Like many people, I find it hard to listen to the actionless debate that takes place after every mass shooting.  But as the nation continues to move on from one of the most violent weekends in history, I am particularly disturbed by what I hear being said and the simplistic and inaccurate conclusions being used as a smokescreen to cover over the need for gun control.  For me, as a psychologist, I see the studies and the conclusions drawn on the causes of violence. As a daughter, I know the impact of gun violence all too personally.   

My father owned a transmission shop in Jersey City, NJ.  One night while he was closing up, a man walked in with a sawed off shotgun.  He demanded that my father give him the money from the cash register, which of course my father did.  Then he wanted his wallet. As my father reached in his pocket to retrieve it, the man held the gun to my father’s face.  As he pressed the trigger, my father pushed the gun down and it shot hundreds of pellets into his abdominal area. The man ran off,  leaving my father to die. I still cannot believe the courage my father had, holding his wounds to reduce the bleeding and reaching for the phone to call 911.  He tells the story of talking to himself out loud, for fear if he let himself drift off, he would never wake up. We were lucky, they told us in the hospital, that he was taken to Jersey City Medical Center, as the doctors there train for the military because there are so many gunshot victims.  By skill of a surgeon placing mesh where his own flesh should be and from my father’s dogged determination during months of recuperation in the hospital, my father survived. He lost his business because of the tragedy, but he kept his life. And for the rest of his days as a constant reminder, my father had to carry an x-ray to show in airports, as so many pellets remained in his body that it set off the screening machines.

When the shooting took place I was in my second year of graduate school.  At the time I was overcome by the relief that my father was still alive. But I also felt such relief that we didn’t live in Jersey City.  My father could come home and we could live far enough away from Jersey City that I did not feel the threat of gun violence so common that military doctors would train in my local hospital.  I, like so many people had the privilege to live in a safe suburban neighborhood,. I could move on with my life, not feeling that guns or gun violence was an issue that related to me.

But now that I am older and wiser, I hope, my understanding of the problem of gun violence is far broader.  I have worked in neighborhoods where gun violence is common and most everyone is afraid. I have worked in juvenile hall where lonely boys are made to feel a sense of belonging when they learn to use a gun.  And I have treated family members who lost a loved one from self inflicted gunshot wounds. I can’t help but now recognize how selfish I had been, ignoring the problem of gun violence far too long as other people’s problems. I now believe it is our nation’s collective problem a public health crisis that demeans us all as a society.

I feel protective of people with mental illness who are being blamed for gun violence.  I can only hope to counteract this notion by sharing the facts. I quote the words of the CEO of the American Psychological Association, Arthur Evans, PhD,  in response to many of the politicians statements implicating mental illness: “The United States is a global outlier when it comes to horrific headlines like the ones that consumed us all weekend. Although the United States makes up less than 5% of the world’s population, we are home to 31% of all mass shooters globally, according to a CNN analysis. This difference is not explained by the rate of mental illness in the U.S. The one stark difference? Access to guns.”  And in regard to those politicians who were quick to blame video games, the evidence is also clear: “Researchers have extensively studied whether there is a causal link between video games and violent behavior, and while there isn’t quite a consensus, there is broad agreement that no such link exists.”  Every country in the world has people with mental illness and people who use video games at similar rates to our own. In fact, Japan and Korea have much higher rates of video game usage but much lower rates of gun violence.   In contrast Americans own nearly half of the 60 million civilian owned guns in the world.

I share with you the conclusion and recommendation of my professional association.  I ask you to think about supporting these measures in our next election cycles and letting your local politicians know how you feel:

“Based on the psychological science, we know some of the steps we need to take. We need to limit civilians’ access to assault weapons and high-capacity magazines. We need to institute universal background checks. And we should institute red flag laws that remove guns from people who are at high risk of committing violent acts.

“And although the president called on the nation to do a ‘better job of identifying and acting on early warning signs,’ that requires research to ensure we are making decisions based on data, not prejudices and fear.

“We agree with the president’s call to strengthen background checks. But this falls woefully short of what is needed. We must take a comprehensive public health approach and provide dedicated federal funding to agencies, including the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Institutes of Health, to better understand the causes, contributing factors and solutions to gun violence.

“The president clearly said that it is time to stop the hateful rhetoric that is infecting the public discourse. We ask that he use his powerful position to model that behavior.  And we ask that the federal government support the research needed to better understand the causes of bigotry and hate, and their association to violence, so that we may devise evidence-based solutions.”

After reading the book “Belonging:  Remembering Ourselves Home” by Toko-pa Turner, a question she raised stayed with me.  Even now, just saying the words of the question gives me pause: “What are you most longing for?”  These words seem to touch me on a level deeper than most personal questions, as an invitation of sorts, of a more spiritual nature. I decided to do some journaling and indeed it was a rich experience I highly recommend to get in touch with what is truly important to you.  It had a great effect of differentiating what I think I want to what would truly feed me.  

We are such a goal centered society.  When you ask most people, myself included, what they think they want, most of us will say “to lose weight, to get a promotion, to go to Europe.”  We tend to think in terms of action oriented items that are controllable. So when you ask about longing, especially what you are most longing for, it feels different.  Goals tend to be from the head, while my experience of sitting with my longing seemed to come from my heart.  Longing seems to feel like an ache for something that’s missing, an essential element of life that you are missing or want more of.  

In considering what you are most longing for, you may run up against some painful truths (this is where the daily life distractions come in handy).  But so often if we can let ourselves feel our dissatisfaction and work with it, we can get to the heart of what is our truth. I must feel my loneliness to identify my longing for connection or feel my emptiness when I become aware of my longing for meaning.  And there is also some grieving that may need to happen, as well. We can’t always have what we long for, such is the truth of life and loss. But in identifying our longing and working with these feelings, we can develop an acceptance for what cannot be. It is actually through coming to terms with what is missing, that we open the doors to possibilities of what is new to discover.  

My daughter spent a semester in London this past Spring.  It was a wonderful experience for her and educational on so many levels.  Prior to going, the business program prepared the group by offering insights about subtle and not so subtle differences in how the British relate.  In visiting her and talking about her internship experience, she shared with me how being mindful of these differences was key in developing good relations with her coworkers.

Tea is, in fact, a big deal in London.  If someone offers to make it for you, it’s important to reciprocate the effort.  When you are riding the Tube (the train system), British people don’t talk. If you do talk, expect that everyone will know you are American and will listen.  When eating, you use the back of your fork, not the front, and going out for a “swift pint” is a common invitation after work. But more relationally, small talk is very important in London, but it tends to be about the weather, transportation, or even politics as opposed to personal information.  It is considered impolite to ask about family or share about your children until you know someone well. Politics, on the other hand, is much less sensitive. Compared to the eggshells people walk on around political opinions here in the US, it is considered part of small talk. In fact, some of the first things people asked her about was Trump, while no one ever asked about her family or if she had a boyfriend until near the end of her time in their office.  

It would be easy to misinterpret these differences, especially regarding small talk.  You might act rudely without knowing it, or think that no one cared because they never asked more personal information about you.  It got me thinking about how many layers of cultural interpretation we live with every day. In the melting pot of our country, we have become more aware of the need for understanding cultural differences, and most people try to educate themselves.  But what about our more hidden or less obvious cultural differences? I’m thinking that we are all raised in unique households that develop their own cultures by the blending of people and personalities. In deconstructing my own family culture growing up, it was a mix of Depression era habits (we put catsup on spaghetti!), New York Brooklynisms (Mets, not Yankees, Giants, not Jets and we drink Cawfee, not coffee) and Eastern Eurpean Jewishness (some trauma related paranoia, Yiddish insults, and of course, cake after your brisket).  Combine that with my husband’s Irish Catholic historical influence (he notes for example you would never hire anyone to fix what you can do yourself and suffering is a virtue) and this creates a whole new culture for our children in how our own family histories are blended.

We go through our days assuming others think and act in the same understandings as we do.  Especially if we think of ourselves as similar to someone, we make assumptions that may not be accurate, especially regarding motivations or intentions.  Travel is a great way of stepping back from your own experience and recognizing that most things we assume to be the way things are done or assume to be true, aren’t necessarily the way things are or have to be!  Her stories invite me to think about the cultures we are raised in on many levels (family, extended family, neighborhood, town, State, Country) and how this might influence the way we experience the world. It can affirm our commitment to traditions, but also free us up to make changes.

Discovering that most people eat pasta sauce on spaghetti at my best friend’s house was life changing.  But I must admit with some embarrassment, when I’m home alone on a rainy day and I’m feeling blue, a good bowl of noodles with a squirt of Heinz and a sprinkle of Kraft Parmesan is somehow oddly comforting!  Just goes to prove that taste and perspective is all in what you were raised with!

I just returned from a few days of camping.  Right before I left a member of my community very suddenly and tragically lost her 26 year old son to a unexpected illness.  Right after I got back I learned that another member of my community’s husband had a fatal health crisis. These unexpected deaths shatter people’s lives.  For the loved ones, there is no chance for preparation and their sense of trust in the world gets completely lost. I think of the Humpty Dumpty rhyme as people scramble to be of help and support, with nothing to be done to take away the pain and the reality or put things back together again.  I can only tell myself and other people who ask for my advice about how to be of help, that this will be a forever thing. Yes, be there now, but the marathon of grieving is a long and lonely run. Being there for someone in six months, a year, and even 25 years is what we can and need to do.

I recently read a book I found very helpful, called “The Orphaned Adult:  Coping with Grief and Change” (by Alexander Levy).” What I found really resonated with me in my own experience of grief and with so many of the people I know or work with, is the idea of change.  In grief there is a great contrast. The loss of someone is so permanent and final, it is hard to think about change and yet, as life goes on for the living, both the nature of our grief and our very lives themselves are constantly changing.  There are so many layers that unfold over time. For example, in the beginning, after my sister died, I was in such a state of shock. It took me a long time to feel I could use my full brain again. Then, in time, I began to miss having someone to recall our childhood events or compare perspectives to.  And now, 25 years later, I still feel the loss in ever shifting ways. I mourn the children she never had a chance to have, the Aunt she could never be to my children, and getting old together. For my mother, I first mourned the loss of the mother she was when she lived with us, disabled and vulnerable. But over time, I am mourning the mother she was when I was growing up.  I imagine this, too, will change, especially as I get older and closer to the age she was when she got ill.

It is hard sometimes for people to talk about their losses after an average of about six months.  A grief group leader I spoke with verified this as her experience. She notices people join her group at about that stage in their grief process, sharing that they no longer felt they had anyone to talk to.  Other people move on, other losses take precedence, and people feel that either they shouldn’t or it isn’t received well when they bring up their grief. At the same time, for many people, the true nature of their grieving is kicking in; they are coming out of a phase of shock and the reality of their loss is becoming clear.  They are beginning to accept not only what happened and how sad it is, but the changes that will forever be a part of their lives. The plans they had, the future they had predicted, and the ripples of change that loss brings about are being felt.  

So if you are wondering how to be of help to someone, don’t worry, you have time.  It is such a gift to people who have lost loved ones to ask about the person who died or about themselves and talk about the grief, even years later.  It feels good to be reassured that you can keep grieving and that the changes you are continuing to go through can be witnessed and understood by those around you.  I once heard someone describe grief over the long term: the hole inside never goes away, but you grow around it. Being a safe person for someone to talk to, at any point along the journey is precious.  Don’t feel the need to have answers and don’t be afraid that they are still really hurting. Grief is a long slow evolving process – it ages along with the rest of us.

This post is dedicated to Bonnie Slotnick with much gratitude for her effort and kindness.

I almost deleted the email.  It looked like some sort of a scam.  The subject line read: “Something of Yours-?”  Annoyed, I assumed it was someone trying to get me to send money to some foreign country, complete with my credit card information.  Fortunately, my curiosity got the best of me as I noticed there was a photo attached.

“I have a cookbook shop in New York,” the note began.  She described how she purchases things that her friend finds at thrift shops to complement her vintage cook books.  Among the items she had acquired was a thirteen inch spoon with an inscription on it that she believed once belonged to me.  It ended with “If you would like to have it, I’ll be happy to send it to you.”

As the photo opened up on my computer screen, it was like traveling in a time machine.  Engraved on the spoon handle was indeed my name, the date 10-16-77, the name Ebony, and the letters “1st W.T.C.”  Sluth that she was, and a fellow horsewoman, Bonnie realized the letters stood for Walk-Trot-Cantor, and that this spoon was a prize from a horse show.  “As a rider myself, I would love to be reunited with such a trophy, had I ever won one,” she said.

Indeed, I was thrilled to see that spoon and hold it in my hand again, all these many years later.  But there was so much more to the story for me, beyond being a practically antique trophy! The horse’s name on the spoon was the first horse I had ever been allowed to take care of.  After years of wishing, dreaming, and making deals with the devil in my mind, my mother advocated for me and allowed me to lease a little black horse owned by a former neighbor who now lived on a farm.  It was the beginning of intense years of riding, working at the stables to pay for lessons, and feeling a sense of belonging and identity.

My mother spent many hours driving me to barns and tack shops (I could spend hours just buying a lead rope).  She woke up at 4 am many a Saturday or Sunday morning to take me to the stable so I could travel with my trainer to a horse show.  She watched countless laps around a ring that must have looked all the same to her for so much of it. She learned the phrases as I did, countercanter, change of lead, and the significance of 3’6” (the height of the jumps in the highest youth division). And most of all, she endured the scrapes, bruises, and broken bones that come with a rider’s life as well as the bruises to the heart as a girl outgrows her first mount or fails to make the finals in the most important of shows.

After the wildfire of October 2016, my relationship with “stuff” has changed.  When you almost lose everything and have friends who actually do, it reorients you to what indeed you want to keep.  When the granny unit that my mother was living in burned down, I lost so much of what was to be inherited of our family memories, especially of my mother’s family history and her own mementos I had always assumed I would have to keep. Bonnie, sitting in her shop in NYC, could have had no idea what that spoon would mean to me – a rare piece of my childhood and a symbol of the bond with my late mother that survived that horrible day.

As I hold the spoon in my hand, I can smell the grass as the hooves of my horse move through it on that chilly October morning in New Jersey. I can feel the leather of the saddle beneath me and the sound of the thud as I dismount. I hand my mother a carrot, and as scared as she ever could be, she would lean over and offer it to the beautiful animal she was absolutely terrified to be near.  But she loved me, and since I loved that horse, she loved it, too. A big thanks to Bonnie, a lover of books and of old stories, who took the time to find me, even to call me, and made this happy reunion possible. It is a reunion not just with a spoon, but with a girl, a love, and a mother’s love that still lives on within me.  

It’s such a fun time of year with graduations all around the community. Every college, high school, and even your local elementary school has their ceremony to honor the achievements of our young people.  Besides the academic success, just getting through the social dramas and bureaucratic tangles is something to celebrate! But I am reminded of some advice I learned from my studies (and find to be true in experience) about accomplishment.  That after achieving any goal, even ones you have longed for your whole life, there can be a let down. Understanding this phenomenon can be helpful in keeping yourself on track.

The wave of disappointment that often occurs after success was named the “arrival fallacy” by Harvard expert on positive psychology, Tal Ben-Shahar.  (I would assume a Harvard grad would have had have some!) He describes it as “the illusion that once we make it, once we achieve our goal or reach our destination, we will reach lasting happiness.”   He posits that this is why so many celebrities struggle with depression and substance abuse. They may start out unhappy with the dream that once they make it, they will be happy. After they achieve their goal, they are happy for a little while, but it doesn’t last.  Then there is a hopelessness that couples with the unhappiness.

The old adage that it is the journey, not the destination, seems to be true, at least for long term happiness.  A promotion or a degree will definitely get you more money and open doors that are important for your well being, which contributes to your quality of life.  Most of us are raised with the values of the American Dream – work hard and achieve success, and you will be happy. But once you achieve a goal, life doesn’t magically transform to being a bed of roses.  You are still the same person you were before, and now you may have even more stress or pressure in your new role.

So what is a hard working person who wants to be successful to do?  Don’t stop setting goals, the experts say. In fact, the pursuit of goals can contribute to happiness.  As long as these goals bring value and meaning to your life while you are pursuing them. If you want to be a successful comedian, the process of writing jokes and performing, no matter where, will bring you contentment.  Getting your own HBO special will be the icing on the cake. We are a future oriented people, Dr. Ben-Shahar notes. We need to have goals. But he suggests having multiple goals in multiple areas of your life, both in and outside of work, can help keep you balanced.  And watch out for any sentences that sound like: “I’ll be happy if I can just achieve X.” With all the focus on the perceived benefits of the outcome, we set ourselves up for arrival fallacy.

I remember it well.  After the initial tickle of calling ourselves “Dr.” wore off (especially when people seemed disappointed we were not cardiologists or orthopedic surgeons) we all felt a sense of depletion.  All the years of schooling, all the classes, oral exams and dissertation, we had finally arrived. I had my doctorate hanging on the wall, but I was in tears, sitting at my computer, worrying about getting licensed.  I almost quit. I had fantasies of owning a doughnut shop, early mornings and selling things that instantly made people happy. But luckily deep down I knew that I loved psychology and that the doctorate and license were just vehicles to do the work that I enjoyed, not the end in themselves.  (And I am a terrible cook and would just eat up all my profits, anyhow.)

So my advice to any graduate, or any person who achieves their goal, is to celebrate while you can! But celebrate the process of what it took to get there and the reasons you are doing it. Then kiss your friends and family who supported you along the way.  Spend time with them and share what is important to you. Then set some new goals that also matter. Lately I have been thinking of life as a series of summits in climbing a mountain.  You climb and climb, and then when you arrive, you get a new view of another stage of the climb ahead that you couldn’t see before. Life is never about arriving at a final destination while you are living it.  But it is so important to put down your pack, grab a good snack, and enjoy the view.

I had the pleasure of attending the Senior Awards night at my daughter’s high school (congratulations Alana).  I was so touched by the whole event and impressed by the teachers for taking the time to say personal words about each student.  But what really made me happy was to hear the description of the effort and passion demonstrated that earned each their award. I have written before about the Growth Mindset (Carol Dweck’s work on the importance of rewarding effort) but it was such a delight to see it in action.  It got me thinking about awards, effort, and life’s great challenges.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could all give out awards when merited?  All around us are prize winning efforts that so frequently go unnoticed or unappreciated for the great feats they truly are. Thousands of people are devoted caregivers for people they love.  Grandparents are stepping up to parent when a child is unable. Noble employers make the extra effort to help a struggling employee. I am very sure most all of us have had to bear some burden that we worked so  hard to get through. We did it because it needed to get done. We did it in hope for a better life for ourselves or someone we love. We did it quietly, we did it with little recognition, and maybe we even failed at times along the way.  But we kept going. We picked ourselves up after a relapse or apologized after an outburst.

Every day I have the honor of privately witnessing people working extremely hard to overcome hardship.  I would love to hand out a $1000 scholarship to the woman who left her abusive husband despite her fears and self doubt; a Safeway gift card to the 15 year old  boy who makes dinner for himself and his mother each day and keeps her company to watch movies as she lays in bed disabled from terminal cancer; and a medal of courage to the man who shared with me about being molested by his father, enduring the shame in order to overcome his crippling anxiety.  It is hard work to change one’s fate and break the cycles of neglect, abuse, or poverty. I wish there was a way to publicly award these private efforts.

It’s so hard to take responsibility for our behavior when we need to.  But something I have really learned that still surprises me, is how it can be even harder to give ourselves credit when we deserve it in these quiet moments of personal growth or recovery.  After years of self doubt, criticism, and shame, it can be equally hard for some people to tell themselves they are wonderful, deserving, or even lovable.

For every moment in the spotlight for the awards last night, there were many more moments of fear and failure, including for my own daughter.  It really is in these moments of perseverance that we must see each other and witness the bravery and effort by reflecting it in our appreciation  and praise. While I wish I could give out scholarships and gift cards, I have to remember, even in my own development, that being truly seen in the moments when I thought no one noticed, or when I could not see my own goodness, felt just as affirming as the card on my birthday or the plaque on the wall.  We do have the power to give out awards each and every day if we take the time to witness the quietly deserving and affirm the goodness of well intentioned effort.

While I usually post on Mondays, today is my first Mother’s Day ever without my mom to share it with.  While I’m so lucky to be the mother of two wonderful daughters, there is, along with much joy, an emptiness. I know I’m certainly not alone today in this ache of ambivalence and wanted to reach out to anyone else who might feel the same way.

It’s easy to be swept up in the Hallmark traditions of how things should be on a day like today – brunches with bright flowers and colorful napkins accompanied by cards with thoughtful expressions of appreciation. These expectations create burdens when we don’t feel up to it all or don’t have the people or quality of relationships in our lives, thinking everyone else in the world does.

There are so many ways in which someone around us might need some comforting today.  Besides the passing of a mother, many people have lost children. I often wondered what it was like for my own mother on Mother’s Day to experience the pain from the death of her child  She was a person who didn’t express herself in this way very much, but I know her pain was profound. And then there’s the pain of conflict, wanting a better relationship with a mother or child, or wanting contact at all when there’s estrangement.  Or the pain of infertility. While we celebrate motherhood, many people silently long for the chance for this loving opportunity, mourning a very private loss.

Growing up, my mother thought I was “too sensitive.”   I heard it so many times I might have thought it was my name.  We were very different types of people; not that we didn’t love each other, but I often wished for more understanding between us.  But she loved me and supported me as best she could and now that I am a mother of young women, I understand better how easy it is to miss the mark, even when you try your best.  And at the end of her life, when she came to live with me in her dependent and disabled decline from her disease, we had a good laugh about how it was a good thing for her I was so sensitive.  While those years of her disease were so very tragic and difficult, I’m now deeply grateful for the opportunity for that time together.

There is something about pain and even tragedy that opens us.  My mother and I did indeed grow closer through the oppression of her disease.  She had become so physically disabled, her pride and insistence on independence could no longer keep up with the degree of the needs she had.  When she had to be fed, dressed, and transferred, a humility emerged that allowed her to let down her guard, just enough to be cared for. It was the closest I felt to her, and I am hoping her to me.  While I like to remember her physically in her more healthy days, I hold on to the tenderness I experienced between us in the last year, especially.

So if you are feeling pain this Mother’s Day, please accept my invitation to honor this pain.  It’s the manifestation of a longing for the love so essential to our sense of purpose and well being. You have my complete permission to turn off your phone and avoid the Facebook posts and memes, sent with good intentions of course.  Listen to your desire, give expression to what you feel. While it may be difficult and exhausting, it is an experience of love no less beautiful than any other. If there is one thing I am sure of in my 54 years of being a daughter and near 21 years of being a mother, is that there is no right way of doing and no right way of being.  It is the precious moments of authenticity, while not at all like the Hallmark expectations predict, that most matter and endure.

May your Mother’s Day be full of love, in whatever form it comes.

My younger daughter is getting ready to graduate high school and the empty nest has been on my mind.  It definitely will be a big change after having a child at home for 21 years (between my elder and younger).  As the time approaches for her departure, it seems that everyone has opinions about how to navigate the transition back to “couple.”  What stands out to me in this vast array of advice is a common theme of attitude and proactivity. As I reflect on how to apply this, it occurs to me how the same advice to couples could apply to strengthen any relationship at any point in time.  Whether with family or friends, my decisions to give people the benefit of the doubt or look for the ways they hurt me is really up to me.

In his book, Why Marriages Succeed or Fail, marriage expert John Gottman suggests that strong couples find “the glory” in their marriages.  Rather than denying the rocky times, they derive strength and meaning from the hardships they have survived and the doubts they worked through.  The way they tell their story is not with bitterness or blame, but in a way that reaffirms their faith in eachother and their partnership. And while these couples acknowledge that things went wrong, they are more forgiving and generalized about why they did.  Rather than focusing on their partner’s personality as being the source of the problem, they generalize it to an unfortunate incident. If you attack your partner’s character, you are more likely to stir a toxic judgmental dynamic as opposed to expressing a dissatisfaction with a forgivable mistake.  

And of course, just as in child rearing, praise and positive expressions are far more effective than criticism.  And a little can go a very long way. Research shows that non-verbal small expressions of love, such as an approving smile or even just leaning in toward someone, can have a powerful effect on reinforcing a sense of love and caring and help repair the chipping away of commitment that can happen over time.  It seems easier to notice what someone does wrong or forgets to do rather than what they regularly do. Habituation, or getting used to what is normal and predictable, has a natural way of making us take each other for granted.

And recently, someone reminded me of the Five Love Languages.  In the book by Gary Chapman, he outlines basic ways in which people tend to give love:  quality time; gifts; acts of service; words of affirmation; and physical touch. Each of us has a preferred way of receiving love, and in turn, it tends to be how we show it.  By identifying patterns in our relationships, we can identify and appreciate the ways that we are being given love that we may have not noticed. We may also learn how better to give love in a way that our partners need.

What I take away from these relationship building trends is the choices I have and the things I can do to enhance closeness.  Whether with my daughters before they leave, or after they are gone, with my brothers who I don’t see as much as I would like, or my co-workers who are stuck seeing me every day, relationships are living and evolving all around us all of the time.  It’s easy to get stuck in patterns and feel helpless and resentful, especially when we feel dependent on one another and vulnerable. It feels hopeful to me that we can, even with small gestures, change the way we feel in a relationship. So rather than just hoping for the best once my daughter flies off (literally, unfortunately, as she goes to Hanover New Hampshire) I can take deliberate actions to build on the connections I have both near and far away.

Ok, I must confess that when I was writing about procrastination in my last post, I was feeling a little high and mighty, as it is NOT my problem.  In fact, it is sooo not my problem because I do everything not only before the deadline, but as early as possible. But to my surprise while reading about procrastination, I learned that my being early habit,  just like procrastination, also represents a difficulty with emotional regulation, and has consequences of its own. So this week I humbly stand before you saying, “My name is Cynthia and I am a precrastinator.”

David Rosenbaum, a professor of psychology at the University of California, Riverside, published a study in 2014 in which he coined the phrase, “precrastination,”  which he defines as the tendency to tackle subgoals at the earliest opportunity, even at the expense of extra effort. More simply, it’s the inclination to complete tasks quickly, just for the sake of getting them done. Further research revealed certain characteristics about people who like to jump the gun.  Precrastinators are actually not impulsive. Rather they tend to be “highly rational and eager to show they’re worthy of responsibility, “ says Adam Grant, an organizational psychologist and professor at the Wharton School. He describes precrastination as a perversion of diligence. Precrastinators are so worried about running out of time, especially when people are depending on them, that they may sacrifice quality or efficiency just to reduce the stress of having something on their to do list.

When you have tasks to do, it creates tension.  You could could run out of time to complete the task, or forget about it.  The more a precrastinator has to do, the stronger the tendency to go for the low hanging fruit.  “What happens when you precrastinate is that your anxiety about making progress causes you to dive in headfirst as opposed to giving yourself time to consider your options,” Dr. Grant said.  Other symptoms of precrastination are familiar to me – paying a bill early rather than collecting interest income, answering e-mails immediately rather than carefully crafting a reply, or doing something only to have to redo it as you find out more information. (I have actually had to redo applications or have people tell me to resend things to them because circumstances changed or they could not find something because I sent it in too early.)

So what is a humble precrastinator to do?  Slow down, to start with. Just as in procrastination, learning to tolerate the discomfort of having something to do is the first step.  Also like the antidote to procrastination, planning things out is helpful. Evaluating tasks and prioritizing them is important. But the precrastinator has to think through the benefits of waiting rather than just the relief of having something done.  What information might be good to gather? What people might be good to consult? How might the tasks be done better if more time is taken?

And what about just enjoying the moment?  How much have I missed by not letting myself relax until I get things done?   While the procrastinator misses the deadline because he was doing more preferred things, I just may miss the more preferred things because I make the deadline!  Maybe a little procrastination is a healthy thing after all.