When I wrote the other week about 'the Corrections' and raising kids, I knew I'd get a good amount of feedback from readers and friends, because I think we are all fairly comfortable talking and thinking about what parts of parenting challenge us.
As I've thought more about the parents-eye view, I've become reflective on another aspect of family life. Maybe it's the end of the year, a feeling of wrapping things up, of looking back and looking ahead. It definitely has something to do with writing this blog, which challenges me to use my own experience to connect with other people - many of whom I know, and some I don't.
So, in this spirit, I'd like to talk about what I guess is the flipside, or even just another side of what we get from our parents. 'Corrections' parenting is a way we, as adults, might define ourselves AGAINST something. It's a way some of us might like to show, 'I'm doing it different.' But it's hard to know ourselves fully when we only are certain of what we are not (or what we don't want to be).
Writing this blog has brought into relief for me a way of knowing who I am in relation to where and who I came from. My parents. I am a parent now, but I am also somebodies' kid. In my writing about emotional and mental health, I find myself often thinking not just about what I might do differently than my parents (both in child-rearing and otherwise) I also think about where I might be similar to them.
These parallels and connections with my parents, in some ways, surprise me. My parents separated within 6 months of my graduating from college and moving halfway across the country. Within another 18 months, they'd divorced. This was a tough thing for all my family, but I'd say one part that made it tough for me was that, in many ways, I'd defined myself by my family. To my mind, my family was strong, stable, loving, sturdy. My friends all loved to hang out at my house when we were teenagers. My parents were firm, but kind. The doors to our home were open and there was always a hot meal and a laugh. We did things together, we were affectionate, we didn't often scream and yell. So, the turmoil was sudden and surprising to my brain, which was barely out of adolescence. My folks' divorce, for a time, negated much of the good stuff I thought I'd grown up with. Suddenly, I questioned my own history. Was it a lie? If my memory and experience wasn't true, what in the world was?
I've spent some serious emotional and mental energy working that out over the years.
Here's what I've come to: I like the person I am and... I came from somewhere. I came from my parents, who for a time came together and taught me some good stuff - be responsible for your community, freedom is worth fighting for, be of service when and where you can, listen to music (who doesn't feel better when they listen to "Oldies"?!) From my mom in particular, I inherited values of tradition, being humble, a sense of family history, a sense of and love of the Divine. From my dad I inherited intellectual curiousity, the desire to challenge and be challenged, a sense of rebellion and adventure.
I appreciate this legacy. I love my folks. And though I try really hard not to curse in this blog, one of my mental health mantras is (and I mean this with no irony or angry undertone) "shit happens." In fact, that might be a whole other blog.
The point is, we are made of many parts, influences, and life experience. Some stuff I probably came up with on my own (isn't that very American - to be self-created in many ways?). But, I hope, as we all get ready to probably spend some time with our parents, if they are living, over the holidays, I hope it might be helpful to think about the legacy of their influence. To extend graciousness and love - for them, and by extension for ourselves.
I heard a piece on NPR just after Thanksgiving about decorating the White House for the holidays. Apparently, you can nominate yourself or someone else to have the opportunity to help with this tradition. This year, along with many others, an elderly immigrant man was nominated by his son and they were both chosen for this honor. The older man spoke of his son in his radio interview - "I just pray that he has a good life."
Who could say it better than that - whether you're a parent or a kid?
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
the corrections, or LESS extreme parenting
I just watched about 3/4 of Lisa Ling's Our America - Extreme Parenting. It reminded me a little of my take away from Jonathon Franzen's book, The Corrections: as parents we often try to 'correct' for how we perceive our folks messed up with us. At some point along our developmental path, we become determined not to make the same mistakes they made.
In fact, this is the premise of a new TV show, called I Hate My Teenage Daughter on Fox. It's about two moms who had been bullied as young teens, but who 'parented' their own girls into becoming just the types of girls who tortured them when they were younger. Ugh. Sounds awful.
Anyway - for better or for worse, much of the reputation of psychotherapy is that it will lead clients to eventually blame their parents for something. For example, if your parents were very lax about education and expectations regarding grades, you might grow up to think, "they didn't push me hard enough. I wasn't challenged enough. I'm not going to make that mistake with my kids. My kids will be challenged to meet high expectation set by me. They will be successful. They will reach their potential." Or maybe you had a parent who really favored one of your siblings. You might think, "I will be totally fair with my kids. Each will be offered the same opportunities as the other. They will get the same number of hugs. They will have equal chores. No one will feel slighted."
Maybe it sounds crazy, but I've made a connection between this approach to raising children and some of what I learned working in hospice: we have less control than we think. Case in point - I remember the sisters in my neighborhood growing up who weren't allowed to watch TV and always had to eat the crusts of their bread. They didn't turn out much different than the rest of us as far as I know. Conversely, I know another good friend of mine who was raised in a pretty lax household compared to mine (Beatles poster on the dining room wall - Gasp!) and he went to undergraduate and grad school in the Ivy League.
I'm not saying there is a direct correlation. I am saying there is NOT a direct correlation. Our kids are born with many innate traits, which we can support and love and nurture. I've also read and wrote a little about the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, a book that was published about a year ago. The author, a mom/professor, advocates the "Chinese Way" of raising children. Very structured and disciplined. She goes on to say one daughter was able to bend to this discipline and another rebelled against it.
What I'd like to propose is that if we have some aspect of raising our kids that we are really digging in our heels on, like anything, it's good to look at it a little closer to make sure we're really doing what we want to do. It's worth looking at whether we are seeing the child in front of us, or seeing our own selves as a kid. If we're seeing only ourselves and the hurt we felt, it might be that we are trying to get our own needs met through our kids. Talk about needing therapy later.
In raising our children, I am in no way advocating an all laissez-faire approach all the time. I'm just saying that in raising children, like in all things, we usually have more choices than we think and less control than we imagine.
In fact, this is the premise of a new TV show, called I Hate My Teenage Daughter on Fox. It's about two moms who had been bullied as young teens, but who 'parented' their own girls into becoming just the types of girls who tortured them when they were younger. Ugh. Sounds awful.
Anyway - for better or for worse, much of the reputation of psychotherapy is that it will lead clients to eventually blame their parents for something. For example, if your parents were very lax about education and expectations regarding grades, you might grow up to think, "they didn't push me hard enough. I wasn't challenged enough. I'm not going to make that mistake with my kids. My kids will be challenged to meet high expectation set by me. They will be successful. They will reach their potential." Or maybe you had a parent who really favored one of your siblings. You might think, "I will be totally fair with my kids. Each will be offered the same opportunities as the other. They will get the same number of hugs. They will have equal chores. No one will feel slighted."
Maybe it sounds crazy, but I've made a connection between this approach to raising children and some of what I learned working in hospice: we have less control than we think. Case in point - I remember the sisters in my neighborhood growing up who weren't allowed to watch TV and always had to eat the crusts of their bread. They didn't turn out much different than the rest of us as far as I know. Conversely, I know another good friend of mine who was raised in a pretty lax household compared to mine (Beatles poster on the dining room wall - Gasp!) and he went to undergraduate and grad school in the Ivy League.
I'm not saying there is a direct correlation. I am saying there is NOT a direct correlation. Our kids are born with many innate traits, which we can support and love and nurture. I've also read and wrote a little about the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, a book that was published about a year ago. The author, a mom/professor, advocates the "Chinese Way" of raising children. Very structured and disciplined. She goes on to say one daughter was able to bend to this discipline and another rebelled against it.
What I'd like to propose is that if we have some aspect of raising our kids that we are really digging in our heels on, like anything, it's good to look at it a little closer to make sure we're really doing what we want to do. It's worth looking at whether we are seeing the child in front of us, or seeing our own selves as a kid. If we're seeing only ourselves and the hurt we felt, it might be that we are trying to get our own needs met through our kids. Talk about needing therapy later.
In raising our children, I am in no way advocating an all laissez-faire approach all the time. I'm just saying that in raising children, like in all things, we usually have more choices than we think and less control than we imagine.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
what's your code?
I saw a PBS special this week on TV Crusaders. The creators and actors of characters like Hawkeye Pierce, House, and even Xena, Warrior Princess were interviewed. It was fun and interesting. On my 'to watch' list for life is the HBO series, The Wire. This Crusaders special showed some bits of a character named Omar Little. He was a gangster and he killed a lot of people, I guess, but he never killed anyone who wasn't in 'the game' (drugs). He was talking with a cop in one clip they showed and the cop says, 'Everybody's got to have a code.'
I was thinking about that and I like it. It made me wonder what my code is and who influenced it. One thing in particular has come to mind this week - maybe because of Thanksgiving, which I find to be the most patriotic holiday. I was thinking about my dad and some influence he had on me - his code, I guess. My dad was shaped by the military - he went to military school, was in college ROTC, the Army Reserves. He'd tell you today that a guiding principle of his life is Duty, Honor, Country.
Duty and honor are concepts that interest me a lot - I find that there are many ways to be a warrior, and not all of them are literally military. Through my work in hospice, and of course, as a therapist, many of the warriors I witness look like caregivers. They get up every single day to battle fatigue, grief, someone else's disease process or despair. They commit themselves to the well-being and health of others -whether it's their kids or their aging parents, their patients, or community members. They find honor in living this way and they are steadfast in their duties.
When my kids were really little, I remember kind of thinking the word duty was funny because it was resonant to me of 'doo - doo.' Always, highbrow humor at our house! Some days, I felt like all I was doo-doo doing was duty. I had to doo-doo the never-ending laundry, doo-doo the never-ending dishes, doo-doo the baths and diaper changes, doo-doo my paperwork for work, doo-doo taking care of the animals, doo-doo church commitments, etc., etc.. Why did I doo-doo all this, I asked myself? Because I LOVED these people- my kids, my husband, my patients, my church friends. Or I was supposed to. Or I think I thought I did. Oh, no!
See, somehow in all the duty, the responsibility, I truly had lost touch with the love that was supposed to be motivating me toward all this action.
Sometimes I get disgusted with gooey self-help words like self-care. But here's what I think it means. To be a grown up in the real sense of the world, I think we have to have an understanding of our own freedom. The literal truth is that we have a lot of freedom. When we take care of ourselves it gives us room, it gives us a sense of space, time, and freedom. When we have this space, time and sense of freedom, we can get back to our 'duties', but we can do it with love and not resentment or rote operations. My husband would tell you, 'I'm a simple man.' (That might be his Code). So this is what he says about my topic today: 'if you do something because you want to do it, it's just easier.'
Out of the mouths of babes. You know, I don't know if I have a one-sentence code, but I know that I value being honorable and dutiful. I also value being loving and having fun. In fact I recommend the following: honor, duty, loving and fun. And at least for today, that is my code.
Happy Thanksgiving and much LOVE to you and your families!
I was thinking about that and I like it. It made me wonder what my code is and who influenced it. One thing in particular has come to mind this week - maybe because of Thanksgiving, which I find to be the most patriotic holiday. I was thinking about my dad and some influence he had on me - his code, I guess. My dad was shaped by the military - he went to military school, was in college ROTC, the Army Reserves. He'd tell you today that a guiding principle of his life is Duty, Honor, Country.
Duty and honor are concepts that interest me a lot - I find that there are many ways to be a warrior, and not all of them are literally military. Through my work in hospice, and of course, as a therapist, many of the warriors I witness look like caregivers. They get up every single day to battle fatigue, grief, someone else's disease process or despair. They commit themselves to the well-being and health of others -whether it's their kids or their aging parents, their patients, or community members. They find honor in living this way and they are steadfast in their duties.
When my kids were really little, I remember kind of thinking the word duty was funny because it was resonant to me of 'doo - doo.' Always, highbrow humor at our house! Some days, I felt like all I was doo-doo doing was duty. I had to doo-doo the never-ending laundry, doo-doo the never-ending dishes, doo-doo the baths and diaper changes, doo-doo my paperwork for work, doo-doo taking care of the animals, doo-doo church commitments, etc., etc.. Why did I doo-doo all this, I asked myself? Because I LOVED these people- my kids, my husband, my patients, my church friends. Or I was supposed to. Or I think I thought I did. Oh, no!
See, somehow in all the duty, the responsibility, I truly had lost touch with the love that was supposed to be motivating me toward all this action.
Sometimes I get disgusted with gooey self-help words like self-care. But here's what I think it means. To be a grown up in the real sense of the world, I think we have to have an understanding of our own freedom. The literal truth is that we have a lot of freedom. When we take care of ourselves it gives us room, it gives us a sense of space, time, and freedom. When we have this space, time and sense of freedom, we can get back to our 'duties', but we can do it with love and not resentment or rote operations. My husband would tell you, 'I'm a simple man.' (That might be his Code). So this is what he says about my topic today: 'if you do something because you want to do it, it's just easier.'
Out of the mouths of babes. You know, I don't know if I have a one-sentence code, but I know that I value being honorable and dutiful. I also value being loving and having fun. In fact I recommend the following: honor, duty, loving and fun. And at least for today, that is my code.
Happy Thanksgiving and much LOVE to you and your families!
Saturday, November 12, 2011
advice from a mentor
It's been a very busy month and I have really just been keeping up with my 'tasks' without much time to think, make connections between one thought and another, and then write about it. Some times are just like that, but I feel like I am moving out of it now.
In the thinking I have been doing, some advice I received recently is popping up frequently as I go about my days...but maybe the advice isn't the right place to start..I'll start here: in the last blog I wrote about the Marsha Linehan Mindfulness, Willingness and Radical Acceptance workshop I attended. She began her seminar with a slide, which read something like this:
Avoidance of suffering leads to more suffering.
I am a skeptic of authority, for the most part, so the first thing I thought, was "Do I agree with that?"
Here is my answer: mostly I agree with it. In my experience, if we avoid the internal experience of our own hurts, anger, grief, rejection, loneliness, this can be a decent immediate means of coping, but if we think we've managed to escape without dealing with the feelings we are wrong - they come back later, and sometimes nastier.
So, it's from that point of view that I will share some advice I was given. A couple weeks ago, I had lunch with a professional mentor of mine. I shared with him some feelings of discomfort I have and questions about how to do my job as a psychotherapist. "Therapy" is a big umbrella and people approach it with diverse points of view. When my point of view bumps up against someone else's point of view, it is uncomfortable. Just like in 'real' life - when you're talking with somebody about Occupy Wall Street, or how to raise children, or God, or what changes might improve your marriage, or whatever - and your essential viewpoint differs from someone else, it's uncomfortable. For me, I never go to a place of digging in my heels on my opinion, it's just not my nature - I go to a place of questions - whose authority do I accept? should I try to change the other person's opinion? what does it mean about them that they think X? what does it mean about me that I think Y? It feels sticky, irritating, and like something I might like to avoid.
But here is what my mentor said, something I know and that typically I do, but sometimes it's good to get a reminder or even a directive: When you are uncomfortable with something, lean into it. (isn't that great, therapist-y advice!)
That means examine it like a discovery, look at all sides, make notes on it, ask it questions. Feeling and leaning into discomfort doesn't necessary lead to answers (though sometimes it does), but it will lead to a deeper knowing of yourself and others. Rather than more suffering, it will lead to less.
Sometimes we don't even realize we are avoiding something. I think the first place to start is to acknowledge what and when we feel uncomfortable with a person we know and love, a person we don't know well but feel we don't like, an event in our past, a thought about the future. Do I feel uncomfortable when I think of it? If the answer is yes, it might be worth taking some time to 'lean into it' and see what we find out.
In the thinking I have been doing, some advice I received recently is popping up frequently as I go about my days...but maybe the advice isn't the right place to start..I'll start here: in the last blog I wrote about the Marsha Linehan Mindfulness, Willingness and Radical Acceptance workshop I attended. She began her seminar with a slide, which read something like this:
Avoidance of suffering leads to more suffering.
I am a skeptic of authority, for the most part, so the first thing I thought, was "Do I agree with that?"
Here is my answer: mostly I agree with it. In my experience, if we avoid the internal experience of our own hurts, anger, grief, rejection, loneliness, this can be a decent immediate means of coping, but if we think we've managed to escape without dealing with the feelings we are wrong - they come back later, and sometimes nastier.
So, it's from that point of view that I will share some advice I was given. A couple weeks ago, I had lunch with a professional mentor of mine. I shared with him some feelings of discomfort I have and questions about how to do my job as a psychotherapist. "Therapy" is a big umbrella and people approach it with diverse points of view. When my point of view bumps up against someone else's point of view, it is uncomfortable. Just like in 'real' life - when you're talking with somebody about Occupy Wall Street, or how to raise children, or God, or what changes might improve your marriage, or whatever - and your essential viewpoint differs from someone else, it's uncomfortable. For me, I never go to a place of digging in my heels on my opinion, it's just not my nature - I go to a place of questions - whose authority do I accept? should I try to change the other person's opinion? what does it mean about them that they think X? what does it mean about me that I think Y? It feels sticky, irritating, and like something I might like to avoid.
But here is what my mentor said, something I know and that typically I do, but sometimes it's good to get a reminder or even a directive: When you are uncomfortable with something, lean into it. (isn't that great, therapist-y advice!)
That means examine it like a discovery, look at all sides, make notes on it, ask it questions. Feeling and leaning into discomfort doesn't necessary lead to answers (though sometimes it does), but it will lead to a deeper knowing of yourself and others. Rather than more suffering, it will lead to less.
Sometimes we don't even realize we are avoiding something. I think the first place to start is to acknowledge what and when we feel uncomfortable with a person we know and love, a person we don't know well but feel we don't like, an event in our past, a thought about the future. Do I feel uncomfortable when I think of it? If the answer is yes, it might be worth taking some time to 'lean into it' and see what we find out.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
the outsiders
The elementary school I went to from Kindgergarten through half of 5th grade was Pierremont Elementary school in Manchester, Missouri. I loved that school. I remember our gym teacher, Mr. Lowry, pulling kids' teeth when they were loose. We all dreaded it, but longed to have a tooth pulled at the same time. I remember he'd send us through 'the spanking machine' on our birthdays...this entailed the entire class lining up to spank you as you crawled through their legs. I loved the gymnastics team, I loved music class with Mrs. Lippi and how we always saw a film called "Dans Macabre" by Camille Saint Saene around Halloween. I loved the librarian Mrs. Kirkpatrick and the books she picked out for me. I loved that a stuffed Santa Claus came alive and walked around in Mrs. Smith's Kindergarten class. I loved that I was Mrs. Birmingham's teacher's pet.
But in a lot of ways, I was a weird kid, I think. I remember kids inviting me to their birthday parties and not wanting to go. I remember them inviting me over to play and my mom saying, 'just give so and so a chance.' I hated the game 'girls chase boys.' At the sophisticated age of 8, I found it undignified. At least one school year I chose to take recess in the library to read, rather than have to put up with girls chase boys or boys chase girls or whatever. I guess I was a nerd. I guess I was an outsider, in some ways. I felt like an outsider, but not in a way I experienced as hurtful.
I went to a great training last week given my Dr. Marsha Linehan on "Mindfulness, Willingness, and Radical Acceptance," and though many concepts were helpful to me, one idea that she talked about that I want to write about is the experience that many people have of being an 'outsider.'
At Pierremont, I was given a great gift. I was an outsider, but I don't remember ever being treated like that - by students or teachers. I remember kind of being accepted for being an outsider. Celebrated even. I don't know what combination of character traits in the students, in the teachers and in me came together to make this happen, but it was a huge gift. I felt the freedom to make the choices I wanted to make, like stay in the library at recess, and no one said, 'you're weird, you're bad, you need to be more like some one else.'
I moved to a different elementary school January of my 5th grade year. One of my gym teachers, Miss Furlong, at Pierremont pulled me aside before my family moved, "you are going to do just fine at your new school. Just be yourself. Everything will be okay." I remember it so well - where we stood by the doors to the gym, the way the light fell on the gym floor from the windows. I felt like she was really talking to me like a grown up. I am getting verklempt even now!
Some 'outside-ness' is based on how a person looks on the outside or an outward expression that is other; but many people who would appear to be 'insiders' also feel outside. And, if you feel other in a way that feels bad to you, it is no small thing to work through. Conversely, sometimes, I think we get a strange comfort in feeling we are outside and use it as a way to judge others or feel superior to them.
The question is, what might we do about it or with it? The sad or negative feelings about being 'outside?' I think a place to start is looking for the similarities between ourselves and other people. Maybe especially people we don't like or don't think we like. I saw Lisa Ling's Our America, about plural marriages in Morman Utah. Some of the Mormon women have allied with the GLBT community regarding marriage rights. You'd think they wouldn't have a lot in common, but one of the Mormon women said, "when we got to know one another, we really did." I thought this was interesting.
I also think it's worth taking the time to wonder what made us feel other in the first place - I've seen so many sensitive, compassionate, intelligent people feel separate and in pain - I think it's worth an honest look in ourselves to see the goodness and do the hard work to let go of judging messages we took on at a young age.
I think it's do-able - I think it's important or I wouldn't write about it. I feel like I had the good fortune of being celebrated for being an outsider when I was a kid. I think it's something worth celebrating in all of us.
But in a lot of ways, I was a weird kid, I think. I remember kids inviting me to their birthday parties and not wanting to go. I remember them inviting me over to play and my mom saying, 'just give so and so a chance.' I hated the game 'girls chase boys.' At the sophisticated age of 8, I found it undignified. At least one school year I chose to take recess in the library to read, rather than have to put up with girls chase boys or boys chase girls or whatever. I guess I was a nerd. I guess I was an outsider, in some ways. I felt like an outsider, but not in a way I experienced as hurtful.
I went to a great training last week given my Dr. Marsha Linehan on "Mindfulness, Willingness, and Radical Acceptance," and though many concepts were helpful to me, one idea that she talked about that I want to write about is the experience that many people have of being an 'outsider.'
At Pierremont, I was given a great gift. I was an outsider, but I don't remember ever being treated like that - by students or teachers. I remember kind of being accepted for being an outsider. Celebrated even. I don't know what combination of character traits in the students, in the teachers and in me came together to make this happen, but it was a huge gift. I felt the freedom to make the choices I wanted to make, like stay in the library at recess, and no one said, 'you're weird, you're bad, you need to be more like some one else.'
I moved to a different elementary school January of my 5th grade year. One of my gym teachers, Miss Furlong, at Pierremont pulled me aside before my family moved, "you are going to do just fine at your new school. Just be yourself. Everything will be okay." I remember it so well - where we stood by the doors to the gym, the way the light fell on the gym floor from the windows. I felt like she was really talking to me like a grown up. I am getting verklempt even now!
Some 'outside-ness' is based on how a person looks on the outside or an outward expression that is other; but many people who would appear to be 'insiders' also feel outside. And, if you feel other in a way that feels bad to you, it is no small thing to work through. Conversely, sometimes, I think we get a strange comfort in feeling we are outside and use it as a way to judge others or feel superior to them.
The question is, what might we do about it or with it? The sad or negative feelings about being 'outside?' I think a place to start is looking for the similarities between ourselves and other people. Maybe especially people we don't like or don't think we like. I saw Lisa Ling's Our America, about plural marriages in Morman Utah. Some of the Mormon women have allied with the GLBT community regarding marriage rights. You'd think they wouldn't have a lot in common, but one of the Mormon women said, "when we got to know one another, we really did." I thought this was interesting.
I also think it's worth taking the time to wonder what made us feel other in the first place - I've seen so many sensitive, compassionate, intelligent people feel separate and in pain - I think it's worth an honest look in ourselves to see the goodness and do the hard work to let go of judging messages we took on at a young age.
I think it's do-able - I think it's important or I wouldn't write about it. I feel like I had the good fortune of being celebrated for being an outsider when I was a kid. I think it's something worth celebrating in all of us.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
why conflict is so hard and why it doesn't have to be
There are a lot of different ways and reasons to feel wronged, slighted, annoyed, hurt, righteously indignant, or just plain mad. The two reasons I see and have experienced most often are these:
1) someone is not doing something we want them/expect them to do
2) someone is doing something we do not want them to do.
Growing up, my family didn't do much conflict. There are many reasons for this, but the result for me was that a lot of times as I grew into my adult life, I didn't even know when I was angry, and then when I knew I was angry, I didn't have many skills to express that anger constructively. It's taken me a while and it's still something that I work on.
I've noticed that I'm not the only one. Many people are either of afraid of conflict, and if not downright afraid, they are avoidant of it. Some of us come from families that have important stories about conflicts, fights, and cut-offs. Some of our families fight with the sole purpose of hurting one another. Some of us come from families where the only reason to fight is to 'win.' Other families pretend there are no conflicts, but lots of secret feelings simmer under the surface. Some of us feel fine complaining to a third party, but we never address the person we're angry with.
These stories and habits carry over into our adult relationships - as spouses, parents, adult children. As adults, these habits don't serve us any longer.
I have come to believe that the real purpose of constructive conflict is to actually deepen the connection between two people. I remember when a friend requested that I not talk about her dating again after her divorce in front of her children, I felt terrible! How could I be so insensitive! Yet, I took responsibility, I apologized and I actually felt grateful that this person asked me for what she needed from me, rather than carrying this grudge against me or burden. I feel that this friend and I are closer because of this 'conflict.' It was a good model for me, too.
If you feel like you have a problem with how you deal with conflict or have deep avoidance of any conflict, I've found a couple things have helped in my life. Mainly, I've found that conflict doesn't have to be terrible and sometimes what we perceive internally as conflict does not turn out to be a conflict once we are able to clearly state to another person what we want or do not want.
The next time you feel wronged, slighted, annoyed, hurt, righteously indignant, or just plain mad, ask yourself these questions:
1) can you clearly define the behavior or words that made you hurt or angry? If you can't clearly define it for yourself, try writing it down. If it is very nebulous, like, I want my boyfriend to be more romantic, that isn't specific enough. Be specific: I want my boyfriend to bring me flowers once a week.
2) consider whether your expectation/hope for behavior from the other person is realistic. Do you hope and expect that your three year old is not going to have temper tantrums at inopportune times? This isn't realistic. But, if you hope that your husband will take on the job of taking out the trash, this is probably a rational thing to request.
3) does the other person know what you want or expect of them? If you expect that someone can read your mind, even if you think they know you very well, you are wrong. Most people are not trying to be selfish, but they're just caught up in their own lives.
4) would you be able to make a request for a behavior change you'd like without bringing in your whole history of being wronged by that person. (Right way: If you could throw your dirty socks down the laundry chute, that would really help me keep the house looking nice. Wrong way: You never help around the house and if you really loved me you'd remember to throw your socks down the chute - this is just so emblematic of our whole relationship!
Addressing a conflict and asking someone to make a change of any kind makes you, the asker, very vulnerable. The truth is that every person we know and love has every right not to change, no matter how much they say they love us or how much we want them to change. If you make a request and the other person says, 'no', you will have to decide what you want to do with that information. If you make a request and the other person says yes, but their actions don't change, you will have to decide what you want to do with that information, too.
Maybe you are not ready to make changes and that is why you are avoiding conflict. That is okay, too.
It's also great if you can address a behavior closer to the event/occurence, rather than waiting until 5 to 10 examples of the behavior accumulate. It's much easier to say, "hey, do you mind not humming Don't Stop Believing while you're making copies next to my desk?" than to say, "hey I know you've been humming Don't Stop Believing for the last three years when you make copies by my desk, but I'm hoping you'd stop that now."
Start small, start low-risk. Start assuming that most upsetting behaviors are not directed at you and there's no intrinsic meaning about the behavior.
If conflict has been difficult for us, I think it just takes practice to overcome that. We must try thinking about conflict as a constructive way to improve the quality and integrity of our relationships. It will feel more comfortable and natural as we go.
.
1) someone is not doing something we want them/expect them to do
2) someone is doing something we do not want them to do.
Growing up, my family didn't do much conflict. There are many reasons for this, but the result for me was that a lot of times as I grew into my adult life, I didn't even know when I was angry, and then when I knew I was angry, I didn't have many skills to express that anger constructively. It's taken me a while and it's still something that I work on.
I've noticed that I'm not the only one. Many people are either of afraid of conflict, and if not downright afraid, they are avoidant of it. Some of us come from families that have important stories about conflicts, fights, and cut-offs. Some of our families fight with the sole purpose of hurting one another. Some of us come from families where the only reason to fight is to 'win.' Other families pretend there are no conflicts, but lots of secret feelings simmer under the surface. Some of us feel fine complaining to a third party, but we never address the person we're angry with.
These stories and habits carry over into our adult relationships - as spouses, parents, adult children. As adults, these habits don't serve us any longer.
I have come to believe that the real purpose of constructive conflict is to actually deepen the connection between two people. I remember when a friend requested that I not talk about her dating again after her divorce in front of her children, I felt terrible! How could I be so insensitive! Yet, I took responsibility, I apologized and I actually felt grateful that this person asked me for what she needed from me, rather than carrying this grudge against me or burden. I feel that this friend and I are closer because of this 'conflict.' It was a good model for me, too.
If you feel like you have a problem with how you deal with conflict or have deep avoidance of any conflict, I've found a couple things have helped in my life. Mainly, I've found that conflict doesn't have to be terrible and sometimes what we perceive internally as conflict does not turn out to be a conflict once we are able to clearly state to another person what we want or do not want.
The next time you feel wronged, slighted, annoyed, hurt, righteously indignant, or just plain mad, ask yourself these questions:
1) can you clearly define the behavior or words that made you hurt or angry? If you can't clearly define it for yourself, try writing it down. If it is very nebulous, like, I want my boyfriend to be more romantic, that isn't specific enough. Be specific: I want my boyfriend to bring me flowers once a week.
2) consider whether your expectation/hope for behavior from the other person is realistic. Do you hope and expect that your three year old is not going to have temper tantrums at inopportune times? This isn't realistic. But, if you hope that your husband will take on the job of taking out the trash, this is probably a rational thing to request.
3) does the other person know what you want or expect of them? If you expect that someone can read your mind, even if you think they know you very well, you are wrong. Most people are not trying to be selfish, but they're just caught up in their own lives.
4) would you be able to make a request for a behavior change you'd like without bringing in your whole history of being wronged by that person. (Right way: If you could throw your dirty socks down the laundry chute, that would really help me keep the house looking nice. Wrong way: You never help around the house and if you really loved me you'd remember to throw your socks down the chute - this is just so emblematic of our whole relationship!
Addressing a conflict and asking someone to make a change of any kind makes you, the asker, very vulnerable. The truth is that every person we know and love has every right not to change, no matter how much they say they love us or how much we want them to change. If you make a request and the other person says, 'no', you will have to decide what you want to do with that information. If you make a request and the other person says yes, but their actions don't change, you will have to decide what you want to do with that information, too.
Maybe you are not ready to make changes and that is why you are avoiding conflict. That is okay, too.
It's also great if you can address a behavior closer to the event/occurence, rather than waiting until 5 to 10 examples of the behavior accumulate. It's much easier to say, "hey, do you mind not humming Don't Stop Believing while you're making copies next to my desk?" than to say, "hey I know you've been humming Don't Stop Believing for the last three years when you make copies by my desk, but I'm hoping you'd stop that now."
Start small, start low-risk. Start assuming that most upsetting behaviors are not directed at you and there's no intrinsic meaning about the behavior.
If conflict has been difficult for us, I think it just takes practice to overcome that. We must try thinking about conflict as a constructive way to improve the quality and integrity of our relationships. It will feel more comfortable and natural as we go.
.
Friday, October 7, 2011
astrophysics and how we spend our time
I am delighted, this semester, to be the 'lab assistant' (read, T.A.) for Dr. Mary Pat Henehan's Spirituality and Social Work class at Wash U. Krista Tippett's book, Einstein's God, is one of the suggested readings and I recently finished the first chapter, an interview with Freeman Dyson, a theoretical astrophysicist and Paul Davies and astrophysicist. Dyson is talking about black holes and says, "The black hole is the only place where space and time are really so mixed up that they behave in totally different ways. I mean, you fall into a black hole and your space is converted into time and your time is converted into space." Woah. I don't know how much I get that, but I think it's really cool.
Believe it or not, I also think there is a practical application for life. Jump with me now. This is a strange jump: Steve Jobs. I would first like to say with no silliness or flippancy that I am sorry about his death and the grief of his family and friends. I think he was inspiritational to many, many people.
In reading about him the past couple of days, a feature of his leadership and personality that stands out to me is how very discerning and maybe even stingy he was with his time. An article from today's NYT addresses this: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/07/technology/with-time-running-short-steve-jobs-managed-his-farewells.html?_r=1&hp
Here is what a friend said, "Steve made choices,” Dr. Ornish said. “I once asked him if he was glad that he had kids, and he said, ‘It’s 10,000 times better than anything I’ve ever done.’ ”
“But for Steve, it was all about living life on his own terms and not wasting a moment with things he didn’t think were important. He was aware that his time on earth was limited. He wanted control of what he did with the choices that were left.”
The meaning of everyone's life is different, and our experiences of time may be slightly different - but the truth is we all have many demands on our time, pleas for our time, and distractions from ways we want to spend our time. Sometimes we say yes to social occasions we don't really want to be part of, sometimes we let the computer or tv suck away unintended hours of our day, sometimes we put work first when we don't have to, sometimes we commit ourselves to 'causes' because we think we should but we really don't have the time in the first place.
A couple years ago I told my friends and family I was going to have the Year of No: that I would say "no" to anything and everything I was asked to do outside family and work. I didn't totally succeed, but I made improvements in discerning how I wanted to spend my time. I prioritized. I think Steve Jobs must have done that to the nth degree - he had a vision and ambition and a sense that time was fleeting.
I can in no way speak to what kind of person Steve Jobs was, whether he was kind, compassionate, emotionally and mentally healthy...but I do like the idea of prioritizing one's time. I think it leads to greater life satisfaction and feeling of being purposeful, rather than blown about by the needs and wants of organizations or people who don't necessarily have your best interest at heart.
I also wonder, if we were clearer in choosing to spend our time on the things we say we value - what would that do to our sense of time? Would time feel more expansive if our pace was slower or our attention more honed.
This is where I can kind of sort of get physics on a gut level - time is relative - that makes sense to me. So, here's to more deeply considering how we spend our time, learning to say no or yes (as the case may be), and accepting without fear that all these little moments will add up to what we call our life.
Believe it or not, I also think there is a practical application for life. Jump with me now. This is a strange jump: Steve Jobs. I would first like to say with no silliness or flippancy that I am sorry about his death and the grief of his family and friends. I think he was inspiritational to many, many people.
In reading about him the past couple of days, a feature of his leadership and personality that stands out to me is how very discerning and maybe even stingy he was with his time. An article from today's NYT addresses this: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/07/technology/with-time-running-short-steve-jobs-managed-his-farewells.html?_r=1&hp
Here is what a friend said, "Steve made choices,” Dr. Ornish said. “I once asked him if he was glad that he had kids, and he said, ‘It’s 10,000 times better than anything I’ve ever done.’ ”
“But for Steve, it was all about living life on his own terms and not wasting a moment with things he didn’t think were important. He was aware that his time on earth was limited. He wanted control of what he did with the choices that were left.”
The meaning of everyone's life is different, and our experiences of time may be slightly different - but the truth is we all have many demands on our time, pleas for our time, and distractions from ways we want to spend our time. Sometimes we say yes to social occasions we don't really want to be part of, sometimes we let the computer or tv suck away unintended hours of our day, sometimes we put work first when we don't have to, sometimes we commit ourselves to 'causes' because we think we should but we really don't have the time in the first place.
A couple years ago I told my friends and family I was going to have the Year of No: that I would say "no" to anything and everything I was asked to do outside family and work. I didn't totally succeed, but I made improvements in discerning how I wanted to spend my time. I prioritized. I think Steve Jobs must have done that to the nth degree - he had a vision and ambition and a sense that time was fleeting.
I can in no way speak to what kind of person Steve Jobs was, whether he was kind, compassionate, emotionally and mentally healthy...but I do like the idea of prioritizing one's time. I think it leads to greater life satisfaction and feeling of being purposeful, rather than blown about by the needs and wants of organizations or people who don't necessarily have your best interest at heart.
I also wonder, if we were clearer in choosing to spend our time on the things we say we value - what would that do to our sense of time? Would time feel more expansive if our pace was slower or our attention more honed.
This is where I can kind of sort of get physics on a gut level - time is relative - that makes sense to me. So, here's to more deeply considering how we spend our time, learning to say no or yes (as the case may be), and accepting without fear that all these little moments will add up to what we call our life.
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