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.