choosing yourself

in the natural evolution of a relationship, be it a marriage, a friendship, a business relationship or neighbor or even something personally inconsequential as, say, a vendor there are inevitable conflicts.

those conflicts can be simple: confusion or a hurt feeling over a misunderstanding. the solutions are easier and they can be usually fixed in what i heard today with some galpals, "20 seconds of discomfort."

or they can be complex: an inability to endorse or turn a blind eye to a repetitive toxic behavior. which require more than 20 seconds. in those complex situations we must choose health and choosing health usually means choosing ourselves and usually choosing ourselves means lifelong changes, if we pay attention.   

a spiritual teacher whose pen name is a.h. almaas left USC at berkeley during his physics PhD program to (woo-woo alert): follow his interest in the truth of human nature and the true nature of reality. this interest parlayed into a theory called the "Diamond Approach" under which many of his teachings are collected in book form. in one of his books (and they're really good by the way), he has a chapter on "Compassion" and in it, he discusses that compassion for others requires we have compassion for ourselves first and that means literally that we choose ourselves over them. 

HUH? in our world of BFFs and "brothers from another mothers," nothing could be harder for us. we have been programmed to believe that no problem is insurmountable as long as you have friends to lift you up. if we pick ourselves first aren't we uncaring narcissists? 

i get that.  

almaas later explained that compassion for others often means we have to separate from them in their times of need because they have to do things alone, on their own steam. and it doesn't have to be forever, but it could . . . they might hate us for it, but that's the way it has to go.  because if they come out of it: they did so by themselves.

but i get that more. especially when the person you're having an issue with is bugging the shit out of you. it's like the oxygen mask on an airplane in the event of a cabin pressure change: put your own on first. 

i read further and it explained that when you choose yourself, you choose health and when you choose health you will need to spend a lot of time being alone. you will need to be alone even if you are surrounded by health sympathizers because your changes have to be yours or they won't work. and you will absolutely need to be alone if you're surrounded by those interested in keeping things status quo because they will do all they can to prevent change. 

the point of this was: even though you might have friends who see things similarly to the way you do, it doesn't mean the you will ever really intersect because your path has to be your own. it's akin to toddlers in parallel play: they get along because they don't play with each other, but rather they play alongside each other. it's always OK to go along for the ride, as long as you like the same music...

when i read these theories i was on that bus. i knew i wanted health. but health doesn't always come easily. and it did mean i was going to spend some time alone. and boy, it was tough.

i had a years-long relationship with a friend that was mutually enriching until it wasn't anymore. during the journey of our lives some unhealthy behaviors on her part became prominent, upsetting the scales and they grew increasingly toxic for me as time went on.  i would say to her, "what is going to happen to us when we are healthy? will we still be friends? what if one of us gets there first or wants it more than the other?" she answered, "i have always been afraid that you will leave me." and i said to her, "me too."

the scales of our friendship had tipped in an unrecoverable way. she verbally obsessed over her problems for several months to the extent that my marriage, family and personal life were affected; her problems wove their way into my dreams leaving me drained in the morning. she siphoned my time with other friends and witnessed their company with narrow eyes. she needed help in a way i wasn't a) able to provide, and b) interested in effecting. at that point, the damage had been done and we'd been around the block so many times about her stuff that my sneakers had lost their tread. with aging parents on one side and my 3 Things on the other, i had my own concerns but we had no time to talk about those.

i was tired of her repeated complaints, her token assurances of getting help, her lack of true progress and the fact that i felt she simply wanted to bitchandmoan. but that's not fair of me because she truly felt trapped and i think she was. she even asked me, "aren't you tired of hearing about this all the time?!" and i said, "yes, i am."

but i allowed further late night phone calls. i allowed her intrusive and impulsive behavior. i permitted her irrational claims that i was a better parent than she was and that her kids liked being with me more and i all-but endorsed her crying sessions as she would drive with the kids in the car. when i found out she was driving, i would tell her i was hanging up.

i had become my mom in a way: logging hours on the phone, listening to the continual sadness that a distressed friend was incapable of seeing her way through. i love my mom, but that was a pastime i was happy to avoid.    

i talked about it to a mutual friend who was closer to me in health. she gave me anecdotal advice that was also in the form of a friendly warning of our relationship's risk after i complained again about the other one: "my mom has a group of female friends and they've been together for decades. when things like this arise in their circle, they refer to an old native american women's custom," she said.

"the custom operates within a circle of multigenerational women and young girls. much like a 'red tent' during biblical times, but it was different in that it had nothing to do with their menstrual cycles," she added.

"phew!" i phewed, fearful that we were about to embark on opening a red tent in our neighborhood.

she went on to continue, "this circle was a lot like our playgroups: daily banter, shared child-rearing and the like was the norm, but it was tribal. certainly, complaining or discussing the woes of the women was allowed, encouraged even.  but when the time came for someone in the circle to who was feeling woeful enough to bring her problems to the elderwomen's council, the rule was that this woman would agree to perform the terms outlined in the elders' solution for her.  consider this: the council took these problems seriously because they usually were; i mean, to get to that level it had to be heavy duty because you were agreeing to their terms or you risked ostracism -- that was the deal: if you ask their advice and you didn't follow it or you continued to upset the circle's harmony with your bitchingandmoaning after the council offered its solution, you were out of the circle. sorta our version of put up or shut up." this friend is a gem to me: witty, wicked smaht and charming.

"what would happen if the woman did follow the advice but the problems continued?" i asked, utterly enraptured in this custom. i dug it and yet i knew that this teaching was a shot across my bow.

"if that happened, then the female council of elders would convene with the council of male elders and all shit would hit the fan -- everyone who was involved would have to comply or be ousted. these tribes faced serious threats and if you didn't follow all procedures, you put everyone at risk, so obedience in all consults was golden."

hmm. 

"the point is that the council of these elder women would discuss the issues. these were wise women," she explained, "and they would take days to think of solutions. all solutions were discussed together and shared with the whole circle so that the requestor could get support and also so the other women could hold her to the solution," she continued.

"so if the person with the grievance didn't follow the advice, she was out? forever?" i asked, bracing a little for a well-intentioned hiss.

"yes but only if she continued to complain, because if she stopped complaining that meant the advice was followed and the problem was solved. if you went to them, you were at DefCon 2. if you defied the instructions you agreed to follow, you were out. the circle chose themselves. they ousted you and chose the health of the custom, the integrity of the traditions and the protection of the innocent women over the continued bullshit that was tipping the scales of the tribe. not choosing the solution was like a slap in the face to the elders."

it seemed like it was the native american version of "Intervention"; a television show about substance abuse addicts and the harm their addictions cause their loved ones.

so i asked her if her mom's group of friends followed those same policies and she said, "yup. there are people who want attention and there are people who want help; they might look the same, but the loud ones are usually the punted ones because when you're really working, you don't talk."

hearing that reminded me of the time i was in labor for Thing 1; my OB walked by my room several times and would shake his head in laughter and say in his cameroon accent, "mommy, you not ready, lady. that bebe is not ready. you talking too much. too much laughing, lady. you not working yet. gonna be a long night, mommy..."

so i got the message. i risked losing a healthy friend by keeping a sick one. i synthesized the message for my own purposes, i acted on it and i separated from my troubled friend. it was hard, we were like sisters. but our relationship was terribly unhealthy and codependent: we gave each other jobs that perpetuated the cycle. she wouldn't get help because i would listen and i would listen because it made me feel smart and helpful.

my own therapist told me i was an obstacle to her recovery. ouch. i was also in my own way.

so i chose myself. i knew i had to. i simply couldn't continue on her roller coaster any longer. we were both tapped out. we said our peace, love, happiness and kumbaya and moved on. she's better and so am i.

we had other mutual friends and yeah, it was awkward. but the thing is, and here's what i had a real hard time getting people to understand: i didn't reject my friend. i chose me. people want to cheer for the underdog so in some situations, the one who's still talking seems like the underdog.

what was important for me to understand was that when we have these conflicts of opinions or ideas, both people can feel judged by the other. i was "bad" for rejecting her; and she was "bad" for abusing the friendship. the truth was we were both feeling pretty low.

in the final analysis, when things aren't working the way they used to, instead of trying harder in an unhealthy pattern, we need to pull up our big-people pants and make real changes, which can mean we spend some time alone.

we need to choose ourselves.

thank you. 

Words: A Perfect Apology: its Intention, its Motivation and its Two Sides

The subject of this post is something I've been intending to write about for a while.  


I have a brother who is part of a pastor team of a church.  He and I had a disagreement one day.  I was not in the wrong.  A few days of silence passed between us.  When the moment came for his apology he made it and it was full and complementary. 


By "full and complementary" I mean that if the incident were over breaking something dear to me, it would have been like this: "I am sorry I broke your little trinket that means so much to you."  But it was about something else entirely (because my children have broken  all my meaningful trinkets) and the matter between me and my brother escapes me but it was a matter of the heart, my most precious trinket. 


While his apology was sincere, it came with a "; but," and was followed by a string of words that denuded the power of the actual apology which brought us back to square 1.25.


That "but" can be huge.  Using "but" is the equivalent of an apology no-fly zone. "But" in an apology is three letters that immediately put the brakes on a meaningful moment and put the blame on the offended for being, what, a human for having a reaction.  Using "but" puts a condition on the Intention as well as a flashing neon question mark on the Motivation for the apology.  


Indulge me as I digress into a little visual etymology: the "U" in "but" reminds me of the valley of discord and isolation that using the "but" in an apology creates.  I love both my brothers deeply and while I sensed where things were going again with this brother, I blew it off.  We are all flawed human beings, "sinners," as his vocation plainly and searingly puts it.  People jump to "but" in times like these as a default word, to explain themselves and that's perfectly understandable.  However, it's easy to handle that part, simply say: "I'm sorry I did XYZ and I'd like to explain myself." 


Several hours later, he reached out to me and said, "That wasn't a perfect apology."


I said, "Huh? We're good; you apologized." I didn't want to go into it again.  He disagreed.  But in a good way this time.  


So we talked about Intention: he went on to say that the inclusion of "but" in his apology took away the power of his apology from a 10 to a 5.  I thought more of a 2.  He joked that including "but" is passive aggressive and is akin to saying, "I'm sorry you're so sensitive."  We laughed and agreed; it was true.  We laugh about behaviors like that, peoples' defense mechanisms, all the time; mostly with the irony of full-on reflective personal experience after the joke to say, "ha ha ha... yeah... wow... so um... you thirsty?"  


Because we are sibling word nerds we discussed the Motivation for this particular apology and while we were at it, for all apologies.  What are the Motivations: to make the "vic" (the offended) feel better or to make the "perp" (the offender) feel better?  If the Motivation is to honor the vic and is pure and sincere by truly expressing regret for what happened, there is no need or room (for that matter) for "but."  If the Motivation is to make the perp feel better, that "but" is a natural by-product, a condition on the apology and so the damage is somewhat doubled and the vic is hosed.  The vic has two choices at that point, turn the other cheek as Jesus suggested or start another disagreement out of ... pride. (Eeww.)  At that point, who's the bigger, y'know: jerk?


We joked about the other trap: being the pride-less gracious acceptor.  Can we be gracious enough in the spirit of a perfect apology to say, "Apology accepted.  Thank you.  Would you like some chocolate?"  Without (brace yourself) saying, "you should'na XYZ ..." Rrrrr.


We discussed the matter from a linguistic point of view -- something we often get deeply into because we love to write and because we're Irish words come naturally to us (and to my cousins and some dear friends as well, blah blah, get on with it).  I said the use of the actual word "sorry" to me is a sore point and here's why: I would usually associate the internal meaning of "sorry" into the second use referenced below: 

sorry |ˈsärē; ˈsô-|

adjective ( -rier , -riest )

1 [ predic. ] feeling distress, esp. through sympathy with someone else's misfortune : I was sorry to hear about what happened to your family.

• ( sorry for) filled with compassion for : he couldn't help feeling sorry for her when he heard how she'd been treated.

• feeling regret or penitence : he said he was sorry he had upset me | I'm sorry if I was a bit brusque.

• used as an expression of apology : sorry—I was trying not to make a noise.

• used as a polite request that someone should repeat something that one has failed to hear or understand : Sorry? In case I what?

adjective ( -rier , -riest) [ attrib. ] in a poor or pitiful state or condition : he looks a sorry sight with his broken jaw.
• unpleasant and regrettable, esp. on account of incompetence or misbehavior : we feel so ashamed that we keep quiet about the whole sorry business. 


I literally would take the meaning of "I'm sorry" to mean that I *AM* -personally- in a poor or pitiful condition: IN MY ENTIRETY; not just at that moment.  Heavy, I know.  So I have issues with the word.  


If you know me in the real world, you will know that when people say that phrase around me -- even perfect strangers! -- I will appreciably say, "Oh, don't say 'sorry'; say 'excuse me' or 'I made a mistake.'" And some people if the time warrants will look at me quizzically and I'll say, "because you're not in a pitiful condition, you just made a mistake. I like to say 'I apologize' instead." And then they run away and call security because the crazy lady won't go away. Sorry... (see?)

The reasons for my association with the word is a subject of another post. But suffice it to say, I didn't come up with it on my own; I wasn't born sorry.  I learned it from my therapist (yeah, that guy who created that messed up group therapy  [which I've recently come to appreciate, thanks to an insightful friend, as a massive ego stroke for himself: poor guy had to drive 5 hours in each direction four times a year to feel needed]). We agreed that while there are two definitions of "sorry," my internal baggage with it required that I use another word altogether, "apologize":  

apologize |əˈpäləˌjīz|

verb [ intrans. ]

express regret for something that one has done wrong : I must apologize for disturbing you like this | we apologize to him for our error.

ORIGIN late 16th cent. (in the sense [make a defensive argument, offer a justification] ): from Greek apologizesthai ‘give an account,’ from apologos (see apologue ). In English the verb has always been used as if it were a direct derivative of apology. 

I like "apologize" much better.  Three reasons: a) because I'm a word freak; b) the inclusion of  'express'; and c) it's a verb. It's an actual action, thus it resonated.  It was and is perfect.


I realize now, after all that therapy that I'm not in a poor state or pitiful condition.  And so when I say "I'm sorry," I'm cool with it. 


The point of all this is that when you apologize, don't say 'but.'  If you have to say 'but' you need time. It's perfectly acceptable to say "I regret the direction this has taken and I'm almost ready to apologize perfectly for it but I need some time." Which then creates:   


An examination into the second side of an apology. 


When we apologize we mean to regret, to take back what we did that hurt the other person.  


This is convoluted, so take your time: 


But in my examinations (most recently as 12 hours ago after an extremely ironic turn of events between myself and a  dear friend), I have come to realize that in order to apologize fully I must appreciate and examine that pain that spurred my doing or saying something I regret that deserves an apology.  (I don't want to spend all day examining my navel, so these things can happen relatively quickly because I'm such a pro now.)


Here 'tis: People don't just lash out for no reason. We'd like to think we do, but no, we don't.  Almost always, the lashing is a defense mechanism to protect something so deep, so feral and primitive we likely don't understand it. It's why that dad shot his kid's laptop.  This dad, and me last night, and likely my brother, felt intense pain that represented something else.  The dear friend who offended me last night had no clue.  Until I lashed out.  I was eloquent, I was concise, I was deliberate and defensive and I said stuff that wasn't germane but nasty.  I was all those things my English major pedigree engendered.  And I was wrong.  Not wrong to feel the way I did, because judging our feelings is another peace deathtrap, but wrong to lash out.  Wrong to not sit and examine why I felt the way I did at the comment that created the feelings.  


That's the second side of a perfect apology and I have to thank that dear friend because if she hadn't said what she did, this post would not be as robust nor would I have a full appreciation of The Work I still have yet to perform on myself.  I'm cool with it; in fact I think I've performed most of The Work, but now the hard part: self-awareness.  Self awareness to me is like applying your knowledge, that dreaded "Show Your Work!" edict in math class.  That "oh yeah? prove it" when you say you can do 30 military style push-ups in less than a minute without stopping. 


Thank you dear friend.  


The reason for the discourse on second side of apologies in this post (you're probably saying, "Ugh! you mean there's MORE?!" but this is where you come in, dear reader) is my dear friend's innocent suggestion that I use the capitalized form of the pronoun 'i' in my blog posts.  


Amazingly, this suggestion was made on the heels of her recant of an imperfect apology to which I replied "thank you" and that I planned on writing about perfect apologies. Her suggestion had nothing to do with her apology, so it felt like a slap. And it riled in me a constrained fury of depth from a primitive place inside me that if I hadn't recently done a grueling workout, I would've either elected to do it or had gone deeply inside with that anger and turned it into a micro depression.  Instead, I was highly agitated and distracted by the incident. 


Her suggestion is warranted under the aegis that if I decide to parlay this blog into something professional One Day (emphasis mine) that it would behoove me, in that regard, to y'know... dress it up (mine too).  Proper punctuation is easier to read and it allows the words to flow as readers are familiar with it.  She's absolutely right in that argument.  


But that's not the intention of this "Grass Oil" blog.  It's named after a phrase Thing 3 made when he was 5.  So to me, that means it isn't supposed to be professional; it's more of a chronicle for my kids as they grow up, to know how things were in our family when they were younger and a playground-slide trip into their mom's head.  I suggested to her that anyone who turns to their personal blog as something to showcase their writing skills for a potential career in writing would be akin to pissing into a headwind. I stand by that as these personal blogs are often rife with errors, personal observations and seeming inside jokes. 


Another motivation for writing this blog is that I also have a morbid fear that I could be taken from My 3 Things' lives early and so I wanted to leave something personal for them (lessons, observations that can help shed a little light on their own behaviors) rather than, say, a scarf.  I did knit blankets for them. Or that the language part of my brain will deteriorate from a flesh-eating virus and my ability to write will be . . . um, disabled.  (That was not eloquent.)


But maybe my dear friend is correct? I'd actually considered it a while ago and I don't wince when saying so.


Maybe I would like someone with influence and money bags to see my writing.  Maybe I would like to be asked to represent someone professionally.  It would be nice for that person to know I can adhere to Chicago or AP style and basic grammar rules and that I'm not some defiant and militant ee cummings adherent.  But then there's the little kid in me that says, "up yours. this is my zone, my place. my rules. go find your own. i don't tell you how to write."   


So then it comes back to me as a matter of motivation. I have to think about whether or not I'm afraid of success and its ugly twin: fear of failure.      


So here I am: using proper case with the letter 'i' as pronoun. I am using proper sentence and punctuation structure. I am double-spacing after periods. I am writing tight cohesive sentences (no more meaty run-ons).  I am not abusing m-dashes or ellipses.  (i am bored to tears.)


Snidely Whiplash moment: Maybe this post would be my sample writing for a prospective employer, book or literary agent.  'Cause Lawd knows, I gots The Gift.  But do I have the confidence?  Am I ready? If you've been following me since last January, you may recall that my Creating This Blog was and is a huge step for me. 


So I ask of you, dear reader, what say you about the capital 'i' as pronoun?  Would consistent and proper use make it easier for you?  If enough of you say it does, say the word and I'll change it.  (Instead of "change it" I was going to say "be healed"  -- from a refrain at Mass, which also seems apropos, it being Sunday an' all ...) 


btw, something's wacky with the fonts and formatting today, I apologize. 


thank you. 

letting it rip: a rant on incongruent messaging

i'm in a mood today and i've been in this mood actually for a bit longer than a day. it's not a bad mood; in fact, the more i think about it, i realize it's not a mood at all. it's more of a perspective. i'm a little all over the map on this subject, but it all works out in the end.

bear with me: about five years ago i used to go to this group therapy once every 3 months or so with a former therapist who (after moving south) would venture north to invite his northern virginia clients to participate in what he called "process group therapy." this group of his was anything but random because three of the participants (myself included) had known each other quite well outside of group for years. we'd been "surface dwellers" (a term my husband coined about people who hang out, but don't *really* know each other for one reason or another) together as parents and friends for a while. how'd they find out about this therapist? yours truly. yeah... i know. i have a big mouth.

anyway, i have a friend who is a family therapist and when i told her i was in this group together with two other friends she just about flipped. i didn't know why she'd flipped until she explained, "that's really unprofessional; there will clearly be breaches in the 'sequester' rule," -- the rule now more colloquially known as 'what happens in vegas stays in vegas' rule -- because the three of us saw one another on a near-daily basis. my therapist friend was right; while we didn't abuse the confidentiality of the agreement, we didn't respect it either. in our defense, most of the commentary we made was supportive and encouraging of our fellow groupers who were clearly in a lot more trouble than at least i was.

in retrospect, it seems as though this old therapist (yes, i have a new one, a female this time) formed the group as an experiment. i also felt exploited by him (i'm blessed or cursed with a strong personality and i'm more resilient than some of the other members of the group) because i'm tougher and candid. after the 4th weekend-long session, i quit going. i didn't tell anyone (didn't know i was supposed to!) in the group but i told him (apparently i broke some unspoken rule that if one wanted to leave one had to present its case to the group which would talk that person out of leaving -- i'm guessing). the reasons i quit were mine alone but i thought they were pretty good ones: NO ONE CHANGED in the least and i really didn't understand the point of the sessions after a while, it just seemed like an expensive bitchfest and a comparison of who should feel more sorry for whom.

look, this was not cheap: it was $450 a weekend for basically 10 hours of therapy. each time we gathered, i took away some tools with me. unfortunately some of them were: "i thank god i'm not that guy" or "wow, remind me to pay my taxes on time..." or better ones like, "i will kiss all my babies goodnight tonight and no (more) yelling at bedtime..." or "i'm pretty frickin high-intensity... maybe i should bring it down a notch or 12..." and my personal favorite: "black & white thinking is bad." and that's true... that was the best thing i learned all through the process: that black & white thinking is harmful to not only the thinker, but to the target of the thinking and the target of the intention. i had a acquired and developed a taste for black & white as a kid. when you're surrounded by chaos, the things you know are absolutes become your friends, trust me. anything the slightest bit nebulous was rejected right away.

so i began to think, what was the point in being with these people if there was no improvement and the same patterns kept repeating themselves and the same behaviors were manifesting and repeating the same outcomes...? right? their thinking didn't line up with their actions; their words didn't mesh with their actions. it was incongruent. if you want to get better, then stop doing the same stuff and expecting different results. stop repeating yourself. stop drinking if you're drinking too much; stop eating if you want to lose weight; tell the truth if you lie all the time; cut back on your commitments if you disappoint people by blowing them off; if you yell at your kids all the time and want to stop then get help; if you gamble and want to stop then go to gamblers anonymous; start exercising if you feel weak, breathless, out of shape... just y'know, do it. 1+1=2; 1+0=1. progress.

easier said than done, i know. but if things don't improve, then i have a right, as then a person in that group, and now as a person on this planet who has to listen to the complaints to sorta y'know, walk away or posit the "why are you here? just to bitchandmoan?" question. i don't know. if you don't like the way your life is going and you are reasonably able to attend to it, insofar as attending a weekend group therapy with a therapist and others then... y'know, start doing the do...

ok...i'll get more to the point of all this, but one more thing (and we're getting closer, you just don't know it yet): i've always been about candor, change and self-accountability and doing what i can with the love i have for myself and others to get my shit together, pull myself up, dust myself off and start on something new and that also means leaving people be if that's what it takes for me to continue to put myself first and maybe for them to get what they need.

some of those people in group therapy, for whatever reason -- clinical, metabolic, mental, physical, whatever as i'm not judging -- simply could not move on. some of them had RIDICULOUS attachments to the therapist also (so there's that: to me, a good therapist really should work him/herself out of a job, that means you're getting better... but not this guy -- he had some of these clients for like, 20 years... and then there's the resistance on the client side: if i get better, i won't get to see my therapist anymore... so there's no growth for either person as far as i'm concerned). one of the groupers was totally attached in a creepy almost cult-like fashion: she actually moved to where he lived after he left NoVa so she could be closer to him... and he allowed it... once i heard that, of course a flag went up -- who's enabling/codependent on who here? -- and that freaked me out. i would say my clock to leave started ticking when she sheepishly but yet in an oddly territorial way announced she followed him to his new state (north carolina, not consciousness, obvi). nothing was the same for me after that.

and before you get all whatever on me, yes, i realize there are really good therapists and it sucks to have to begin a relationship with a new therapist, but y'know, therapists die too; you deal. in fact i now remember saying that to her, that he'd die one day, when she told us she followed him and she looked at me with flames in her eyes. she sank back in her chair -- her body said, "yes" but her eyes said, "NO! NOT HIM! HE WILL NEVER DIE!!!"

as for my co-surface dwellers, we all have our stuff (and you do too, you can't deny it), and i wish them well but i barely stay in contact with one them and the other one and i don't speak at all anymore out of mutual agreement. so, the moral from this semi-digression: if you have surface dwelly relationships with friends and you share the same therapist and you are invited to group therapy by the same therapist: DON'T GO. sometimes TMI is TMFI. i mean, c'mon... we have to see these people again. that's the beauty of a proper group therapy assemblage: you never really see those people again. in fact i think they import participants from iowa, virginia, georgia, north carolina, oregon, tennessee, florida (always florida), new york, maine and bolivia. if your state is taken you have to find a new group.    

ok, my point: i've thought a lot over the past few months about a concept i first learned in that group therapy about 5 years ago. the concept was called "Incongruent Messaging" and it has everything to do with where i was going earlier when i talked about walking the walk and doing the Work to get better and not just bitchandmoan. incongruent messaging is about the inner dialogue you have with yourself in comparison to your outwardly stated message. believe it or not, the two don't always mesh.

so i was called out in group one time for my own incongruent messaging and i thought the person who called me on it was like, freakin' stupid. but she was right. i was caught shaking my head, winking my eye and smiling when i said really intense and personal things. like how vanna white would turn the massive illuminated letter tiles on wheel of fortune ('cept for the head-shaking). i was actually recounting a vivid personal memory of a deeply unpleasant moment in my childhood (c'mon... you had at least one two, that time you didn't get the pony for your birthday or something) and i winked and smiled as i talked about it while also shaking my head.

i won't go into details, it's none of your business. but the fact remains that:

i guess i'm not as strong (in retrospect) as i thought i was... i felt like they'd found my flaw and were going to kill me for it. i was asked, like at a witch trial, why i did that. "WHY DID YOU WINK AND SMILE WHEN YOU TOLD US THAT STORY?!" i was asked, "YOU SHOOK YOUR HEAD TOO! ARE YOU LYING?!" and "DO YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?!" and i was sorta freaked out by that reaction; i mean, i didn't get it. i didn't think the severity of the "crime" met with the reaction from the judges. i probably looked behind myself for someone else telling the same type of story because i certainly didn't think it was ME they were castigating...

it was me.

and then the spotlight was mine. shit. so i sat and took it; they were totally right. i shook, smiled and winked. i realized much later, because i simply had no answer -- i mean, i just learned about my behavior -- that the reason i did those things was because i had such a hard time reliving / re-experiencing the emotional weight of the memory and the sadness i felt at both the active recollection in 2007 and the revival of the physical memory from the 1970s. i surmised that i smiled, as i often did as a child in the face of difficult emotional moments, to ease the pain of those around me and to hopefully ease the pain i was feeling myself. and also to appear tough, strong and capable so i wouldn't get in trouble for crying or showing sadness. and probably, as years went by, to wash off the pain and pretend it didn't exist. it's heavy just saying that right now in 2012.

as such, incongruent messaging is a big deal to me. i learned that we can be survivors and perpetrators of incongruent messaging: did you have someone ever smile at you (even a peer as a child) as that person dismissed / reprimanded you? "You're in big trouble, mister..." or not smiling when you as a child or your kids come through the door but saying "Hey! You're home!" i remember someone saying to me, "if you want your children to feel valued and loved, smile when you talk to them in a pleasant way and be serious when you speak to them in a serious way..." have you ever walked into a room when no one smiled at you but said they were glad you were there? sucks doesn't it? (or you can pretend to be tougher than you are and say, "no, that's their problem.") you know they don't probably mean they're glad you're there (or they're not glad they're there) and yet you stay. why? because you don't want to hurt their feelings... or because you need to be there because it's important to you. but if you tell me it didn't matter to you and yet you tell me about the experience, you're lying, because if it didn't really matter to you, you wouldn't bother talking about it.

sarcasm (one of my personal favorites actually, but i try very hard to use less of it nor apply it to people) is a perfect example of incongruent messaging.

children don't get sarcasm. they BELIEVE YOU when you say "nice shoes" but don't mean it, or "good job" on a test or game but don't mean it. or "take your time" when you're in a rush and don't mean it. kids actually don't have a cognitive appreciation for sarcasm until they are about 13 (based on my own personal experiences). at 11 they think they get it, but they don't and it's really hurtful to them when they realize your insincerity. yes, i'm guilty of that. i've said to Things 1 and 2 some pretty sarcastic things and then wondered what they were thinking when they followed through.  how about this one, "gimme a hug!" when you are in the other room or walking away or "i'm so glad to see you!" when your back is turned. guilty.

or how about false apologies, "I'm sorry you're a jerk." is one example.

what about when you think you're being congruent and well intentioned? usually incongruent messages like these go unregistered because they're so common, but we're still committing them. for example: the shaking of the head (negative) when you *think* you're saying something positive, "i would love to help you." often with the words is your internal message "it's no bother to me" and that's where the head shaking comes in when it should be a nod/positive. i did that to a dear friend last fall and i laughed with her at my folly and apologized. she didn't notice it, but because it'd been on my mind for a while (clearly) i'd tried to be more mindful of it. i still do it every once in a while, but now i call myself out on it and literally say, "wait; i didn't mean to shake my head. i was saying inside that it's not a bother at all..." do they look at me like i have three heads? sometimes, but i feel better that i'm being more sincere and sometimes we actually talk about the unintentional incongruent message.

"it was absolutely incredible; it was so beautiful." accompanied by a head shake when the internal message could be "i've never (negative / head shake) seen anything like it; and (negative / head shake)  i may never see it again..." i do that one all the time -- for instance when my husband took me to The Phillips Collection for the "Impressionists by the Sea" exhibition, i was awe-struck when i encountered by surprise Renoir's "By the Seashore"  and i simply stopped breathing. i shook my head, slack-jawed, in humble awe of the grace of the painting and the feeling of grace it gave me. in that museum there were pieces by Miro, Dali, Picasso, Matisse, Turner... you name it and they were inspired. so when i finally got myself together, i said, "it's stunning. the most amazing thing i've ever seen... it's so big!" (and it was!) but i was shaking my head. dan thought i hated it. until i said i loved it.

incongruent messaging is ALL over the media; you'll see presidents nod when they shouldn't and shake their heads when they're speaking pridefully about something truly good -- i've come to believe that it's not intentional and we're so used to it that we don't notice it, but it's there. we're just "asleep" when we do it. it's all over my favorite guilty pleasure, "The Real Housewives of ____." those ladies have NO clue about the hidden messages they're not saying. i see it all over "Mad Men" and i'm sure i'd see it in church if i went to mass. but that's for another posting...

the point i'm trying to make, as i shake my head at the dysfunction of incongruent messaging but should be nodding in agreement, is that it goes back to mindfulness and intention and that all-too familiar subject i bore my friends to tears with, motivation: if we are mindful in what we are saying, then we will be intent on choosing the appropriately corresponding head motion or body language and our motivation will mesh with our messaging. 

motivation: do we mean to be true or to be false? mean what you say and watch how it works for you. do we follow through on our intention? are we mindful in our commitment?

pay attention to what you say and how you nod or shake, i swear, you'll see yourself doing it. if you can line up your inner dialog to mesh with the words coming out of your mouth, your actions will flow freely and you will be on your way to getting things done and getting out of your own way.

thank you.