Just One Thing

I get an email newsletter from Rick Hanson, a neuropsychologist and author of The Buddha's Brain, that "suggests a simple practice each week for more joy, more fulfilling relationships, and more peace of mind." You can sign up here if you're interested. But I also wanted to share the most recent piece that comes appropriately soon after my last post. It's all about criticism and being judged, and how you're going to be judged anyway so it doesn't much matter. It also shares some ways to deal with the criticism depending on the situation.

The Practice 

Relax, you're going to be criticized.

Why?

The title of this practice is a little tongue-in-cheek. What I mean is, most of us - me included - spend time worrying about criticism: past, present, and even future. Yes, try hard, keep agreements, "don't be evil," etc. But sooner or later - usually sooner - someone is going to point out the error in your ways. Often in subtle versions that still have an implicit criticism, such as giving advice, helping or teaching when you don't really need it, making corrections, comparing you negatively to others, or focusing on the one tile in the mosaic of your actions that's problematic while staying mum about the 99 other good tiles.

In other words, criticism is unavoidable. Sometimes we take it in with good grace, other times it stings, and sometimes both are true. As profoundly social human animals, it is natural for criticism to sting sometimes. But whatever sting is inherent, we add to this pain with the jabs we give ourselves.

This "bonus pain" - a self-inflicted wound - includes continuing the criticism inside your head long after the other person has moved on. Or pounding on yourself way out of proportion to what happened; on the highly technical 0-10 Messing Up Silly Scale (MUSS), what you did was a 2 but on the related 0-10 Fiercely Undoing Self-worth Scale (FUSS), you are lambasting yourself at a 5 or even 10: not fair at all. Or ignoring all your many other good qualities - the other 99 tiles - while ruminating about the criticism.

We also jab ourselves with needless pain when we brace ourselves against possible future criticism, or play needlessly small to avoid it. In many cases, the criticism is never going to happen or it's very unlikely or even if it did happen it would not be a big deal. We tend to transfer into adulthood expectations we acquired as children, or as younger adults. Maybe there was a lot of criticism from someone back then but you're probably in a different place today. I've spent way too much of my life hunkering down or over-preparing to preempt an anticipated shaming attack . . . that would not occur anyway.

And even if the criticism does come, will it actually be the terrible experience you dread? Usually not. You can roll with it, take what's useful, form your own conclusions about the person making the criticism, learn and move on. Accepting criticism as inevitable and refusing to live under its shadow will free you up and make you happier.

How?

When criticism, even subtle, comes your way, pause and try to sort it out in your own mind so you're sure you understand it. Sometimes criticism is narrow and specific, but often it's vague, general, and has multiple things mixed up in it (e.g., some statements are accurate but others are exaggerated, tone, content, rationale, values). Slow down the interaction so it doesn't go off the rails. The ancient emotion centers in the brain get about a two second head start over the more recent logical centers, so buy yourself some time for all the resources inside your head to come on line. Meanwhile, shore yourself up by thinking about people who like or love you, and by remembering some of the many ways you do good and are good.

Once you understand the criticism in its parts and aspects, make your own unilateral decision about it. A fair amount of the criticism that comes your way is flat out mistaken. The other person is wrong on the facts or doesn't understand the larger context. Think of the many scientific theories that were initially scorned but have proven correct over time.

Of the criticism that remains, some is preferences or values disguised as thoughtful suggestions. For example, when you're driving, suppose the passenger says you should slow down or speed up when actually you are perfectly safe and the other person just likes it slower or faster. Some people value closeness more than others; just because you like more cave time than your partner doesn't make you cold or rejecting; nor is your partner smothering or controlling; it's just a difference in values: grounds for inquiry, compassion, and negotiation, but not criticism.

Another chunk of criticism coming at you is thoughtful suggestions disguised as moral fault finding; now your passenger says you should be ashamed of yourself for endangering others when in fact all you need to do is back off another couple of car lengths from the car in front of you on the freeway; you're not reckless but could be more skillful.

Then there is that which is worthy of healthy remorse. It's up to you to decide what this part is. Feel what's appropriate, learn the lesson, make amends if they're called for, know that you've done what you could, ask yourself how much remorse or shame you'd want a friend to bear who did whatever you did, and then see if you can ask no more or less from yourself.

Knowing that you can handle criticism in these ways, let yourself be more open to it. Don't stonewall or intimidate others who have a criticism for you; then it just festers or bursts out in other ways.

But also don't walk on eggshells to avoid trouble (unless you're in a dangerous situation, which is a different sort of problem) or obsess or over-plan to make sure you make no mistakes. A close friend is an extremely successful professor at a top-of-the-food-chain elite university, and I asked him once what led to his success. He said that while his colleagues/competitors were perfecting their one paper, he was finishing three of his own; one of these would be rejected for publication, one would come back with corrections he could make, and one would be accepted immediately; then when the inevitable criticisms did come down the road, he'd already moved on to his next three papers.

Mostly, just recognize that criticism in its various forms and flavors (and smells) is a fact of life. So be it. Our lives and this world have bigger problems, and much bigger opportunities. Time to live more bravely and freely.

Welcome back, Anxiety

“To venture causes anxiety, but not to venture is to lose one's self.... And to venture in the highest is precisely to be conscious of one's self.”
― Søren Kierkegaard

Anxiety. It rears its ugly head in defense as I make my venture. I say defense because it sees this venture as an offensive move against myself. I make attempts to engage with my world, and something still screams out inside of me, hide, run, be silent. Even writing this post is nerve-wracking, as I diligently choose my words and attempt to compose a string of prose worthy of exposure. This need for a sense of worthiness is key. I'll be getting to that. The anxiety I experience tends to prey upon self-esteem in that manner.

At times when the anxiety is at its heights, for instance, during my first semester in grad school last year, it has a tendency to interfere with my functioning in multiple ways. First, I let negative thoughts and ruminations creep in. These can manifest as self-deprecating beliefs, i.e. I'm not articulate enough, I'm faking it, Nobody will take me seriously, or as excuses to avoid doing something scary, i.e. I don't really need to take care of that yet, The traffic will be terrible, What if I get stuck in line?. The self-deprecating beliefs make it really difficult to take part in discussion threads for class because it makes it nerve-wracking to put my opinions out there. Another way is that I second guess myself. I can get confused about how long I should attempt to figure something out for myself and when I should ask for help. Why not just ask for help when it occurs to me? Because I second guess whether I need help or not. This also affects just basic communication with others. I can over think what I have to share with someone and after countless drafts, end up not saying it at all simply because it's so anxiety inducing to have what's in my head up for judgment. I am absolutely aware that I am creating my own world where all this judgment is flying around. I understand that it's really not what matters even if there is someone who wants to judge (haters gonna hate, right?). And there is the matter of worthiness. When anxiety heightens, my sense of worthiness slinks subtly away. Why isn't what I have to say in discussion as worthy as the next person's? Why am I not as worthy as the next shopper to take up space in an aisle while selecting a product? Anxiety doesn't think logically this way.

I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of making a big deal out of things. I'm tired of second guessing myself and living in self doubt. I'm really determined to start doing those things anyway. Noticing the fear, breathing deep with it, and carrying on with my task. Because I have ventures to go on. I have a lot of tasks I'd like to accomplish. Screw you, anxiety, I don't have time for you.

Coming into focus

While the semester doesn't begin until August 25, my first course, Online Learning, opens today. This is basically a quick course designed to get students familiar with learning, discussing and collaborating online and be familiar with the tools to do so. So I hopped online this morning to get oriented and see what I could start on! One of the first discussions I came across was titled "Introduce Yourself". Only the instructor and peer mentor for the course had posted so far, but in the half dozen paragraphs of the instructor's introduction, I learned that my dream job exists. Not directly exactly, but I learned that the instructor currently is a medical librarian, helping connect health professionals to the newly developing resources and information in the field. And I was intrigued. That is exactly what I want to do for mental health professionals and patients. If there is a position like that in the health field, then surely there is in the mental health field. And sure enough, in my online search, I found a site for the Association of Mental Health Librarians which I absolutely intend to join. This is just what I had been looking for, and it puts the pieces together for a clearer picture of what I am striving for.

Furthermore, my mind has been full of activity. Remember when I mentioned my brain felt dull and I was worried about getting into the swing of things? Well, I've been practicing using it much much more in the past two months, gobbling up news articles and opinion pieces, blog posts, and then having meaty, meaningful chat conversations about it all with my friend over Skype. It's like I just had a little slump in learning how to be analytical without being judgmental. I'm more than ready to dive into the material and participate in discussions, very eager in fact. I've got ideas, and I'm not afraid to share them!

Dreams evolved

What do you write about when no words will come? And how do you care for yourself when no thoughts come either and you maybe judge yourself a little for it? And what if all the thoughts that come to you, you really shouldn't or aren't prepared to share? This is my conundrum. Well, I'll just ramble for a bit.

I've been spending my days learning about the MLIS program at San Jose State. The website is extensive, with dozens of blogs and resources on topics from career development, internships, and student research to info for new students on registration, study tips, and how to succeed at doing all of this learning and collaborating with other students all online. My excitement level is rising as I learn about many different opportunities for library and information professionals, often in positions without "library" or "librarian" in the title. So, while it would be fun to be a Librarian, there's a good chance I'll end up being a "librarian" by another name. Which would still be just as sweet. I still have my dark-rimmed glasses and brightly colored cardigans.

Tucked in the back of my brain while I explore all of this is a conversation I had with my former therapist regarding the two directions my ambitions were drawn toward-becoming a therapist, or becoming a librarian. She had me sit there first with one idea, then with the other, making sure to observe what feelings arose. At the time, the passions were stirred more while I held the idea of being a therapist, how challenging yet fulfilling that felt as I attempted to experience it as realistically as possible. Yet, here I am entering school for librarianship. Because I am so ready to. And while the memory of my therapist's voice is there asking me what changed, ultimately it is myself I've had to have the conversation with. So what changed? I asked myself. I paused. I sat a lot and thought. I sat a lot and DIDN'T think. I sat with the different dreams I still have. I still dream of providing therapy or counseling. I still dream of being a librarian. In fact, I dream of both these things so much, there MUST be a way to combine them. My big conglomerate of a dream is to be in a position to distribute mental health resources and information. It'd also be nice if I could do this with other people of the same mindset, people driven by loving kindness and compassion. I still dream, oh yes, I do. My dream hasn't changed so much as my dreamS have evolved together into something even more tangible, even more realistic as I sit with the idea.

The best part is I don't have to figure it out all at once and I'm on a path that's going to teach me a lot and give me a better idea about how I can apply what I'm learning. I'm still interested in eventually getting a second masters degree in counseling. I'm still interested in checking out public school or academic libraries, as well. And the other best part is I don't have to wait for the *perfect* job to practice lovingkindness and compassion toward all beings. I don't have to go to school to learn how to be kind and patient with people, or how to offer encouragement and joy and really listen to people, or how to open up and really acknowledge another's suffering. I can start right now, where I am.

How to write (well)

If I knew this, I'd have many more blog posts with lots of ideas all nestled neatly into place. But somewhere, I stopped being good at organizing my thoughts and presenting an articulate argument like I could in school. I realized this just recently when I asked my sister-in-law, who teaches English lit and writing classes at University of Washington-Tacoma, to give me an essay prompt because I was bored. I can't even quite remember the prompt fully, I'm so out of practice. Something about American literature, Robert B. Ray, and "rejection of final choice". (I'm sure she's cringing if she's reading this right now.) I decided on the character I would write about and then only mused in my head about him, not even knowing where to start. I used to have the English essay down. I could write 7 pages up in a night if I had to (and I usually had to, the procrastinator I was/am). In the end, my papers weren't perfect, but I could sure argue a point with plenty of text to support it if I had to. This scares me at a time I'm preparing to go back to school. Can I still have an intelligent discussion? Do my reading comprehension skills still measure up? Am I really just out of practice? Have I been so busy ingesting information and knowledge that I've forgotten how to chew it up and process it?

Then I remember that I have been doing a much different kind of learning lately than I did in college. I'm learning more about the empathic, compassionate, emotional, altruistic side of me, not the analytical critic. The critic became too intertwined with my self-esteem to be taken seriously anymore. It was useful with developing my papers, but I had started silently writing argumentative papers against myself and it was no longer serving a purpose other than to squash my dreams and incite fear. So the critic's been given a nice leave of absence because it just seemed it had been working so gosh darn hard that it really *needed* a long vacation. I will invite it back soon. Because acknowledging its voice can teach me something new. And because I have been preparing to have it rejoin the team. I have been inciting my dreams and squashing my fear. I have been silencing those thoughts that tell me I'm doing everything wrong. I have been developing the encourager, the nurturer, the inner parent that says I'm alright just as I am. Not just alright, but pretty awesome. It's good to have this person around just as it is to have a voice that questions things sometimes.

So because of all this learning and growing and realizing I'm doing, I naturally want to share all the methods and ideas and personal truths that I come across and that make sense to me in this process, but I'm so caught up in engorging on it that all I can do is share the ideas as they are, without giving my interpretation, judgment, or opinion. Because I am still processing. I am a process. I am not done processing. And even when I am done processing, I think I'd rather just describe my process, rather than explain it. That would assume too much about what has been a very personal journey. In the end, I do want to be a resource and to share resources that other soul-searchers might find beneficial, but I don't want to preach it. And I'm really not 100% sure how to go about it. I'm increasingly confident as I read up and prepare myself for grad school, that I can surely take this passion and blend it with an MLIS degree. Which will involve organizing my thoughts and presenting articulate arguments, so let the practice begin with blogging!

Emotional evolution

Along my emotional journey, I've noticed I'm partial to the good times and try desperately to change or "fix" the bad times. I'm sure this tendency is probably familiar to many. One of the biggest things I work on personally is strengthening my ability to cope through rough patches, so that I do not have this instinct to make everything instantly OK. Instead of turning to something else, or trying to ignore it, or even worse, denying what I'm experiencing, I've been increasingly able to sit with whatever it is, and have been opening up to a whole new experience of living. Suffering, to me, happens when I have a preference against my actual experience. If I'm feeling lonely or offended or guilt-ridden, I tend to want to feel otherwise, happier a lot of people would say. There is this obsession with achieving happiness and maintaining it, as if it is the only emotion to experience. What I want is to be able to hold out through the loneliness, through the offense, through the guilt, through the anxiety AND through the happiness.

I've currently been processing an evolution of emotions from a particular event that has been an opportunity to practice some different exercises and activities as a means of staying present instead of resorting to escaping or fixing. Initially I turn to my mindfulness practice with a walking or sitting meditation. A great resource in exploring this practice has been Wherever You Go, There You Are by Jon Kabat-Zinn. I'm also utilizing some techniques as presented in the books Buddha's Brain and Just One Thing by neuropsychologist Rick Hanson. I've also been working through The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook for Bipolar Disorder and have a couple other Dialectical Behavior exercises I learned from my previous therapist.

This last book almost demands an aside, but it is important enough to the story to tell it unparanthetically. While the book indicates it is for Bipolar Disorder, I very much recommend it for anyone for the Dialectical Behavior Therapy alone, though there is a workbook available for the general public. I've picked it up recently on a heavy suggestion from my current therapist because I have been diagnosed with type 2 bipolar disorder. The bipolar spectrum is largely misunderstood. When I hear the term, I usually think of a few friends with bp that didn't have their shit together, and life was typically chaotic for them and those around them, though I have many more friends with bp who do a healthy job of managing it. Other people tend to think of severe mood swings or erratic behavior and distorted beliefs. But really, the intensity of the symptoms and frequency of episodes fall on a spectrum. For me, I qualify as type 2 simply because I typically lie in the depressive phase and I've had at least one hypomanic episode--meaning I had symptoms that were similar to yet milder than mania that did not cause a significant decrease in my basic ability to work and play, and lacked the psychotic features of mania. I'll spare you the details and let you do your own research if you're curious, but I highly encourage anyone who has heard some of the stereotypes to find out more. One very powerful, both autobiographical and professional view on it is An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison.

Knowing this about myself is my greatest resource when processing this onslaught of varying emotions. Being aware and having a better understanding of the psychology behind my behavior and emotions gives me greater authority over it. I am not my emotions, I am much more than that. I am also the executive functioning that decides whether to act or not over an emotion. I am also the choice I make to sit with or try and escape the emotion. What I've discovered working through the grief, hurt, anger, confusion, and anxiety is the pockets of peace, letting go, compassion, love and acceptance. By sitting with all of it, I've experienced more fully and also am reminded that we are in a constant state of flux. That each emotion continues to change and morph as you feel it, that if you give it enough time and attention it will turn into something else. Pain will keep on nagging you if you try to ignore it, but if you sit with it, you give it the attention you might give a screaming baby. You soothe it, you nurture it, and you validate its existence. Then you work with it as it is, whether or not it stops screaming immediately. This goes for the positive emotions too, so I find myself trying more and more to savor those moments.

I find myself more curious and inquisitive about my state of being at any given moment. It's been fascinating to observe the evolution of emotions over time; to watch them emerge, grow, retreat and turn to something new. This observation has facilitated a new perspective: that I can sit with and experience an emotion at the same time I can be aware of it and its affect on me. By not trying to escape the discomfort, I find myself experiencing life more fully, more multifacetedly.

2012

Two ouch hand elf. So were the final gestures that helped me communicate the movie “2012” to my charades teammates. It was a time so long before 2012 was real. Longer still, now that 2012 is a memory too. But I do remember it being a moment I felt so much just for myself. At that moment, I was content with myself, where I was, who I was with. I longed for nothing, except perhaps to forget things from the past. I was with kind and joyful people with real people lives and problems, but we were all there together and I was content to settle into it.*** I have my brother and his (new) wife (but longtime partner) to thank for that. It was my brother, Nick, who really helped me transition after moving to Berkeley. A few rooms were opening up in the house he had been renting with five others at the same time I was accepted to UC Berkeley. He introduced me to people and I learned about the different ways of being a friend. and not a friend. And it was him that I continued to grow a friendship with. While other friendships came and went, the love and encouragement of my brother was persistent and loyal. I had not fully realized the magnitude of the transition, but his moving to the east coast towards the end of 2012 has had one of the biggest impacts on me recently. I am only so grateful to have been able to take a mini road trip with him to Southern California last August. He is surprised to hear when I tell him he is encouraging. He has no idea. Sometimes, it feels like he is my biggest fan, rooting for me all the way. I realize now my entire family is rooting for me all the way. ALL the way. (thank you, family, I love you deeply)*** But then new amazing people come into our lives, and with all the amazingness, we must learn to adjust ourselves, and get along in a new capacity. 2012 was a big year of change for me, except that looking from the outside, most wouldn’t notice. In my last post, I mentioned a little about confronting demons within, learning my own personal boundaries, and opening up to authenticity of the self. I had met Andy at the end of 2009, but it felt like we’d been together much longer. Having lived together a year by mid 2012, and about to embark on a European adventure, as well as a Bay Area adventure with a move to the south bay, we were venturing into pretty new territory. My internal self was aroil. I didn’t understand my feelings, and was even scared of them and what they meant. I was scared of how I wanted to react in response to my feelings. At the same time, I had just quit my job at the bookstore with no amount of social energy to spare. Indeed, I was concerned about a potential mental breakdown. Other events a whole year and a half before led me to seek help for depression and social anxiety.*** Depression may not come as a shock. Depression is a common temporary state and less so but still common is chronic depression, and in this economy, I imagine there are many depressed people out there struggling that do not seek help. It is absolutely a human condition, and it is absolutely treatable. My depression is often triggered by social anxiety, and vice versa. Working in retail again drained all social energy from my being, challenged my nonexistent or blurry boundaries, triggered anxiety. I would snap at Andy after coming home at night, not even wanting to say a word about my day, much less ask about his. I stopped going out to shows in the evening, not because I couldn’t make them, but because I didn’t want to do anything except go home after work. I stopped making plans with friends. I stopped saying “yes” to invites, but feeling terrible while doing so. The store felt soul sucking. I experienced a wide range of moods there, but the most popular were either charming and upbeat or taciturn, curt, and dejected. I let my customers affect me too much. I let my employers affect me too much.*** There are a few with whom I’ve shared about my social anxiety and they are surprised, almost shocked even, to hear that I struggle with something I appear to enjoy so much. Because in fact, they tell me, whenever they see me, I am friendly, sociable, and and a good listener. But these are all qualities that maybe spur on social anxiety in some people. In me at least. And last year I got to learn some things about myself. Sometimes I listen ALL too well. Sometimes I can’t shut off all the things to listen to and notice. The key to this ends up being that I don’t go to large gatherings too often. I enjoy a lot of alone time. A LOT. I have trouble making phone calls and I don’t have long chats that often either. The exceptionally unfortunate part about this is that I really LOVE people. I am fascinated by them. I want to help them. I want to hang around them. Other times, I am frightened of them, even angry. I think we can all attest to feeling this range of emotions toward other humans. Whatever it is, people have a strong affect on my emotional state, and it makes them so much more curious to me. When I really let my guard down, I realize how much empathy I am feeling and it is no wonder that I shut down or react defensively. Because I am such a little empath, and because I didn’t know how to differentiate between others’ turmoil and my own, I either would hurt hurt hurt or hate hate hate. People show their pain and anger in all sorts of ways. We are such complex creatures (did I say SO FASCINATING??). Often times, anger is a protective measure against feeling all the hurt in the world, and I was very much doing this and spreading more hurt. (Why is it so hard to spread compassion?)*** After still struggling with emotion regulation, and experiencing a major depressive episode after moving, my therapist decided to get me on medication. I’d put in the effort of 2 years of going it alone (no not alone! I had a team-Andy and my therapist and family-rooting for me). So in September, I started taking Zoloft, one of the most popular SSRIs (antidepressants) out there. I never thought I’d be one to glorify drugs, but it really was my savior. I was pulled out of a deep pit of coiling cloud and fog and though I could now see the unfamiliar island my pit was on, I had the sight and the gumption to move forward, to get off the island. Before I was just in a pit, and the first step was to get out of it. I also described it as a head inside a bigger head, and the bigger head started cracking and the smaller head could finally see out, could finally move out. Even now not in it, it is harder to describe. And it is hard enough to describe while in it. Even my dreams changed after starting the Zoloft. Instead of running through maze-like buildings, being chased by someone I could never quite see, getting lost in a sea of faces that seemed familiar but I couldn’t remember upon waking, I started dreaming outside in the open. I started walking, not running. I roamed the neighborhood and walked all night. Sometimes I would walk so much I would wake up tired, but rejuvenated, like just being outside in my dreams was something to relish. I think the dramatic change in dreams was the most fascinating to me.*** I couldn’t have asked for a more colorful year. Well, one more thing happened...Andy and I got engaged! And I couldn’t feel luckier and happier. Even before the engagement we’d already been deep in conversation about marriage. Being engaged and getting married is kind of like a short cut. It says “HEY I DIG THIS PERSON SO MUCH, I WANT TO BE WITH THEM, I WANT TO LEARN AND GROW WITH THEM, I WANT TO LIVE LIFE WITH THEM.”*** Because this world is beautiful and scary and confusing and amazing and it is such a wonderful thing to have a teammate in it.