The Reason We’re Not All Here is Because We’re Not All There

For much of my life, I have always been preoccupied about the future.  It’s not about a fear of the end of the world.  Rather, I’ve identified it as a focus on “what’s next,” “what I need to become,” and an inability to live in and enjoy the here and now. 

This way of thinking first came to me as I reflected on my time serving a mission for the LDS Church between the ages of 19 and 21.  Besides being an overall emotional mess during those two years, I remember always being worried about what I wasn’t; that I was never quite good enough.  I established a high bar for myself which I could never achieve, and in retrospect I likely was always in a low-level depressed state.  It was challenging for me to not worry about what I wasn’t since in my mind serving a proselyting mission for the Church required a high level of spirituality and dedication.  I allowed what I wasn’t to distract me from feeling the present. I was always beating myself up, unable to appreciate the singular events around me which happened routinely.  I had many awesome experiences in those 24 months, but the time could have been so much more and I could have been happier.

Up until a few years ago, I was caught in this same “future” vortex.  I had a breakthrough as a result of learning in graduate school about the importance of “being in the here and now” with clients. There are particular therapies that focus not on the past or what people aren’t, but on the present and what people are.  As I learned about these therapies, they resonated with me, they felt RIGHT.  I realized that I should not only focus my therapies in my future practice on the here and now, but that it was the way that I should focus my life.  When I finally began implementing this mindset each day, it was a great feeling to finally let go.  The transition continued while I implemented this paradigm shift as I went on a vacation with Ann to visit some of her family in Maryland.  The evening we arrived I made a promise to myself that during the duration of the vacation I would focus completely on what was happening in the very moment and not concern myself about what was to happen the next day or a few days hence.  I wanted to be completely invested in interacting with the family and to just “go with the flow.” I am pleased to report that these were some of the greatest days that I had experienced in years.  I felt focused and contented in the present.  I felt part of the extended family, and I really tried to live in the moment what we were doing.

This transition is continuing on.  As I have become more involved with addiction recovery recently in my profession and in my church responsibilities, and have come to more fully understand and embrace its precepts, I have also allowed the Serenity Prayer, so much a part of addiction recovery, to become an integral part of my own recovery from a never-contented “future” person to a calmer, more grace-oriented “now” person.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And wisdom to know the difference.                                                                        

In this transition, I have given and continue to give to God each day my weaknesses and inadequacies, all that I am not, and try to live right now in His mercy and grace (Tenth Step!).  As I embrace what I am not, and focus with courage on what I can do and am doing and becoming right now, I feel the serenity spoken of in the Prayer.  And to quote a famous phrase, “that has made all the difference in the world!”

The Ultimate Transition

Pocatello Idaho Cemetary where Jeanne Harten is now buried

I guess death is the ultimate transition.  It is a transition that I would prefer not to experience at this point in my life although I do not fear it.  When loved ones pass on, we who are left are forced to make a transition in our own lives—to an existence now without them. 

The mother of a very good friend experienced that ultimate transition last night.  I have known this friend for 40 years, and over that long span of time he has always spoken in loving tones about his uniquely wonderful relationship with her.  Our conversations have always seemed to include an appropriate update on her.  Throughout his entire adult life -- through transitions of school, dating, marriage, children, career, and life’s challenges, she has been a towering presence. Early on, she served as mentor, guide, and confidant.  As time rolled by and he became more confident in his abilities and judgments, she appropriately receded into the role of cheerleader, supporter, and advice giver when asked.  In later years as she experienced a colossal number of health challenges, my good friend has become her cheerleader and caretaker, and source of supply of grandchildren whom she has powerfully loved.

I have always felt some kind of kinship with her as a result.  She was a significant part of him; he has been a significant part of me, so subsequently she has been a significant part of me.  And I feel a sweet loss this morning.  Life will still go on, but it will be a little less wonderful because of her transition.  I am grateful for my faith in the Plan, of life after death, an existence free of pain and suffering for her, and I smile as I think of her blessed reunion with her husband and the literal tens of thousands of relatives whom she came to know as a result of a life dedicated to genealogy.  What a fantastic woman she was…. J

Questioning the Waves

For much of my life, when something negative has resulted because of my negligence, my carelessness, my inattentiveness, my weakness,  my humanity, I have emotionally put myself down--beaten myself up.  I can't say that I saw this self punishment demonstrated in my home growing up.  I'm not sure that I learned it from any person.  But doing it has been a significant part of me, haunting me, possessing me, making me feel very bad about myself, and I often have felt powerless to stop the cascading waves of ugly feelings.  

In the past, when this veritable tsunami has washed over me, I have felt as if I were in a toilet that was flushing--spinning round and round and sinking deeper and deeper, unable to stop the feelings. Those who do this to themselves know exactly what it feels like.  It is an incredibly dark place.

I have done it for so long that I have become very adept at it.  I know well the continual, seemingly unending chatter inside my head; calling myself stupid, inept, and any other adjective that serves to make myself feel terrible.  In those moments, I have sometimes felt that I deserved to feel this way.  That I deserved whatever bad happened as a result of my poor performance.

Years ago, when my children starting behaving in a way that was contrary to what I felt that I had taught them, I really struggled.  I looked at myself as a father and accused myself of failing at this most important responsibility.  The negative self-talk was brutal.  I would look at their "poor" behavior and tell myself that I was responsible for it; that my "nurture" or lack thereof, had caused it.  Because of my spiritual understanding, however, my faith told me that they had lived in heaven before they came to earth for who knows how long.  I had only been able to influence them for a relatively short time.  They had their own personalities and characters, their own "natures."  I struggled to deal with the age-old existential question of "nature vs. nurture."

I came to realize over time as I saw both their less than optimal and their optimal behavior, that I couldn't be entirely responsible for both, and I began to let go of some of those "put myself down" feelings.  But I still struggled with day-to-day failures that I considered I had caused.  It was still very easy to slip into the negative self-talk.  Probably on some absurd level, it was comforting to not deal with the issue and question it but just let the waves roll over me or flush the toilet, whatever metaphor works. 

It took understanding myself better as a result of personal psychotherapy and my coursework to get my psychology degree to finally change my response to the tsunami.  And frankly, dealing with this phenomenen with others as I do therapy has helped as well because I see myself in them.  What I have learned to do is to ask myself two questions, in the aftermath of a situation in which a negative result has occured because of my perceived weakness:

1. Why am I feeling this way right now?
2. What benefit will it give me to continue feeling this way?

In other words, when I do this, I am taking the overwhelming feelings to a cognitive, thinking place.  I am interrupting the waves, questioning what is happening to me.  I have learned that as I have repeatedly done this little brain exercise, I am essentially reprogramming my brain.  So when the initial event(s) occur these days, those two questions pop into my mind.  I deal with the negative overwhelming feelings immediately and after I ask the questions, the waves begin to ebb and the mind chatter begins to fade to nothing.  I may still feel a bit bad because of what has happened, but I now calm myself and put it in the experience column.  These days I am even able to look at what occured and objectively decide what I can learn from it--what I should or shouldn't do in the future so that the negative outcome is avoided.

To be sure, because of my humanity I still do or don't things that have negative consequences.  But I am well into this particular transition, one that makes me feel so much better about myself and one that I am very proud of!

My Core Issue of Emotional Abandonment

As I do psychotherapy with clients, I will sometimes bring up the concept of core issue work.  Most of us have one or more core issues or challenges which surface repeatedly over the course of our lives.  For me, they have manifested themselves in my relationship with my wife specifically, but with significant others generally, and are usually rooted in deep unexpressed fears.  Core issues almost always cause all sorts of problems, but if viewed as opportunities, I can have a better life.  Here are the most common core issues and their related fears:

1) Abandonment - Nobody cares about me.  I'm all alone.  I don't matter.
2) Arrogance - I'm worse than everyone.  I'm always wrong and you're always right.
3) Damage - Something is wrong with me.  I'm damaged.  I'm flawed.  I'm a failure.
4) Inferiority - I'm not good enough.  I'm worthless.  I'm hopeless.  I'm stupid.  I'm boring.
5) Rejection - I'm unwanted.  I'm a burden.  Nobody wants to spend time with me.
6) Shame - I'm bad.  I'm a mistake.  I'm evil.  I may be exposed as a fraud.

Our core issues often originate from childhood family scenarios--especially in my case.  They can be the result of negative messages that were repeated many times to us by parents or significant other people in our lives.  Or one of these beliefs may have been driven deeply into us during one or more traumatic experiences.  But dealing with a core issue can gradually shift a deeply ingrained fear, thus overcoming a lack of acceptance of ourselves and a deep feeling of being disconnected--from ourselves, from others, from our spiritual nature, or any combination of these.

However, if a person has a significant breakthrough in identifying and transforming a core issue, he/she eventually finds the same issue rearing its ugly head in a different, perhaps more subtle form.  Transforming fear through working on my core issue has been like peeling away layers of an onion.  But as I have peeled, my life has become richer, more meaningful, and more enjoyable than it was before.

In my transition from living in fear by my core belief--abandonment--I have cultivated an ever increasing awareness of how and when my core issue is triggered, but as stated previously, it rears its head in slightly different forms.  Even after working on my core issue for a number of years, it popped up just yesterday and the day before.

I was talking to Ann the day before yesterday prior to her returning home from an 11 day trip to the East Coast to attend a conference, visit her sister and her family, and to spend time with Emily and Adam and their four kids in Brooklyn.  As we have talked daily about her experiences, Ann has recounted her impressions of conversations held, what she has done there, and in general, her exciting life interacting with people.  She hadn't said anything about me other than asking what I had been doing.  I admit that I had waited for her to state that she was missing me and was looking forward to eventually coming home--which was an unrealistic expectation on my part, totally inappropriate based upon the hectic nature of her itinerary, especially in Brooklyn with the four kids under 3 years old.  And on this day, prior to coming home, I was really hoping that she would say something about missing me.  I stopped myself from saying anything; I realized that this was a trigger and on a deep level I was afraid, and that I needed to soothe myself and take care of little Bobby, the abandoned child inside of me. Luckily, I did so, and looked to be supportive in the conversation and took pleasure in her excitement about what was happening to her there.

Last night, after she had come home and eaten a dinner that I basically had prepared for her and that she only needed to warm up, I got home at 7:45pm from seeing seven clients.  When I warmed up my dinner and sat down, I expected her to want to sit down by me and spend time with me.  However, she was in the middle of doing something on her computer, so I ended up essentially eating by myself.  Again, I recognized that I had been triggered and I had to soothe myself and make this about me and my abandonment core issue and not about her.  In retrospect, she probably would have come to sit down with me if I had only asked her, but I didn't ask.  To my delight, a couple of times she did come out briefly to the eating area, looked over my shoulder at the article I was reading while eating, and touched me lovingly on my arm, back, and shoulder. 

I recount these events to show that I am working on a transition of dealing with my core issue of emotional abandonment.  It is a journey, but one in which I am having success.  I realize more than ever that it is a cognitive choice to face my fear and to recognize that it is a chance to grow.  This transition is bringing about a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that I am progressing.  And when appropriate, I can talk about my successes with my clients!