Self-Care

"I wish I had a remote control to make him or her stop doing _________."  But, of course, no such thing exists. Still, that hasn't stopped me from trying to rescue, fix, or please someone to the point of personal neglect, exhaustion, or mental anguish.

 

So this week, I added participation in a 10-week co-dependency group therapy program to some of the steps I’m taking to create a more positive life. The stated goals of the class seem to fit well with many DBT skills I practice every day—especially self-care and interpersonal effectiveness skills such as assertiveness, asking for what I need, saying no, and coping with interpersonal conflict.

 

I don’t think I’m alone in having people in my life—past and present—who blame, manipulate, control, use, and abuse.  I’m sure you know what I mean. It could be a boss, relative, co-worker, church leader, spouse, or friend.

Where I differ from many people, however, is that I often forego healthy personal boundaries and self-care to please others, control circumstances and outcomes for others, fix problems, and think about others and their problems obsessively. That is, until I get completely burnt out and exhausted. Then I just say “I don’t care anymore!” But, of course, I do.

I’m trusting that somewhere in the "wise mind" middle—neither living to fix, please, or control people in order to "make everything okay" nor being completely self-centered—is a life worth living. Since this site is dedicated to Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, my posts over the next 10 weeks will focus on those DBT skills which I find most helpful and complementary to decreasing co-dependency behaviors.

Be Prepared

 

 

I haven’t been a Girl Scout for more than 45 years. The badges are long gone. I forget the handshake and the name of my troop leader. But the motto still regularly comes to mind. “Be prepared.”

A few posts back, I wrote about the benefits of not trying to manage depression, panic, and PTSD on my own. My wellness plan includes regular practice of coping skills, medication, lifestyle changes, and weekly therapy. And, yesterday, when I wrecked my car on a telephone pole, I was reminded of just how important is to have a full spectrum of support systems in place.

I used mindful breathing and wise mind when it first happened to call the police, complete the police report, text Fred to have him call my therapist, and contact the insurance company. I heard myself talking too fast to the police and observed that I was beginning to panic, so I began to silently count as I was breathing. Counting engaged a different part of my brain, enabling me to stop “crisis” thinking and slow down.

When I arrived home, however, I began shaking and became tearful. My sympathetic nervous system was highly aroused. My head hurt. And I was suddenly overwhelmed with fearful feelings and judgmental thoughts. I tried to get myself back to “base line.” I self-soothed with a cup of cocoa. I walked around the block to use up some adrenalin. I talked to Fred for encouraging, comforting words. It was a beautiful day so I went outside and mindfully looked at all the flowers coming up. Over the next hour, it seemed that I used every DBT skill in the book and I was still right at the edge of a full blown panic attack.

That’s when my therapist called. Making coaching phone calls are part of a trained DBT therapist’s tool box. She was encouraging, validating, and comforting which helped a lot. She also said something that finally helped me “turn” my mind. “Just give it some time,” she said. “As time passes, this will get resolved and you’ll move on. You’ll be okay.” Those gentle and positive words were just what I needed to help me get unstuck and put things into perspective.

I don’t know why I couldn’t find those words within my own mind and calm myself down. Hopefully, someday I will. But for today, I’m grateful that I have people, plans, and procedures in place to help me when I start to unravel. “Be prepared.” Still a good motto even after all these years.

 

 

Palm Sunday

Today is Palm Sunday, a Christian holy day marking the entry of Jesus Christ riding on the back of a donkey into the city of Jerusalem. Churches hand out palm fronds to remind congregants of the praise of first century onlookers who stood alongside the road and waved palm branches as a symbol of triumph. I’ve always felt connected to my Judeo-Christian ancestors when I hold a palm in my hand. And today is no different.

However, my mind is also someplace else this Palm Sunday. My journey over the past year has gotten me thinking about donkeys today, in spite of the abundance of chocolate rabbits and marshmallow chicks I’ve seen filling store shelves in the weeks leading up to Easter. I recall that in Biblical times, the donkey was an animal which represented peace, unlike the horse which was an animal used in wars.

The significance of that is not lost on me. Jesus was seen by many to be the “King of the Jews.” People showed reverence with branches representing victory. But if anyone thought Jesus’ achievement was going to be a military defeat, the donkey seems to have put a pin in that notion.

The jubilation of Palm Sunday fills me with a feeling of happiness every year. However, today the image of Jesus on the donkey and its message of peace seems important, too. It is a powerful reminder to stay the course (no matter how I am feeling) to continue to put aside who is right and who is wrong. To judge less and forgive more. To choose peace over arguing.   It’s a different type of victory, I suppose, but one that’s just right for me.

Princesses Aren't What They Used to Be

 

"Let it Go" from "Frozen

 

One of the DBT skills I use a lot is “letting it go,” which involves accepting that “things are the way they are” at any given moment. So, lately, I’ve been humming the Oscar-winning song, “Let it Go” from the Disney movie “Frozen” as a reminder to myself.
 

The character Elsa belts out what many have called a song of empowerment and choosing to be who you are. Taking a look at the lyrics, though, I don’t think the meaning is that simple. I see other themes, too—all of which are highly relatable to me and bring the song even closer to home.

The song begins with Elsa experiencing isolation, fear of the loss of self-control, and anger. “The snow blows white on the mountain tonight. Not a footprint to be seen. A kingdom of isolation and it looks like I’m the queen. The wind is howling like the swirling storm inside. Couldn’t keep it in. Heaven knows I try.”
 

I get it, Elsa. I, too, cannot number the times I’ve struggled with wanting to bottle up my anger or just run away and hide somewhere until things “blow over.”
 

Then there are the deeply entrenched beliefs taught to her by her father.  “Don’t let them in, don’t let them see. Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know.” It's called internal conflict and I believe we all have it--much of it, as it was for Elsa, the result of deeply held childhood beliefs and distorted views.
 

And in her foot-stamping declaration of "I don't care what people say" and “the cold never bothered me anyway,” I hear echoes of myself saying “I don’t care” and “you’ll never see me cry” when I really do care, I am bothered, and I feel like crying. To numb it or deny it is simply bravado on my part. In other words, I'm kidding myself.  Lately, what I'm doing instead is to allow myself to be present in the moment. If that means I care, cry, or am bothered, so be it. It rises, it falls, it dissipates... and I can handle it.  


From my perspective, I think the songwriters produced lyrics which depict a balanced, realistic view of human nature—powerful and frightened, sad and joyful, strong and vulnerable. The result is that by the time Elsa gets to the chorus’ crescendo, I understand that “letting go” comes from a flawed state of being human and “letting go” is not a perfect process. With that in mind, her declaration of “I’m free!” is all the more powerful to me.
 

I have to say, even as a little girl, I’ve never wished to be a princess living in a beautiful castle with a handsome prince. But Elsa? Now that’s a girl I understand.

 

 

 

 

 

Driving




Here's what I got for 1,200 bucks in 1987

Years ago, as a newly-single mom as well as a full time college student with a low-paying, part-time job, I found myself suddenly needing a replacement for my clunker of a car. My friend Wanda helped me make phone calls and, eventually, we found a $1,200 car—the exact amount in my bank account.

It seemed like a small miracle except for one thing. It was manual drive and I’d only ever driven automatic. Oh, well, I’d cross that bridge when I got to it, I thought. It was the only half-decent car in three counties for that price. I bought it.

The day I went to pick it up, my young sons came along for the ride from Lebanon to Berks County. As they will tell you to this day, they lived to regret it. I insouciantly hopped behind the wheel, studied the stick in the center console and the three pedals—gas, brake, clutch—and told the kids, “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.” Twenty minutes later, still in the parking lot, wildly stamping on this pedal and that one, and jerking the car back and forth while regularly stalling it out, I felt the first wave of doubt.

A 25 minute drive home lasted nearly three hours. At one point, the boys lay down on the back seat so the other drivers who were cursing at me couldn’t see them. The youngest begged me to call someone. Somehow, I got us all back home, but my new car was moaning and whining by the time I pulled into the driveway. And so were we.


I thought about that day yesterday when I read an article by Milton Z. Brown, Ph.D. (www.dbtsandiego.com) on the importance of slow, deep, and regular breathing. Brown explained two complementary body systems that help regulate my reactions to the world. The sympathetic nervous system revs me up to react to stressful events, emergencies, and threats by cranking up my heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing. The parasympathetic applies the brakes to return my body functions to normal when the threat has passed.

Heart rates vary with emotional states

Sometimes the system that is intended to speed me up and the one intended to slow me down do not work smoothly, timely, and efficiently. Brown says this is “just like driving a car with one foot on the gas pedal (the sympathetic system) and the other on the brake (the parasympathetic system) at the same time, which creates a jerky ride, uses more fuel, and harms the car.”

However, he goes on to explain that the rate and way in which I breathe helps regulate my “gas” and “brake” systems. Practicing slow, deep, relaxed breathing for at least 20 minutes a day strengthens my body’s brakes and slows down my body’s acceleration—all adding up to a smoother ride through my day with increased tranquility and a greater sense of well-being.

My sons are grown up now with kids of their own. In fact, two of the kids turned 16 recently and are going to be learning to drive. I know the driver education teacher and their parents will do a good job of teaching them to navigate the roads—but I plan to add some grandmotherly words of wisdom about deep breathing to help them navigate their way through life.

Doing it By Yourself

When German Anabaptists and Swiss Mennonites escaped religious persecution by sailing to America hundreds of years ago, most of them settled in the south central Pennsylvania region where there was plenty of good farmland. While I’m not Mennonite, several of my ancestors were, including those from Switzerland and Germany. So I grew up in a culture rich in Pennsylvania Deutsch/German ethics and values.

Here, people close their shops on Sundays because it’s the Christian Sabbath, eschew materialism, put God and family first, and, ironically, hang their laundry outside on clotheslines to dry—even in winter. I say ironically because this culture also prizes grit, backbone, and self-reliance. In other words, people are rarely willing, as this idiomatic phrase figuratively describes, to “air their laundry in public.”

That means, around here, the phrase “I can do it myself” reflects more than plucky self-confidence. It’s also a statement that perpetuates a commonly held belief that not only can you do it yourself, but you indeed should. And that includes “getting a grip,” “holding it together,” and “getting over it” during times of emotional distress.

However, as I’ve learned in DBT, this type of thinking often goes hand-in-hand with judging my emotions, which, in turn, leads to shame/hiding, attempting to alter my mood with substances (caffeine, alcohol, or sugar), fight or flight behavior, or withdrawing/shutting down. On the other hand, you can see by this chart, a DBT alternative is to allow my emotions to ebb, flow, and dissipate while acknowledging, noticing, and accepting the fact that I am experiencing them.

The key difference is that instead of “getting a grip” on myself, I am “loosening my hold” on my emotions as they come and go in my mind. I’m learning that without judging myself for feeling one way or another, I stand a much better chance of staying grounded, breathing mindfully while those feelings follow the “90 second rule” (see previous posts), and tolerating the distress instead of running from it or fighting with it.

Can I do this myself? Well, ultimately, how I respond to emotional distress is my choice. Be that as it may, I also rely on others, including  weekly encouragement, validation, and instruction from my DBT therapist. I also know I can call her for a “coaching” session over the phone. I reach out to others who are using these skills to heal from abuse and trauma. And I share my experiences on this blog, in person, and in a DBT-based social media group. So, no. I’m not growing and learning all by myself. But I believe even my Mennonite great-grandma would approve. After all, even “Pennsylvania Dutch” communities come together for collective practices such as “barn raising”—because some jobs are just too big to do alone. To me, that also includes tolerating emotional distress.

 

30 Minutes to Vertical

I couldn’t get out of bed this morning. For the past two days, my left hemisphere “story-teller” (ST) brain (see previous post, “The Story of the Story Teller”) has been running grim, ominous cognitive loops over and over. It has exhausted me and left me feeling depressed and somewhat hopeless.

A CT scan earlier this week revealed I have heart disease (atherosclerosis with calcifications) in my heart, abdominal, and thoracic aortas and arteries. Last week, the eye doctor told me I have cataracts. And the family doctor called and said I have not one, but two, painfully broken ribs that are healing slowly because I also have osteoporosis. Sigh.

As a result of these known facts, the “story teller” (which adds theories, memories, and beliefs to known data) started “talking” about all the things that are unknown but possible. ST seemed to be culling and combing through everything I’ve ever known, believed, and experienced regarding old age, illness, and, yes, death. Simply put, it just would not shut up. Even though I used DBT skills such as distraction, mindfulness, and activities, it would pick up where it left off as soon as the DBT practice was complete.

Not one to give up, I decided this morning to treat my left brain “story teller” like a very chatty co-worker I once had. She talked endlessly and I couldn’t focus. So one day, I turned my chair and said, “It seems as though you’d like to talk. I have a half hour lunch break coming up. We can talk then. But for now, I’m doing creative writing and I need silence, okay?”

It worked. I had set a boundary—in a nonjudgmental, friendly way—but a boundary, nonetheless. To make it stick, I had lunch with this woman frequently and, mostly, I listened. And, lo and behold, she stuck to her end of the bargain perhaps because I’d given her my undivided attention and met her need to be heard.

So, I gave my own chatty left brain story teller the same option this morning. From 8:00 to 8:30 A.M., it could freely create scenarios and theories. I would give it my full attention. Observe which cognitive loops that were running.  Take notes without judgment. And check the facts at a later time. However, when the 30 minutes were up, I was going back to the joy of living right here right now and the appreciation and fullness of being alive at this present moment. At the end of the allotted time, I prayed and breathed mindfully. At 8:31, I got out of bed and went to the window where the sun was shining and the sky was blue.

Detours

Where I live, pot holes, construction projects, and streams overflowing their banks all add up to one thing: DETOURS.

Over and over, I find myself driving along at a steady clip, right on time for an appointment, and “surprise.” There’s a big orange sign with an arrow pointing the exact opposite from the way I want to go.

Signs on roads less traveled

The bright side, however, has been that as I travel unfamiliar country roads and side streets, I’ve smiled at the scenes of farmers busy with plowing. I’ve discovered intriguing shops I didn’t know existed. And I’ve enjoyed seeing the countryside slowly greening after a long winter or turning gold at the end of summer.

Hmm, I think I miss out on a lot of life experiences by traveling the same routes again and again. And I’m not just talking about driving. Reflecting on that a while, I've decided to welcome detours into other areas of my life, as well. Nothing huge for now. Maybe just a new station on the car radio. Having dessert before dinner. Writing a letter instead of texting a friend.

I've heard that doing something unfamiliar helps my brain make new connections. It forces my brain to pay more attention and view my environment more carefully. And it makes my life feel longer  because it requires my brain to slow down, which, in turn, makes time seem as though it’s passing more slowly.

 

Farm country

The latter is all I need to convince me to shake things up a bit. Because, believe me, at age 60, having the impression that time is not so short is a mental detour I don’t mind taking. Nope. Not at all.

The Story of the Story Teller

“A lie gets halfway around the world before truth has a chance to get its pants on” —Winston Churchill

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a story teller. Give me a subject and within seconds, my brain sorts through my memory banks and comes up with a story about it. I’ve always attributed that ability with the creativity of the right side of my brain.

So imagine my surprise when I recently read that a primary function of the left side of the brain is to be the “interpreter” of memories, experiences, and actions. The left brain “interpreter” tries to explain things by linking new information with what was known before.

As it turns out, the left brain is a very chatty “story teller,” taking whatever details it has (that car just cut me off in traffic), filling in the blanks with memories/beliefs (that guy is a jerk and thinks he’s entitled to be in front of me), and weaving everything together in a believable “explanation” (people are terrible, rude drivers who don’t care whether they cause accidents, blah, blah, blah).

Granted, the left brain’s purpose is to help me make sense of the world around me, but because it’s only concerned with cohesion, not accuracy, it can be very misleading in the story line it creates. In fact, Michael Gazzaniga, a cognitive neuroscientist, says the left brain will do anything to hold the story together, including adding things that didn’t actually happen.

Today, using the DBT skills of “observe” and “describe,” I noticed some of the “stories” my left brain was telling me. I quickly realized that most of these “stories” had a judgmental theme, a worrying plot line, and a lot of “what if” scenarios.  And, in many cases, not very much of the story my left brain was telling me was really happening.

The left brain was just doing its job, of course. And I do love a good story as much as the next person. But I’ve decided many of my left brain’s stories are a lot like the yarns my late Aunt Millie could spin: full of cliff-hangers, wild adventures, and, as I eventually came to realize, an awful lot of hooey. From here on in, I’ll make a greater effort to stick to the facts, except when I’m intentionally telling a tall tale, that is.

 

This Too Shall Pass

I’m dedicating today’s post to my mother, who died eight years ago today.  I’m wiping away tears fairly steadily today and I think now is a good time to act upon the “C”—which stands for “contribute to others”—from the DBT concepts of A.C.C.E.P.T.S.

I hope these words from handwritten excerpts from my mother’s journals lift your spirits as they did mine when I came across them and “contribute” in some way to a positive moment or two for you.

“If you ever get a chance to ride a bull, fly an airplane, or stand on your head, do it.”

“Thank you, God, for eyes to see our loved ones, birds in the trees, and clouds in the sky. Thank you for the power to enjoy children—if not our own, those of others. Thank you for the chance to help others.”

 “Dress wild if you want to. Don’t live for others.”

“It sometimes takes longer to get over a good time than it does to have one.”

“I do my thing and you do yours.”

“The greatest need in the world is common sense.”

“God remind me that no matter what I do or fail to do, there is still hope for me as long as I have faith in you.”

“Hug people.”

“If all your thoughts are negative, you’ve been marinated in vinegar.”

“Take a sweater along.”

“Teach children and don’t protect them from life.”

“Help me, Lord, to feel the strength of your power inside me to do your will.”

“This too shall pass.”

 

 

Lessons from Sally

Fred and I bought a wooden doll house at a yard sale for the grandkids about 14 years ago. It wasn’t a meticulously detailed Victorian style house. This one was handmade, a bit rustic, and constructed from wood as thick as my hand. It reminded us of our own modest and sturdy house built in the 1860s, which we chose to withstand the shenanigans of all of our grandkids--the ones we already had and those to come.

The doll house held up well over the years, despite repeated invasions of rubber snakes by the boys, the girls deciding to put in an indoor pool one day, and the dog chewing up furniture from time to time. A miniature ceramic house cat—“Sally” as our first granddaughter dubbed her—was not as lucky.

Sally was the darling of the grandkids—boys and girls alike. Maybe it was because she had one paw lifted and outstretched almost like an invitation to play. Maybe it was because she looked so friendly with over-sized, blue eyes and a pink smile. Maybe it was because she could hide so easily in the curled up hand or overalls pocket of a child.

Whatever it was, Sally was quickly pilfered from the doll house family and was never again found actually inside the doll house. Instead, she sometimes turned up in a residue of soap bubbles at the bottom of the tub after a bath. She lost an ear catapulting out of a pocket onto the sidewalk at the library. She kept a salamander company in an old Easter basket for a short time one summer day. And she once missed an entire Christmas season while “sleeping” underneath the sofa.

Most of the grandkids are teenagers now and the doll house has been relegated to the attic. But not good old one-eared Sally. She still turns up from time to time. Sunning on a windowsill on the porch. Holding out that paw waiting for a manicure next to bottles of nail polish in the girls’ room. Heck, some days, I think she might even make it onto the top of a wedding cake down the road.

What does this have to do with DBT? Well, I use imagery and visuals of safe places to foster a life worth living. Whether it’s a picture in my mind or comforting and pleasant spaces or objects, this practice helps keep me grounded and gives me something positive on which to focus my attention if I’m having a bad moment. Today, I bought some miniature plants at the nursery and gathered them in a mossy container to give myself something enjoyable to view as I wash dishes (often a time when my mind takes to ruminating).

It turned out okay, but something was missing. I just wasn’t getting the warm, pleasant feeling I was hoping for. It needed… I needed… Sally! That tiny, ragged, toy cat was just what I needed to remind myself to stop dwelling inside and get out and participate in life. Adventures are waiting. Love doesn’t care how many ears you have. And when you stretch out a hand, you never know where life can take you!

Beautiful, Wonderful

We are beautifully and wonderfully made and our possibilities appear endless.

I am dumbstruck by the beauty of these “wiring images” of the human brain.

I never envisioned the neural “highway” that transports information in my brain as magnificent as these images depict!

If you have an outdated view, as I did, of the structure of the human mind and its capabilities, I encourage you to reflect on these newer images (courtesy of the National Institute of Health’s Human Connectome Project).

 I think they speak for themselves. What do you think? Post your comments below.

 

 

 

 

 

Snow and Spring

 

I glared out the window this morning at snow piling up on three little “Easter Bunny” statuaries I’d set out in the garden last week. Geez, talk about dialectical (two opposing ideas that are true at the same time), I thought. Here we are, well into spring and it’s snowing. Like many of our neighbors, we’ve already put away our winter coats and boots. But there they are, the contradictory facts. It’s snowing. AND it is spring.

Seemingly everywhere I go lately, people are grumbling about the weather. Like most of the country, the east coast has endured a lot of snow, ice, and cold for months. And from what I’m hearing, folks are just plain sick of it.  As for me, I’ve been trying to approach the weather as I am other areas of life right now. That is, to accept what I cannot change. But today, I looked at our snow shovel and groaned. Enough is enough.

At that moment, I observed how irritated, disgusted, and down I was feeling. Uh, oh.  I knew that even though not accepting the weather seemed like a small thing, it had the potential to set the stage for a pretty miserable day. So I rattled my brain for something that would help. And here’s what popped out: “Pros and Cons.”

In this DBT exercise, I list both the pros and cons of using and not using my DBT skills to tolerate something. I’ve used this activity often over the past year, so this morning I was able to make the comparisons in my head. (However, for bigger emotional issues or more intense distress, I use paper and pencil. Writing things down makes it easier for me to distance myself a bit from the intensity. Furthermore, I can review them with my therapist) Here’s part of what I came up with today:

Pros of using skills: I will be able to “turn my mind” and have a more positive day.

Cons of using skills: I won’t get the feeling of fitting in with others as we commiserate about the snow on Facebook, the grocery store check-out line, etc.

Pros of not using skills: I will be able to commiserate with others and feel more like I "fit in."

Cons of not using skills: Negative thoughts might stretch from a momentary reaction to an all-day mood. (The 90-second rule from a previous post)

In the end, I chose to practice my learned skills to have a more positive day. I chose to say, “It is what it is.” And just as importantly, I chose to apply the DBT skill of “compare.” When I compared the dusting of snow in my yard to a cataclysmic, fatal weather event that happened Saturday in another part of the country, I instantly felt blessed and grateful—and, for me, that perspective was a much better way to start the day.

Small Achievements, Big Results

One of the DBT skills that helps to regulate emotions is called “Building Mastery.” The idea is to pick an activity or endeavor and achieve it.  When I do that, I feel more competent and strong and less powerless and fearful.

So from time to time, I challenge myself to try something I haven’t done before. But I don’t set the bar too high. That way, I’m more inclined to be successful and to enjoy the process, not just the achievement.

Looking back over my diary cards, here are some new things I did in the past six months:

Took balloons to kids at a new

local homeless shelter

Made and ate kale “chips”

 Made my own inexpensive laundry soap with Borax™, washing soda, and Zote™

Restored a vintage train set with Fred

Applied online for a copyright from the U.S. Copyright Office

Went to a new state park and climbed on a rock

Learned the rules of Cub Scout Pinewood Derby

Started a blog

Today, I decided to try my hand at a Pinterest idea for making artificial pussy willow branches to use as spring decorations. Outside, Fred did a double-take as I stood picking through a huge pile of hundreds of branches that had fallen into our yard during the last ice storm. Later, he wandered into the kitchen where I sat cutting the cotton ends off Q-tips™ (to use as the catkins.) When I asked him to search on his phone for an internet photo of pussy willows I could use as a reference, he wrinkled his forehead.

 “Okay, I give up,” he said. “What are you doing?”

 I explained. He stared at the heap of headless Q-tips on the counter and shook his head.

  “Honey,” he said. “Why don’t you just go buy some fake branches at the craft store?”

 “Because,” I answered. “I’m giving my brain a new experience. Creating new connections. Re-wiring, you know?”

He smiled, picked up the scissors, and started cutting up Q-tips. “Good job,” he said.

Flowers and Twigs

In previous posts, I’ve described what the word “dialectical”  in Dialectical Behavior Therapy means to me. That is, it’s all about looking at the world and myself in a way that allows for contradictions, opposites, and differences to co-exist.

For example, I comprehend warmth because I understand cold. I perceive happiness because I also experience sadness. Relationships are enjoyable and disappointing. I accept myself while recognizing I need to change in some ways.

I thought of this yesterday, the first day of spring, when I picked up my camera and went outside to look for signs of spring in the garden. Forsythia buds were swelling. Tips of daffodil leaves were pushing through thawed earth. Snow drops were swinging in the cold breeze like small, white bells.

As I positioned my camera for the first photo, I reached out with my other hand to sweep away dried leaves, dead twigs, and decomposing mulch. I only wanted what was pretty and “spring-like” in the photos. But then the word “dialectical” popped into my mind. So I paused for a moment and considered the scene another way. The dry sticks and leaves were part of the whole story, weren’t they? After all, it was the absence of life that gave meaning to the renewal of it.

Coming to grips with things just as they were posed a challenge for me as I knelt there in the garden. Could I allow both the flowers and the sticks? Could I accept not just the visions of spring but also the evidence of winter? Both were true at this moment in time.

In the end, I chose to let the camera capture the photo complete with its seasonal contradictions. I think these photos just might help me remember that there are far more experiences, situations, and facts in my life that include the word “and” than there are with the words “either/or.” Spring and winter, happy and sad, life and death—they are all part of understanding and accepting the dialectical nature of life.

Spring, Family Ties, and Eggs

My brother-in-law John called me this morning to remind me to stand a raw egg on one end since today is vernal equinox, which he alleged has special gravitational powers to enable the egg to stand on end.

Snopes.com dismisses this as an ancient myth having to do with fertility rites, superstition, and Chinese lore.

But I adore my brother-in-law. He’s 17 years older than me and was like a second father when I was growing up. He’s taught me many cool things over the years. So I raced downstairs, grabbed an egg, and voila!

I snapped the photo you see here and posted it on my Facebook page. Throughout the course of the day, others saw the photo, successfully replicated the experiment, and posted photos of their own egg triumphs.

No one seemed to mind very much that the equinox theory was dubious. Instead, it was just a fun thing to do. Also, I had posted this caveat alongside my photo: “If you google this and determine it is an urban legend, shhh.  Don’t tell me. Today I’m enjoying the magic of spring, family ties, and fun with eggs.”

 

 

The whole experience was a healthy and much-needed mini-vacation for my brain which has been working a bit overtime on some of the more serious aspects of life. And what better time than today—the first day of spring—to renew, refresh, and relax? Sound good? Grab an egg.

 

 

 

DBT Self-Soothing for Men

I remember a rugged, outdoorsy-looking man in my DBT group staring at a list of self-soothing activities and scratching his head. “Um, I don’t see anything on here for guys,” he mumbled.

Sure enough, as I scanned the list myself, I saw suggestions such as “take a bubble bath, rub on some scented hand lotion, and sip tea from a pretty china teacup.”

While these activities aren’t necessarily gender specific, I did see his point. In twenty-five years of marriage, I’ve never once seen Fred neck deep in bubbles or reaching for lilac-scented lotion no matter how stressed he is. Yet men, just like women, benefit from creating sensations that help calm the body’s alert system.

So with that in mind, here are just a few things I’ve observed Fred do to unwind using the five senses.

Visual: He thumbs through his hobby magazines and admires the newest equipment and ideas. He plays a video game for 30 minutes or so. He watches America’s Funniest Home Videos. He goes to the hardware store and walks around and looks at stuff for a while. He reads the latest James Patterson novel.

Taste: He finds a spicy, exotic recipe and makes it for dinner. He goes to the farmer’s market or supermarket and tastes every free sample! He knows where all the bowls of hard candy are at his office. He makes pancakes.

Smell: He fires up the barbecue grill. He burns some wood in the outdoor stove. (He likes camping and this reminds him of peaceful times.) He has a favorite aftershave:  Pinaud© Clubman—it smells like his barber shop and a fresh haircut.

Touch: He puts on one his favorite, very well-worn flannel shirts. He pets the neighbors’ dogs. He exercises and notices the muscle sensations. He takes a hot shower. He holds my hand.

Hearing: He pops in his ear buds and listens to his favorite music on his IPod. He cranks up the volume and bass on the car radio. He listens to instructional videos of YouTube.

These are just a few ideas. The point is this. The ways in which I soothe myself are activities I’ve found that work for me. Similarly, Fred has discovered what works for him. What’s most important, I think, is to identify what works and to have a list and/or a collection of items that can quickly calm the brain when it’s over-aroused.

Looking back over what I just wrote, I’m  now thinking about tucking a Pinaud© scented cotton ball inside the little self-soothing kit I keep handy in my purse. Even though it’s a men’s cologne, it smells like Fred and that makes me feel safe. Do what works.

It Is What It Is.

“It is what it is.” Those five little words are often as hard for me to swallow as a mouthful of hot peppers. By nature, nurture, or both, I am often the last one standing when it comes to a battle of circumstances, problems, or hardship. So today, I’m once again needing to work on the DBT skill of “radical acceptance.”

It seems my psychiatrist is concerned about the negative impact of my re-occurring trauma-related nightmares and disrupted sleep patterns which returned after he discontinued two medications. He recalls that these sleep problems have caused debilitating emotional/mental consequences in the past. So he directed me to start the prescriptions again.

I nodded my head, but internally, I dug in my heels. I know he believes the benefits of the medications outweigh the side effects. But I’m tired and dizzy during the day on the medicine and I wasn’t convinced. Could I find a way to accept his expertise over my feelings? I wasn't so sure. So I went home and sat down with a DBT “Radical Acceptance” worksheet.

Among other things, the exercise required me to check my facts about this situation. I did. And as I reviewed the past year and a half of DBT diary cards, I saw a direct correlation between not sleeping well and dangerously diminished coping abilities, mood, and emotional regulation.  

Another step on the worksheet was to say out loud what I have to accept and repeat it until it seemed more real. I also practiced relaxing and calming my body while imagining what I have to accept which, after a while, made the whole thing seem like less of a big deal.

By the end of the exercise, on a scale of zero to five (not accepting/denial to completely accepting/peaceful), I’d moved from a zero to a two. Better. Not peaceful, but better. So tonight when I take my pills, I’m hoping they’ll be a little easier to swallow.