WE ALL FALL DOWN

Walking through life, placing one foot in front of the other, we sometimes trip.  Maybe it’s a small stumble accompanied with an awkward flailing of our limbs.  We may swear under our breath at the offending obstacle in the road or perhaps laugh at the performance of our less than graceful “ballet”.  Sometimes we teeter through an uneven stretch, barely managing to keep our balance until we arrive at smoother terrain and continue on with a confidant stride.  And then there are those times we get pulled, shoved, kicked, tackled or sometimes just misplace a step, causing us to lose our balance and crash to the ground. We all fall down. We may cry from the pain and shock or shake our fists in rage. We may feel embarrassed that others witnessed our pavement dive. Or damn our-selves for causing our cuts and scrapes.  It’s okay to sit a bit and compose oneself.  Sometimes these tumbles are a chance to reflect on the way we’re moving along on our journey. Perhaps we need to pay closer attention to what’s in front of us or adjust our pace. But don’t linger on the ground too long. (If grass or mud stains set, they’re impossible to get out)  Get up, shake it off and keep moving, even if you have to drag a twisted appendage.  (Find a dolly to place it on!) Or like the elderly lady in the Life Alert commercial, yell for assistance if you need it. Because life does not stop, it moves on and we must move on with it. There’s always good stuff up ahead and you’ll never get to if you let a temporary tumble keep you down. 

 

Babies cry when they fall down

Tears come streaming out

Until the candy arrives

 

THE DOUGHNUT HOLE OF THE SOUL

I was watching a television show called Hoarders which caused me to reflect on a former patient. I’ll call him Rex. Rex had a consumption problem. I don’t mean he suffered from T.B., I’m referring to his rotund figure and house full of purchases.  His pants were tight, his home stuffed (with stuff) and his mailbox clogged with bills. He was like the doughnuts he loved so much; completely round with a hole in the middle. And he had an insatiable need to fill that void.

We all feel incomplete to varying degrees.  And that’s not necessarily a bad thing, it can actually lead to a fuller life.  Without a sense of wanting more we would revel in our singularity and never attempt to connect with our surroundings and others.  And what a dull game of solitaire that would be! The problem for Rex was he reached outside himself, not to make connections, but to grab and eat and buy and hoard in order to fill the hole. He was letting his feeling of incompleteness control him. But no matter how much he consumed the void wouldn’t shrink. So he had to talk to one…a shrink that is… Sorry, a little therapist humor…very little…do I hear crickets?

I worked with Rex to build his self-esteem. If he could learn how to accept and appreciate himself, he wouldn’t need the #1, #2, #5 and #7 combos at the Taco Bell drive-through or a third set of Sham-Wows.  I had him look in a mirror and talk to himself (see my earlier blog entry on self-connection), write encouraging letters to his inner child and we role-played. I stood in as his perfectionist mother, Lillian, so he could express long buried feelings.

Let’s just say, the sight of a sobbing, 300 lb man dressed head to toe in Spring Collection Hugo Boss throwing a chair across a room is quite awesome.

In time Rex understood he didn’t need a mountain of QVC merchandise or a cart full of Stouffer frozen dinners to feel full and sated.  He already possessed self love, compassion and acceptance at his true center, which was not a black hole, but more like a well, which he could dip into and drink. (I like to think of my own well filled with Kiwi-Lime punch and on special occasions, a splash of Captain Morgan). And as Rex felt the emptiness shrink, so did his waistline. He’s now a toned 180 lb man living in a sleek, minimalist house.

After our last session Rex sent me a box of Dunkin Donuts Munchkins as a thank you. It made me smile.  I knew he would be okay.  (The cinnamon ones were delicious, by the way.)

Some Haikus:

I am all I need
In order to be happy
Though cash is a plus

When you feel empty
Don’t fill up on low grade fuel
Bad gas hurts us all

I possess a Well
It is deep inside of me
That’s why I’m dewy

 

THE LUNATIC IN THE TOWER

I watched the film Jane Eyre the other night and it got me thinking.

 Most of us have a room inside our self that’s locked and located at the end of a long, dark hall in the East tower.  We know about it, because we hear the screams at night, when the moon is full and it’s raining…and windy. (Always the damned wind.)  But we don’t dare enter. It’s the room where we keep our misshapen, half mad and downright socially dysfunctional other self.  He or she ain’t pretty and we don’t want anyone to see them.  (WE don’t want to see them!) But they exist, and it’s important to acknowledge them.  This is difficult and scary, we don’t want to get bitten or scratched, but if we don’t go into the room and have a sit down from time to time, they’ll keep screaming or sometimes even slip the latch.  And because they’re socially dysfunctional, they have a tendency to do this at the worst possible time, like the Thanksgiving Day table at Aunt Mildred’s or your sister’s wedding reception.

 Some people never lock the door to their room so the lunatic has free range of the manor.  This is not healthy.   It’s like letting a five year old drive a train when they’re high on soda and Gummy Bears and haven’t napped in three days.  They don’t have the skills to be on their own.  Now, I want to be clear.  I’m not talking about homicidal psychotics.  If anyone has one of those in residence, they should join them behind a securely locked door at a psychiatric hospital.   I’m talking about the imperfect, irrational, sometimes angry and childish person who is our darker self.  This pockmarked, lopsided individual just needs to be acknowledged.  They may not be pleasant to behold, but they are a part of us and need a little understanding and acceptance.  We like to groom and present our attractive, charming persona to the world as if it’s the only heir to the estate, but poor, ugly Igor is just as much of our blood and bones. If we sit down, look them in the eye, listen and come to understand them, we can calm and comfort them when they start banging their head against the door. And this way we can avoid a lot of headaches…actually, all kinds of aches.

 

Floating and Fuzzy

Sometimes I feel fuzzy.  I’m not talking about cotton related fuzzy, I mean mentally and emotionally fuzzy and unfocused, like drifting on the stream of life in an inner-tube with no paddle or outboard motor.  Sometimes floating can be enjoyable and relaxing, but one needs to be careful not to drift right by opportunities and experiences worth, well, experiencing. Before you know it you’re someplace you didn’t intend to be and your skin is becoming pruney.

 How do we propel ourselves? We all possess motors which we can lash to our inner-tubes.  These motors are called desires. But desires alone can cause us to move around in circles or figure eights or sometimes even capsize.  Along with desire we need direction, a goal or a destination, that our desires can move us toward. It doesn’t have to be a far away, exotic Port of Call.  It can be a short distance, perhaps a stop-over on a longer trip. Pick up a few trinkets and then move on. Having a destination gives one a purpose.  Don’t be afraid to choose a point and move toward it.  Destinations can change.  If you’re putting along and see a more interesting shore, you can change course.  You are the Captain of your own inner-tube after all. 

 But how does one choose a destination, especially when one feels unfocused?  Make a list.  What do you like to do, what are you good at, is there something you’d like to accomplish?  Writing it down where you have to literally focus your eyes on the words can help you choose a goal. Give it a try!  And don’t write down what you “think” you should do or what others would like for you to do.  It’s your voyage!  No pirates allowed! Hoist the flag and prepare for adventure!

 Haikus:

 Laying in a field
Drifting clouds pass over me
Hope it doesn’t rain

Staring at a stream
Water trickles over stones
Must find a bathroom

Waves move me to shore
Natives gather to greet me
Is that a large pot?

 

Hibernation

The Snow falls, the wind howls and the seductive siren’s call of your comforter beckons from the bedroom. To snuggle in its protective folds and wile away the hours eating Little Debbie Moon Pies is your only desire. That and maybe a foot rub.

It’s Winter and life slows. At least its meant to. Instead of heeding Mother Nature we push on to keep up the pace. Trudging through the ice and snow to get to work, keep appointments, run errands and then return home to burn the midnight oil. If we feel a bit sleepier than usual, we chastise ourselves for being “lazy”. If we don’t feel like going to the gym after work, a pang of shame is felt at the piling on extra pounds.

It’s Winter! The season of rest! What happened to the days of stocking up so we could spend the cold months huddled in front of the fire eating smoked meats, dried fruit and preserves? Why don’t we climb into bed when the sun sets, conserving our heating and lighting resources, not to mention our own physical energy. Yes, we live in the modern age and are not likely to starve from running out of food before April. We have shelves of Moon Pies at the grocery store, and light bulbs aren‘t as expensive or hard to come by as whale blubber oil, but with progress we left behind some of our very nature. We are mammals, after all, (some of us) and therefore a part of the animal kingdom. We’re actually suppose to take a little break during the Winter so we can start fresh in the Spring. It’s a cycle and we should be riding it.

I write this as a reminder, like a string around one’s finger, if one has a finger. I’ve been beating myself up for not writing my blog. Yes, I’ve been remiss at dispensing advise and I apologize to my readers. I have tried to compose entries, but each time words escape me and I become heavy lidded. All I’ve wanted to do was lay under downy blankets and snooze. I know I’m a sock, and not an official member of the mammal species, but I have a heart and a soul and I’m affected by the harsh behavior of Old Man Winter and his minion Jack Frost. I need to feel at peace with the fact that I’m not pushing ahead at full steam. Right now the only steam in my life comes from a hot cup of tea. And that’s okay. And it’s okay for you as well. Don’t feel down if you haven’t accomplished  anything you’ve set out to do after uttering your New Year’s resolutions. Everything in its time. You, as well as I, will begin to rally as the days begin to lengthen. It’s as nature intends. When the sun strengthens, so will we and our drive to create, work, and fully participate in activities will return. Until then, enjoy the extra cushion of your added pounds as you wrap them in a Snuggie and succumb to the seduction of that HD TV you got for Christmas or Hanukkah.  

 

EENY MEENY MINY MO

 

Peanut butter swirled brownie or crumbly square of peach cobbler?

I went with the cobbler. And as I sit in this cyber coffee shop typing away and enjoying my little square of heaven, I’m reminded of how many choices we make on any given day. When I was trapped in the back of that dryer, I had few choices. Sleep or bang on the side of the damned contraption. Eat a bit of granola bar or stretch it out and save it for later. But now that I’m free and the world lays open before me, life presents one choice after another. Do I sleep late or get up? The green tie or the red? Do I yell at the guy who just cut me off or count to ten and turn on the Classical station? Each choice we make adds up to our lives. Some choices are made consciously and other subconsciously. Not making a decision is a choice in itself. When do we know if we’re making the right choice? Sometimes we don’t.
Sometimes we make a choice and get a solid, warm feeling in the gut. I like that kind. It makes my tummy toasty. And there’s nothing like a warm, toasty sock.

Sometimes we’re afraid to make a choice because it might be the “wrong” choice. But remember, life is a journey and sometimes we take side roads and discover lovely spots we’d never knew existed if we’d stuck to the main road. Sometimes we get stuck on a pitted, pot-holed stretch of dirt, but we learn not to do that again. Well, sometimes we learn. Sometimes we have to have our liver jiggled around a few times before we learn not to take that turn. The most important thing is to have a dream or goal and move toward it with the choices you make. It might take you a while, but keep choosing and moving.

I feel some Haikus coming on….

The candy calls me
“Pick me, no pick me, pick me”
I eat all of them

Daisies in a field
Wave at me in the warm breeze
I pluck one and sneeze

So many channels
I click the remote to choose
I like Judge Judy

 

 

Beneath the Surface

Hello.  I realize you haven’t heard from me.  I apologize, but I was stuck in an unfortunate situation.  Literally. As a sock, I perform my toiletries in the laundry room or laundry mat.  Well, I somehow got sucked into the back of a dryer.  No matter how much I yelled and hit the back of the machine I could not get out. I spent a few lonely months in a small, cramped space with three socks and a pair of underwear.  I’d heard of this land of missing socks, now I know it truly exists.  You may wonder why I was lonely since I had companions.  Well, they were not self-actualized individuals like myself, and therefore could not express themselves.  They lay there quietly accepting their circumstances. I, on the other hand, felt as if I were in jail locked in solitary confinement for some unknown infraction.  I survived on a ration of half a granola bar and a few Tic Tacs which had also been sucked into the vortex. 

After My initial panic subsided and I had exhausted myself struggling against the machine, I slept.  When I woke I realized I was utterly alone.  When we are stripped of our trappings, separated from the relationships and objects which define us in the world, we are faced with ourselves.  Our essence.  Our core.  And some really weird thoughts.  The mind must be occupied, and let me tell you, my mind is a hyperactive five year old on M&Ms and Orange Crush.  The mind is quite a reserve.  Everything you’ve ever experienced is filed away, and I rifled through every folder in the cabinets.  Some thoughts were pleasant, warm memories.  Others were shudder inducing.  I believe the lack of proper nutrition may have played a role in those more disturbing thoughts and dreams.  I know I’ll never look at Snuggles the fabric softening bear the same way again.  After a few weeks of my mind clanging like a pinball machine, an odd thing occurred.  It began to quiet down.  A strange calm came over me and I began wondering “who am I”?  Underneath all the layers and ego, what or who am I?  And I realized at my deepest core I am energy, not unlike static.  We’re all at our core pure energy.  We’re just wrapped in individual packages.  And its this energy which draws and connects us to one another.  This brought me comfort.  I may be a sock, but I’ve got energy, I’ve got what some would call a soul!  I explored this new realization for weeks. (I think it was weeks, I lost all sense of time)  Then I started to panic again.  I needed connection!  I had to get out of this predicament before my energy flickered and expired!

I began yelling and hitting the machine.  And this time my cries were heard by a kindly Ukrainian repairman named Serge.  He opened the back of the machine and I tumbled out, weak, squinting and oh so grateful.  I think I may have frightened Serge as he made the sign of the cross and backed away. Knowing some Russian, I told him who I was and what had happened.  He invited me home to have dinner with his family.  Serge understood.  I may have appeared strange to him, a talking sock, but he connected with my spark, my like energy, the energy we all share.  It’s the source of what creates communities. 

That night I dined on borscht and stuffed cabbage, then Serge and I smoked cigars on his porch.  We stared at the stars and I felt grateful to see the sky again.  So many stars all twinkling their energy toward Earth.

 

Handling the Boss from Hell or Mr. Beelzebub wants the report TODAY!

If you’ve been an adult for a number of years, you’ve probably held a few jobs. Most of us experience our first around the age of 16. Maybe it was at a fast food restaurant manning (or womaning) the deep-fryer. Or perhaps we’ve stocked shelves or babysat for a few dollars. Or maybe even performed with a children’s theatre troupe acting in puppet shows of Aesop’s Fables. (My Country Mouse brought kindergarteners to tears…in a good way). As time moves on we move onto other occupations or positions, but what our different jobs have in common is reporting to a person in command (unless we’re self employed, then we have to talk to ourselves. See my second posting on reflection) If we’re lucky the boss is a fair and judicious person. Someone we can look up to and possibly emulate. But unfortunately, this is not always the case. One would think to become an individual in charge of others one would possess great people skills; a knack for communicating, motivating, or a large, flat hand, not unlike a flipper, for patting backs. But we live in an imperfect world occupied by imperfect individuals. Communicating with someone, a difficult someone, on your own social or employment level is challenging. But communicating in a productive, mutually beneficial way with a difficult boss can be extremely stressful and is potentially filled with metaphorical landmines which can cause you to loose a metaphorical limb or other parts of your anatomy, possibly your metaphorical buttock.

Today I‘ll illustrate communicating with a difficult superior by sharing a session with a past patient. I’ll call this patient “Larry”. Larry had the type of boss I refer to as The Intimidator. (The Intimidator is territorial and takes pleasure watching others squirm.) Larry’s Intimidator had an icy stare, an air of superiority and was prone to barking orders through his bushy mustache. Complements, if given, were back handed. “Gentlemen, Larry’s found a way to cut costs on supplies. I guess that’s easy for a guy who buys his ties at the 99 cent store! Har! Har! Har!” Any time Larry had a meeting with The Intimidator he’d break out in a sweat and begin stammering over a subject he knew inside and out. He was at wits end. He had fantasies of strangling his boss with his “99 cent tie”. He was afraid he’d slip one day and let all his anger out and lose his job. So we used a little role playing to help him work through his frustrations and find a way to bridge the communication gap with The Intimidator.

[“Larry” has granted me permission to use stills from our taped therapy session.]
We began with Larry sharing his frustrations.

We then role played a scenario. I suggested his yearly review. I began by asking Larry what he felt his biggest accomplishment was during the year. As Larry spoke I displayed typical behavior of an Intimidator. I ignored him.

This caused Larry Stress.

I interrupted him and asked why I should keep him with the company. As his stammered through his answer, I interrupted again and asked if he thought he deserved a raise.

I then went in for the kill and berated his inability to answer.

And the flood gates opened.

[Don’t be alarmed, I’m a certified, 100% cotton, role playing therapist. I was not hurt during this session. Although Larry was surprisingly strong for such a soft spoken person]

At this point the camera malfunctioned due to Larry wrestling me to the floor and taking out the stand.

But this was good. Larry was able to release his pent up frustrations in a safe, non-judgmental environment. Now I could rein him in and teach him more constructive forms of communication. For example, I had him practice answering remarks like, “Your report’s late!” by replying; “I apologize, sir, but I know accuracy is important to you so I wanted to thoroughly review my work before handing it in.” At first Larry felt a slight gagging sensation, and you may also, but stay on coarse. When The Intimidator criticizes your work, simply nod your head, put on a thoughtful expression and let him or her know you appreciate their insight. In other words, humor them. If it helps to think of them as a slightly brain damaged individual, someone who can’t write his or her own name, than by all means, do so. Visualization is a very useful tool. Overall, be positive. After a while they’ll realize you’re impervious to their criticism and they’ll leave you alone. Practice, and in no time you’ll have an arsenal of responses with which to deflect your boss’ negativity.

 

When We Shut Our Eyes…

Do you ever have nightmares?  Waking up with a start, your heart racing, the sheets wet and you’re not sure if its sweat or you tinkled a little?  Do you pull the blankets up tight around your neck and stare into the darkness, afraid to shut your eyes again?  Well, you’re not alone.  Many of us have disturbing dreams.  It’s the sub-conscious making itself known.  Maybe you had an unsettling day.  There was a situation that perturbed you or an encounter with an individual left you ruffled. If you try to run away from these feelings they sometimes come back to haunt you in your sleeping hours. 

 

There are different kinds of nightmares. A common anxiety dream is finding one’s self naked in a public place with everyone staring, or you have to be somewhere, say, work or a class, but you’re lost and late. A dream about helplessness may manifest as a monster chasing you and your feet (If you have feet) have turned to lead leaving you rooted in one spot, panicking as the creature draws closer, baring its sharp, saliva dripping teeth… (shiver)

 

I once had an awful argument with my brother Jock about always having to watch ESPN when I wanted to watch BBC America.  At the time I wasn’t very good at expressing myself so instead, I grabbed at the remote and we had a tug of war. There was name calling and pretzels flying.  It was a mess. I finally gave up, let go of the remote and left the room seething.  We didn’t talk for the rest of the week, but every night I had the same nightmare.  I dreamed I was on the streets of London during the Blitz.  The sky was dark and raining German bombs.  I had to find shelter.  People were frantic and screaming.  I found myself running down a winding street when I came upon the doorway of a shelter.  I peered inside to see a team of rugby players beckoning me to enter.  But I stood there, refusing to join them.  All of a sudden a huge bomb landed beside me and I woke with a scream.  After I became a certified, 100% cotton, role-playing therapist I was able to make sense of my dream.  You see, by harboring my anger and refusing to maturely talk with my brother about our differing t.v. tastes, I was literally imploding.  The anger didn’t go away when I tried to ignore it.  Instead it dug into my subconscious and popped up in my sleeping hours.  Like a hard tap, tap, tap on the shoulder.

 

Our minds and souls keep a tally.  They are very good little accountants, sitting at their desks in their green visors, punching the keys on their calculators. They catch everything and they send us reminders when the numbers aren’t adding up correctly or the balance is off.  And I think one of the places they try leaving a message is in our dreams.  So you should pay attention when you have a nightmare. It’s a message with a (!)

 

It’s a nightmare, actually, that compelled me to take my road trip. Again I’m writing from a coffee shop.  This one is in Pennsylvania.  Have you ever had Pennsylvania Dutch Shoo-fly pie?  Delicious! But I digress. Yes a nightmare is what began my journey to reconnect with my brother, Jock.  I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing.  I pray he’s happy and safe.  I mentioned in my second posting that I separated from him to find my own destiny.  But now I’m feeling the same gnawing in my gut which originally propelled me to bust out on my own, and it’s telling me to find my brother.  Maybe it’s a twin thing…or a sock thing. All I know, is I need to balance my books so I may sleep the sleep of a guiltless man…er, sock…

 

The Beast Within

Bobby here. Hope you found my last entry on reflection helpful.  Did you try the “conversation with myself” exercise?  Did you “talk back”?  I hope it was an enlightening exchange.  When we take time to reflect (and connect), we discover all sorts of things about ourselves.  You may have thought all this time you liked, say…caviar.  But when you truly listened to yourself you realized you only ate it to give the impression of a sophisticated palate.  You’d really prefer to eat Pigs ‘n a Blanket, or nachos. (Which are delicious.)

 

Often when we listen to our inner voice it isn’t pleasant.  It can be sad or anxious or filled with anger and rage.  This last emotion can be especially unsettling and because it’s unsettling, we may choose not to listen or even acknowledge its presence.  We also live in a very busy world and we often don’t take the time to understand why we’re feeling angry. We’re too busy rushing here and there and multitasking.  We’re literally individual beehives of activity.  Who has time to find the source of all that gooey, sticky anger seeping up through the comb of our souls?  Instead, we end up snapping and stinging the nearest person!  The media is filled with stories of road rage and sniper shootings.  It’s a wonder we leave our houses!  I mean anything can happen!  Just the other day I was at the post office waiting to buy some stamps when the man ahead of me started yelling and pounding the glass on the front of the machine.  The post office manager came over and the man started screaming at her.  I thought it would come to blows, so I put myself between them and asked why he was allowing a metal box filled with adhesive coated paper squares to cause him so much pain and anger?  Was the source of his rage buried somewhere deep inside?  Where did it hurt?  Where? He stopped and thought for a moment and then began to weep.  He revealed he was trying to mail a birthday card to his mother who always complained he never wrote or called.  Ah-Ha! Classic Freudian response!  Once he connected with his inner self and realized the source of his anger, he calmed down, lost the magenta hue on his face and dialed his cell phone to have a long overdue conversation with …his therapist.  Simply listening to himself resulted in a breakthrough! Or as I like to tell my patients during a session, “If you can let it out with a tear or a shout, then you’re on the road to recovery.”** It also resulted in yours truly receiving an extra packet of stamps!  I have my own people to send cards to.  We all have our own people to send cards to…

 

Why don’t you take some time to think about that…

 

[**please note I don’t recommend shouting at another individual unless that individual is a trained, role-playing therapist.]

Helpful Hint:

Sometimes something as simple as a hobby can bring us a sense of calm and relaxation.  I always encourage my patients to make time in their lives to participate in an activity they enjoy.  When we’re de-stressed it’s easier to approach a difficult situation or individual. I enjoy tending to my Zen garden and writing Haikus. Permit yourself to “play” a little.  Develop a hobby and find your happy place. J

 

I’d like to share some of my Haikus:

 

(I hope you enjoy them.)

 

 

I talk to myself

Self, why are you so angry

It’s a long story

 

When I feel angry

I want to make a tight fist

But I don’t have hands

 

Sometimes I act mean

Please don’t hold it against me

Blame my inner child

 

Static sparks at night

Coming from the laundry room

Means a sock is mad

 

When I listen hard

And hear the voice in my head

Sometimes it sounds French