August 2009

No one likes being challenged--but not being challenged can be incredibly dangerous.

• Research is showing that the trend towards celebrity status CEO's of companies can potentially lead to their downfall. As a CEO become a celebrity and an increasingly powerful head of the organization, the realtionship with the Human Resources department changes--the amount of discretion they have in making decisions increases.  The people who surround this head of the company, anxious to stick around in a company that is controlled more and more by this one person, become "Yes people", who nod and smile at the CEO's ideas.  This lack of accountability at the chief executive level has led to major collapses of corporations.
• Michael Jackson's death has just been ruled a homocide.  Apparently, he was provided with a drug that should not be administered outside of a hospital, and there was wide array of powerful medication that were used to control pain, anxiety, depression and so on.  Charges are being considered against his doctor.  The physician was providing medication to the King of Pop that he had no business providing.  It seems it was very difficult to say "no" to Michael Jackson.  My guess is that if one tried, another would quickly be found that would provide to Michael what he felt he needed, regardless of the ethics.  Michael Jackson was a powerful figure and a cultural icon...the motivation to make him happy was powerful...and incredibly dangerous. By demanding medication and having people around him who gave in to him, he created a lethal combination of factors.

 

I've been pondering this "truth" thing following reading a chapter in Their Finest Hour:  Master Therapists Share Their Greatest Success Stories where Terry Real, a therapist who is the author of several books, and works with family therapy using "relational recovery therapy" that is particularly response to men's issues.  A short excerpt from the chapter:

Real admitted that he breaks a cardinal rule of therapy in his work: Thou shalt not take sides....He reverses the usual procedure whereby usually first we win the man's trust and then we deal with the difficult truths. [The difficult truth, for example, that wives want their husbands to be more men relational, connected and interpersonally skilled. He would say that this is not a criticism, simply a reality:  that this is a product of how our culture raises men and women differently.] In Real's approach, the way he attempts to win the man's trust is by dealing with the difficult truths from the beginning.
Telling the truth....Real emphasizes the importance of being totally honest and upfront. He models this in the ways that he confronts couples with the obvious facets of their relationship that they have been ignoring. "I form an alliance with both parties through the truth."

(page 243) italics mine.

Real goes on to describe a case where Bill, a man who is shut down emotionally (having legitimate reasons for being so) is challenged by the therapist.  "He imagined that perhaps if he ever did point out limitations in this honest and direct way that perhaps people would go screaming out of the room, or have some kind of psychotic breakdown, or rip his throat out. But none of those things happened...Bill sensed that Real was rooting for him.  Even though this encounter was nothing like anything he had ever expected would happen in therapy (Weren't therapists supposed to be gentle and supportive and nurturing?), he could still feel the cring that was offered.  From where Real was sitting, it looked like Bill began to melt...His face relaxed." (page 250)

These stories have come together in my thoughts recently, reminding me to have gratitude for friends who care enough to tell me when they see me going off course. They have the courage and belief in themselves to risk telling me stuff that will be difficult to discuss (even it it would be  good for me to hear).  Friends like that have confidence in the relationship and in my commitment to them, that our friendship can handle me hearing some "tough stuff" and that we can come out on top. I have the privilege of knowing I have friends who place their caring for my well being above their own comfort.  That's a humbling but awesome thought. And I am the richer for it.

Do you have people in your life that you allow to care for you in a way that allows them to be candid with you? That if you're going off the rails, they'll let you know? That if they see you doing something dangerous to body or soul, they'll call you on it?  Then you are rich indeed.

Will you allow someone--a friend, priest or rabbi, therapist--to hear about stuff you are confused about and wrestling with, and do you dare to allow candid and honest conversation to happen to allow for life-changing growth?  Can you give at least one person the ability to provide an outside perspective to you that will potentially prevent personal disaster?  Can you allow yourself to not be surrounded by "yes people"?

What I'm suggesting is not easy, and requires someone who can challenge you with gentleness, tact and understanding. The candid truth needs to come from someone who genuinely cares, and wants the truth to be discussed in a way that will make you a better person.  The truth needs to be heard with a measure of grace--it doesn't always come out perfectly, and an appreciation for the reasons behind the truth-telling is helpful to process what is heard.  Most times the conversation needs to occur over more than one occasion--to process responses, to ask questions that arise, to allow for cooling off if anger is the initial response allowing for other feelings to surface. 

When someone disagrees with you on your actions it can be tempting to see it as harsh judgement or rejection when often it is quite the opposite--the willingness to engage in difficult conversations is itself a commitment to a person and the relationship.

I forgot how much beauty restores the soul.

I've just returned from spending several days with friends on the West Coast.  I feel like my heart has been defibrillated by the sights, sounds and smells of beauty that is on the coast and has woken up restored and refreshed. I have energy and enthusiasm for the upcoming fall schedule, and a bounce in my step that feels fresh. I found a chorus of a Steve Bell song echoing in my head repeatedly over the course of the trip:
Please don't think I don't find the prairies beautiful with the waving oceans of crops, the incredibly sandy beaches of Lake Winnipeg, and the humid forest of Assiniboine Park.  They are some of my favorite places, but familiarity can numb one to the beauty inherent close by.

But this week, the beauty surrounding me took my breath away, not once, but many times daily.


The ocean, spanning as far as the eye can see reminding me of the vastness of the world that is beyond me, recapturing a truer perspective of my place in the world.

The sunbeams, breaking through the threatening clouds, sent sunbeams cascading down.

The green verdant environment surround me on this path smelled wonderful, and changed constantly by the dappling of the sun and the shadows.


The water falling, creating natural music surrounded by lush greenery that could make my heart swell in pleasure



The mountains--pretty in a picture, but breathtaking when spanning the horizon from one side to the other. 

As I was crossing over to the Island on the ferry, or lunching on a sundeck, or hiking through a forest, or running on the seawall around Stanley Park, I found myself saying, "Wow" over and over, in hushed, holy ways, or thrilled, exciting ways, or laughing, joyful ways.  Watching the tide go out, with tiny crabs, little fish, and miscellaneous other squirming things making the receding textured beach alive with life. The flowers, here, there, and everywhere--entire bushes of incredible blooms.  I could go on, but by now you've captured the excitement I feel, and I may even be boring you by this point--because you weren't there, and couldn't feel how wonderful it was.  Pictures don't really do justice. Beautiful sights, sounds and smells.

Wow.

And then I had the chance to visit a number of outdoor weekend markets and art shows, as local island artists showed their wares...pottery, jewellery, paintings--often reflecting the nature around it.  And I was reminded:

In the creative state a man is taken out of himself. He lets down as it were a bucket into his subconscious, and draws up something which is normally beyond his reach. He mixes this thing with his normal experiences and out of the mixture he makes a work of art.

- E. M. Forster

There is something in us that is drawn to beauty, recognizes it and it restores the soul.  It speaks to us at a level that is beyond words ("wow" seems pathetic, but so do all the other words I might use to describe it). We are refreshed by creation, and it puts us in touch with something, Someone larger than ourselves.  Expressing that creativity allows the soul to speak.

Take a chance to find beauty today in the sparkling eyes of a child, a perfectly formed dandelion head, the arrangement of the clouds in the sky. Or remember where you were last time when the scenic vista created a feeling inside larger than yourself, and make arrangements to get there. 

Allow yourself to restore your soul with beauty.  Say "WOW" in an unutterable, incredible way.

This on a beautiful card I received this week, encapsulating better than I ever could about what Bergen and Associates Counseling is all about.

Our logo has a seed planted in dirt, recognizing that it is at times of being buried by life that one also has opportunities to grow.  The colors on our walls are various shades of green. Our office is full of plants.  The theme of “growth” is everywhere.

At Bergen and Associates Counselling, we are deliberate in creating optimum conditions for that growth…we recognize that people need to feel safe, that there is a sense that the therapist can be trusted.  Sometimes that means encouraging a client to wait with that which is most sensitive until such time as that trust is built.  Other times it involves discussing what happens with sensitive information, how it will be processed or reflected on by the therapist.  We recognize that it takes courage to explore topics which are shameful or painful…and so we honor the risks that are taken, and work with a client to ensure they feel supported as those risks are taken.  We take great care to ensure confidentiality to allow clients to pursue that growth in a safe environment..

	One of the highest privileges is for me as a therapist to witness those growth-sprouts in clients’ lives.  It is not uncommon for acquaintances that I meet to comment that “it must be very difficult to work with people who need counselling”.  I tell them quickly and automatically that it rather is quite the opposite…that walking alongside individuals as they emerge from difficult times in liberating and exciting ways is a truly remarkable feature in my life’s work.
I get to be a change-witness…to watch flowers emerge from seeds…to facilitate that growth, to water it, and to celebrate it.
	I’ve not got a green thumb, but I’ve got a huge soft spot in me for buds of all kinds in spring.  ...then again, I just love watching sprouting in general.

The bottom tree in this photo are growing out of the side of a cliff.  This is a close up of the bottom of those trees:

I realize I'm not an excellent photographer, so it may be difficult to see that the bottom of the trees literally curve into the side of the cliff...there is no ground underneath the tree--only beside the tree.  I ran by this tree when I was in Wisconsin Dells this summer, and was so taken with it, I stopped and snapped a photo the next day when I drove by it.

When I was on a boat cruise the following day, the guide let us know that the ground the trees were growing out of was porous rock.  The trees looked like they were barely hanging on, but actually had roots going and growing horizontally 30 feet into the side of the cliffs.  They only LOOKED like they were barely hanging on--in actual fact, they were solidly rooted into the cliff.  Their circumstance appeared much more precarious than it was.

I couldn't help but think about clients (and at times in my life, myself) in difficult circumstances, feeling like I was hanging onto life by fingernails.  The challenges, whether they be external circumstances such as loss of a home, death of a marriage, job loss, death of a spouse/child/parent or internal pain of depression and anxiety (or often, multiple aspects of both) seem too much.  Insanity/"losing it"/"going crazy"/death all seem imminent and/or inevitable.

But even after the roughest week yet, somehow they manage, and crawl into the office to proclaim that despair was close but didn't occur.  And somehow, they show up the next week, still in rough shape, but almost imperceptibly, moving forward.

It amazes me that so often, people, in the midst of the most trying and difficult circumstances, prevail and demonstrate resilience that could not have been predicted.  Roots that are not noticed, but have been built up over years--friends, internal strength of values, commitments to others, supportive communities silently but strongly bind the struggler to the side of the cliff. 

The ravaged don't fall off the edge of the cliff, because the hidden structures built up over a lifetime hold the person in the midst of struggles which, on the surface, seem insurmountable.  They might be overwhelming, but for the deep deep roots that play a role which surprises and reassures.

It is interesting to me that we are so captivated by what is essentially a capitalistic discourse of grieving.  Listen to the terms we use.  We should finish unfinished business. We need to seek closure.  We ought to withdraw emotional energy from the one who has died in order to invest it into other relationships.  What I would say in response to all of this is that business may be finished but relationships rarely are.  And we usually don't seek closure.  Closure is for bank accounts, not for love accounts. Those remain open.
Love is not like money.  It is not available in limited supply.  It is potentially boundless, so the more open we remain to continuing loving relationships with those who are not physcially present, the more love we have available to give to contemporary relationships with those who are living.  The notion of withdrawing energy as if it were just so much emotional capital that can be reallocated to another higher-interest-bearing account strikes me as bizarre.

Neimeyer as quoted in Their Finest Hour by Kottler and Carlson

...and the breath to my life.

So goes a line of love repeated in the movie Julie and Julia. I went to see it tonight...a lovely summer night that allowed me the treat of the long walk to and from the movie theater.  It was a lovely movie, and no doubt, men from all over the nation are typing that wonderful line that Julia's husband expresses to her into their blackberries to pull out on an occasion when it might come in handy with their wives. :)

For a person who loves cooking, like me, it was lovely. Though both cooked their way through a whole movie, we NEVER saw either of them wash ONE dish!  Now THAT's my kind of cooking!!

For a person who works with courageous people fighting for their marriages, it was inspiring.  Imagine, a Hollywood movie where one of the main characters has a solid life-giving marriage that is mutually supportive thoughout the entire movie--thick and thin! Julia Childs and her husband are portrayed as totally in love--based on the letters they wrote to others at that time.

Julie--also married...a few more bumps in the road, though.  However, they work at it, and discover ways of connecting and then reconnecting when the relationship becomes strained. 

For a person who works with individuals struggling to find their place in the world it resonated.  There is a moment when Julie hears that Julia doesn't care for her blog.  She is devastated, and so begins a night of self-flagellation as she beats herself up for Julia Child's critcal judgement.

Then her husband looks her in the eye and says gently, something to the effect of: The Julia Childs out here doesn't believe in you.  But the Julia Child in there (pointing to her) does, and that is the one that matters.  When she wails back something like: But she saved me.
He calmly asserts:  No, you saved you.

Love that part--this little light bulb moment that it is her internalization of Julia Childs that helped her find her power, her purpose and her belief in herself.  It is irrelevant what the Julia-Childs-in-the-flesh thinks, because that's not the one that changed her.  Her internal-Julia-Childs was the one that inspired, encouraged, challenged and affirmed her--and it changed her.

Reminds me of the proverbial security blanket/binkie or whatever it is that a child carries to immunizations, to the new babysitter's house, or after a "boo-boo" of some kind.  The blanket really does have powerful ways of helping the child cope--and the child needs it, even though, from the rational, you're-being-silly point of view that an adult has, we know the blanket doesn't have special powers.

Adults don't always see what's real, huh?

Depression is a condition that many who have "not been there" is difficult to understand.

Henri Nouwen, writes in one of my favorite books, The Inner Voice of Love, a description of his own depression.  It captures feelings and concepts that parallel the descriptions people have described to me.  It hit shortly after he began a time of rest at a L'arche community. Listen in:

Just when all those around me were assuring me they loved, me, cared for me, appreciated me, yes, even admired me, I experienced myself as useless, unloved, and despicable person.  Just when people were putting their arms around me, I saw the endless depth of my human misery and felt that there was nothing worth living for.  Just when I had found a home, I felt absolutely homeless.  Just when I was being praised for my spiritual insights, I felt devoid of faith.  Just when people were thanking me for bringing them closer to God, I felt that God had abandoned me.  It was as if the house I had finally found had no floors.  The anguish completely paralyzed me.  I could no longer sleep. I cried uncontrollably for hours.  I could not be reaching by consoling words or arguments. I no longer had any interest in other people's problems.  I lost all appetite for food and could not appreciate the beauty of music, art, or even nature.  All had become darkness.  Within me there was one long scream coming from a place I didn't know existed...

(page xiv)

The forlorn plaintiveness of the above paragraph strikes me at its very core.  This feeling is something that can't be argued against, rationalized, understood in a logical sense.  It brings an all-consuming-overwhelming-can't-catch-my-breath-I-think-I want-to die kind of pain. 

When one is in the middle of it, it seems almost impossible to believe that it won't always be that way. Nouwen comments that, "the two guides who were given to me did not leave me alone and kept gently moving me from one day to the next, holding on to me as parents hold a wounded child....Thanks to my attentive and caring guides, I was able to take very small steps toward life." (page xvii)

Nouwen's experience resonates with research that states that meaningful relationships are a powerful antidote to recovery from depression.  Powerful connections with others to have conversations to plumb the depths of the pain...to find the place that you didn't know exists (but does) and to know it, has it lose its power.  Over time, colors re-emerge, sounds become brighter, and beauty re-enters.

Depression is painful, incredibly so--too often misunderstood and therefore, minimized by others--which further increases the isolation and alienation of depression. Reaching out to others who are meaningfuly supportive isn't a quick fix, but it is an important first step in the long journey of recover.

"Friendship is born at that moment
when one person says to another,
'What! You too?
I thought I was the only one.'"

-C.S. Lewis

“Backward chaining” and “Just right challenge” are words I hear regularly at the School of Occupational Therapy, where another year of teaching starts shortly.  As Occupational Therapists, we use both of these principles all the time as we help people work on physical, emotional and cognitive deficits through purposeful activity.

“Backward chaining” is a concept that all mothers use, even if the term is unfamiliar.  It recognizes that most tasks can be subdivided into a series of component parts…putting on a shirt involves orienting the shirt to prepare to put it on, putting first one then the other arm into the sleeves, lifting it up to pop one’s head through the neckhole, and then pulling the fabric down over one’s torso.  Generally, the last step of the chain is the easiest, so as one is teaching someone something new, you help them quite actively, and let them finish the last step.  So the mom starts teaching self-dressing by backing off once the head pops through and lets the child pull the shirt down. Then she will gradually “chain backwards” allowing the child to complete pulling the her head through the neckhole and so on, until the child is able to complete the whole task.

“Just right challenge” is grading an activity to allow a client to work on developing a new skill of some kind by stretching their abilities while still ensuring success by starting off with simpler tasks and working one’s way up.  An example might be thus for learning how to golf:
miniature golfing
indoor driving range
outdoor driving range and putting at a golf course
9 holes on a par 3
working up to 18 holes on a regular course.

I often have clients who come wanting to conquer the world:
Stop smoking
Be emotionally available to their spouse in new ways
Start a new career
Begin a weight loss program and start to exercise regularly

This is NOT a “just right” challenge…this is setting oneself up for failure.

I recently worked on a fun project with some kin that I care about.  He announced that he was taking his sweetie out for her birthday.  Her request:  sushi.  This to a man who thinks French fries are vegetables.  Who thinks the four food groups consist of meat, potatoes, corn and chocolate.  Whose idea of adventurous eating is a corn dog.

But nothing like the opposite sex to provide some significant motivation.  He asked for my help.

I took it on as the Occupational Therapist I am.  First step…while at the mall shopping, we stop at the food court.  He gets his pizza, I get sushi—but with teriyaki chicken.  Nothing raw.  He tries it…and is pleasantly surprised that it “isn’t as bad” as he thought it would be.

	Step #2:  We stop for sushi again.  This time…we both eat sushi.  We play it conservative:  again with chicken and beef, but we throw in one with smoked salmon and cream cheese…a small but achievable challenge.  He eats it, and isn’t thrilled, but tries it all—and then has cereal when he gets home because he’s still hungry. Step #3:  We talk about how much she’ll love being taken out for sushi.  How this shows he cares at multiple levels.  Not a lot of talk, just a little. levels.
Step #4:  We go to Sushi Train at the Forks—her choice and the destination next week.  This is a practice run, right at “Ground Zero”.  He does the ordering…with a few suggestions from me.  We hear that there is deep fried Mars bars somewhere at the Forks and it is our mission to go find them after the sushi (a little chocolate motivation strategically thrown in—and a reward for teacher and student alike).  He selects something that interests him, and orders a couple he know that are her favorites and that he’ll at least have to pretend to like.  We get the food, and HE. LOVES. THE. GINGER. BEEF.  (I think it must be quite good, but then, I wouldn’t know—I hardly got to taste it).  The tempura salmon disappear pretty quick too.  And to my jaw dropping surprise, he finds himself not only looking forward to making his girl smile, he’s looking forward to next week’s sushi!  There will be no eel or octopus (that’s a ways down the road yet).
	Step #5:  Deep fried Mars bar.  Heaven.  Need I say more? He’s good to go…the “just right challenge” prepared him in a way that surprised us both.

What are you working towards…what kind of backward chaining or graded activities can you set up for yourself to gently, courageously, and persistently accomplish something that is important?!

The “IKEA effect” is alive and well in my household.
 
I talk and listen for a living. Clients will tell me ways in which their therapy sessions change their lives in ways which I find awesome and humbling.  However, there isn’t always a lot of tangible signs that I have made a difference when I go home at the end of the day.  Not a lot of concrete signs that I accomplished something..and when the paperwork is done, I file it away--no splashy outcome.  I’ve accepted that…at least I tell myself that I have.

I worked hard yesterday…and I’ve got the blisters to prove it.  I received a pair of Adirondack chairs recently as a gift…only thing was in came in about 200 pieces and extensive instructions.  Yesterday, we hunkered down with the instructions, the myriad of pieces and a plastic bag of screws and got to work.

WE DID IT!!



It reminded me of a concept I heard of recently called “The IKEA Effect”, first outlined by Michael Norton in the Harvard Business Review:

When people construct products themselves, from bookshelves to Build-a-Bears, they come to overvalue their (often poorly made) creations. We call this phenomenon the IKEA effect, in honor of the wildly successful Swedish manufacturer whose products typically arrive with some assembly required…. Companies hoping to persuade their customers to assume labor costs – for example, by nudging them toward self-service through internet channels – should be careful to create tasks difficult enough to lead to higher valuation but not so difficult that customers can’t complete them.

It produced an immense satisfaction as we carefully followed the instructions and in very short order, the chair back emerged. I don’t think it’s an accident that a substantial and very recognizable piece was first on the list of tasks…an immediate sense of accomplishment for those of us who see this DIY project as major construction.

We had to undo and redo a couple of steps but everything was very clearly laid out, all holes predrilled—and sloooowly over the afternoon (with a 7-11 refreshment break carefully scheduled in there), the piece moved towards completion.  I think we felt this extra sense of  ruggedness as we used old fashioned screwdrivers--no electric drill for us!

I had to laugh at how I completely got sucked in by this project (which is a Costco product, not IKEA)…it was detailed enough to require carefully using the instructions, 2 people, and some figuring out.  However, it was pretty hard to get it wrong…there were pencil marks showing us the angles at the trickiest step, and some pieces that might have been a little hard to recognize were individually labeled.  It had me feeling like if I was wearing suspenders, I’d be proudly tucking my thumbs in them, lift my chin up, and sneak a few looks to see if somebody was looking and noticed this beautiful piece of carefully handcrafted furniture.

However, Mr. Norton uses research to make official what we as humans have known to be true all along…it feels good to know “I done good”.  People take pride in their work…fridges all over this country are plastered with hand drawn pictures which are found to be more worthy of display than all sorts of more professional artwork.  We enjoy seeing that we are creative, capable and competent people—that we can produce something of value.  So yes, we fall for it, when companies who really are trying to save money, help us feel good.  They carefully provide us with a challenge—a “just right challenge”—one that will stretch us, while yet allowing us to succeed.  

This morning, it was fun to look in the back yard and see the “fruit of our labor”…it’s not only practical, functional, and attractive—I made it!!

"Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit".
Peter Ustinov (b. 1921), British actor, writer, director. Christian Science Monitor (Boston, 9 Dec. 1958).

The high school reunion is over…but what fun we had.  Highlights from my perspective:

• Major belly laughs.  The things we did, the fun we had—from the perspective that the distance of years creates, the antics of youth seem quite silly indeed.  There were practical jokes that even now seemed truly clever, but much of it was humourous just in the level of silliness it contained.
• The advantage of years gave us a maturity that we have developed.  For me this was most noticeable mid-evening, when classmates began confessing how nervous they were to attend the evening…what should I wear, should my hair be straight or curly—even, “Why the heck am I flying half way across the country to be with these people…am I making a colossal error?”  I think the apprehension is normal…but no one breathed a word of it at our 10 year high school reunion.  Now numerous people brought it up quite unselfconsciously and those around giggled in sympathetic understanding.  There was regret expressed for those who missed the chance to be together because their anxiety had stopped them.
• The sense of camaraderie that developed amongst people that hadn’t seen each other in years…the tables that we gathered around were inclusive—the cliques of long ago didn’t exist.  Someone asked where a particular classmate was.  Someone still in contact with him said, “I don’t think he felt comfortable coming given how his last year ended.”  Funny thing was, no one could remember what he was referring to…we just wished he was there.
• The pain and wisdom that was present in the room…some had lost marriages, some have grieved the death of children.  I listened to one fellow describe how he struggled to develop his own sense of self after marrying his childhood sweetheart, never having been a single adult.  With love, he said, “She was the bigger person.  She understood what I needed and met me where I was at” referring to his wife, as he described his need to express himself in ways which were difficult for her.
• As the evening wore on, there was recognition that many of our laughs had been at the expense of teachers.   One classmate who recognized the cost of our fun on the teacher’s souls, expressed regret, and a desire for those teachers to know how sorry he was that he was so hard on them.  Another classmate remembered a time he, along with others, took a student to the riverbank and tormented him—that student didn’t return the next year.  I remember him as someone who had the ability, with a single icy stare, to make a person feel about an inch tall.  He was genuinely sorry, and related how he searches for a reason why he would have been so cruel.  He doesn’t understand his bullying, but he does regret it.

The experience was startling—

• much more fun that I was expecting
• much more comfortable that I could have hoped for
• and much richer as lingering concerns and thoughts about high school were addressed in ways which allow for me to reflect and remember those years with a different and more complex perspective. One which has a bigger twinkle in my eye when I think of it.
  

Thanx to the organizers for the work you did!