Posts Tagged With: survival

Day 43: Home-based realizations (Starring Growth! Safety! and the Entire Medical Profession)

Posted on February 12, 2013 by Ann Koplow

So, I’m home. And while I love traveling, very much, I am definitely somewhat “on guard” when I’m away from home.  Especially when I’m traveling on my own for most of the trip.

So now that I’m back in my home base, and relaxing a bit, I’m realizing some things, which I’m going to jot down here, before I re-engage — for the first time in over a week — with my typical morning routine (including taking my son to school and going back for my first day at work).

These realizations  feel new to me. I think I’m having them, this morning, partly because of the personal growth I’ve been experiencing — already! — during This Year of Living Non-Judgmentally.

However, they probably aren’t completely new realizations. They are probably lessons that I’m re-realizing, again, as I move further up the ascending coil of my life’s path.  (Carl Jung spoke about our life’s path being in the shape of an ascending coil, which I wrote about here.)

However, these realizations feel new, probably because I’m experiencing them in a deeper, more profound way. And, even more importantly, I’m making these realizations more real,  right now at this point in my life, because I’m bringing them out from a strictly internal sphere and sharing these with the external world.

Or to re-state that last sentence more plainly — I’m not keeping these thoughts to myself anymore. I’m sharing them with other people in my life and with the whole friggin’ Blogosphere, right now!

So where was I before those digressions?  Oh, yes.

Here’s the main point I want to write today, on this Day 43 of the Year of Living Blog-mentally:

I have trouble believing that other people truly love me and will be there for me, no matter what.  

There is the punch-line — the important realization — right there,  in an italicized nut-shell.

So now I’m going to write a little bit about where I think this “trouble” comes from, for me.

(Although I suspect I’m not alone in this issue. Feel free to comment, if you like, if you can relate to this issue, dear reader.)

I think this issue is related to my childhood, when I was hospitalized very frequently for heart issues.  During those “primitive” times of healthcare — the early 1960s — my parents were not allowed to be with me in the hospital, outside of regular visiting hours.

(Here’s an indication of how far health care has come, in this area, since I was kid. When I tell stories about my experiences in the hospital, people CANNOT BELIEVE  that parents were not allowed to stay overnight with kids in the hospital in the 60s.)

Anyway,  between the ages of 9 and 13, I was in the hospital a lot, dealing with lots of operations and scary things (and people), on my own. So even though I’m sure my parents loved me, they couldn’t be with me during some times when it really mattered.  And I guess, maybe my young self believed — on some level — that if my parents really loved me, they would have fought tooth-and-nail, like tigers, to stay with me, no matter what.  

But, again, it was a different time.  And I think all of us — my parents and me — didn’t want to piss off the People in Control — the doctors at the hospital.  I know that I had this childish  fear:  if I DID  alienate the doctors and nurses, by not being a good (maybe even perfect!)  patient, these all-powerful people might let me die.

And I think that my parents, even though they had the wisdom of adulthood,  really wanted to please The Powers That Were, in the Hospital.  I’m assuming my parents did not want to alienate the doctors and nurses who were taking care of me,  by being Uncooperative, Troublesome Parents. (For example,  fighting tooth and nail to stay with me, like tigers).     I guess both my parents and I wanted to stack the deck in our favor with the doctors. Maybe everyone in my family believed, back then,  that if we were really good and didn’t alienate the hospital staff, we would have had a better chance to survive these experiences,  in the best shape possible.

I’m realizing now that these beliefs — fears, really — were probably untrue. (Now that I think of it, my parents and I were mind reading, fortune telling,  catastrophizing, and maybe  doing additional cognitive distortions.) (The 13 cognitive distortions are listed here.)

I’m realizing that those fears were untrue, because doctors are trained — in medical school —  to keep people alive, whether or not they like them. Even if we had been Bad Patients (or Bad Family Members of Patients), I think I still would be alive today.

But I wonder if my parents and I were (or are)  alone in responding to the medical community that way.  When people seem to have life-and-death power over you, maybe a lot of people deal with that by being compliant, by not rocking the boat, by being as perfect as they possibly can be.

Hmmmmm.  That last paragraph seems like a topic I’ll write about again.  (And maybe THAT was part of what I was trying to write about in my post about anti-Semitism and other “isms” two days ago.  (That difficult and — I believe — somewhat confusing post is here.)

A couple of more things I wanted to say about this.  Maybe my parents DID fight tooth and nail to stay with me, and they didn’t succeed.  (You think it’s tough fighting city hall?  Try fighting rules and regulations at a hospital.)

If you, dear, reader,  feel an urge to comment about what you read here in this post, I welcome your comment, as always. But, no  pressure to comment.

I don’t need you to be a perfect reader, or compliant with my requests. Not at all.

And, I have to say, it’s good to be home.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Day 35: The Next Right Thing

Posted on February 4, 2013 by Ann Koplow

For today, I would like to continue the illustrious tradition (that I established yesterday), of discussing the meaning of a term or phrase. Yesterday’s term was “Object Constancy.” Today’s phrase is “The Next Right Thing.”

Yesterday, I Googled “Object Constancy” before I shared my assumptions about it. Today, I would like to start this way:

I want to ask you, dear reader, what your assumptions are about the meaning of the phrase “The Next Right Thing.”  Maybe you’ve heard it before; maybe you haven’t.  In any case, what do you think it means?

(silence, so you can think about that)

(Actually, if this were a game show like “Jeopardy”, thinking music would be playing now.

Da da da da,

Dee dee dee.

Da da da da,

DEET, da-da-da-da-da,

Da da da da,

Dee dee dee,

DAH! da da da,

Deeee, deeeee,  deeeeeeeh.)

Okay, now that you’ve had some time to think about what “The Next Right Thing” means to you (assuming that the “Jeopardy” theme song hasn’t obliterated all other thoughts from your mind) (if so, my deepest apologies) …. I will now Google that phrase.

Hmmmm. Actually, I’m not seeing any “easy” definition of the phrase. (In other words, there’s no Wikipedia entry for it.)  Here are two links I clicked on, and found helpful: here and here.)

Okay!  It’s time for me to tell you my own personal experience with the phrase  “The Next Right Thing.”

I know that “The Next Right Thing” is a phrase, or slogan, associated with 12-step programs. I have witnessed many people use that phrase as a guidepost. I’ve seen them use it as Something That Helps — in their personal path of recovery, in moving forward, in letting go of judgment, in so many different ways. I have felt grateful and privileged to witness all that.

And I decided to use it this morning for myself.  And that phrase came to me because I was feeling somewhat overwhelmed today.  Here are some reasons I’m feeling overwhelmed:

I planned a party for several weeks; now that’s over.

I’m going off on an adventure tomorrow, flying in a plane by myself to somewhere I’ve never been before.

And I haven’t started packing!

I have a friend staying over, and what I’d really like to do is just hang out with her, but I’ve got all these things I should be doing.

And  I’m not feeling great, physically.  Nothing serious, just some muscle aches and the same damn cold lingering on, but the physical stuff does have an effect.

(By the way, I’ll probably write a future blog post about how helpful it can be just to List What’s Stressful, Right Now.)

(Notice that this post is long, with lots of digressions?  Among the reasons for THAT: (1) I’m on vacation so I’ve got more time on my hands and (2) I’m overwhelmed!)

Anyway …  so where was I, before the parentheses?

Heaven knows. But let’s go back to my topic: “The Next Right Thing.”

I know that it will help me today, to identify the next right thing to do.  But here are some thoughts I’m having about THAT:

What the hell is the next right thing? How can I figure THAT out? I’m so overwhelmed!

Well, here’s the deal. There are SEVERAL Next Right Things I could choose right now. I could start packing.  I could tell my friend I need a couple of hours today for myself.  I could get a massage to relieve the muscle aches!

And, actually, I already did do one Next Right Thing for myself this morning.

I wrote this blog post.

Thanks for reading.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Day 30: If you think something positive about somebody, let them know, dammit.

Posted on January 30, 2013 by Ann Koplow


Note: This is another blog-inated version of a chapter from a book I’ve been writing. The working title for this book is “AFOG: Another F***ing Opportunity for Growth.”

So here’s another lesson I keep learning over and over again.  People just don’t hear enough praise.

Most people I’ve encountered seem to concentrate most of their energy on the negative. They notice what’s wrong, in themselves, in others, and in their environment. And that makes sense, on lots of levels.  “If you fix this, things will improve.”  That might seem like the most effective way to survive and succeed.

Noticing and naming mistakes and flaws — with no recognition of the positive  — can be effective…

….. if you’re running a factory of machines.

So you see my point here.   We’re not machines. And with people, a constant focus on what’s not working can backfire. It can have the opposite effect. Too much emphasis on mistakes and criticism — without a balance of positive acknowledgement — can deplete people and make it harder for them to do well.

So here’s my proposal.  Let’s do what we can to try to restore some balance here.  If you find yourself authentically thinking or feeling something positive about somebody, tell them.  I’m willing to guarantee something:  They’re not hearing enough of that.  And on some level, they’ll like it.  They might feel uncomfortable, especially if it feels unfamiliar, but that’s a discomfort that’s important to face.

When I work with people, one thing I often ask them in a first interview is how they feel about praise. (This is important to ask, because I will probably be giving them some honest feedback,  which will definitely include some positive observations.)  I often hear this response:  “I’m not good with praise.”  But nobody has ever said to me anything like, “Whatever you do, don’t give me any authentic positive feedback.”

So I do offer that when I can. Because, really, what’s more therapeutic than that?

One of my Therapy Heroes is Michael White.  Here’s an excerpt from Wikipedia:

Michael White (29 December 1948 – 4 April 2008[1]) was an Australian social worker and family therapist. He is known as the founder of narrative therapy.

I got to see Michael White speak.  It was wonderful. And I remember him inviting the audience to do what I’m writing about here.  I wish I could remember his language, because he was a terrific speaker.  The way I remember what he said is this: If you are thinking something positive about somebody, let that person know.  Don’t assume that they know.  It’s a helpful thing to do, for you and for the other person.

And I remember taking that in and wanting to apply it, that very day.  I remember waiting in line to tell Michael White how wonderful I thought his theories were, how much I loved using narrative therapy with my patients, how much I had enjoyed his talk, and so on.

Strangely enough, I can’t remember whether I ever got to tell him.  it’s possible I did.  It’s possible that I couldn’t, because so many people were waiting to talk to him, that I didn’t get a chance.

But what is important is that I heard him and it changed me. I decided that day to express authentic positive thoughts when I had the opportunity.

So, at work, if somebody tells me something positive about somebody else and expresses appreciation for what they’ve done, I make it a habit to pass that on directly to the person.  I’ll write an e-mail to somebody and say, “I just heard so-and-so say this particular thing about you, and I just wanted to let you know.”  I don’t know how other people take that.  Maybe they think I’m trying to suck up to them.  Maybe they think I’m sickeningly sweet.  Who knows.

I don’t care. I’m honoring Michael White and my own value system.  And I’ll do that whenever I can.

Thanks for reading.

© 2013 Ann Koplow

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

Day 24: Nature ups the ante (and lowers the temperature)

Posted on January 24, 2013 by Ann Koplow

I just checked the temperature on my phone.

I couldn’t help but react audibly when I saw it.  I’m not sure whether I made a gasp or a moan or a strangulated whimper.  Whatever sound I made, it was in reaction to seeing this:

1°

Oh, my.

Well, here’s one way to tell THIS story. Going out this morning  will be an interesting test of what it will be like for me — the day after I wrote in this blog about how extreme weather affects my sense of safety (and when I’m still not back to baseline, health-wise).

I think writing about the extreme cold and my sense of safety yesterday is already helping. Just writing or talking about something — sharing a story, especially a previously unexpressed one — can help quite a bit, I believe. (I guess it’s good I believe that, since that’s the backbone of what I do for a living.)

And it’s also helping this morning, to share my reactions in today’s post — especially that initial, primal THUMP of dismay I felt when I saw that tiny digit on my phone.

It’s a ONE, for heaven’s sake. ONE degree.

Here it is again, in all its small starkness:

1°

(I keep thinking that some of you who are reading this, perhaps living closer to one of the Earthly Poles than I do and regularly experiencing colder temperatures, might be chuckling at my delicate whussy-ness right now, but Hey!  I think we can all bear more easily whatever we’re used to.)

So, as I was saying, it’s a ONE.  Just a smidge away from a zero.  Zero. Nothing.  (Fahrenheit, the crueler measurement of cold.)

So, yes, that scares me.  This is a situation where the  smallness of the number is bad. I’m not talking golf, blood pressure, or “bad” cholesterol,  where smaller numbers are reassuring. In this situation, numbers considerably smaller than normal are dangerous — like the realms of salaries, grades, and the heart rate of a child.

So it’s more dangerous out there, dear readers.   But as I said earlier in this post, writing about this, sharing this with you, feeling not-alone with this, is helpful, especially as I’m gearing myself up to go out and meet it.

And as I’m preparing myself right now, about to put on my layers of armor and venture into The Land of One Degree, I’m feeling …..

Like a hero, actually.

Really. (And I guess that showed up in my language, directly above.)

And rather than feeling beaten down — as I did when that fearsome  and shocking 1° popped up on my cell phone — I actually can feel a sense of excitement.

Really!

And here are some things I’m believing right now:

I can do it.

I will be okay.

Even better!

I will pass through this, triumphant.

I will beat this dastardly degree!

I mean, it’s only a puny little ONE, for heaven’s sake.

Ta-da!

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Day 23: 8 Degrees of Safety.

Posted on January 23, 2013 by Ann Koplow

I went back to work today, Wednesday, after being sick for four days,  and it was really, really cold outside.  It was 8 degrees, Fahrenheit, when I left the house.

I bundled up, really well, for protection. And everything went okay.  Nothing went awry. My trusty car started up, right away, even though it had sat idle since Saturday. And although I had to wait outside for a shuttle bus for a little while (my parking lot is a 20-minute walk from the hospital where I work), my bundling had done the trick. I wasn’t in too much pain during the wait. I could still really feel the cold through all the layers I’d piled on, which felt very freaky, but I was fine.

So I made it to work, no harm done.  However, I’ve noticed that whenever it’s extreme weather outside, that affects my sense of safety, even when I’m indoors.  I’m more aware of our human physical fragility, I guess. Knowing that the outside environment is considerably more hostile than usual has an effect on me.  I feel more anxious, careful, subdued, vigilant, serious.  Getting in touch with other aspects of my nature — my humor, openness, and sociability — takes more effort.  And I pretty much kept to myself, avoiding any contact with strangers, the whole day I was away from home.

I think that’s a reflection of a general “truth” for me.   The safer I feel in my environment  — the more I’m able to trust that pain is not imminent — the more I can interact freely with others, and the more in touch I can be with the “higher” parts of my nature.

This is tricky to write about, since the word “higher” implies judgment, doesn’t it?  At this moment, I’m not sure what to call those other parts of my nature — the humor, the openness, the sociability.  For some reason, I want to call those parts “vulnerable” right now.

Are they more vulnerable, though?  I feel like those parts show strength.  However, to show humor, openness, and sociability implies a trust of The Other Person, I suppose — that whomever we interact with will be accepting enough of the interpersonal effort.

So maybe showing those sociable parts implies a certain level of bravery. Whenever we interact with somebody, we risk rejection, I guess.

Hmmm. This is like an equation that I’m having trouble figuring out right now. It’s frustrating, and I’m comparing how I am right now — not feeling 100% myself, still recovering from being sick — to how I might be able to think and write when I’m feeling better. (Comparisons are another Cognitive Distortion, by the way, and I look forward to ranting and raving about THAT in a future blog post.)

Anyway, I’m going to end it here, dear reader, trusting that this post is good enough to publish today. I also hope that if you have thoughts and questions about this post, that you will feel safe enough — no matter what the weather is outside as you’re reading this — to express them, if you choose.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Day 17: I think I wake up most mornings feeling uneasy

Posted on January 17, 2013 by Ann Koplow

I think when I first wake up, I have some sense of unease, some measure of worry and anxiety.

I can’t say for sure how long that’s been going on, because I seem to have a bad memory for certain things, especially feeling states.  I see that “bad memory” in other people, too, when I ask them, “How long have you been feeling this way?”  I can see people struggle to give me a good, accurate answer, and I reassure them that I just need a rough estimate. A ballpark figure.  Has it been days?  Has it been months?  Has it been years?  And that they can tell me.

(Okay I have a writer’s problem now.  I floated my topic sentence, and now I want to write more about this issue of emotional memory. I have a proposal, dear reader.  Stay with me on this detour, for a moment, and then I will guide us back to that promised topic.)

So, I think I’m noticing a pretty common human phenomenon there: no matter what emotional state people are in, they tend to remember the times when they felt the same way. When somebody is depressed, they tend to remember those times. The depressed periods are highlighted, and memories of joy, hope,  love, and other  mismatching emotions  fade. This selective memory can work for other feelings, too.  That is, when you’re happier and more secure, the sad times can recede in memory, too.  It’s like looking at your life with a certain search filter on.

(I think this selective emotional memory also relates to why, all my life, I’ve lived in a place that gets friggin’ freezing every winter.  I don’t like the cold. At all. And every winter, I say to myself, “Why do I stay here?  I hate this!  I deserve better than to be in this kind of pain, for this long, every year!  Life is too short, dammit! I am definitely going to look into moving (south, west, to Hawaii, etc.)!”  And every year, the beautiful, warming spring comes, and I forget about it.)

So (heading back around towards original topic!),  I don’t know how long I’ve been feeling this way, but I seem to wake up most mornings — at least, these days — feeling uneasy.  I suspect that this Initial Waking State is common for me, and has been going on for much of my life

And I guess that makes sense.  Why shouldn’t I wake up, ready for the day, with a sense of what needs to be attended to?  Wouldn’t that be an effective coping strategy for effectiveness, and maybe even survival?  If I wake up in a state of Zen and calm, maybe I won’t be as prepared to solve the problems, meet potential threats, avert possible calamities.

Screw it, though. I think waking up in a state of calm would be quite nice, don’t you?  And I’m sure I have woken up that way on certain mornings, but just not that often.

I will say this, though. As hazy as my emotional memories might be, I know that there have been times when I’ve woken up with a considerably higher level of discomfort and anxiety — more “on alert.”  Compared to those times, I am waking up kind of Zen-ish, actually.

I think I can do better, though. Let’s see how I’m waking up in April.  And November.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

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