Choices

When it comes to money, my mom and dad are on the opposite ends of the spectrum. My dad loves to buy things and does so often and freely with no regard for cost. My mom, on the other hand, doesn't buy something unless it's "half of half of half" off. Depending on the day, I can be on either end of the spectrum, but most of the time I am more like my mom. As a result, my relationship with money is plagued with anxiety and guilt.

For example, when my ex and I were at the airport on the way to our honeymoon, I bought a neck pillow because we had a long flight ahead of us. It had one of those tags that they have on mattresses that you aren't supposed to remove under penalty of law, but it was annoying me, so I ripped it off, anyway.

Apparently this law exists for a reason, because after I ripped it off, all of those little white things started coming out of the gigantic hole I had created and were spilling all over the place. I had to throw the darn thing away. I was distraught about destroying my pillow less than 5 minutes after purchasing it and wasting $15. It was only fitting that I should have to spend the next 10 hours on the plane with an unsupported neck.

While I was berating myself for my obsessiveness, my ex bought another neck pillow and snuck behind me and put it around my neck. Unlike me, he did not obsess over buying stuff. This became a source of many arguments later, but at the time it was a sweet and loving gesture. He was not great with words, but this one action said everything I needed to know: it's OK by me that you're obsessive, and you still deserve a neck pillow.

When memories like these pop up, it activates the same cycle of thoughts. Am I doing the right thing? Is there anything more I could do to make things work? I go through the scenario of what it would be like if we got back together, and I always come to the same conclusion: things would be exactly as they were before.

I wish choices could be more clear-cut, like on a test. But life isn't like school: answers are rarely 100% right or wrong. I have to remind myself that with any decision, there are things that I will lose. I can't make the perfect choice. I cannot escape the sadness of having to give up the good parts of our relationship.

Memories like this one make me want to cry. But at the same time, I am also thankful. Even if things didn't work out, he was a good guy. He was a good choice for many reasons. And even as we finalize our divorce, he continues to be kind and helpful. Not many people can say that at the end of a relationship.

Positively Selfish

One of the hazards of working in the helping professions is burnout. People who are drawn to helping others run the risk of giving too much of themselves. In my case, however, I run the risk of burnout in my personal relationships more so than I do at work.

There are a lot of advantages to working in a counseling center. Even though you don't make as much money, you have access to a lot of resources that you don't have in private practice. I have colleagues, the student health center, deans, RA's, and peer counselors who share the load. The most stressful periods of my job are predictable and time-limited: they occur around the middle of the semester and end around finals week. There are boundaries that are built into our schedule, as well. Appointments are 50 minutes long at the most. We don't schedule clients past 5 pm or on the weekends. Students go home for breaks. We don't see students after they graduate.

My personal life is a different story. Many of the people I love have emotional needs that they expect me to fulfill. Appointments are not time-limited. I am on call 24-7. I usually cannot terminate these relationships, nor do I want to. I have a hard time saying no to whatever they ask of me. And in many cases, I do not feel I am getting back as much as I am putting into the relationship because their emotional resources are more limited than my own. Which is not their fault. It's just unfortunate for me.

That is part of the reason why I want a hiatus from loving and caring for anyone or anything new. No dating. No pets. Just me and my plants. I'm burned out; I want a more solitary job in my personal life.

I was telling my therapist the other day how this makes me feel selfish. She told me that I'm being honest with myself--more authentic. That we need another word that conveys positive selfishness. Which is kind of sad, really. What does it say about our culture that there would be no word for a healthy focus on oneself?

She nominated the word selful. Full of oneself, but in a good way. More like being whole. But it doesn't roll off the tongue the way selfish and selfless do. Plus it looks weird. So I am open to suggestions.

Almost Whole

"Things that are broken can be made whole." That's my favorite line in Little Princes.

Conor Grennan did not volunteer at the orphanage in Nepal for religious purposes. When he decided to start a non-profit organization for the sole purpose of rescuing 7 of the orphans he met from drug traffickers, he still did not think he was doing God's will. But there were so many miraculous incidents that allowed him to succeed in his mission of finding these orphans, and their parents, and reuniting their families, that he decided to buy a Bible so that he could rediscover God.

This line was actually spoken by Conor's friend, Liz, who would eventually become his wife. She confessed to him that she was married and divorced by her mid-twenties. She felt so broken and ashamed at the time that she stopped going to church. She tells Conor that "God used that time of great sadness to reclaim me, to redeem me. Things that are broken can be made whole."

Isn't therapy, too, about making people whole? Isn't that what I'm trying to do with my blog? I have never thought of it in those terms.

I have always feared that there was something fundamentally wrong with me. Like I was born with some kind of crack in my foundation that becomes apparent whenever I make another mistake. My therapist said that perhaps these cracks are there to allow me to breathe. I didn't believe her when she said this, and I was annoyed that she was trying to turn my fundamental flaw into something positive. Those darn therapists! Always trying to see the positive side of things.

I signed and notarized the divorce papers a few days ago. Usually every step forward makes me cry, but this one did not. Not yet, at least. Maybe it was because I had it notarized by my tennis partner after our match and went to lunch with my team afterwards, which did not leave me any time for self-reflection. Or maybe I'm finally beginning to accept that this is the right thing for both of us.

In any case, I did not beat myself up for leaving or for failing to make things work, as I usually do. I did not let my inner critic tell me that this is what I deserve. I can't say that I am at peace with the whole thing, but I am further along than I was when I wrote the first post on divorce.

In this moment, I am focusing more on my blessings than my losses. Perhaps this means I am on my way to becoming whole.

Hiatus

I have always prided myself on being open to love, even after heartbreak. I've met people who have closed off their hearts after being betrayed by their loved one, and while I don't judge them for their decision, it is not how I want to live my life. This is also why, although I've had partners who have been dishonest, I still choose to start off a relationship trusting the other person.

A few weeks ago, my therapist suggested that I consider getting a cat. She thought it would help to combat my loneliness and to discharge negative energy. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am not an animal person, but I, too, have considered getting a cat. But after talking to my friends about it and imagining what it would be like to have a cat here in my darkest moments, I have decided against it. For now, at least.

I realized after this deliberation process that I am not in a place where I am ready to love, take care of, or lose anyone or anything. I am not necessarily closing off my heart, but I still feel too vulnerable, too raw to be open to love at the moment.

I don't like the person I have been in relationships. In my most negative moments, my inner critic uses this against me as evidence that I deserve to be alone. I think it has more to do with the super-empath in me who identifies so much with how the other person feels, I cannot separate my wants and needs from theirs. I think that's one of the reasons I convinced myself that I loved people who loved me; I became what they needed me to be.

As cliche as it sounds, I really don't know who I am or what I want in a relationship. I am hoping that if I can be free from the wants and needs of others, I will eventually have a better sense of what my own wants and needs are. I have already been surprised by how much I enjoy my solitude--most of the time. How freeing it is not to have my mood be so tied to how my partner is feeling. My mood is all over the place as it is. I now realize how overwhelming it was when I felt everything for the two of us.

So I'm taking a long overdue hiatus from relationships. I am hoping this will lead to wiser decisions about matters of the heart. And if the hiatus ends up being longer than expected, I can always take my therapist's advice and adopt a cat.

Empathy, Part 2

I had an epiphany a few weeks ago. I realized that I don't have to like someone to have empathy for them.

That helps to explain why, when I worked in daycare, the toddlers who cried all day every day for weeks on end were attached to me. Because I picked them up and held them, which you weren't supposed to do. I didn't particularly like them at that point, because I didn't really get to know them until they stopped crying, but I couldn't stand it that they were in pain.

According to The Art of Empathy, empathy is not limited to human beings. You can have empathy for art, nature, music, books, and animals. This helps to explain another aspect of my behavior that I have always found puzzling. I am not a big animal lover, but I feel bad for animals when I think they're unhappy.

When I went to Busch Gardens in Florida, which has awesome habitats for animals because of its Africa theme, I did psychological assessments of all the animals. Most of them were happy. The otters swam right up to us to greet us. This hippo put on a show for us. The gazelles were happy because they didn't have to worry about predators attacking them. This hyena seemed downright neurotic, pacing back and forth right in front of the window. The gorillas seemed pensive and potentially depressed.

So maybe I'm not so crazy after all. Maybe that's just that one of the downsides of being a super-empath--it's hard to turn off that instinct to help others. If I meet a guy and he has one of those 4 impediments in a potential mate, I think, that's the guy for me! And the more impediments, the better. Even if don't like him that much. Even if he lies, which I detest.

From now on, my #1 criterion when I decide to date again is that I have to like the guy. Which would probably be an obvious pick for most people, but I can be a slow learner sometimes.

Honesty and Trust, Part 2

"You should know; you're a psychologist."

Sometimes I don't know. Sometimes I, too, am puzzled as to why people do the things they do.

I've been trying to make sense of why, despite my commitment to honesty, I remained in relationships with people who consistently lied to me. And I didn't even like them very much. I have this tendency to try to make relationships work at all costs, even when I don't like the person. Even when they do things that are inconsistent with my values, like lying. It's maddening.

One of my exes told me up front that he was a liar. Still, my first instinct was to believe him. It's too much work not to trust people, I think. But sometimes it was more costly to make myself believe that he was being honest. It's hard not to beat myself up for trusting a self-proclaimed liar. Why would anyone do such a crazy thing?

My best guess is that I stayed with these guys because I wanted to believe in the version of themselves that they were selling. It's who they wanted to be, and who I wanted them to be. I wanted to help them get there, even. You can do it! I have faith in you!

Plus, I knew they were lying because they were ashamed of who they really were. I was trying to do the whole unconditional positive regard thing that therapists do. Because that is the most healing gift that we can give to others. It works well in therapy, but not so much in romantic relationships. I realize now that there is a limit to how much you can allow someone to hurt you in order to prove to them that they are lovable.

I understand what it's like to fear that people won't love you or respect you if they knew what you're really like. That is the purpose of this blog, after all. To challenge myself to show the world what I'm really like. And while I haven't outright lied about who I am, I haven't always shared the things that I'm ashamed of. Not even to my family--the people who do love me unconditionally.

So I guess we can all challenge ourselves to be more honest. Some people have further to go than others, but as long as we're making the effort, that's what counts, isn't it?  Anyway, it makes me feel better about myself to frame my tolerance of dishonesty in this way, so that's what I'm going with.

But I'm still going to be more selective about who I choose to be with from now on.

Blessings in Disguise

Remember how my car broke down on the way to my friend's wedding? Well, it turned out to be more of an inconvenience than an extra day and $1000. Try 2 extra days and $3000.

I tried my best to have a good attitude about it. I made a list of the things I was thankful for. I tried to put a positive spin on everything. It helped some, but it was still annoying.

You know what helped the most? I looked at the service ticket when I got home and it turned out that my rear brakes were 95% worn. I kind of thought they were unresponsive, but I didn't think it was that bad. I'm actually thankful that my car broke down. I was speeding because I was late for the rehearsal dinner, and if I had to break suddenly, things could have been much worse. Maybe breaking down wasn't a punishment for having a bad attitude after all. Maybe God was looking out for me.

I often tell clients that the events that they think are terrible at the time may turn out to be blessings in disguise. This is also supported by research on happiness. I mentioned in a previous post how people who become paraplegics from car accidents return to their baseline level of happiness after about a year. Sometimes they are even thankful for the accident, because it moved their lives in a more positive direction.

I guess if you're really cynical, you could argue that they're just rationalizing to make themselves feel better. I don't think this is true, but even if it were, so what? Our beliefs are more compelling than reality, anyway. I'd love to be irrationally grateful.

This holiday weekend has been tough for me. Holidays are the hardest because they are supposed to be filled with family, friends, and food. And in this case, fireworks. I am 0-4. I think about how I've spent the 4th of July in the past. Some of the most recent ones were far worse than I could have imagined. Now that I'm single, the best I can hope for is that holidays won't be as lonely and depressing as I think they will be. This one is about what I expected. (Unless Federer wins tomorrow. Then it will all be worthwhile.)

My tendency is to beat myself up for my single status. I must deserve it because of all the terrible relationship decisions I've made. Or maybe I'm just unlucky. Or maybe at some point in the future, I'll look back and realize that this period of solitude was also a blessing in disguise. I'm not completely convinced of this, but I'm trying to be hopeful.

These are the flowers from the wedding. It has nothing to do with blessings, but I think it's a cool picture.

Joy and Pain

I finally saw The Fault in Our Stars the other day. I thought that the movie was true to the book but wasn't long enough to include all the scenes that I loved. But I guess no one else would be interested in a 10 hour movie.

One of the things they left out was the discussion of whether we need to experience pain in order to know joy. In the book Hazel repeatedly says she doesn't believe this: "the existence of broccoli in no way affects the taste of chocolate." I thought that this was such a compelling argument that for awhile I forgot all of the research I've read that supports the joy-pain connection.

Hazel worries about how her death will hurt the people who love her. She is afraid that her parents won't have a life after she dies. She pushes Augustus away because she doesn't want to be a grenade. But Augustus cannot be dissuaded: "you don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have some say in who hurts you."

This whole joy and pain thing is actually why I have so much trouble with endings. I look forward to having the summer off but by the 2nd day of summer I start obsessing about how my vacation is running out. I suffer from existential anxiety about death and aging. Even coming to the end of books like this one is difficult because I don't want to have to say good-bye to characters like Hazel and Augustus.

When I read the book I didn't fully appreciate Hazel's obsession with knowing what happens to the characters at the end of "An Imperial Affliction," which ends in mid-sentence because the narrator dies of cancer. But after watching the movie, I understand. Hazel wants reassurance that life will go on for her parents after she dies.

I've always thought that life was kind of cruel in this way. My heart may be broken but the world doesn't seem to care. Life goes on, despite my pain. It's kind of insulting, really.

But now I think it's a good thing. Life isn't like a book or a movie that begins with joy but ends with pain--and wisdom. Life is more like a series of stories, where we have more joy--and pain--ahead of us. More people to love. More summers to look forward to.  More books to read. So I'm looking forward to the next installment.

I think this doodle looks like lightning bugs.

Interventions, Part 2

In the book Stumbling on Happiness, psychologist Daniel Gilbert gives multiple examples of how we are terrible at predicting what will make us happy. I'm sure you've heard some of the studies. How people who are paraplegics from car accidents and people who win the lottery both return to their baseline level of happiness after about a year.

I often tell clients the same thing when they're catastophizing about what will happen in the future. How they'll be flipping burgers at McDonald's because they got an F on their chemistry exam. How they will never find love. How they will be depressed for the rest of their lives. We don't know what the future holds. We know that we don't know, but we still act like we do.

So how are we supposed to make decisions if we're so terrible at predicting the future? Gilbert recommends that we ask someone who has made a similar decision and find out how they feel about it. Psychologists say that the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. Still, there are no guarantees. Ultimately important decisions often come down to a leap of faith.

A few weeks ago I shared my anxiety about having to do an intervention. I asked for advice from my psychiatrist, my therapist, and from God. They all said I had to do it. But I couldn't make myself do it. Because based on the two suggestions above, the forecast looked pretty gloomy. But a promise is a promise.

I've been reading Thomas Merton's "No Man Is an Island," and he says that God is involved in every aspect of our lives, guiding our every step, trying to move us closer to where we need to be. I wasn't sure if I believed that, but it was comforting to think that it might be true. That perhaps God was moving me closer to this conversation, even though I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere.

I decided to blog about it because that always seems to help. One reader said that perhaps the opportunity would naturally present itself. She was right; I got my opportunity. I did my part, expecting that my concerns would be completely dismissed, but they weren't. My words had an impact. Things are in motion, moving in the direction they're supposed to go. And I am thankful.

When I pray for courage, I feel like God tells me that if I do my part, He will do his. And while that has always been true, I'm always still afraid to take the next step. Will it happen this time? Was I just lucky before? Will God really be there on the other side?

Sometimes it takes awhile, but I usually take that leap of faith. I may not know what is on the other side, but I know I can't stay stuck on this side forever.

Telepathy

I went though a period where I was really into books about Near Death Experiences. It started when I went to this training on positive psychology, and the presenter said that the book My Descent Into Death, by Howard Storm, is the only written account of someone who went to hell before he went to heaven. 

I already knew all the stuff about positive psychology since that's one of my areas of expertise, but the story about this guy got my attention. I had to find out what someone could have done that would be bad enough to go to hell. It was surprisingly innocuous. But I'll save that story for another post.

One of the things that struck me the most in the book was Storm's assertion that we are capable of communicating with other people without words and across space and time. I've always felt this was true--especially with people whom you've known. You know that expression about someone tugging at your heartstrings? That's how I imagine it happens. Some invisible wire connects your heart to theirs when you meet someone, and you can communicate with them through this wire.

I actually tested this out last week. I was thinking about this guy and I texted him later to find out if he could feel it, and he said he did. He named the time of day and everything. And he's not someone who would ordinarily be thinking about me. 

Sometimes I've tried to communicate with people after a break up. Usually there are things that I want to say that I no longer have the opportunity to say. Things that I could never say in person, or that I didn't realize at the time. 

For the longest time I was mad at my first husband for ruining our marriage. But every now and then I'll remember something about the way I treated him, and I'll tell him that I understand why he had to leave. That I'm not mad anymore. It makes me feel better to think that I can still tell him things, even if we never see each other again.

This is also the book that went into great detail about how angels play a role in our day-to-day life. So when there are important messages that need to be delivered, I pray that God will send an angel to someone. My high school teacher and her daughter recently lost their husband/father, so I've asked God to send extra angels their way to surround them with strength and love. He can even take some of mine if they need more. Sometimes that's what I do for clients, too, when I don't know how else to help them.

You know that confrontation problem I mentioned in my last post? So far, the closest I've come to telling him that he needs to get on meds is to ask an angel to whisper it into his ear while he's sleeping. Because if the message comes from God, he might believe it. If it comes from me, not so much.

Maybe I can even do the same thing I did with my friend: ask him if he's gotten any messages from God lately. If nothing else, it could be a good opening for the conversation.

Psychological Energy Conservation

Being single has its advantages. I never realized how much energy I was expending on compromising and trying to make things work. It's lonely at times but much more relaxing. So much so that I think I'm going to give up all of my high maintenance relationships. Maybe it will help me cut down on my crash and burn days. 

In fact, I'm thinking about promoting a psychological energy conservation campaign modeled after Go Green. Instead of Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, my slogan is Refrain, Reframe, Reevaluate. Since my tag line is less intuitive, let me elaborate.

1.  Refrain.  I'm going to do a better job of setting boundaries. Before, if someone asked me to do something, I felt like I had to do it if I was capable of doing so. Whether I wanted to or not was irrelevant. Or whether it was in my best interest to do so. But you know what? I can just say no. No, I'm not available at that time. No, I don't want to go to that wedding. No, I don't have room for you on my team.

I can also resist the urge to help people when helping them means hurting myself. My rationale in the past has been that I can take it, so it's OK. I can lose sleep. I can get my heart broken. I can sacrifice my time. But it's not OK. I always tell clients that you have to put yourself first, because you can't rely on other people to do so, even if they love you. If its a choice between you and someone else, pick you. So I'm picking me.

2.  Reframe.  I waste a lot of time beating myself up for things I can't control. Like being angry, or anxious, or exhausted. So I'm trying to reframe my feelings in a way that helps me to be more accepting of them. 

Lately, when my inner critic gives me a hard time for obsessing, I stand up for myself. Of course I'm obsessing! That's my thing. That's what I do. Why wouldn't I be doing it right now? That shuts him up. And it actually helps me to stop obsessing. 

And I've come up with another part to help me be more forgiving of myself for my anger. I think of my anger as a bouncer who is trying to keep people who have hurt me from getting back into the club. Because I'm standing at the door saying, of course you can come in! Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything? The bouncer gets mad at me when I do this, and who can blame him, really. Someone needs to be strong enough to kick these people out.

3.  Reevaluate.  I need to do an energy assessment after I crash and burn, rather than assume it happened because I'm a crazy, weak, bad person. If I choose to blog during lunch instead of take a nap and catch up on sleep, I might be tired later in the week.  Same thing with staying up until 2 a.m. Or choosing to captain 2 teams at the same time. Or playing 5 times a week. I can do it, but I have to be ready to pay the consequences later.

I can become more aware of what I need, rather than judge myself for what I think I should need, if I were a normal person. I can allow myself to do what works best for me. I'm the most productive after 7 p.m., so that's when I'm going to get my chores done. I'd rather work nonstop for 2 hours than leisurely spend the day working. And my favorite time of day is between 11 p.m. and 2 a.m., so I'm going to let myself enjoy those hours, even if it means that I'll sleep until noon the next day.

I'm thinking this campaign could really catch on. Think how much more energy we would all have for the things that are important to us if we used it more wisely. Heck, I might even win the Nobel Prize like Al Gore.

Beginnings and Endings

I don't do well with endings. 

Yesterday, as I began my 2 day drive back home, I started feeling anxious for no reason--until I remembered that I always feel anxious at the end of a trip. I was so relaxed during my vacation that I forgot how stressful my life was. Even tennis, which I love more than anything, feels like a job that I have to get used to again. The emails, texts, and calls about team registrations, lineup changes, and board meetings began before I made it home.

I always obsess over the passage of time at the end of a trip. How quickly it seems to go. The things I fear about getting older and watching other people get older. The more I enjoy myself, the stronger this fear is.

The next time I see my niece, she won't be 7 anymore. I asked her to stop getting older when she turned 5, but she didn't listen. Of course, I enjoy her just as much now as I did then, but there is something sad about the parts of her that are left behind every time I see her. Interests that are no longer cool. I don't really know how to put this feeling into words, although I'm sure there are some sentimental parents out there who know what I'm talking about.

I'm the same way with books that I love. I dread coming to the end of them because then I will have to say good-bye to this world and these characters whom I've grown fond of. Sure, you can read the book again, but it will never be like the first time, when you didn't know what to expect.

I used to obsess so much about having to say good-bye that I couldn't enjoy the time I had left with the person. Then, after they were gone, I would cut off my feelings for them so that I would not have to mourn their absence. Not on purpose, of course. In fact, it made me feel like some cold-hearted person. I think that's why I'm so bad about keeping in touch. 

Today I had the realization that, while I was sad about the end of my vacation and the drive home, I also had a lot to look forward to. The beginning of summer. The start of new tennis leagues. More road trips--including one to see my niece again at the end of summer. In fact, I will be with her on her birthday, when she turns 8.

Perhaps instead of thinking of time as being linear, with clearly demarcated beginnings and endings, I can think of it as cyclical, like the seasons. That way, beginnings and endings are right next to each other. And while I may not be able to go back to a specific point in time again, whenever the cycle repeats itself, I can pay homage to that memory, and add another one to go with it.

And I can blog about it, which always seems to help.

Swashbucklers Anonymous

My name is Christy Barongan and I am a swashbuckler.

I mentioned in a previous post that I'm reading The Art of Empathy in an attempt to help me with my hyperempath problem. I finished the chapter on empathic love, and it is so true of me that it freaked me out. I almost had a panic attack and had to take a nap afterwards.

In this chapter she lists 4 impediments in a potential mate: 1) a lack of emotional skills, 2) an active addiction, 3) unhealed childhood trauma, and 4) the presence of a toxic ex-mate. These impediments are practically criteria for a relationship for me. I like challenges, but come on! This is ridiculous! Reading this list drove home the fact that most my relationships had little chance of succeeding from the start.

Ironically, reading this chapter also helped me to not beat myself up about my relationship choices. I am drawn to people with these problems for the same reason that I chose to be a psychologist. I want to help people. I believe everyone is capable of turning their life around, and I am confident that I can help them do it. I never back down from a challenge, and I never give up. These are all qualities that I'm proud of.

However, I am beginning to realize that every challenge has a cost. Even if I do something I enjoy, like play tennis, write a blog post, or talk to my brother, it drains me mentally and physically. Which is OK. I love doing these things, so it's worth it. But in the past, having the ability to help someone was reason enough to do it. Whether I wanted to do it or not was irrelevant because my wants and needs didn't count. And I never paid attention to the impact that giving so much of myself had on my well-being.

In a way, that's one of the benefits of being prone to depression and anxiety and of having allergies, GERD, and asthma. Now I have to pay close attention to everything I do and how it will affect me. I have to be intentional about all of my choices. It's a pain, but it forces me to take care of myself.

Also, when I choose to do something challenging, most of the time I'm not too attached to the outcome--except in relationships. I'd like to move up to 4.0 in tennis, but if I don't, I'll just keep trying. Same with writing a best seller. I know the odds aren't in my favor, but I enjoy the process, and if it never happens I won't be devastated. I don't even take it personally when I can't help a client get better.

If I had the same attitude in relationships--that I gave my best effort, and that's all I can do--then perhaps I wouldn't feel like such a failure in them.

It also helps that McLaren calls people like me swashbucklers rather than codependents or love addicts. She describes swashbucklers as people on a heroic journey filled with impossible tasks and mythical beasts. Sort of like relationship warriors. But like Odysseus at the end of his adventures, I think I'm ready to come home.

Maybe I can use my superhero skills to save myself.  After all, who is better qualified to help me than me? I don't even have to do it alone. I could create a support group for hyperempaths. A 12 step program for swashbucklers, if you will. I think it could be a big hit.

So if you're interested in participating, let me know.

Self-Compassion

My compassion reserves are running low. In my last relationship I took the words of Jesus and Buddha literally about how we should be able to love everyone. It was practically a 3 year exercise in compassion. But by the end I wondered if perhaps I had misunderstood what they meant about loving others. It was a lot of work to have to channel Buddha and Christ just to tolerate being in his presence. I feel like I'm experiencing a backlash now. All those feelings I tried to deny are coming out with a vengeance. I guess I was supposed to have compassion for myself, too.

I'm not very good at self-compassion. Every time I try, the Inner Critic berates me for whining about my problems when I have a good life. I don't know what pain is. I'm not living in a war-torn country. My life hasn't been devastated by natural disasters or school shootings. All of the people I love are still alive. Who am I to complain? 

But surely I must have the right to honor my feelings. My suffering must count, too, if God cares about all of us. So I'm going to write about what's upsetting me, without apologizing for it or justifying it or willing myself to be positive. 

This week I will be moving closer to divorce. Filing forms. Getting documents notarized. More tears. More snot. You would think there would be a limit to how much it's possible to cry over something. That 4 years would be more than enough time. I used to pray to God--plead, even--to tell me what I could do that would allow both of us to be happy. Leaving seemed like it would just make us both miserable. And it has. And I don't see an end in sight for me, at least. I'm trying not to blame God or myself. But in this moment, my faith in a happy future is wavering and I feel like I deserve the pain.

I have 2 family members who are currently on the opposite ends of the bipolar spectrum. My brother is trying so hard but still feels terrible.  It hurts me that he's hurting. My dad is manic. Mania feels great for the person experiencing it, but it's hell for the rest of us. But what power do I have to make him see?  If he were my client, I could make him see our psychiatrist, get him on meds. But as a daughter, I am practically useless.

I'm afraid to answer the phone when my parents call. Which makes me feel horribly guilty, because I know their time on earth is limited and I will regret not talking to them more when they're gone. But the call is almost always about something bad. Something I'm expected to fix. Or something I don't want to do. At minimum, I'm supposed to be a receptacle for the stress, but I can't take it. It's too much. I'm not able to function afterwards.  

So I have to be strategic about when I call or when I answer. It has to be a time when it will be OK if I fall apart. But since it's hard to choose something where there's a good chance you'll fall apart, I often forget to call altogether. Which makes me feel even guiltier and reactivates the vicious cycle. I wish it could be easier. I wish there were some way I could be a good daughter but also protect myself. 

It takes a lot of work to maintain my health. Since I have GERD, allergies, and exercise-induced asthma, I have to take shots, nasal sprays, pills, steroid inhalers, rescue inhalers. I'm not supposed to have coffee and chocolate. I can't eat or drink 3 hours before exercise or bed time. If I drink too much during a match, I'll even throw up water. It's frustrating to have to worry about throwing up every time I play. Or brush my teeth, even. But giving up dental hygiene and tennis are not options.

My mental health is always hanging in the balance. It's work to maintain my sleep cycle because of my night owlness. I can't miss any of my drugs. I can't miss Ativan for even one night. I meditate, pray, journal, exercise, and all of the other self-care strategies. But despite my best efforts, I can never make it to the end of the term without burning out before I cross the finish line. I can't handle the stress of my life. I can't get out of bed right now. It makes me feel weak. Inadequate. Unable to do the basic tasks of life.

Just got a call from my lawyer friend that my paperwork looks good to go, so I guess I'll be filing for divorce this week for sure. If you believe in God, feel free to say a prayer for me. If you don't, send positive vibes my way.

Conspiracy Theories

Last year one of my players accused me of being part of a conspiracy that was designed to keep him from becoming a captain. For those of you who have never played league tennis, being a captain can be a crappy, stressful, ungrateful job that people have to bribe you to do with gifts, money, and parties. Most people would rather have root canal than captain a tennis team. No one would try to prevent someone from becoming a captain.

The conspiracy theories that people come up with in tennis are even more annoying than the head games people play to try to win. Earlier in the week I had to reschedule multiple matches because it rained for 3 days. Rain is a captain's greatest enemy. Two out of the three matches were fairly easy to work out. But I spent 2 days arguing with the other captain about rescheduling the 3rd match, because every suggestion I made was perceived as some devious attempt to sabotage this captain's opportunity to advance to districts on one of his other teams.

Let me tell you a little about districts. You do not get a million dollars for advancing. In fact, you have to pay a fee to play at districts. And since we do not have sponsors like professional tennis players do, you have to pay for hotels and travel expenses. And do you know what your prize is for winning your local division? A hand towel that you can only use one side of, because the other side says something like "Mixed Doubles Champion" in some scratchy iron-on that hurts your face.

I still try to win, of course, but I don't care enough about winning to devise elaborate plans to sabotage the other team. As I mentioned in my post on loyalty, most of the time I don't even have winning teams because it's more important to me to play with my friends. Sometimes I care more about eating out afterwards than I do about the match itself. Sometimes I'm downright surprised when we win--which I admit is probably not a good thing.

Another conspiracy that people get all worked up about is coaching, which is illegal in tennis. Her boyfriend/husband is waving his hands. I think he's coaching! So what if he's coaching? He's probably giving her some advice that she can't do, anyway, because that's what partners do. They tell you to do things like come to the net when you hate playing at the net. That's why they fight on the court when they're together. That's probably why he's in the stands and she's playing with someone else. And even if he is coaching, she still has to execute.

People have accused me of being too trusting, and I admit it did not serve me well in some of my relationships. And perhaps it doesn't serve me well in tennis, either. Perhaps I could have won more matches if I had followed my opponents into the bathroom to make sure they weren't coaching. Or if I stacked my lineup and kept it top secret until right before the match and had extra players warm up and put them all on different courts to confuse the other captain. Perhaps I would be more competitive if I didn't assume that most people are primarily out there to have fun like me.

But I choose not to live my life that way, even if it costs me a few wins. I'd like to think that if I live my life with integrity, it will pay off. And even if it doesn't, at least I won't be paranoid and miserable while I'm alive.

The Perfect Solution

I am currently living in a patio home subdivision for retired people where the average age is around 80. But that's OK. It's small, but I live alone so I don't need a lot of space. I don't have to do any landscaping, snow removal, etc. All of the neighbors look out for each other so I am notified of any burglars or bears in the vicinity. There are 2 other people my age who live here, although I never see them. And it is a substantial improvement from the apartment I lived in before I found this place. And it's a miracle that I was able to buy it at all, so I'm thankful for my humble abode.

I feel bad because my neighbors want me to be more social, but that's not going to happen. First of all, I have a job. And because I have a 45 minute commute and play tennis in the evenings and on weekends, I don't spend much time at home. And even if I were home more often, I wouldn't spend my spare time socializing with senior citizens. Not that there's anything wrong with them. They're all perfectly nice. I just don't have a lot in common with them.  

Last year one of my neighbors had a party for her 88th birthday. I tried to will myself to go, but no amount of guilt and shame could motivate me to do it. Last week someone called me to let me know that my neighbor's aunt died and when the funeral was. I hate funerals. I avoid them at all costs. So I certainly wasn't about to go for some aunt of some neighbor who I barely know. Another neighbor keeps inviting me to go to church with her. I think she's trying to convert me. 

Although everyone looks out for each other because of the increased likelihood that someone really could fall and not be able to get up, they still probably wouldn't think to check on me because I'm never home. And if I had some emergency, it would probably be late at night when everyone is asleep. And even if I could work up the courage to call one of them in the middle of the night--which is unlikely since I feel so guilty for being such a terrible neighbor--I doubt they would be able to lift me, given their own physical limitations.

Last night my friends were trying to help me come up with solutions for how to deal with emergencies. Maybe I should get one of those life alert buttons. Or maybe I should get a lanyard and wear my phone around my neck at all times. Or since I'm a warrior, maybe I could crawl to my phone or my iPad, even if it takes me hours to reach it. So if I ever post "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!" be sure to check on me.

I've been watching the commercials for an assisted living facility in my area, and it hit me that this is the perfect solution. If I lived in one, I wouldn't have to worry about living alone because help would be right there on the premises! Plus meals are included, so I'd never have to cook. And after doing some research, I discovered that they also provide housekeeping, laundry services, and grocery shopping! I could literally spend all my free time writing, watching and playing tennis, knitting, making jewelry, and hanging out with friends. Heck, I could probably even pick up another hobby. 

My friend told me that you have to be at least 55 to live in one of these facilities. By then I would also qualify for the 55 and over division in tennis and hopefully dominate on the court if I'm still healthy. So I guess that's something to look forward to in case this whole relationship thing doesn't work out.

Head Games

Competition can bring out the worst in people. It is not uncommon to see anger outbursts on the tennis court from people who are ordinarily even-tempered. They'll yell, hit the net, or knock the ball out of the park. You don't see too many people break their racket at our level, but I had a partner do it once because he was mad that I wasn't coming to the net.

I actually think that I have a better attitude in tennis than I do in real life.  For example, since I obsess about money, I would never break a $200 racket. Plus, I try to not let my opponents know that I'm upset because that gives them a mental advantage. Plus, I love my racket in part because it's purple, and if I had to get a new model it would not be purple.

Some people will use head games to gain an advantage. They will intentionally make bad line calls or accuse you of making bad line calls. They will argue about the score, time violations, lineup changes, coaching, and bathroom breaks. Or they'll do seemingly positive things to disrupt your concentration like crack jokes, be chatty, or tell you how awesome you're playing.

I admit, sometimes I'll use positive head games to counteract negative ones. I try to capitalize on the fact that it's hard to be mean to someone who is being fair and kind. Last year I played against this person who is known for causing drama and making bad line calls, so I was super nice to her from the start. It worked for the most part but she still made one bad call. My partner went ballistic but she insisted the ball was way out, which was a flat out lie. I said "it may have been out, but it wasn't way out," just to end the argument. There were no other disputes about line calls and no hard feelings by the end of the match.

In a relationship, however, if my partner uses head games I yell at him for trying to manipulate me.

Another common way to deal with frustration is to blame your partner for blowing the point. If my partner criticizes me I either ignore it, call them on it, or never play with them again. This is one place where I won't try to make the relationship work at all costs.

I rarely criticize my partner on the court. In fact, I take pride in being able to bring out their best game. I praise them for the things they're doing well. I help them stay focused and positive. I get them to dig deep when we're on the verge of losing.

However, in real life I am pretty sure my exes would tell you that I have no problem doling out the criticism.

I am also less critical of myself in tennis than I am in life. Most of the time I'm able to let mistakes go and focus on the next point. I don't get too upset about losses. In fact, my current record is 7-11. But I play so much tennis that another opportunity to win is just around the corner.

In relationships I focus on all the negative outcomes and wonder what I'm doing wrong. In tennis, I focus more on the process than the result. As long as I'm happy with how I played, I don't mind losing. And it's fun to win, but the thrill of winning doesn't last as long as the joy of trying to get better, looking forward to the next match, and fighting for the win on the court.

Maybe I should treat my next relationship like a tennis season.

100th Post!

One of my favorite books of all time is What Alice Forgot, by Liane Moriarty. It was our most popular book in our Remedial Book Club; we actually had a meaningful discussion about it for the entire meeting. Ordinarily we talk about the book for 30 minutes--mostly about who would play the characters if the book were turned into a movie--and then we eat, drink, and gossip about people in the tennis community for 2 hours.

The book is about a woman who falls off her bike in spinning class and loses her memory of the past 10 years. In her current life, she is about to turn 40, has 3 children, and is going through a bitter divorce. After the accident, she thinks she is 29, madly in love with her husband, and is about to have her first child. The book also follows the stories of Alice's mom, sister, and grandmother, all of whom are in the process of letting go of grief. In addition to being hiLARious, the book also makes you reflect on who you have become and what you thought your life would be like.

I am now in the process of filing for divorce, at my husband's request. I am glad that I waited until he was ready, because now he understands why our marriage can't work. I have a better appreciation for the significance of rituals. Even though it's just a formality, since we've been apart for almost 4 years, the legal aspect of it has reawakened my grief about losing him. Of all the people I've been with, he is by far the one who was the most stable, reliable, and trustworthy. It saddens me that this wasn't enough to make things work.

I will be 45 in a few months, and I would have never predicted that this is what my life would look like. Although it is still sad and scary to be alone at times, I am thankful for this opportunity to get to know myself better. I am still experiencing compassion fatigue from my last relationship, and I really want my next one to be different.

I'm currently reading The Art of Empathy, by Karla McLaren. It's the first book I am aware of that teaches hyperempaths like me how to keep from burning out. I'm hoping that this will help me be more intentional about my next relationship. I'm hoping that it's possible to break the pattern of relationships that you've grown up with and that you've followed all your life and to start anew.

Since I have reached my goal of 100 posts, I thought I would also take stock of my blogging life, which is much more positive. This blog is the first time that I've shared my writing with others, and I am so proud of what I have written so far. Even prouder than I was when I finished my dissertation.

I've been trying to write on and off for about 10 years now but only took it seriously a few years ago. Until then, I never realized how demon-filled the writing process was. Every time I sat down to write, Perfectionism, the Inner Critic, and the Drill Sergeant were all there to meet me, reminding me of how much I suck. So to commit to blogging 3 times a week--and to share the most vulnerable parts of myself in every post--is a huge accomplishment.

However, now that I've learned more about publishing, I am forced to accept that the odds of writing a best seller are not great, and even if it does happen, it won't be any time soon. I'm not going to give up, of course, because I never give up, but I'm trying to focus more on the process of writing rather than the end result.

I'm trying to approach blogging the way I approach tennis. I've made $60 in prize money, which was several years ago when I won the 35 and over singles division of a tournament. (I was also the #1 rated 35 and over singles player in Virginia that year!) But I spend hundreds of dollars a month on tennis, so as a money-making enterprise, it's a failing business.

But that's OK. I'm not doing it to make money. I play tennis because it's fun, because it challenges me, and because I have made wonderful friends. Although my romantic relationships have been a disappointment, my friendships have far exceeded my expectations.

Blogging is also fun and challenging, and I enjoy getting to know my readers and other bloggers. And it's way cheaper than playing tennis. So I'm going to set another goal, which is to write another 100 posts by my blog's first birthday, which is September 24.

Hope to see you then!

The Emotional Life of Your Brain

I just finished reading The Emotional Life of Your Brain, and although I started losing interest towards the end, it presents an interesting view of personality that is worth sharing.

Based on brain research, Davidson identifies 6 dimensions of personality:

1)  Resilience (fast or slow to recover from adversity)

2)  Outlook (negative or positive)

3)  Social Intuition (puzzled or intuitive; A.K.A. emotional intelligence)

4)  Self-Awareness (opaque or aware)

5)  Sensitivity to Context (tuned out or tuned in)

6)  Attention (unfocused or focused)

If you are interested in where you fall on each of these dimensions, click on the link above and you will find a short survey. Here were my results, which probably won't surprise anyone who reads my blog:

1)  Resilience: fast to recover

2)  Outlook: positive

3)  Social Intuition: very intuitive

4)  Self-Awareness: very self-aware

5)  Sensitivity to Context: very tuned in

6)  Attention: focused

As with most personality dimensions, the goal is to move your set point closer to the middle. In practice, however, one end of the spectrum is usually more desirable than the other. Here are the advantages and disadvantages of each extreme:

1)  Resilience: Being too fast to recover may make you less compassionate and seem unfeeling and insensitive to others. Being slow to recover makes it difficult for you to function and you may focus more on your pain than on other people. But usually people try to learn how to be more resilient.

2)  Outlook: A negative outlook puts you at risk for depression and annoys other people. An overly positive outlook makes it difficult for you to learn from your mistakes and postpone immediate gratification. But usually the goal is to develop a more positive outlook.

3)  Intuition: Being too intuitive may make it difficult to function because you're constantly picking up other people's negativity. (Hmmm. That sounds familiar). People who are at the puzzled end may have problems in all aspects of their lives in which they have to interact with other people--which is essentially all aspects of life.

4)  Self-Awareness: Being opaque makes you prone to missing signs of illness and make you unable to take care of yourself. Being too self-aware can make you a hypochondriac. But in general, it's better to be self-aware.

5)  Sensitivity to Context: Being tuned out might make you feel and act in ways that aren't appropriate to the situation (e.g., anxiety disorders). Being too tuned in can make you prone to losing touch with your true self because you are constantly changing your behavior to fit the social situation. But usually people try to be more tuned in.

6)  Attention: Being too focused annoys people because you don't pay attention to them when you're doing something. And you tend to "not see the forest for the trees." Being unfocused puts you at risk for ADHD. But usually people want to learn how to be more focused.

Guess what the best way is to move toward the resilient, positive, intuitive, self-aware, tuned in, attentive end? Meditation! My favorite meditation guru is Jack Korfield, and on his webpage he goes through the 5 basic meditations:

1)  Meditation on Compassion

2)  Walking Meditation

3)  Forgiveness Meditation (which I really need to practice)

4)  Sitting Meditation

5)  Lovingkindness Meditation

Jon Kabat-Zinn also teaches meditation for Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR), but you have to pay for his stuff. You could also seek out a therapist who specializes in MBSR.

So there you have it--your cheat sheet for "The Emotional Life of Your Brain." It took several months for me to get through the book, so feel free to make a donation to the Federer Fund if you found this helpful. Tickets to Grand Slam or ATP Masters 1000 events are also acceptable.

This doodle sort of looks like a brain. And it has 6 different colors--one for each personality dimension.

Patience Isn't Always a Virtue

I looked it up. While it is included in some lists, in Catholicism the 7 virtues are faith, hope, charity (the theological virtues), prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance (the cardinal virtues). Since I at least grew up Catholic, I'm going to use this list, because I'm not patient at all, and I don't want to be unvirtuous.

My greatest strength is probably fortitude. I never give up in a match, even if I'm down 0-6, 0-5. I continue to play tennis, even though it makes me throw up. I will do everything I can to make a relationship work, even if it's a lost cause.

Last week I had a client who started antidepressants and experienced a sudden onset of suicidal ideation, which sometimes happens in young adults. As she was describing what it felt like, I realized that I had experienced the same thing when I got back on meds, even though I was not a young adult. But I was on a higher dose than I was before. In retrospect, it turns out it was too high; I had a lot of side effects that I had attributed to the depression.

I didn't think much of it at the time because I always have some suicidal ideation when I'm depressed, but it was definitely different. It was what psychologists call ego dystonic. As my client put it, my brain told me in the most illogical way that suicide was the next logical step to whatever I was thinking. If I didn't have the energy to walk over to the fridge and get a milkshake, my brain would say Well why don't you just jump off the balcony, then? It freaked me out. I would yell back. No! I don't want to do that! I want to live! 

So I fought the thoughts off until the meds kicked in. At the time I thought I was weak, but when I recognized myself in my client's story, I realized how strong I am.

Patience, on the other hand, is a different story. Patience also requires strength, but in a quieter, more peaceful way. And as you know if you've been reading my blog, I am loud and obsessive. You can't will yourself to be patient the way you can will yourself to save break points. In fact, although this blog is about practicing other quiet, peaceful things like self-acceptance, compassion, gratitude, and forgiveness, I have never included patience in that list until today. Probably because it seems impossible to achieve--even for a warrior like me.

As I mentioned in the post on obsessiveness, I can only focus when I meditate about 5% of the time. But it still works. I am definitely less anxious, better able to tolerate my emotions, and more compassionate. Maybe patience is the same way. Maybe if you at least have the intention of being patient, even if you suck at it, it will still work. That's what they say in Buddhism--in a less judgmental way, of course.

Might as well give it a shot. Whether or not it's a virtue, it's still a good quality to have.