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“Put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.”

Life is hard.

And it’s harder when we’re anxious. We might, for instance, imagine an event that hasn’t actually happened and become preoccupied by thoughts about it. We might replay something that has happened to us, over and over, and — without awareness of this — fabricate the details that the facts we’ve collected can’t confirm or deny (like Joe Shmoe’s thoughts or intentions). After awhile, we might feel like we’ve lost control of the thoughts. And by then, though what we’re thinking hasn’t actually happened to us, we actually feel the feelings we’d feel if it had. And though we can’t know Joe’s thoughts or intentions, we react as though our assumptions about his thoughts and intentions are correct.

It’s no way to live (and I can say that because I’ve lived it). It is, however, a power a person can learn to harness. In the moment — the instant you realize what you’re doing — you might try asking yourself some questions.

1. Is what you are thinking about relevant to your life today, this hour, this minute? (Do you need to be thinking these thoughts right now? Do you need, right now, to be making the plans you’re making?) Because it’s natural to wonder whether you’ll get the new job or you won’t, but dwelling on it while you are responsible for other things (i.e. being present for your spouse, your child, your current employer) robs you (and them) of your presence and attention. Kick it up a couple anxious notches: it’s natural to think a lot about how sad it will be when your dog dies if your dog is, in fact, dying. It is not, however, necessary to think a lot about it if your dog is at no immediate risk of dying, or if you are, for example, not actually a dog owner. When you ask “Is this relevant?” and your answer is no, say STOP (out loud if it helps, unless you’re the passenger in a moving vehicle — that usually ends badly.). Then get busy or selfless and see what happens. But when you ask “Is this relevant?” and your answer is yes, move on to the next question.


2. Is what you are thinking about rational? (What evidence do you have that proves there is truth to what you’re thinking? What evidence do you have that proves there isn’t truth to what you’re thinking?) Let’s say you texted your significant other this morning, and it’s lunch time now, and he or she still hasn’t responded. For somebody who tends toward anxiety, a thought might pop into his or her head. It starts out like this: “Well that’s strange.” And, usually pretty quickly, it turns into this:  “How dare she give me the cold shoulder! I so bet she’s gonna dump me. This is completely ridiculous.” All the information he has is a) I texted her and b) she hasn’t responded. What that makes “How dare she give me the cold shoulder!” and “I so bet she’s gonna dump me.” and “This is completely ridiculous.” is a set of assumptions, otherwise known as details he fabricated. He has no proof there is truth to his thoughts. There are a lot of facts he doesn’t know, and one of them might be that her phone is off, or she left it at home. When you ask “Is this rational?” and your answer is no, say STOP. Then get busy or selfless and see what happens. But when you ask “Is this rational?” and your answer is yes, move on to the next question.


3. Is the time (and energy!) you’re spending devoted to the thoughts you are thinking worth it? (What good comes from thinking the thoughts? How does thinking the thoughts help your situation? Are there other things you could do that would be more productive?) You got the call, and learned you didn’t get the job. You need a job (a belief that is rational). But now, you stew. You might even seethe since you wanted that job, and, frankly, would have kicked it in the pants. So you think, a lot, about how unjust it is that you didn’t get it. How much better at the job you think you’d be than the person who did get it. How the company’s going to suffer without your expertise. And you think about it for hours. What good does it do you? How far toward getting a job does it push you? Are there other things you could do with that time and energy? Is what you are expending on this worth it? When you ask “Is this worth it?” and your answer is no, say STOP. Then, get busy, doing what is productive, get selfless and see what happens.

And I won’t tell you what to do if your answer to “is it worth it” is yes.

It never is.

“Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow. The same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow, and every day. Either he will shield you from suffering, or he will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then. Put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.” -St. Francis de Sales

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Imperfection.

A (delightfully) lazy Sunday so far, I spent this morning finally finishing a book I started earlier this year:

The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are by Brené Brown, Ph.D., L.M.S.W.

They say don’t judge a book by its cover, but I loved it before I cracked it because the title alone points to a reality that so pervades our culture but is, in my opinion, so largely ignored: we work hard to assure that the people we encounter will perceive us a certain way, and in the process, we forfeit authenticity. And we do it so hard, with such passion, that over time, the line between “who I think I’m supposed to be” and “who I am” gets blurry. We learn to believe “I only can be comfortable if I achieve a certain image.” and we live in denial of the truth: I can never be comfortable when I don’t accept who I am.

Brown’s book is based on a study she conducted in which she came to the following conclusion: One trait marks the difference between adults who feel like they’re loved and belong and adults who struggle to feel like they’re loved and belong: “the belief in their worthiness.” Throughout the book, she makes great points. See below for some of my favorites.

From page 25: “One of the biggest surprises in this research was learning that fitting in and belonging are not the same thing, and, in fact, fitting in gets in the way of belonging. Fitting in is about assessing a situation and becoming who you need to be to be accepted. Belonging, on the other hand, doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are.”

From page 106: “I used my research to formulate a plan to lessen my anxiety. The men and women I interviewed weren’t anxiety-free or even anxiety-averse; they were anxiety-aware. They were committed to a way of living where anxiety was a reality but not a lifestyle … (in normally anxiety-inducing situations,) I try to be slow to respond and quick to think Do we even have all the information we need to make a decision or form a response?“

From page 121: “There are many ways in which men and women hustle for worthiness … the two that keep us the most quiet and still are hustling to be perceived as ‘cool’ and ‘in control.’ … Being ‘in control’ isn’t always about the desire to manipulate situations, but often it’s about the need to manage perception. We want to be able to control what other people think about us …”

And what Brown points out in the book, overall, is that life is far more whole when we drop our efforts to control what other people think — which, as my all my therapist and psychologist professors would tell you, is both fruitless and impossible. 

For more about Brown’s book, click here. And for a great video of a short talk Brown gave based on the book, click here.

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Control.

I’d be lying if I said I have never felt like what I did or said had changed my course so completely that I ruined my chances of achieving something. That a decision I made had created conditions that made it impossible for me to get what I wanted. That a part of me had so turned someone off — be it an aquaintance, a potential employer, a guy — that had I only spoken or behaved differently, the rupture that rendered our relationship over forever never would have existed.
So then I feel like thanks to me, I’ve lost everything I could’ve, should’ve or would’ve had.
As if I have that kind of control.
The truth is we are in control of what we say and do. And sometimes, that thing I say or do in fact does change my course so completely that what I thought I had coming never comes. And sometimes, that decision I make does create conditions that aren’t favorable for getting what I want. And sometimes, that part of me is why a relationship is severed.
But an important and often neglected part of this truth is that because my course or conditions change or somebody walks away because of me does not mean I didn’t get what I could’ve, should’ve or would’ve had. It means I didn’t get what wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t get what wasn’t designed for me.
And if it wasn’t for me, why would I even want it?
Once, Job said this to God (Job 42:2): “I know that You can do all things, and that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted.”  
Amen.
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3 Ways Life is Like a Highway

On my way to work this morning, while stuck behind a red minivan whose driver drives too slowly for my taste, I came to the realization that for at least three reasons, life is like a highway.

1. It’s complicated. Groups (like families, office staffs, etc.) and roadways both are complicated systems. Every person within these always-moving systems is a unique conglomeration of the following: behaviors and communication styles learned in his or her family of origin, expectations fostered by the environments in which he or she grew up, the presence of certain skills and abilities and the absence of certain skills and abilities.

To that, add the person’s locus of control (if it’s internal, he or she believes his or her own behaviors determine the things he or she experiences; if it’s external, he or she believes the things he or she experiences are determined by other people’s behaviors.). Then add attribution theory (the idea that people live like when something bad happens to me, it’s because of my circumstances and when something bad happens to somebody else, it’s because there’s something wrong with that person). Plus pathology (mood disorders, anxiety disorders, personality disorders, psychotic disorders, etc.).

Then, (as if it’s not overwhelming enough to know that every single person by whom we’re surrounded in groups and on roads is just ONE of those unique conglomerations) add the fact that we are often egocentric — that is, we tend to assume that everybody else is the same kind of conglomeration we are (i.e. the time I was 15 and in English class and my teacher mentioned the turkey she planned to prepare for Christmas dinner. I said, “Um…you eat turkey on Christmas?” and she and all my classmates said, “Pretty much everyone does.” Until she shattered my egocentric view of Christmas dinner, I assumed all Americans, like my family, eat Italian food on Christmas.).

Now, strap yourself to a bunch of people who know nothing about your conglomeration and about whose conglomerations you know nothing, either. That’s life. Often, you’re surrounded by people you don’t get (and who don’t get you). You don’t meet each others expectations, nor can you empathize with eachother about it. This can be chaos, but it happens when your family merges with another in marriage, or when you work in an office, eat at a restaurant, stand on a line or stop and go in stop-and-go traffic.

2. You will be wronged. Injustice is inevitable in life and on the road. You try to communicate, and somebody doesn’t pick up what you’re putting down. Others pretend not to hear what you’re saying — whether you’re speaking it in words or in gestures — in favor of passive aggression. When you don’t try to communicate, people read into what you aren’t even saying. People do things that directly, negatively impact us and don’t notice. Other people do things that directly, negatively impact us, are entirely aware of it and don’t care at all about how it affects us. And we often do one or both of the same to other people.

It’s because of our conglomerations. It’s like when a wife expects her husband to do XYZ even though she’s never expressed “I would like you to do XYZ.” She speaks in code (or doesn’t speak about it at all) and gets angry or hurt when he doesn’t do what she wants. It’s also like when we assume we know other people’s codes (when the wife loudly bangs together the pots and pans she’s washing in the sink and while she only does that because the sink is small and for no other reason, the husband becomes anxious because he assumes she’s banging the pots and pans because she’s mad at him). The problems with this are a) we don’t know each other’s codes because b) we don’t know each other’s conglomerations and c) as egocentric people, we subconsiously assume that we do. In the wife’s family of origin, husbands knew to do XYZ without being told. But in her husband’s family of origin, no man ever did XYZ unless a woman asked. And in her husband’s family of origin, if dish-washing was loud, it meant his mother was angry. But no one in his wife’s family of origin ever took out anger on cookware.

3. You have choices. While you drive, and you’re — say — stuck behind a red minivan whose driver drives too slowly for your taste, you have choices. You can flail your arms at them like a madman or -woman (if you’re willing to take a gamble that the driver is not the kind who grew up where, when somebody flails their arms at other drivers, they flail shot guns in response). You can tailgate. You can call your friends and complain about it. You can slow to a safe speed and wait until there’s room to pass (and you can accept it if sharing the road with this person turns out to mean you don’t always get to drive as fast as you’re comfortable).

Being on a highway (or in a world) where everybody experiences everything in an entirely unique way means everybody has to adapt. Period. It’s unreasonable to expect everyone else in the system to see and do things the way you do. Expecting that is expecting the system to revolve around and cater to you. Sometimes, we get to do what we want without incident. Other times, nothing works out the way we’d choose. And if a person keeps up unreasonable expectations, he or she can expect to perpetuate the parts of this process that piss most of us off. But approach it with flexibility, and you might just prevent us from reliving those parts over and over again.