This is Not Normal, OR Quirky Kids and One Idea about Reducing Social Isolation

My daughter and I participated in the March for Our Lives this past Saturday.  While we know and love several gun owners, we also think the safety of our kids and society in general should be addressed in a variety of ways, which would include more regulations on the way guns are procured and who can get them.  In a discussion of good will I have on an ongoing basis with a good family friend, he let me know that he is most concerned about the mental health issues facing anyone who might use guns for ill and how can we better address that aspect (since I am a mental health professional).

It makes me think of one of the signs at the March on Saturday, it read:  This Is Not Normal.

Well, what does that mean?  What is not normal?  The number of students killed in school shootings in 2018 so far?  The number of deaths by suicide in which a gun was used?  A President who, to put it mildly, seems to have disdain for women?  A population of people who are so angry and afraid of one another that they can't speak and listen like grown ups?

You guys know me - I am a big advocate of paradox.  As a therapist, I am often one to say, "There is no normal."  There are so many variations of brains and bodies and hearts and souls and that is one of the most beautiful and astounding aspects of being human.  But also, sometimes it helps to have some kind of range.  I had a therapist who used to repeatedly ask me, "If we were watching the movie of this, what do you think the audience would be saying?"  (Her implication was that the audience would be like "oh shit, this is NOT normal.")  It helps to have perspective.

So when my friend asks me about mental health and helping people on the fringe - adults, kids, white, black, and mostly male, I think it takes a lot of nuanced and mature thinking to parse through it.

Another friend talked to me recently about her "quirky kid."  She worries about her kid who is not 'diagnosable' and does not look different on the outside but relates to other people in a different way.  My friend worries about her kid being socially ostracized.  She worries about her child's boundaries and vulnerabilities.  She worries about her child's current and future struggles.  And my friend has gotten her kid every intervention known to parent-dom.  This is not a kid who hasn't had support, love and resources.  This is not about getting the quirkiness out of her kid, this is now about helping create a world where the child's quirkiness may have a place.

What is or is not normal?  How do we relate to those who are not 'normal'?  As adults?  As youth?  What do we model to our kids about this?

It seems like being 'normal' is the lowest bar in kid-dom.  In kid-dom, a lot of people actually want to be better than normal.  I remember in 7th grade, a girl I looked up to a lot was just COOL.  (Yes, Stephanie, it's you.)  She could write bubble letters without practicing, her jean jacket collar stayed up at just the right angle, her hair always looked good and the song lyrics she wrote on her folder were effortlessly perfect.  I had to study and practice and really, really think about all that she did to get even a fraction as cool as she was.

I think about how this kind of dynamic permeates through to adult life.  Some people are cool, some people don't care and are still cool, some people try and are not cool, some people don't care and just really don't care.   We have PTSD from being kids, in a way - no one wants to have cooties, but we also often remember the kid with cooties.  It's a terrible part of 'normal' childhood and it probably continues on in a muted form to adulthood.

In the end, I think both of my friends are worrying about social isolation - one very personally, and one from more removed point of view.  What can be done to prevent social isolation?  To 'treat' social isolation?  I don't think it's right or realistic to think everybody should 'just be friends.'  We can't force genuine relationships.

As I've been writing this, I've been going over in my mind how 'quirkiness' is seen in adult world and I am relieved to notice that there is a wide range of quirkiness that I think just doesn't matter in adult world and/or you can certainly find friendships even if you say...love poetry or something really weird like that.

But what I think continues to trouble adults and I also remember it from being a kid, is how to relate to people who have different boundaries.  Perhaps different physical boundaries - they touch or talk close up, they might talk too long in meetings or after church service, they might not have typical hygiene, they might seem angry or sullen but have outbursts that they want others to acknowledge at times that aren't convenient.  I think these are the kinds of quirks that even wise adults struggle to understand and have compassion for.  But I think this is the challenge we are asked to undertake now.  Both for our selves and to model for our children.

We need to be empowered to be both courteous and straightforward.  To ask more questions and voice our own needs and wants in a compassionate way.

For example, if I interact with an adult who is talking too close to me, it would be very difficult, but I actually think I need to say, "Could you please take a step back."  Or to say to the colleague who is might be having a monologue at 5pm, "I need to get home now, the end of the work day isn't a good time for me to talk."

I think when we become more comfortable saying what we need or what boundaries are ok for us, we also model this for our kids and we take away the stigma or fear.  Sometimes I think we humans act ugly toward others when we are afraid...afraid we don't know what to do or how to handle a situation.  I think being ignored and brushed over might be the worst part of social isolation.  Honest, compassionate communication is a form of connection, to me.

When I worked in hospice, I learned that you could just about say anything to a person, it just depended on how you said it.  I talked to people about everything - from how they pooped to how their body would shut down when they died.  I know we can do better with one another, but we have to be willing to look at what makes us uncomfortable.

Maybe it is looking at our own fears, our own shortcomings, our own lack of knowing the answer.

Here is something I do know  - I'm not so worried about 'normal.'  I think it's a better tool to use to ask, "If we were watching the movie, what would the audience be saying?"  I think the audience would know that many factors contribute to gun violence and social isolation is only one of those factors.  I think the audience would also know that social isolation is the result of yet again, many factors.  Sorry everybody...this is a complex world.

One aspect of social isolation is our aversion to our own weirdness and our own fear that we don't know how to address other people's weirdness.   That's ok.  We can work with that!

My bubble letters may never be the right amount fluffy, but I am going to keep practicing compassionately and courageously setting boundaries, knowing that honest communication is one way I can show deep respect for another human being.

some things I've learned

Now, for something a little different.  Some things I've learned about life and people so far (and subject to change, I might add...):

1) Don't make decisions out of fear.  I've never made a good decision primarily motivated by fear and I haven't observed this to work for others, either. 

2) No matter what people say, they usually DO what they want.  If you're confused by someone, pay attention to their actions, not their words.

3) You can't make someone else change.  You can change your reaction to that person.

4) Most people are doing their best most of the time.

5) It's not about me.  In both good and bad, we tend to take overly much credit or overly much guilt/shame.  We benefit from putting ourselves in a more realistic perspective. 

6)  It is important to be careful with our words.  We probably heard this from someone when we were kids - think before you speak.

7) Try to find a vocation you like.  We spend a lot of time working, so it's better to like what you do.  Encourage your kids to study what they enjoy and find a way to make a vocation of it.

8)  Shame and secrets are destructive forces.  Keep pushing for honesty with yourself and judicious honesty with others.  When we are open, we find that much of what we were ashamed of isn't nearly as powerful as we thought.

9) Listen and pay attention to older people.  In our culture, which so values youth, we are missing out on much more interesting people.

10) In the scope of creation, we are little and there is much that is mysterious.   There is almost always a choice- choose love and compassion. 

That's it for the week.  I hope you have a good one. 

did Ma Ingalls ever have any fun?

Like many people, when my first child was born, it took me a very short while to figure out that my life had drastically changed.  I remember a big realization while doing dishes:  Dishes have to be done.  Oh yes, and laundry must be done.  And folded.  Also, things must be clean in the house.  Also, more dishes must be done and put away and more laundry needs washing and folding.  No more procrastinating.  No more blowing off chores to watch Oprah.  No more getting a cold and lying on the couch all evening.  Here's more or less what I began telling myself:  It all depends on me.  Everything seemed to suddenly become very serious, with serious consequences.

So, you might think this is weird, but I made up a game for myself to stay motivated.  I thought, "Katy, you're in Pioneer Times now.  All your chores and tasks are as necessary to our family's survival as anything Ma Ingalls ever did."  Banish from your mind, "I'm just too tired."  Maybe that's not SO weird - I know another mom who used to pretend it was WWII and her husband was a soldier on the European Front. 

As I've mentioned, I love imagination as a tool for coping.  Frankly, for me, being a mom to infants was a time I needed both imagination and coping.  This  internal game of pretend worked okay as my kids were toddlers, too.

But, I think it backfired in a couple ways.  Actually, I think we all give ourselves certain messages and/or create certain thoughts during times of stress or periods of our lives and these thoughts don't serve us well later.  I work with a lot of women and I see that many of us spend time trying to overcome the following thoughts:  1)  If I don't do it, no one will.  2) I can't rest or relax because it will appear that I am not taking what I do seriously. 

This eventually leads to bigger problems - not thoughts exactly, but a way behaviours are manifest - I don't know how to have fun, I don't know what gives me pleasure, and finally, the things I do to cope are pleasurable in the short run, but unhealthy in the long run. 

As I've been getting my thoughts together for this post, I heard Toni Bernhard, the author of a book, How to Be Sick, talking on Morning Edition - she has some kind of long term illness that keeps her often at home and more often than she'd like, in bed.  She's found comfort in a Buddhist meditation practice (more info at http://www.npr.org/2011/01/31/132675079/learning-to-live-a-full-life-with-chronic-illness) and quoted a Buddhist saying, "If you don't have compassion for yourself, your compassion is incomplete." 

I love it!  One way to have compassion for yourself is to say nicer things to yourself and allow yourself to enjoy life.

Sometimes I begin  to remind myself of George Costanza from Seinfeld - there's a great episode in which, as usual, he's having difficulties at work - if I'm remembering right, he has a job, but isn't sure what he's supposed to be doing exactly.  He discovers that if he just walks around looking harried, worried, sighing, and moves at a quick pace, everyone thinks he's the hardest working guy around.

Okay, could this sometimes be me?

Let's be honest.  I'm not living on the prairie in the 1800s.  These days, I'm working on telling myself different things, things like:  It's okay to ask for help.  It's okay if the house doesn't look perfect when the babysitter comes over.  It's okay to watch Oprah's 25th Year: Behind the Scenes in a two to three hour marathon.  Why not?  It's okay to enjoy the little things in life.  And it's probably okay to take myself less seriously, too.