Mistakes

You know how I hate making mistakes? Well I made a big one last week, and now my inner critic is in full force. I am having a hard time forgiving myself, so I thought I'd blog about it.

Intellectually, I know that everyone makes mistakes. But my inner critic tells me that everyone else is allowed to make mistakes. I, on the other hand, am on strict probation: one mistake will lead to dire consequences--failing, getting fired, going to hell, losing everyone's respect, etc. I don't know what I've done to warrant this zero tolerance for errors, but it must have been pretty bad.

I am trying to put things in perspective. I try to remind myself that, although some people could judge me harshly, God does not have a zero tolerance policy for errors. God knows that I am not perfect and does not hold me to the standards that my inner critic does.

I gave a sincere apology for my mistake. I didn't lie, get defensive, or evade responsibility. I acknowledged what I did wrong and that I am aware of the consequences of my error. That I am committed to making amends. While this should move my transgression into the somewhat healthier guilt category, I am still feeling quite a bit of shame about it.

My inner critic wants to make sure that I am taking this seriously. That I am not one of those people who superficially apologizes without being genuinely sorry. That is one of my pet peeves, and I don't want to be a hypocrite by doing the same thing. So I keep reminding myself that this is a big deal--which only serves to reactivate the cycle.

I am trying to call to mind all of the sage advice on forgiveness, perfectionism, and letting go. Advice that I, myself, have given to other people. It seems to help them. Why doesn't it help me? Why am I not improving faster? I envy people who can read an inspirational quote on social media and feel better. People who are simply able to turn off the obsessive soundtrack of shame in their head. Or who listen to a different soundtrack altogether.

So I am also trying to remind myself to honor my own timetable. That self-improvement is not a race that I have to win. In fact, I'd settle for a participation award. I tell myself that at some point in the future, perhaps even later today, I will be able to put things in perspective. And if it takes longer than that, I'm talking to my therapist on Tuesday.

Luckily, tennis is on all day today, which I am hoping will be an effective distraction until I have my moment of clarity.

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.

Wins and Losses

So I've decided that I love winning more than I hate losing.

After 11 losses spanning 2 seasons on my 7.0 mixed teams, I finally won last night. A hard-fought win that came down to the wire--my favorite kind. And my team won, too. Winning isn't everything, but it sure helped my mood. And these days, I'll take anything I can get to feel happy about.

I actually had 2 teams playing at the same time last night, because I play every league since I get depressed when I don't have anything to do, as you know. We lost all 5 courts on that team, but that did not dampen my mood. Because like I said in the post on motivation, at the end of the day, I still had dinner with my friends afterwards. And there were a lot of them last night, spanning 3 different teams, including the opposing team.

I've had friends reach out to me because of my last two posts, reminding me that I can always call them when I'm feeling down. But in all honesty, the last thing I want to do when I'm feeling depressed is to contaminate someone else with my negative mood.

I once dated someone who accused me of wanting to be depressed--I guess because he couldn't talk me into feeling better. I think depressed people are accused of liking their depression because it's hard to be in the presence of someone who you can't cheer up. That's why people who are just trying to be helpful say unhelpful things, which makes you feel even more depressed. So I just avoid it.

But thankfully, God gave me tennis. No matter how bad I'm feeling, I can almost always motivate myself to play tennis. And the desire to win is so great that I forget everything and focus on hitting that ball. And after a few hours of doing this, regardless of whether I've won or lost, I feel like a different person. Plus we usually eat out afterwards, and I love food, too.

Tennis, friends, food, and blogging. That is a winning recipe for treating depression in my book.

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.

Stories

So I was having dinner at a Thai restaurant with my tennis mom and her family, and one of them asked me if I believe that everything happens for a reason. Which I do. Now. But that wasn't always the case. Before I struggled with how to make sense of accidents and cancer and infant deaths. And to be honest, I still do. So now I try to stay focused on making sense of my own path, which is hard enough.

Then the conversation turned into a very pointed inquisition about what I believe to be true about God and the nature of the universe. Which I thought was weird, because what the heck do I know? Clearly these people have not been reading my blog.

Afterwards we came home and watched The Lego Movie, which was awesome! Just like the theme song says. That may seem completely unrelated, but I think it happened for a reason. Because the basic line of questioning was, how do you know that what you believe to be true isn't just some made up story?

Emmet is an ordinary construction worker who is so average that no one can say anything that stands out about him. But then he finds The Piece of Resistance, which is the sign that he is "the special"--the one who the prophesy foretold is destined to save the world. It turns out that the wise old man Vitruvius made the prophesy up, yet it was still true that Emmet was chosen as the hero by some higher power.

The Lego Movie is also a made up story. So is Avatar, The Matrix, and Kung Fu Panda--my 3 favorite movies. They've all made tons of money, and I think this is because they all have a message about how understanding our destiny and the nature of the universe requires a leap of faith in ourselves.

I'm no theologian, but I believe that God is ok with whatever story makes sense to us, as long as it brings us closer to him.

I think this doodle looks like legos.

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.

Why I Have a Superhero Complex

When I was a kid I remember going to K-Mart with my dad, trying to get him to buy me a toy, as usual. We passed by the jewelry section, and he said he needed to buy something first. He had promised one of his patients that if she lived he would buy her some jewelry. He said that he didn't expect her to live, but since she did, he wanted to keep his promise.

I never forgot this incident because it impressed upon me what a good doctor my dad was. I could imagine him talking to this patient as he made rounds at the hospital. I could see him greet her with his unmistakable laugh, reassuring her that she was going to get better. All of his patients loved him. I wouldn't be surprised if she got better just for him.

My dad was equally dedicated to his family.  During his periods of depression, the thing that plagued him the most was his fear that he had not spent enough time with us because of work. I was shocked when I heard this. My dad attended every tennis match, awards ceremony, and piano recital we were in. Even now, although we all live in different cities, we try to get together for birthdays and holidays because being together as a family has always been a priority. He has his faults, but failing to spend time with us is definitely not one of them.

Above all else, the reason my dad was a dedicated doctor and father is because this is how he has chosen to serve God. I must admit, it bothered me to hear this when I was a kid. Kind of like when the flight attendant tells parents to put their oxygen mask on before helping their children. As a child, I didn't want my dad to love God more than he loved me. But as an adult, I appreciate how admirable it is to live your life with that level of commitment. 

One of the reasons why I berate myself when I'm not able to function is because depression never stopped my dad from performing his duties. Once he confessed to me how bad things were for him when he was depressed. How it would take him forever to dictate his notes because his cognitive abilities were so compromised. How he would obsess about forgetting some detail and would drive back to the hospital. How there were times when he wanted to give up. But he didn't. He still went to work every day, came home every night, and made us pray together as a family before we went to bed.

People give me a hard time because I want to save the world. But with a dad like mine, how can I expect anything less of myself? It is a high standard to try to live up to, but if I have to struggle with something, there are worse things than having a superhero for a father.

Birthday Reflections

So I'm reading The Fault in Our Stars for book club, which is told from the perspective of a 16 year old girl with cancer, and guess what? I still talk like a teenager. Yup. Some of her comments could have come straight from my blog.

Even though I turn 45 today, I guess I can consider this a compliment, since this is a best seller with a movie that is a box office hit and has gotten great reviews. So if I sound immature, at least it's in a way that people can relate to. And if you've read the book, then you know that Hazel Grace is no ordinary 16 year old. For example, she refutes the adage that without pain, we cannot know joy by pointing out that "the existence of broccoli does not in any way affect the taste of chocolate." I love that!

Still, I find it ironic to discover that I still talk like a teenager as I hit what is irrefutably middle age. I thought I would be OK with it, because it's not like I didn't know I was middle-aged. And as long as I don't hit a prime number, I'm usually fine. And 45 is divisible by 3 and 5, so I figured I was safe until I turned 47. But no. Mother Nature likes to rub it in your face that you are becoming an old lady, and I received a couple of early birthday gifts just to make sure I was aware of this. 

Before someone sends me that quote about how old age is a privilege that not everyone gets to benefit from, let me preempt you by saying that I am grateful for my life. It's just that signs of getting older bring up that feeling that I talked about in the Beginnings and Endings post. Sadness about the loss of gifts that I had not even been aware of until I began to lose them. Anxiety about the losses to come. Panic about how fleeting time is. 

I am afraid I am not one of those brave souls who will embrace aging with grace and dignity. I'm pretty sure I'm going to go kicking and screaming, fighting it every step of the way. I guess this is one of the downsides of being a warrior. 

I've been thinking about what I could say in this post for several days now. I was really struggling with how to make it positive, since my goal is to be honest, and I have honestly been in a place of sadness and anxiety about getting older. 

But I pray about blog posts, too. I pray that God will give me the inspiration to come up with something to say that will be helpful to someone, even if that someone is just me. So far, God has always answered this prayer. Today was no exception.

This morning, as I warned my inner critic that it was not allowed to make me feel guilty about sleeping in on my birthday, I leisurely checked out my birthday messages on my phone and FB, and I was humbled by how many of them there were so early in the morning. Well, early in the morning for me, at least. And I got the message: the one gift that will grow with age is love. 

The feelings of love that I have for others will only deepen, as will their love for me. And as I get older, the more people I include in the circle of who I care about. Blogging, which I also consider a gift from God, has dramatically increased the number of people who have been brought into my life. So I have a great deal of love to look forward to, for as long as I may live.

Plus, I will always have an inner infant, Sophie, and now a teenager, as well as a slew of other parts in my internal family. They are always vying for my attention, letting me know that they are there, whether I want to hear from them or not. Through the process of blogging--and aging--I am learning that these parts I've been at war with also love me, although they show it in ways that are sometimes annoying.

So I am thankful to God, and to all of you, for reminding me on my birthday how blessed I am with love.

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.

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.

Grace

I've received a lot of comments from readers lately about being too hard on myself. Which is a little scary, because these comments were in response to posts where I purposely avoided criticizing myself. But perhaps people know me well enough by now to know what I'm thinking, even if I don't say it out loud.

It's hard to be honest about how these comments make me feel, because I don't want to seem ungrateful. But if I'm afraid to say it, that probably means I should say it.

When I read comments that are meant to be supportive, I feel a little angry and defensive. I feel like I'm being told that I'm failing at self-improvement. The words forgiveness, self-compassion, and self-acceptance are in almost every single post, so it's not like I don't know that's my problem; I'm just not getting better at them fast enough, apparently.

This morning as I was driving to work, I realized something about my reaction to these comments. I realized that they are hard to take in because it's hard to take in love--love from others, love for myself, and love from God.

I have spent the last week in an email exchange with a loyal reader and friend who is trying to convince me that I don't need to work so hard to earn God's approval because God already loves me just as I am, in all of my glorious imperfection. I know that's true for other people, but something in me resists believing that it's true for me.

You would think it would be a relief to hear the thing that you most want to hear, but it often isn't. You don't want to let yourself off the hook. You don't want to risk being too full of yourself. You might get complacent. You might become a sloth--which is a deadly sin.

That's how the Inner Critic is for people like me. It's like an abusive partner who does everything it can to make you feel bad about yourself as a way to keep you dependent on it. It uses the language of morality and turns it against you.

In therapy I address this part by telling clients that once they leave my office, the Inner Critic will try to undo all of the progress we have made. That perhaps it is even talking to them now while we are in session, telling them not to listen to me. It helps to let them know that I know all of its tricks.

I also tell clients that accepting love is a gift, and rejecting it hurts the giver. These clients are highly motivated to do good, so it is often eye-opening to reframe self-criticism as a form of rejecting others.

When I thought I could blog my way to self-acceptance, I assumed that sharing my vulnerabilities with the world would be sufficient. It helps, but it's not enough. Without feedback from others, it's still just me and the Inner Critic, duking it out.

In therapy, I tell clients that they are worthwhile as many times as it takes for them to believe it. Maybe that's how blogging works, too. I will continue to write about what my demons say, and readers will keep telling me that I'm being too hard on myself, and I will get pissed off, but eventually I will believe them. Maybe one day the Inner Critic will lose its power to make me feel bad about myself.

Maybe God works through blogs, too.

Suffering and Compassion

I have a confession to make. I did not go to church yesterday. I don't really have an excuse, except that I can't get out of bed unless I absolutely have to because of my sleep problems. And because I rarely go to church. In all honesty, I'm not a very good Catholic (but still a good person--most of the time). But I do try to go on Christmas, Palm Sunday, and Easter, at least. So for my penance, I thought I would write about what Holy Week means to me. 

I really like the reading of the Passion. It's the place where I can relate the most to Jesus because it is where he is the most human. One of my favorite parts is where Jesus is praying in the garden of Gethsemane. My interpretation of his prayer goes something like this: God, I will do this if I have to, but if there's any way that I don't have to, please let me know. To me, this shows that even the Son of God was afraid of the suffering that he was about to face, and I find great comfort in that. 

I have said a version of this prayer many times. In the last few years I have started asking God what He wants me to do, which is always a little scary. What if it's something that will be painful? But I figure if God asks you to do something, it's best to say yes. So my prayer goes something like this: God, if there's anything that I'm supposed to be doing, let me know, and I'll do it. But please give me the courage to do it, too. 

The other part I like is where Jesus cries out on the cross, asking God why He has abandoned him.
I find comfort in this, too. One of the things that has always been difficult for me to comprehend is how God can allow people to suffer needlessly. I talked about this in my post on God's Will. But when I think about the Passion, I don't know where I even got the idea that we are not supposed to suffer. If anything, the life of Christ shows us that no one is immune to suffering. Even if we're really, really good, it's still going to happen.

Lately I've been talking about empathy as though it were a curse because it's overwhelming to have to feel other people's pain all the time. But I know it's a gift to be able to give someone the experience of knowing how they feel. For me, reading the Passion is a reminder that Jesus is with us in our suffering, because he has suffered, too. Which is literally what compassion is about.

A few years ago my niece was obsessed with Jesus. Even though it was Christmas, she wanted to know more about how Jesus died on the cross. The next year she drew this picture as a Christmas card. I guess for her, the Passion is also the most memorable part of the life of Jesus.

A Just World

I am having deja vous.  Before last term, we had not had a student death related to a car accident in over 10 years. Yet once again, another student died in a car accident earlier this week. Like the student last term, this student was very involved and visible in the community, was known for helping others, and was on the verge of graduating with a bright future ahead of her.

We tell students that there is no right or wrong way to grieve. But some coping mechanisms are more hurtful than others. She was probably driving too fast. People shouldn't drink and drive.  Stupid people die. 

When I was a graduate student, one of my favorite theories was the Just World Hypothesis. Because we want to believe in a just world, when something bad happens we assume that the person must have done something to deserve it.

I often hear just world explanations after a sexual assault. She was making out with him on the dance floor. She went back to his room. She didn't fight it so she must have wanted it.  

The Just World Hypothesis is closely related to the problems with free will and blame. In order to preserve the belief that we control our destiny, we are willing to take responsibility for things that we don't actually have control over.  

I can understand the need to believe that if you make the right choices you will be safe from harm. I want to believe this, too. Usually my attempts at control manifest themselves in perfectionism and excessive guilt.

I don't know how much blame a person should be held responsible for. I don't know how to make sense of all of the suffering in the world. But I know that the more I blame someone, the less compassion I have for them.

So I try to approach suffering in the same way I try to accept my feelings: it doesn't have to make sense. I don't have to know the reason why for suffering to exist. And I try to have faith that when something bad happens, I will be strong enough to handle it.

Loyalty

When it comes to sports, I am loyal to a fault.

In a previous post, I talked about the delusional level of optimism that my brothers and I must channel at times to continue to cheer for UVA football. My brother emailed me recently to ask if I wanted to renew our season tickets--which I did. Even though we only won 2 whole games last season.

I captain several tennis leagues every year. And every year, I invite all of the players from the previous season back to the team unless they've done something I consider egregious--like not show up for a match. Or not respond to my emails. Or cause drama on or off the court. I can tolerate a player with a losing record, but I won't tolerate a person who disrespects me or other people.

There are many captains who have the opposite recruiting strategy: they will tolerate a strong but less likeable player but get rid of a nice person who is a weak player.  Because the point of forming a team is to win, after all. I get that. And I've had winning teams. But I'll admit, I sometimes choose loyalty over winning.

I've had friends leave my team and play for other captains because of this. I can't really fault them for wanting to be on a winning team. But I am grateful for the friends who continue to play for me, because it makes our team feel more like a family. In fact, the tennis family that I featured in a previous post are all long-standing members of my mixed doubles team.

This team happens to be my winnningest team, too.  So loyalty does pay off sometimes.

This year, for the first time in 38 years, UVA won the ACC tournament in basketball. And for the first time ever, we were both the regular season and tournament champions. And we did it without any superstar athletes.  Without anyone noticing, really. Because when you win with defense, it's not flashy.  So we didn't get as much press as some of the high profile teams in our conference.

I was there when they won the tournament, and what impressed me the most about them--other than how awesome they are--is how humble they are. No one sticking their faces in the camera talking smack about how they proved their haters wrong. Not even any "we're number one" stuff. No ego at all. Just a joyful celebration of their accomplishment as a team. As a basketball family.

It takes faith at every level to be loyal to a losing team. In the post-game interview, Tony Bennett thanked God for getting his team through the low times. Bennett had faith that a team without a single McDonald's All-American player could accomplish great things. The players had faith that defense and unselfish play could win championships. And UVA fans had faith that someday, our basketball team could return to the glory days of the Ralph Sampson era.

So this post is dedicated to the 2014 ACC regular season and tournament champs. See you in Texas at the Final Four!

God's Will

It feels incomplete to talk about blame and free will without also talking about God's will.  This one is the scariest of the 3 to write about, but I'm committed to being honest, so I'm making myself do it.

When I was in high school, my best friend's father died of a heart attack in his early 40's.  During the funeral, his best friend broke down crying while giving the eulogy.  My friend's mom calmly took his place, saying that she believed her husband's death was God's will so she was at peace with it. 

That really bothered me.  I was glad that it gave her comfort, but I could not fathom how God could want someone to die.  If deaths are God's will, how can it be a sin to commit suicide?  Or murder, for that matter.  Or acts of terrorism.  All of these deaths would just be a part of God's plan; these people were simply fulfilling their roles.  In fact, sin wouldn't even be possible.

There is someone in our tennis community who is reaching the end of her battle with cancer.  Although I did not know her well, I was struck by how positive and kind she was when I met her last year.  She was in the midst of chemo at the time, and she was my opponent on the court.  And she kicked my ass.  Which was both impressive and upsetting, given my competitive nature.

I have been praying for her and her family, but I struggle with what to ask God for if death is, in fact, part of God's plan for her.  I know some people don't believe in God for this reason.  Or if God exists, they don't want to worship a God who would allow people to suffer.  I wouldn't go that far.  It is clear from the life of Christ and the teachings of Buddha, and probably most religions, that no one is immune to suffering. 

I accept that, but it's still hard to tolerate.  I try to imagine what it would be like to be her or her loved ones, but I can't.  My brain won't let me go there.  It's too painful.  Too much to bear.  I can't envision surviving a loss like that, even though I know that somehow I would if I had to. 

I do my usual prayer.  Because we're allowed to ask, even if we don't always get what we want.  God, if at all possible, please let her have a miraculous recovery.  And then I say a more realistic prayer.  Please minimize their suffering to the extent possible.  Please  surround them with love, to mitigate the pain. 

I am no theologian, but based on the story of Adam and Eve, one thing is for certain: God wants us to have free will.  We, too, have the power to say no.  We can choose not to follow God's plan.  We can choose not to love God, or not to love at all. 

In the midst of tragedies, the people involved always say that they are humbled by the outpouring of love and support from people they don't even know.  That it does mitigate the pain.  So I will continue to pray for this member of the tennis community and her family.  If love can ease their pain, then I will choose love.

 

46 Lessons Learned from Blogging

Since the original intent of my blog was to help other people, I thought I'd provide a cheat sheet of the lesson in each post (except for the random ones).  That way, you don't have to go back and read the whole blog if you don't want to.  But hopefully you will!

1.  Night Owl Syndrome:  Prejudice against night owls is a form of discrimination that has been perpetuated in part by Ben Franklin.

2.  Massages:  Massages are not as relaxing when you obsess the entire time about how much they cost.

3.  Knitting and Relationships:  Challenge yourself every now and then, but you don't have to knit a dress.

4.  Positive and Negative Feedback:  It's easier to believe erroneous negative feedback than it is to accept legitimate positive feedback.

5.  Karaoke Pusher:  Singing in front of other people is a good way to let go of fear.

6.  You Know You're Filipino If...:  Things that embarrassed you as a kid will make great anecdotes when you get older.

7.  The Courage to be Vulnerable:  Sharing your vulnerabilities with others makes people feel closer to you.

8.  The Unathletic Athlete:  Even if you were picked last in gym class, you can still grow up to be an athlete.

9.  Tennis Courtships:  Someone needs to come up with a website that can help tennis players find a doubles partner.

10.  The Uses of Prayer:  Sometimes God answers your prayers by giving you opportunities rather than results.

11.  Boundaries:  Being Asian makes setting boundaries even more difficult than it already is.

12.  Massages, Part 2:  Don't drink coffee before a massage--even decaf.

13.  Boundaries, Part 2:  Blogging is a good way to let people know that you don't want to be told that you're fat.

14.  Children:  Play with your inner child every now and then.

15.  Can Love Conquer All?  No, but it's still worth the risk.

16.  Body Image:  Small gains are better than nothing.

17.  Hard Core Fan:  It takes dedication to root for a losing team.

18.  Warriorism:  When things get tough, channel your inner warrior.

19.  Self-Portrait:  You can learn a lot about yourself from doodles.

20.  Solitude:  Sometimes when you think you're alone, you're really not.

21.  Self-Acceptance:  We all have different parts of ourselves, many of whom don't get along.

22.  Meet the Drill Sergeant:  Save your inner drill sergeant for emergencies.

23.  The Inner Critic:  Defy your inner critic every change you get.

24.  Thanksgiving:  Miracles really do happen.

25.  Perfectionism:  Blogging about mistakes can help you accept them.

26.  Stress Management:  Sometimes stress management can be stressful.

27. Self-Care:  Blogging is a good way to put yourself first.

28. Grief:  The best thing we can do for someone who is grieving is to be willing to listen to them talk about their pain.

29.  Yes and No:  Learn to say yes to what you want and no to what you don't want.

30.  Blogging is My New Boyfriend:  You can't fail if you never stop trying.

31.  Friendship:  Don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it.

32.  Empathy:  If you're high in empathy, choose your friends and partners wisely.

33.  Breakups:  If you're relationship is ending, try to leave with love rather than hate.

34.  In Times of War:  Make choices you can live with, regardless of the outcome.

35.  Angels:  If you ask people to send you angels when you're struggling, they will--and it works.

36.  Forgiveness:  For people with a harsh inner critic like me, self-forgiveness is the hardest part.

37.  Gratitude:  Practicing gratitude may not turn your depression into happiness, but do it, anyway.

38.  Love:  Our love may never be perfect, but I think God is OK with that.

39.  Forgetting:  Forgiveness is a process.

40.  Moms:  Moms are often unsung heroes, so thank them every chance you get.

41.  New Year's Resolutions:  Restating your resolutions every year is not a sign of failure; it demonstrates that you are choosing to live intentionally.

42.  In My Head:  I thought I was weird for thinking so much, but it turns out that it means I'm a writer!

43.  Bipolar and Brilliant:  You can be brilliant and mentally ill, but you can also be dumb and refuse to take your medication.

44.  Night Owl Syndrome, Part 2:  It takes practice to let go of unnecessary guilt.

45.  Competitive Latch-Hooking:  Sometimes the sibling that was your mortal enemy in childhood becomes your most loyal blog follower as an adult.

46.  Honesty and Trust:  Surround yourself with honest people; it takes less energy than being paranoid.

Love

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

***

I don't mean to sound blasphemous, but I've always had a problem with this definition of love.  I have never been able to love anyone in this way, nor have I ever been loved in this way.  Not from another human being, at least.  This may be the way that God loves us, but for me, this standard minimizes the value of the imperfect love that we offer to one another.

Being with my family for several days is a prime example of how painful and complicated love can be. We have all been impatient, unkind, envious, and proud with one another at some point.  I could go through the entire paragraph, but you get the idea.  Yet I have never questioned my love for my family or their love for me. It is the most enduring love that I have known and that I will know in this lifetime.

Perhaps it is my harsh superego and my perfectionism that tortures me with quotes like this one.  My demons turn what is supposed to be a helpful guideline for how to love into something that makes me feel inadequate and guilty. But I know that I am not the only one who feels this way.  I know many people who berate themselves and others for not being able to give and receive this kind of love.

The messages about love that have been most helpful to me are that God is love, and that we are to love our neighbor as ourselves.  I take this to mean that love for self, others, and God are all the same; you cannot truly experience one without the others.

This should come as no surprise to you if you have been following my blog, but for me the most difficult part is loving myself.  And this is often true for the people I see in therapy, too.  It helps to commit to loving myself when I think of it as a necessary part of the equation.  

Surprisingly, blogging has been an opportunity to experience this trinity of love.  As I have mentioned in a previous post, I started this blog with the intention of helping other people.  I was not expecting it to be a way of receiving help.  And I certainly wasn't expecting it to bring me closer to God.  Yet here is another post that ends with God.

Striving to give and receive this kind of love is still a tall order, but for me, it's a more hopeful goal than striving to love perfectly.

Gratitude

Over the past few weeks I have been praying for a way to take in what I love about Christmas. Singing Christmas songs.  The lights and decorations.  The food.  Having my entire family together. And reflecting on the significance of having our Savior born in the most humble beginnings.

I looked at the news headlines about the homily Pope Francis gave last night, and true to my prediction, it was a message of acceptance and forgiveness.  The quote that stood out to me was the reminder that Jesus was all-powerful but he made himself vulnerable for us.  There is great strength in vulnerability; it is His vulnerability that redeems us.

In this blog I have made myself vulnerable by sharing all of the thoughts and feelings that I usually keep to myself.  After writing my post on forgiveness and reading people's responses, that was the most vulnerable I have felt thus far.

People who have never been depressed do not realize what a dark place it is to be in.  For example, "normal" people can make themselves happier by practicing gratitude, by reflecting on people who are less fortunate than themselves, by counting their blessings.  The assumption is that sadness and gratitude are mutually exclusive.

When you are depressed, your demons turn this well-meaning advice into further evidence that you are a bad person for being depressed because you are not able to snap out of it, despite all the things you have to be thankful for.  So it is especially difficult to practice gratitude when you are depressed because it often makes you feel worse.

However, my spiritual guru is the Franciscan Priest Richard Rohr, and one of the most helpful things that he emphasizes is that spirituality is not either/or, as we tend to think in Western religions. It is not good or bad, right or wrong.  Spirituality is both/and.  So I can practice gratitude and still be depressed.  They can both be true, and that's OK.

Today I am already thankful for many things.  I am thankful that the party wasn't as overwhelming as I feared it would be.  That the homily last night had a message that was meaningful to me.  That I've had meaningful conversations with two of my brothers, and in a few hours my other brother and his family will be here.  I am thankful for the friends who have already sent me texts to wish me Merry Christmas.

And I am thankful for this blog.  I think God gave me this blog because He knew that these next few months would be difficult.  So He gave me a way to share my pain, to reach out to others, and to ask for help.  It really is true that making ourselves vulnerable may be the most powerful thing we can do to experience love and connect with other people.  I think that this is what Jesus would want us to experience most of all on His birthday.

So I am thankful to all of you who have taken the time to read my blog on Christmas Day.  And I thank my friend Sharon for giving me the cartoon below.

Angels

I've been thinking about writing a post on angels, but since I've been feeling down it didn't really fit my state of mind.  But then "It's a Wonderful Life" happened to be on last night, so I took that as a sign that I should go ahead and write the post.

For a long time I wasn't sure what to believe about God.  I was raised Catholic, but a lot of the beliefs of the Catholic church were not consist with my idea of God.  Although Pope Francis is changing this, to some degree.

I read lots of different books to try to find God.  As I mentioned in a previous post, the books on Near Death Experiences (NDE) were the ones that were the most helpful.  For one thing, they are poorly written.  The authors have clearly never aspired to be writers, and often they didn't want to write the book at all.  So writing a book about their near death experience didn't seem like a ploy to get published.

The most convincing of these books was "My Descent into Death," by Howard Storm, because he went to hell before he went to heaven.  Who would admit to that?  Plus, throughout the book he continued to argue and complain to God and never seemed particularly pious, which made his account seem even more genuine.

Storm dedicates an entire chapter to angels at the end of his book.  I have always liked the idea of angels but did not realize they were so numerous and so involved in our lives.  I thought we might have a guardian angel and that there were a bunch in heaven, singing and rejoicing when we arrived, but that's about it.

Storm says that angels always want to intervene and help us but aren't allowed to do so unless God gives them permission.  And when people with NDE's come back to earth and are depressed about it, usually because they have sustained horrible injuries from their accident that take years to recover from, angels appear to them to give them encouragement.

Even research shows that praying for other people helps.  My theory is that when we pray for someone else, God allows angels to intervene.  So now most of my prayers include angels.  If I'm having a really hard time, I ask God to temporarily send me a few extra angels to get me through. Or if someone I know is suffering, I tell God to send that person one of my angels so they can have extra.

And of course, when UVA is losing, I occasionally resort to prayer and ask God to send an angel to help them win.

The winter is always a hard time for me, because most forms of depression are affected by lack of sunlight.  Plus I am still getting used to being alone and having to be proactive if I want to see anyone, and I don't have much energy to do so.  And this holiday I don't have a lot planned to look forward to. Ordinarily, even if I'm feeling depressed, I can still get into Christmas.  But not this year.  I haven't even bought my gifts yet, and usually I am compulsively early about everything.

But there's still time, and I'm hopeful that at some point something will kick in and I will be able to embrace the holidays with the enthusiasm that I apply to all of the things I love.  At least that's what I pray for.

And if you believe in angels, feel free to ask God to send a couple of extras my way.

Photo courtesy of Jennifer Harvey Frye

Yes and No

Being alone isn't as bad as I thought it would be.  Relationships are an area where I take on challenges without asking myself whether it is worth the effort, so it's a nice change of pace to have energy to expend on myself. 

When I was in school, the reason why I was a good student is that I did what teachers told me to do.  It never occurred to me that not doing the reading or homework and not studying were an option.  I also try to fulfill my job responsibilities because I'm afraid that if I make one mistake I'll get fired.  

I think it's partly due to my Catholic upbringing.  I'm a rule-follower to begin with, but I also fear that if I break the rules I will go to hell.  If I call a ball out, I'm afraid I'll go to hell because I wanted the point so badly.  So usually I just call everything in, which is sometimes to my advantage because my opponent wasn't expecting to play a ball that was a foot out.

I used to have this prayer where I would ask God to forgive me for all my sins, intentional and unintentional, because I thought, what if I've sinned and I didn't realize it?  Then I couldn't ask for forgiveness and I might go to hell.  So I figured this prayer covered all the bases.

Most of my relationships weren't of my choosing.  If someone liked me, I would date him because I thought that would make him happy.  Feeling ambivalent was not a good enough reason to say no because my feelings didn't count.  And it's hard for me to end relationships because I'm not allowed to hurt anyone.  Although I often ended up hurting them, anyway.

This is also the reason I became a psychologist and feel compelled to save the world.  If someone is hurting, then it's my job to help them if I'm able to do so.  It doesn't matter if I want to do so, whether I like the person or not, how stressed I am, or how much energy I have to expend.

My superhero family members also share this sentiment, as I mentioned in a previous post.  They are even more extreme in terms of putting other people's needs first, even if it hurts them.  So I really haven't had good role models for setting limits.

But thanks to this blog, I'm beginning to set limits.  I've quit that crazy writing job where I was spending 10-12 hours on articles that gave the most superficial advice possible for $25.  I ended a relationship and am learning to be alone.  I have narrowed down my extra-curricular activities to tennis, knitting that dress for my niece, and writing/promoting my blog.  Which is still a lot, but it's an improvement for me.

My new rule is to say yes to what I want and no to what I don't want.  I said this 3 years ago, but sometimes it takes awhile to do what you know you need to do.  So I'm trying not to beat myself up about that. 

So from now on, it's yes and no.  Hopefully.