In the Zone

Want to be happier? Try adding some flow to your life.

Mihaly Czikszentmihalyi's research indicates that engaging in activities that you find pleasurable and absorbing is one of the things that makes life worth living. When you are in flow, you are focused on the here and now. You experience a loss of self-consciousness and lose all sense of time. You feel like you can handle anything that comes your way.

Flow is what athletes feel when they are in the zone. Although I don't consider myself athletic, I have experienced flow on the tennis court. It doesn't always happen, but every now and then, the ball does exactly what I want it to. No channeling of inner warriors required: everything is effortless, unconscious.

Flow is not limited to sports. You can experience flow at work, during artistic activities, and in nature. Sometimes I've experienced flow with clients in therapy: I feel so connected to them in the moment that I know what they're trying to say before they say it. Occasionally, I've experienced it when blogging: the words and ideas seem to be writing themselves, and they are perfect.

And there are those rare moments--usually when I'm at some lookout point--where I have a moment of clarity. I am Neo at the end of "The Matrix," when he breaks the code and fights off the Agents with minimal exertion. The mysteries of the universe unfold. I feel joyful and calm at the same time.

Flow can also be interactive. Like Hazel and Augustus in "The Fault in Our Stars," you stay up all night, sharing your life stories, and time stands still. Or like when you're catching up with your best friend who you haven't seen in ages, but you can pick up right where you left off, as if you talked just yesterday.

This weekend I was blessed to experience flow in all of these areas. I was at the Virginia district tournament with my tennis team, and I was in flow on the court. My team was in flow, and we made it to the finals for the first time ever. And all of the moments off the court were filled with joy, celebration, and camaraderie. Even writing about it is effortless. No self-consciousness. No demons. Just a pervasive sense that life is good.

Usually Mondays are hard for me, but today I am happy. In this moment, I am in the zone.

Orange Crush

The Paradox of Productivity

Have you ever noticed how you're actually more productive when you have less time?

I had grand plans for all of the stuff I was going to accomplish over the summer. I was going to crank out blog posts 3-4 times a week. Learn how to write a book proposal and a query letter. Find an agent.

I did skim through a book on writing non-fiction. I actually wrote fewer blog posts than I do when I'm at work because I didn't have very many deep and meaningful thoughts over the summer. I pretty much only thought about my sleep cycle, tennis, and what I'm going to eat. You can only write so many posts about those topics.

I was going to get my jewelry business going again. I was obsessed with making jewelry several years ago and sold a lot of what I made. So I bought all these beads back in January and planned to make some new items over the summer. Take some pictures of them, even. Sell them on Etsy. The only thing I made were some earrings (the purple pair on the left) for my tennis team to match our uniform, but I didn't make any money. I just wanted my team to look cute!

I was going to knit more. I sell some of my jewelry and knitting at my friend's store, The Stitchin' Post, and my knitted items have sold the best, but it takes forever to make the things that I like. I was also going to knit this cute top for myself:

This is the picture from the pattern. I haven't finished mine yet. I've made it to the armholes, but by the time I finish it, I might only have a few weeks left of warm weather, because the top part looks pretty complicated.

I was going to get in better shape. Play more tennis. Add more low-impact cardio like riding my bike. Do some strength training. Throw in some yoga.

I tried to ride my bike, but I couldn't figure how to put the bike rack on. My ex was kind enough to help me do it, but then I couldn't load the bike onto the bike rack by myself. And it was going to take 2 weeks to take it to the shop to get a tune up. I bought something to lubricate the chain that was supposed to be easy to apply, but it still seemed too hard and messy to do by myself. In fact, the whole bike preparation experience made me feel so ill-prepared to live my life alone that I stopped trying because it was depressing me.

I did play tennis more, and I stretched almost every night, but that's about it.

I was going to read more books. I keep track of what books I read throughout the year, and I'm way behind from where I would ordinarily be. So I started reading more when I realized I only had a few weeks left before I had to go back to work. The only problem is, since I read on my iPad, the longer I read, the harder it was to fall asleep because of the back lighting. So then I had to read less so that I could fall asleep before 4 a.m.

All in all, I fell short on almost every goal. Perhaps I was being a tad unrealistic about what I could accomplish in 2 months.

Plus, when I have less time, I get more done because I have to make the most of every minute. Squeeze in a trip to the grocery store right after work, even if I'm tired. Write a blog post if I have a no show. Read a paragraph if my client is running late. When I have all the time in the world, I tell myself that I'll get stuff done eventually. No need to rush.

But I'm not feeling too bad about myself for falling short of my goals. It's good for me to set goals, not because I have to meet all of them, but because it gives me something to strive for. After all, isn't life more about the striving than the end result? At least that's what I tell myself to feel better.

Liebster Award

I would like to thank Somber Scribbler for nominating me for the Liebster Award. I am new to blogging so I always wondered how people got these awards. What a great way to find out! In the words of Sally Field, "You like me! You really like me!"

What is the Liebster Award?

Liebster is a German word that means lovely or valued. It's an award for relatively new bloggers with less than 200 followers. Nominating someone's blog is a way of letting them know that you like their work and a way to interact with other bloggers. 

Liebster Rules

In order to participate, Liebster nominees must:

1.  Thank the person who nominated you. (Thanks again to Somber Scribbler, who writes one of my favorite blogs.)

2. Answer the 11 questions given to you.

3. Nominate at least 5 blogs with less than 200 followers (approximately).

4.  Post 11 questions for your nominees to answer.

5.  Post a comment on your nominees' blogs to let them know that they've been nominated.

Questions from Somber Scribbler

1.  Why did you start blogging?

About 2 years ago I started writing a self-help book on self-acceptance, but I thought it was so terrible, I was embarrassed to let anyone read it. I had to figure out some way to let other people read about my ideas, so last September I decided to start a blog, even though I barely even knew what a blog was. It turns out blogging is perfect for my writing style.

2.  If you could describe yourself with one word, what would it be?

At the moment, I would say "hopeful." That's why I'm a therapist, why I continue to try to get better at tennis, and why I think I can write a book.

3.  If you could be famous for one thing, what would it be?

That's a tough one. I'd like to be famous for just about anything, as long as it's positive. But I'll say writing a best seller.

4.  What advice would you give to fellow mental health sufferers?

Listen to that voice that tells you to believe in yourself, regardless of how small it may be at the moment.

5.  If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?

Another tough one. I will interpret "thing" as "ingredient" and say anything with sugar, for obvious reasons.

6.  Which fictional character do you relate to the most and why?

Ellen O'Farrell in "The Hypnotist's Love Story," by Liane Moriarty. She falls in love with a man whose ex is stalking her and becomes obsessed with her stalker because she has so much compassion for her suffering. That would totally be me. 

7.  What did you want to be when you grew up?

The first thing I remember wanting to be was a cashier when I was 5 because they had access to all that money. But then my parents told me that money wasn't theirs. So then I wanted to be a bank teller, but my parents said that money wasn't theirs, either. After that I clearly gave up on any attempt to make money.

8.  What is your greatest strength and your biggest weakness?

I would have to say that my greatest strength is my biggest weakness, which is my empathy and compassion for other people's suffering. It helps me to help people, but having too much empathy can be overwhelming at times.

9.  What is your dream vacation?

Maui is one of the few places that has lived up to all of my expectations, so that's where I would go for my dream vacation. With Roger Federer.

10.  Which of the many quotes about mental health speaks to you the most?

My favorite quote is from Kung Fu Panda (although I'm sure it's originally from somewhere else):

Yesterday is history,
Tomorrow a mystery.
But today is a gift.
That's why they call it the present.

I have a lot of trouble living in the moment, which is why in my blog I often start sentences with "In this moment...." A lot of suffering can be minimized with the practice of mindfulness.

11.  What is the most positive thing about today?

Today I got to spend time with my niece, Sadie, which is always a gift.

My Nominees

I'm going to interpret "new blogger" loosely so that I can nominate some of my favorite bloggers. So in no particular order, I nominate:

1.  Amy Purdy, who writes Bipolarly. Her blog on bipolar disorder is informative, personal, and from the heart.

2.  Matt Fried, who writes Fried's Blog, because he is committed to honesty and to eradicating stigma against mental illness.

3.  Tim Clark, who writes Life, Explained, because he rooted for UVA to win the NCAA championship in basketball after his team was eliminated.

4.  Joy Page Manuel, who writes Catharsis, because she is a fellow Filipino and we think alike.

5.  Somber Scribbler, which is probably cheating, but we think alike, she also writes about mental illness, she also includes doodles in her blog, and she would have been my first nominee, had she not nominated me first.

My Questions

1.  What job would make you say, "I can't believe I get paid to do this!"

2.  What's the last dream that you remember?

3.  Who was your favorite character on "The Brady Bunch" and why?

4.  What was your New Year's Resolution this year? 

5.  What do you want to be remembered for? 

6.  What advice would you give to someone who is thinking about starting a blog?

7.  How many jumping jacks can you do in a minute?

8.  If you could put 3 things into a time capsule, what would they be?

9.  Who is your favorite superhero? 

10.  What song best describes you?

11.  What's the last book that you couldn't put down?


Here is a random picture of Sadie and me in Legoland.

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.

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!

Memory

I love the movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." I love the idea that even if you take the memories away, the love between two people remains. And I like the message that we must experience pain in order to experience joy. But lately I've been wishing I could erase the painful memories from the past 10 years.

Let me first say that I am thankful for my memory, lest I be struck down with dementia for being ungrateful. It helps in my job because clients expect you to remember everything they've told you from the first session on. And when you see 30+ clients a week, that's a lot of stuff to remember.

The most painful memories help me to have more compassion for other people's suffering. When I was depressed, I could not conceive of any possible value that could come from my pain. But now that my brother is depressed, I am better able to help him because I know what he's going through. You're not afraid to sit with other people's pain once you know firsthand how lonely it is.

My memory also helps me capture the intensity of my feelings when I write about my experiences, which hopefully makes my blog better. I am guessing that most writers have good memories and intense feelings. But sometimes it can be a tough combination. That's probably why writers are so neurotic.

Lately there have been some memories that I wish I could forget. Or at least remember without feeling like it's happening all over again. It's almost like having PTSD, reliving these hurtful experiences every time they pop up.

Yesterday I remembered how my first husband told me while we were separating that I have a heart of gold. He said it was the happiest day of his life on our wedding day and the saddest day of his life when we signed the divorce papers. How can you feel that way about someone and still choose to leave them? What good does it do to have a heart of gold if it doesn't help you make a relationship work? In a way I am thankful that he was loving through the entire process, but sometimes I wish I didn't remember how I felt at all.

The letting go process in my second marriage has been just as painful. It hurts just as much now as it did 4 years ago. It still makes me cry. Every step we take away from each other renews my sadness. When will this grief subside? That whole one year estimation is a bunch of crap. I wish I could just forget the past 4 years--all the pain and all the stupid things I did to try to ease the pain that just made things worse.

The only memories I would miss from the past 4 years are the first trip when my mixed doubles team went to districts, getting Federer's autograph at the Cincy tournament, and UVA's basketball season this year. Which makes me seem like some superficial sports fanatic, but it's true. In my defense, part of what made these experiences memorable is that I shared them with my friends and family. I'm sure there were other positive memories worth holding on to during that period of time, but I can't think of any at the moment. Right now, all I remember is the pain.

The only good thing about this second divorce is that it helps me understand how you can love someone and still let them go, even when it breaks your heart. I'm not angry at my first husband any more for leaving. I understand why he did it. It doesn't alleviate the pain of either loss to realize this, but I have a better appreciation for how complex love and marriage are. That's something.

Today I'm not able to do the things I try to focus on in my blog--practice self-forgiveness, self-acceptance, and self-compassion. But maybe tomorrow I'll feel differently.

Words

I've always been a good student. So last night I had to stay up until I finished my homework; I had to finish reading The Book Thief for book club today. I can see why it's a best seller. It is beautifully written. It's one of those books that makes me marvel at the power of words--spoken and unspoken.

In the book, Liesel has a love/hate relationship with words. Words were one of Hitler's most powerful weapons, and she lost many people whom she loved because of them. But words also comforted her, connected her to other people, and ultimately told her story.

I rely a great deal on words in every aspect of my life--except tennis. But even there, you have to at least call out the score. Without words, I wouldn't be able to sing Karaoke. I guess you can just make a bunch of nonsensical sounds, but that wouldn't be as fun. The words don't have to make sense--and I am often surprised to find out what the lyrics are at times--but you have to sing something.

I'm not really artistic. I can't express myself through drawing or sculpting or dancing like my other family members. But I can write. And I like public speaking. So without words, I wouldn't have a job. And I wouldn't be able to blog.

When I write a blog post, I try to keep it as short as possible, so I have to leave a lot of words out. I am always relieved--and surprised--that people understand exactly what I was trying to say in the spaces between the sentences.

Sometimes I have an idea for a post but I'm not quite sure what I want to say. So I just write, because I know the idea is in there somewhere. I usually come up with something I didn't expect to find. An ending that I hadn't conceived of at the beginning. Artists often say they don't create something from nothing; they're just expressing an idea that's already there. Sometimes that's what blogging is like, too.

I spend most of my time listening to and choosing words carefully.  People think the hardest part of therapy is hearing people's problems, but it's not.  The hardest part is understanding what clients are trying to tell you and conveying that message back to them.  Again, the idea is in there somewhere, but they don't quite know how to get it out.  In fact, therapists often say that the nonverbal communication is more important than the words themselves.

I guess that's why what is left unspoken is meaningful, too. There were many times that Liesel wanted to say things but couldn't bring herself to do it. I love you. I'm sorry. Don't go. Sometimes we choose not to say hateful things. Sometimes we punish people with silence.

That's the paradoxical thing about words. You need them, but you also need the space between them. And good writers like Markus Zusak know how to find the balance between the two.

I was trying to write a message about reading my blog in this doodle, but it ended up looking like someone typing on a computer. But that works, too.

The Federer Fund

Have I mentioned that I obsess about money?

I know that money can't buy happiness--or at least there is a point of diminishing returns--and I am past that amount. But despite this knowledge, I still buy into the illusion that my life would be better if I made just a little bit more.

It's not like I want to be a millionaire or anything. But I would like to have more money in savings. Especially now that I'm single. Because if I were to get fired or become disabled, I can't count on anyone to support me. And I can't save enough to have the recommended 6 month cushion--even if I were to cut back on every unnecessary expense.

Plus there are some luxuries I'd like to be able to afford. Research says that people are happier when they spend money on experiences rather than on things. I would love to be able to go to all of the Grand Slam tennis tournaments. And I would love to be able to semi-stalk Federer. Not in a creepy way. Just go to whatever event he's playing in, even if it's in Dubai or Halle, Germany.

Like many writers, I have the fantasy of having a best seller and making millions of dollars. But the more I read about publishing, the more I realize that this is about as likely as winning the lottery. But we all need something to fantasize about. Plus, someone has to win the publishing lottery. Why not me?

Sometimes it's hard to be patient and focus on writing these blog posts, which I make absolutely nothing for, knowing that it will probably take years before anything happens--if anything were to happen. Federer might be retired by then.

Don't get me wrong--I'm glad my blog is helping people. That's why I started it. But is some monetary compensation too much to ask for when I am potentially helping more people than I do in my real job?

I've been brain-storming some ways that I can make money from my blog now, while Federer is still playing. You know how when you go on a tour and the guide tells you at the end that tips are greatly appreciated? I could tell readers that if they liked the psychological tour provided by this post, they can make a donation to the Federer Fund.

I think this strategy is better than charging people for buying a mini-book or putting ads on my blog. Not that there's anything wrong with those strategies. I just think it would be more consistent with the theme of my blog to appeal to people's altruistic side. Sort of a reciprocity thing.

I could even do a YouTube video where I charm people into making donations. I think I'm much more convincing in person. I could video myself looking sad because I'm watching Federer play on my low definition small screen TV from thousands of miles away.

I mean, if you had a chance to see shots like this one in person, wouldn't you do whatever it takes to make that happen?

Addiction

I've been thinking a lot about addictions lately.  Even before Phillip Seymour Hoffman's death.  I have never been the addictive type.  My history is so clean I would have made a great political candidate, if I didn't dislike politics so much.  But Richard Rohr, my spiritual guru, says that everyone is addicted to something.  So I'm trying to be honest with myself about what that might be.

At times my hobbies have been like addictions.  When I first started knitting, I would crank out so much stuff that I made all my Christmas gifts in a month and still had scarves to give away.  Same thing with making jewelry.  I sold a lot of what I made, but all my profits went towards buying more beads.   And I can sing Karaoke for hours.  I hosted a small Karaoke party over the summer and we sang for 6 hours straight. 

But knitters tend to be fanatical bunch.  Jewelry makers can be, too.  And for a Filipino, my Karaoke usage is average, at best.  Plus these hobbies tend to go in phases.  I'm in a knitting phase now.  I would describe my interest in these activities as obsessive rather than addictive.

The next addiction candidates would be tennis and sugar.  These two things are a consistent presence in my day-to-day life, and I cannot imagine living without either of them indefinitely.  Giving them up would require some kind of intensive inpatient treatment program, and even then the probability of relapse would be high. 

But playing tennis and consuming desserts has not significantly impaired my functioning, and I've been able to cut back.  I am only playing 3-4 times a week to prevent injury.  And I don't eat 3-4 desserts a day any more.  So I would classify myself as a heavy user but not an addict. 

As I was thinking about this post, one of my FB friends messaged me and asked me to write something about codependence.  And that's when it hit me:  I am addicted to unhealthy relationships.  Ostensibly because I want to help people, but needing to be needed is a form of addiction, too.   In the post on solitude I talked about how ashamed I feel for tolerating so much crappiness to avoid being alone.

Based on my experience as a therapist, I know that many people have the same problem.  Often clients come in for a relationship addiction.  Their friends and family are sick of listening to them.  They know they should break it off, but they can't.  They live in secrecy because they're still in contact with the other person.  If someone came up with a detox program for unhealthy relationships, they could probably make a fortune.

I guess in a way I have completed my own self-imposed detox program.  And for the first time in 30 years, I did not use another relationship to ease the pain.  I rank this accomplishment right up there with defending my dissertation.  Maybe even higher.  Because after my dissertation I got depressed because there was nothing left for me to accomplish.  But as far as relationships are concerned, it's all up from here.

Interestingly, I started this blog right before the breakup.  It wasn't conscious, but I guess at some level I decided that the energy I was investing in my relationship would be better spent writing.  And blogging helped me tremendously during the breakup process.  I don't think I could have made it this far without it.

So until someone comes up with a detox program for unhealthy relationships, I would highly recommend intensive blogging as a treatment strategy.

Midlife

I don't like getting older.  I even obsessed about it as a child.   When I was around 7, I remember asking my dad if you get to choose your age when you go to heaven, and he said yes.  Every year I would choose my current age, because I was sure that the next year would be worse. 

I had a plan for what I would do when I got old:  I would use Oil of Olay to prevent wrinkles, Clairol to dye my hair, and Coast soap to bring me back to life--because that was their slogan, which I took literally.  That shows you the power of advertising.

I didn't consider myself middle-aged until I turned 43.  I'm immature for my age in a lot of ways because I still live the life of a college student--a night owl with no children and no spouse whose work revolves around the academic calendar.  

Although my mind is still somewhere in my 20's, my body has proceeded at a normal developmental pace.  Once I hit 43, I became far-sighted.  My knees hurt all the time--not just after playing tennis 5-6 times in a row.  I started dying my hair. 

I don't want other people to get older, either.  Every year I tell my niece that she has to stay the same age. Whenever I leave my parents' house, I feel anxious at the thought of seeing them sick or debilitated someday.  I am terrified of losing them.  I got a glimpse of what it would be like when my dad was depressed, and I did not handle it well. 

I try to practice gratitude, self-compassion, and mindfulness to accept the aging process.  I try to remember what I have to be thankful for in this moment, try to enjoy my blessings while I have them.  I tell myself that lots of people have these fears--it doesn't make me crazy.  It doesn't mean I'm a bad person. 

It helps some.  But I'm still afraid.

There are only two things that I look forward to about getting older.  One is that I will continue to become a better therapist because I will have seen more clients, had more life experience, and will possess more wisdom. 

The other thing is that my writing will improve for the same reasons.  I have wanted to write a book since high school.  In the 10th grade we had a writing assignment where we had to project what we would be doing in the future.  I wrote a mock interview where I was 45, answering questions about my book. 

So it's no coincidence that I made my first effort to publish my writing through blogging at the age of 44.  I realized that if I wanted to make something happen for myself, I had to start now. 

So I guess that's one good thing about being middle-aged:  as you reflect on the first half of your life, you realize what you have to do to make the most out of the second half.

Q & A

Since no one asked me any questions in my recent blog survey, I thought I would just make up some questions and answer them, because I like to pretend I'm being interviewed.  Who knows?  Maybe I will be interviewed one day.

Q:  Do you ever worry that your clients are going to read your blog and decide that you're too crazy to be their therapist?

A:  Yes.  All the time. 

In fact, I recently found out that a parent of one of my clients read my blog on perfectionism, and for a moment it made me reconsider this whole blogging thing.  But she didn't tell her daughter to transfer, so that was encouraging.  I've had clients transfer to other therapists before, so if they decided to transfer after reading my blog, I guess I can live with that.  You can't be all things to all people.  Although I do still try to be.

Q:  Are the posts where you write about different parts of yourself based on any particular theory?

A:  The idea of conceptualizing our problems into separate parts of ourselves actually comes from two of my favorite theories: narrative therapy and internal family systems therapy.  In narrative therapy, a mental disorder is conceptualized as an entity separate from the client.  This helps the client and family stay focused on treating the problem rather than blaming the client for not getting better.  "Life without Ed," by Jenni Schaefer, is one of the most well-known books that illustrates how this therapy works with eating disorders.

Internal Family Systems therapy is the other form of treatment that focuses on parts of the client.  The main premise is that these parts have become extreme in their efforts to help the person.  So for example, the inner critic tries to motivate you to do your best, but in an eating disorder this may mean starving yourself to be thin enough.  So in working with this part, you acknowledge that it has good intentions and try to come up with other ways that it can be helpful.  Ordinarily, we just feel overwhelmed by self-loathing, so this is a much better alternative.

I think the idea of parts can be useful for anyone as a way to have self-compassion and self-acceptance of the aspects of ourselves that we don't like.  Usually these parts have a sort of archetypal feel to them, which is why people have the experience of thinking exactly like I do.  The reality is, this is how everyone thinks.  It's just that no one wants to admit it because they're afraid that it means they're crazy.

Q:  Have you ever suffered from a mental illness?

A:  Yes.  I struggle with anxiety all the time.  In fact, I have been so consistently anxious all my life that I didn't realize that it was severe enough to be a disorder until after I got my Ph.D. 

I am also prone to depression and had a fairly severe episode at the same time my dad did about 4 years ago.  The other severe bout of depression that I had was when I was 18, and that was the last time my dad was depressed, too.  I've had a lot of less intense episodes of depression, as well.  I probably had dysthymia (a more chronic, lower grade depression) from the age of 13 until I started meds for the first time, which was when I was about 30.

I have to do a lot to make sure that I don't trigger anxiety and depressive episodes, which is why I obsess so much about sleep, eating, exercise, meds, relaxation, etc.  Sometimes it doesn't matter what I do, because sometimes life is just stressful and overwhelming.  But it is scary when I start feeling like I'm going back to that dark place.  Particularly with depression.  When I'm feeling anxious I can take an Ativan and that's often enough.  When I'm depressed, there's sometimes nothing I can do in the moment to feel better.  I can see why people self-medicate with alcohol and other drugs.  It is very painful to be depressed.

Q:  You mention that you want to turn your blog into a book.  What would the book be about?

A:  My plan is to blog until I have 100 posts.  Then I'll pick the most popular posts and turn them into longer anecdotes. That way, even if someone has read my entire blog, they would still have a reason to buy the book.  A book would allow me to reach even more people, because then I'd get to make public appearances and have more visibility. 

Although I am surprised at how much these posts are helping people already.  And if it turns out that I never get my book published, I will reach more people through this blog than I could ever reach through individual therapy alone. Plus blogging is a gift to myself, so I will continue to blog no matter what happens.

But I will get my book published, even if I have to do it myself.

Blogging is My New Boyfriend

I always tell people that tennis is my one true love.  It's the only relationship where if there are problems it's all my fault.  How can tennis be wrong?  But recently I've become a two-timer:  blogging is my new boyfriend.  And I am immersed in it with all of the obsessive frenzy that I apply to any relationship.

When I first started playing tennis again about 12 years ago, I played 4-5 times a week--sometimes several times a day--and even more in the summer when I'm off.  I captain and play every league.  I play tournaments.  I went to the US Open in August.  My TV is almost always on Tennis Channel.  I love Roger Federer.  The list goes on and on.

I love everything about the game.  It's the only exercise I can motivate myself to do and wake up in the morning for.  I love the competitive aspect and I love trying to get better at it.  I've met almost all of my close friends through tennis, and they have become like a second family.

But since I started blogging a few months ago, I spend every free moment thinking about it in some way.  In the morning I check my stats to help me wake up.  I love that it gives me a reason to write and that I'm achieving my goal of helping people feel better about themselves.  I even like the challenge of the business aspect of it--learning more about social media, promoting my blog.

And there are rewards that I didn't anticipate.  I didn't expect that I would get so much benefit from writing about my problems and that I would receive so much support in doing so.  I didn't think I would get to have a relationship that is all about me.  I didn't expect that I would connect to other bloggers--that I would look forward to their posts, and they would look forward to mine. 

I never expected that starting a blog would be such a great investment in myself.

The funny thing is that for the longest time, my demons would keep me from writing because they'd be sitting there telling me how much I sucked every time I tried.  So I would just write in my journal because I didn't care what it sounded like, but the content was so mundane.

Recently I was looking at my journal entries from this past summer.  I had written over and over about how much trouble I was having with sleep and how writing about it wasn't helping me become a writer at all.  And then my first post was about sleep.  And it turns out that lots of random subjects became posts.

So it really is true that it helps to write, regardless of whether you think you're accomplishing anything.  You never know where your writing might take you.

I have never considered myself an athlete, and my dad sucked the joy out of tennis when I was younger, so falling in love with it was a pleasant surprise.  But I always knew I wanted to be a writer.  It's harder to pursue something that you care about because the consequences of failing are so much greater. 

But I have always said that I can't fail if I never stop trying.  I am thankful that my effort and determination has paid off in this relationship.

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.

Audience Participation

So I read this blog about blogging, and it said that in order to be successful you need to find out what your audience wants and give it to them.  I'm good at giving people what they want, but as you know if you have been following my blog, I'm bad at receiving feedback, so I've been avoiding it.  But if I'm going to be a writer I guess I better get used to it!

Plus I'm trying to get to 50 blogs by the end of the year and this counts as one, even though it's short!

I'm starting to get a better sense of which posts are popular.  I try to make them high quality, short, and personal.  But I could give a more professional perspective occasionally and include more theory and research if people wanted that. 

Also, do people prefer the funny ones?  The serious ones?  Does the length matter?  I was worried that the grief one was too long and I didn't think it was that good but it turned out to be a lot of people's favorite.  In fact, that's the one that prompted me to ask people what they like because I was completely wrong about how that post would be received.

And about visual aids.  If my child-like doodles and family pictures are getting old, do you have suggestions for other original visual aids that I could also try to include?  In fact, if you have photos/drawings/art work that you would like to submit and have me include in my blog, I would totally give you credit for them!  I know some of you are artists!

Also, do you have any suggestions of how I should post the blogs on FB so that they stand out when you're quickly scanning through your news feed?  Is the gigantic shot of my head effective?  Or are the doodles better?  Do the psychological tactics work?  Does it help if I tell you what the blog is about?  Or are you such a loyal reader that it doesn't matter what I do; you will dutifully seek out my blog and read my latest post?

I am ambivalent about whether I want to try to make money off my blog.  How would you feel if ads suddenly appeared on my blog?  Would that scare you?  Would it be a turnoff?  I would be sure to warn you before it happened!

Finally, if there are enough questions, I will include a Q&A post.  So feel free to ask me about anything you'd like to know more about from my blogs or my life, psychological questions, or even random things that you have questions about.  For example, I know who is going to win the Heisman this weekend, in case you're interested.

Feel free to comment on this post, send me an email, or use FB to respond.  But don't tweet me because I still have no idea what I'm doing on Twitter.  In fact, can you even tweet a specific person?  This is why I haven't been using my account.

Perfectionism

I consider myself a recovering perfectionist.  I don't think I can ever be cured of it, but I do what I can to keep this part from causing me unnecessary suffering.

Perfectionists come in many varieties.  I am not the type that is meticulous about my appearance or my house.  I don't spend hours on assignments or projects trying to get everything just right.  I am more of the variety that cannot tolerate failing, being terrible at something, or making a mistake. 

I was one of those annoying students who thought that a C was failing.  I didn't get many of them, but when I did I cried hysterically to my professor, begging for some way to redeem myself.  To this day, I think back on the one C I got in college and think, wow I wonder how my life would have been different if had I at least gotten a B in Anthropology.  And then the voice of reality kicks in and reminds me that it wouldn't have made any difference.

It's hard for me to do something I'm terrible at.  I once went bowling and played two games.  In the first game I scored a 16 and in the second one I scored a 31.  I'm pretty sure that most 5 year olds could score better than that.  And I'm sure that with practice I could improve my average.  But the thought of doing something where I am at risk of embarrassing myself is too anxiety-provoking, and it's easier to choose something that I'm good at like tennis.

Making a mistake--particularly one where I am chastised for doing something wrong--is the hardest of all.  As I indicated in a previous post, criticism sends me into a spiral of anxiety, self-doubt, and shame that far exceeds what might ordinarily be expected from the actual remark, which might be something as innocuous as "I thought that ball was in."  I never forget a mistake, and I try never to make the same mistake twice.

Blogging has been an opportunity to practice something that I do well--writing and talking about myself--along with something where I have no idea what I'm doing---promoting my blog.  While the writing part is going surprisingly well, the promoting part is a constant source of stress. 

For example, I did not realize that publishing multiple posts in a community in a short period of time constitutes spam, and when you do this the administer of the site will remove your posts.  Which means I broke the rules and have been punished accordingly.  Now I'm terrified of doing anything out of fear that I may unknowingly further violate protocol.

So I've decided to take a break from promotion and write a blog post instead.  This is the part I really like, anyway.  And I'm trying to remind myself that it is OK to make mistakes.  That no one knows what they're doing before they do it.  That it doesn't make me a bad person.  That I don't have to be perfect.

And then I took an Ativan, because that's what my psychiatrist told me to do when I'm having an anxiety attack.

Self-Acceptance

Today I was looking for blogs on self-acceptance that are similar to mine, and there really aren't any.  Interestingly, most self-acceptance blogs specifically deal with acceptance of your body.  Apparently that's the main thing people have trouble with.  I guess I'm in the right business. 

Anyway, I realized that the phrase self-acceptance only appears once in my entire blog, and that's in the little blurb on the top of the first page, so I figured I better correct that.  This probably should have been the first post, but oh well.  Better late than never.

I believe that, no matter how well-adjusted someone is, everyone has a part of them that tries to make them feel bad about themselves.  Call this part what you want--your inner demon, your inner critic, your superego--but there's no question that it's there.  And there are lots of other parts of us, too--children, warriors, and rock stars, just to name a few.  And just like in real relationships, sometimes these parts don't get along.

We are often at war with ourselves: there are parts of us that we do everything in our power to get rid of and hide from the rest of the world.  That's why people want and fear therapy at the same time.  On the one hand, we think, hey wouldn't it be great if I told someone my deep, dark secrets and she said I wasn't crazy?  But at the same time we think, but what if she does think I'm crazy? That would be terrible.  That's why it's always a courageous thing when someone goes to therapy.

Therapists have the luxury of hiding behind their professional status if they want to.  You don't want to seem too crazy, or no one will want to come see you.  But if you seem too perfect, then it's hard for clients to relate to you.  Although I want to be transparent, I know I err on the side of seeming perfect because it feels safer that way.

But as I get older,  I want to be more honest about who I am and accepting of all my flaws, and I want to do this in a way that inspires other people do the same.  It's always better to show someone how to do something than it is to tell them how to do it, so that's why I started this blog. 

Sometimes it's still terrifying to publish some of these posts, but when someone tells me that they  related to one them, that they think just like I do, then I know I'm doing the right thing.

Since some of you liked my last doodle, I thought I'd post another one for you.

Self-portrait

Unlike the men in my family who can draw and sculpt and make replicas of batman masks out of construction paper, I am not artistically-inclined.  I can't even draw a straight line.  Or a round circle.  I knit, but you just have to follow a pattern.  And I make jewelry, but for some reason I don't think that counts, either.  And I was an English major and love to write, but I don't think I'm creative enough to write a novel, so I just write about myself. 

This past weekend I went to an eating disorders conference because that's what I specialize in.  This year I decided to do all the touchy-feely workshops rather than the research ones.  My favorite workshop was the one on art therapy.  We had to do 6 different drawings of a bunch of doodles.  Then we had to pick the 2 that we felt the most strongly about.  Then we had to tear out the shape of our body for the #1 pick and glue it to the #2 pick.  This was supposed to tell us something about ourselves.

I'm all about symbolic expression, but I was a little skeptical that this exercise could reveal anything meaningful about me.  But then she showed us examples of self-portraits from eating disordered patients, and it was remarkable how much they revealed their struggles with their bodies, food, and emotions.  Then she asked for volunteers to show their art work.

Ordinarily I would be too self-conscious to show my work, even if it is just a bunch of doodles.  But Ibo really wanted to get some feedback about my self-portrait.  I thought that it might have something to do with being stressed out, since there was so much going on outside of me in the picture--almost like colorful asteroids knocking me over.  And I had just gotten the rejection email minutes before the workshop, so I figured that must have played a role, but I wasn't sure how.

After the workshop I asked her for some feedback, and then I spent some time looking at my self-portrait.  I can't explain how I came to this conclusion, but the drawing made me realize that I needed to stop doing the freelance writing job--which really fascinates me.

Maybe creativity is like athleticism:  we think it's some innate ability that we either have or we don't, but maybe it's possible to get better at it.  She recommended that we take time out every day to play by doodling pictures, and I thought that was a great idea. I have been doing it every night before I go to bed. If there's any chance that it can help me get my blog turned into a book by enhancing my creativity, then I'm all for it!  I have no idea whether it's working, but it does make me feel like a kid again.

I am so proud of my self-portrait that I've shown it to a few friends, and one of them said that it's multicolored/multifaceted, like me.  I really love that interpretation!  I am open to other interpretations, too, if you have one.

Learning from the Past

You know how you keep making the same mistakes over and over again, even though you know it's the wrong choice?  Freud called this the repetition compulsion:  we're replaying some past conflict in an attempt to master it.  These days neuroscientists talk about well-worn neural pathways that were formed early in life.  No matter what theory you use to explain it, there's no question that it happens.  And while it's possible to break these patterns, it takes a lot of effort to do so.

I found out that my second article was rejected for publication.  I'm not used to failing, so it was a bit of a blow.  But unlike the first time, instead of rushing to eradicate this blemish on my record, I decided to do nothing.

And then I thought about how many hours I've spent writing these dumbed down relationship articles for less than minimum wage.  Ordinarily I would keep trying to prove that I can do it, I can give them what they want.  And I could master the art of answering questions like, "What do you do if your boyfriend is mean?" Or "What's a cute text I could send to a shy girl to let her know that I like her?"  But why?  It's torturous to give such superficial advice.

So I made an unprecedented decision:  I decided to cut my losses right away.  Me, the person who climbs psychological mountains for fun, knits complicated patterns, finishes tennis matches when I'm having an asthma attack.

I finally get what they mean by the phrase "pick your battles."  I always thought it just referred to being selective about the things that you want to argue about.  Now I understand that it means that you have to save your energy for the things that are worth fighting for.

I have always spent my energy fighting for other people--my friends, my family, my clients, my romantic partners, random people who ask me for advice when they find out I'm a psychologist.  For the first time in my life, I've decided that I'm worth fighting for, so I'm just going to focus on what's best for me.

Can Love Conquer All?

My first writing assignment was accepted for publication!  Woo hoo!  I have to say, this is a lot like writing papers for English classes in college--something you wouldn't think someone would willingly subject themselves to for a measly $2.50 an hour. 

Here is the link to the article:

http://classroom.synonym.com/can-love-overcome-obstacle-relationship-10003.html

I did not write any personal info in this article, so I will give you some background on how I came to the conclusion that love is not enough to overcome any obstacle in a relationship. 

My first husband and I were very much in love.  I'm not sure I will ever love someone else as much as I loved him.  The odds were stacked against us--he used to refer to himself as a poor, half-breed bastard--but neither of us was the type of person to shy away from a challenge.  There were many people who thought that our relationship wouldn't last, but there were also a lot of people who thought we were the ideal couple.  We worked very hard to save our marriage, but in the end love wasn't enough.

It was a sad lesson to learn, since I have always been a romantic.  I believed that differences in race, class, religion, and family background didn't matter, that stereotypes weren't true, and that even though you had a crazy childhood with lots of traumatic events, you could still have a healthy relationship as an adult as long as you loved each other.  And maybe those things are still possible, but they haven't been possible for me.

But I'm not sorry that we tried.  I'm not sorry that we got married.  I believe that love is a gift, and there are no guarantees that you get to keep any gift forever.  Some people never get to experience the kind of love we had, and I got to have it for 12 years.  And for that I am still thankful.

And I am open to the possibility of loving someone like that again.  I am not going to close my heart off because of how painful it was to lose him.  Love may not be enough to conquer all, but it is still worth fighting for.

Positive and Negative Feedback, Part 2

So I turned in my first writing assignment today, feeling all happy and accomplished.  I was even fantasizing about how I can put a link in my blog to this article when it gets published.  And then I got an email saying that my article has been reviewed and requires rewrites.

As you know, I am not good with negative feedback, so I tried to prepare myself for the worst:  What if they say it's all wrong?  Then I'll just correct it and give them what they want.  That sounds easy enough.  And then I read the comments. 

I have to give the editor credit; that was the most constructive way possible of saying that my article sucked.  I didn't answer the person's question.  I used examples more appropriate for middle-aged women than the teenagers and young adults who read the website.  I had one good sentence in the entire article.  I didn't use AP format.  I didn't follow the writing guidelines.

I'm sure she was thinking, did you not read any of the materials we sent you?!  I did!  I really did.  Except for the AP manual.  I haven't gotten it in the mail yet.  I really wanted to get started, and I thought, how different can it be from APA or MLA format? 

Would it be unprofessional if I wrote "Oops!" in the notes to the editor section?

My first thought was to quit since I obviously have no idea what I'm doing.  But then I decided to write myself a pep talk: You work closely with an editor for the first 3 assignments for a reason; you're supposed to suck.  In fact, I bet they give writers that bonus after the 3rd article because some people get so demoralized by all the rewrites that they give up.

Then I worked on the rewrite for several hours.  I have another draft but I have no idea whether this version is any better than the first one because I don't trust my judgment anymore.  I guess this is why people are afraid to get their hopes up; the fall is so much higher from the grandiose cloud that I was floating on.

I may not be good with positive feedback, but I am the Mt. Everest climber of impossible tasks.  Knitting pattern that is far more complicated than my skill level?  I'll have it done by Christmas.  My football team is 2-5?  Well, we still have 4 more chances to win!  My tennis team is 1-6?  I'll just pretend that we are in our second season, and we're only down 0-1 in this one.

Sometimes it helps to be a little delusional.  If we made all of our decisions based on what we think we are capable of, we may never take the risk of finding out what is possible.