or of others. So this kind of faking makes sense to me.

It’s also kind of like a job interview. We may really want the job or we may not really want it. We may feel really nervous or unworthy. We may be struggling financially. But we put on our best face, stand up straight, act cordial and confident, and give a firm handshake. We act as though we like the person we are being interviewed by and are excited about the prospect of the job. And sometimes in the course of the interview as we learn more about the position and we may even start having some real enthusiasm or interest.

Everyday is like an interview with life. Each day I will work for jobs like compassion and joy.

Tags emotion regulation, opposite action

Categories Mindfulness

Your money or your mind

February 9, 2015 //

I remember reading Virginia Woolf’s, A Room of One’s Own, an assigned reading for a course I was taking at the University of Washington. I know it is a classic feminist text. I know that she was part of the Bloomsbury Group, a collection of intellectuals active in the early 20th century. I know that she wore pants at times. I know that she was played by Nicole Kidman in the excellent film adaptation of the book, The Hours, and that she died by suicide.

But frankly, when I read A Room of One’s Own, I missed a lot. I remember her paragraphs being reaaaaaaally long. I would find that I had decoded the words on two or three pages only to realize that I’d comprehended very little and was lost in this book long essay. I’d flip back through the book, begin reading again, and write notes in the margin, a critical thing for me to do when my mind wanders in reading.

But I did get her main message. She wrote about the importance of having time and space to write, something that most women not only did not have but were discouraged from having. A room of one’s own. A room to think and write and be. I also got that “a room of one’s own” has a figurative as well as literal meaning. We need a separate space and time for individuality. We need an identity apart from our relationships with others. As women, we need a relationship with ourselves that is apart from wife or mother. There may be ‘no “I” in team’ but there is an ‘I’ in “being” and all of us, male or female are beings.

As you know, I recently moved my private practice. One of the differences is that the current space has three offices instead of the previous two. That means all three of us, Jennie, Julie, and myself have an office to ourselves.

I have also mentioned that the rent for the new office space is nearly three times what the old office space was. Granted, the old office space was really inexpensive. But this is an increase that is easily noticed, especially since I hold the lease and it it the full rent that is automatically drawn from my bank account every month.

There is also the fact that although I work five days per week, I only see patients on three days per week. In the past, I have only had access to my office space for those three days. Now I have access every day of the week, whether I see patients or not.

There is an allure to subletting my office to another psychologist. This would reduce my monthly rent. At this point, however, I am strongly opposed to this. I have been reminded again and again during the last few years about how little control I have over my own life. I made what I thought was a beautiful workspace for my past office and I didn’t mind sharing it. But we lost it due to our lease not being renewed. I have now created another workspace and it, in my eyes, is lively but restful. And I want it to myself. I want to be able to go there any time I want to do report writing, pick up the mail, or just know I could go there anytime. I want to be able to get there in the morning and know that the room is exactly as I left it the night before. This is not because I am a control freak. It is just nice to know that this very thing is possible. It is also nice to know that if my life goes sideways again that I will have the flexibility to schedule patients on different days of the week. I will not be boxed into three days.

Yes, it is expensive but it is worth it at this point of time. I want my own time and my own space.

My money or my mind.

Before: The waiting room. This is how the waiting room looked the month before we started painting. The woman in the photo is my friend, Jennie.

Before: My office when it was used as a lab. This is the first glimpse I got of the space before we signed the lease.

After: The waiting room.

The hallway to my office. I loved the wall stickers!

Make yourself comfortable. This is the sitting area for interviewing, psychotherapy, and explaining test results.

Testing area. The wooden piece is front of my desk is a folding desk. I unfold it to combine with my larger desk top to make large enough surface for my testing materials.

I made a removable cover for the air conditioner because it was ugly. I bought the owl clock because it was handy and adorable.

The chicken and tree decals were inspired by the feeling of boredom I felt when I sat in the chairs across from the door of my office.

The purchase of the chicken and tree decals was inspired by the feeling of boredom I felt when I sat in the chairs across from the door of my office.

Tags A Room of One's Own, mindfulness, Sanity through interior decoration, Virginia Woolf

Categories Breast cancer, Family, Feelings, Mindfulness

The tease of ease

February 6, 2015 //

I am grateful for my blessings, really, I am. And I have a multitude of blessings. I work hard to be a happy and balanced person. Most of the time my daily life makes sense to me. Most of the time my responsibilities feel bearable. Sometimes, like today, I feel worn out. I feel like I am living a life that requires 150% of me. People, each of us only has one whole self, which is 100%. 110% only exists on those stupid business motivational posters.

One of the things that I tried to change about my life after my cancer diagnosis is expecting myself to work near 100% capacity every day. I need to rest like every one else. I need balance and rejuvenating experiences.

I have been working myself hard since November. Really really hard. My family life has been hard and my work life has been hard. My health, thank goodness, has been good.

When I was younger, working more than is healthy, held certain seductive powers. I felt accomplished, strong, and self-sacrificing, the last of which giving a moral edge or some kind of “get out of jail free card”.

It’s so easy to work too hard. It’s hard to rest, to have ease. I hate that. I hate that having ease takes so much damn work. Easy shouldn’t be hard but it is.

Last year, I had two periods, each a few days long, when I felt transported into a fun, easy world outside of my work and family responsibilities. Both times, I spent time with friends and mostly without my family. It was fantastic. It was easy. Then I got back to my normal life, which although rich with blessings and meaning, landed on me like a ton of bricks.

The work on moving my psychology office occurred over two major holidays, some tough parenting issues, and financial stress. It took a lot of time and money in amounts far exceeding what I wanted. Although I am very happy with the outcome, I am worn out. I need a break. Yesterday, I was working on some summer plans. They became complicated quickly. At this time and place in my life, it hit me hard and I was sad. I was disappointed. I was sad and disappointed not with myself or anyone else, but with the lack of ease in my life. I was teary when my husband came home. I explained in a few sentences. He totally understood; after all, we share a life together.

It’s not easy to be easy. I guess I will keeping working hard on that.

Tags Breast Cancer, Mental Health, Overwork, work/life balance

Categories Breast cancer, Family, Mindfulness, Parenting