After a season of indulging, combined with the fresh start of a New Year, its natural that we’re drawn to making resolutions.  Feeling lazy and bloated, it feels good to make a firm proclamation toward a specific result. But the fact that only 8% of people will actually achieve their New Year’s resolution, I am thinking this year may be a good time to reinvent my hope of a fresh start with a more flexible, balanced approach.  So this year instead of a resolution, I am shifting to the mindlfulness based practice of setting an intention.

In order to make any sustained change, we need both determination and patience.  If we are too harsh and strict, a slip up may throw us off track and lead us to resign in failure.  If we are too lenient toward our change, we let ourselves off the hook, most likely as a fear of failure.  So to be successful, a change plan must find the sweet spot balancing effort and patience. It must offer motivation and direction, but allow for growth and regrouping.  In mindfulness practice, there is the concept of setting an intention. In Latin, “intention” comes from “intendere” meaning “to turn one’s attention toward.” Our first step toward any goal is to direct our awareness in a deliberate way.  By setting an intention, we become increasingly mindful with a non-judgmental curiosity.

Intentions allow for an overarching goal with flexible execution.  They allow us to identify areas of growth, summon courage and energy for change, but in a manner of compassion and kindness to ourselves.  Intentions invite us to view our change in broader and more meaningful ways. For example, it’s common to set a resolution to lose 10 pounds.  In doing so, we become focused on the outcome on the scale and tend to ignore the process. Studies tend to show a common paradox of this approach.  The more we focus on results, the less likely we are to achieve them. Instead, research supports a more process oriented approach, such as setting an intention for better health.  In this way, we think in a broad sense of all the steps we can take, such as our diet, exercise, and other habits, that lead to success. In her mindfulness teachings, Sarah Rudell Beach writes, “the focus of our resolution should be the process – the infinite present moments in which transformation will occur – rather than the single instance of its attainment.”

Intentions involve a constant feedback loop of awareness.  They involve a beginning again that keeps us fresh and refocused.  When we fall short in our process, we can gently bring our awareness back to our intention and begin again.  And really, the best way to achieve a resolution is to bring awareness to a behavior, recognize where we drift, and begin again. By viewing our change through a  process of intention, however, rather than a set resolution, we can make our transformation with an attitude of compassion and joy rather than judgment. Intentions lend themselves to renewal…each day, each minute, each breath.

Because change happens in layers, we tend to notice only the big changes, the ones that bring us celebrations or sorrows.  Yet, while all of this is happening, the very world around us is changing and the very body and psyches we inhabit are changing, too.   Time is moving forward in its tireless quietness, changing the very climate we live in, politics we engage in, and body parts we live through.  Our very perspectives change with each passing day, with maturing mindsets and the effects of experience. We can never live through something twice, as the very context in which an event can happen has changed.  My second daughter going off to college this next Fall, for example, is a very familiar event, yet, I am so different going through it, as well as my family being different since our first daughter left. We are wiser, more experienced, and yet, it will be completely new with the emptying of our nest.

One of the traditions I really enjoy this time of year are holiday cards, particularly the ones with the family photos.  It seems like such a great way to sum up the year, capturing in a snapshot what has changed and what has stayed the same.  New family members are added, with births and weddings, and some people are lost, with divorces and deaths. Kids are taller, older people shorter, and the hairstyles and fashions ever evolve.  These recorded images encapsulate for me the bittersweetness of the New Year, the saying goodbye to the old and the ringing in of the new. It may be happening slowly across the years or very suddenly, but everything is changing.

Even our change changes over time.  This January will be the 25th anniversary of my sister’s death. There are days that it feels like it just happened, despite a quarter of a century.  I can remember her face, the sound of her voice, the familiar feeling of sisterly rivalry or supportive praise. Yet, in just a year or so, she will have been gone longer than she was with me.  I wonder what her life would have been like, what she would have thought of my girls, my home, my friends and wonder if we still would have had the same squabbles we did, all those years ago. Yet, my attitudes have softened and my pain has shifted.  Our differences seem trivial and even my own stories of her have been shaped by the years of retelling. She is still 33, still and forever more. The truth is, I am now the older one.

I have heard it said that “Father Time always wins.”  I’d like to think that I have a less adversarial relationship  with the man. Because time also heals, renews, and gives us something to work toward and look forward to.  But most of all for me, it brings perspective and gratitude. With every day that passes, I may have more gray hair, but I also have more appreciation for the meaningful things in life that turned them gray!

When you look at the picture to the left, what do you see?  Is it a duck or a rabbit? Can you see both?  This illusion was  created by Joseph Jastrow, an American psychologist who was studying perception.  Would you be surprised to know that he found more people see a duck when tested in October, but a rabbit when tested close to Easter?

This type of experiment is one of many that researchers use to study how people form opinions and make judgments.  As scientists have learned more about complex mental functioning, it has helped us understand how our brains gather and then interpret information. According to Lisa Feldman Barrett, a researcher at Northwestern University, the brain is an “inference generating organ.” It is constantly filling in information to make sense out of ambiguous sensory input.  We are exposed to simply too much sensory information for the brain to process, so it uses predictions as a way of organizing information. In other words, if it is Easter, you are primed to see a rabbit, and so that it was what you will see.

In life, when interpreting ambiguous information, most of us are primed to see things in a way that is consistent with what we know or habitually think. This is known as “cognitive dissonance,” first posited by Leon Festinger. He observed that people will “cognize and interpret information to fit what they already believe.”  And further studies show the power of this can be very strong. That even when faced with contradicting information, we will hold on to a perception that is comfortably consistent with what we already believe, even if it means slightly distorting the new information or altering our memories.  And we do so without even realizing it! As Barrett writes,  if “the sensory information that comes in does not meet your prediction, you either change your prediction-or you change the the sensory information you receive.” Beliefs act like a lens, focusing our perceptions and our memories toward what we already believe.

So what does this have to do with getting along with my Uncle Fred this holiday, you may be asking?  I hope it will give you some understanding of how you can watch the same football game and one of you will be convinced that the NY Giants receiver was robbed of a touchdown by what should have been a penalty, and the other will be sure that the Dallas defender did a great job in coverage.  Or have greater tolerance for when you hear the latest news regarding the Mueller investigation, climate change research, or Supreme Court decisions and have completely different interpretations as another family member. It is not “just about the facts, ma’am.” It has to do with the way our brains are perceiving these facts.

So save yourself some frustration and energy this holiday.  Don’t waste your time and spirit trying to show Uncle Fred the slow motion rerun of the football play.  Don’t think that if you can just present the right argument or if Grandma could just be shown the “facts,” that she will see the light. And forget trying to convince your brother how Mom took his side in every argument.  The best way to get along in the short term is to agree to disagree. Because the truth is, as author Tom Vanderbilt explains, we all see the duck or the rabbit we knew was there.

While we’re still digesting turkey and pie, the world quickly shifts to Christmas (although it’s been Christmas at Costco since Halloween.)  And with the way the lunar calendar falls out, Hanukah is practically here, the first night being December 2nd! With wildfires and hurricanes and political fall out, there is a darkness that hangs over this season, possibly for you, but most assuredly for someone you love.  It can be a lonely time for people, and compounding it, people who care may hold back from reaching out, simply out of discomfort of not knowing what to say or what to do. In thinking about this, I found a great resource to help us all stay connected and supportive this season.

#OptionBThere is a website that offers tips and support for people going through loss or hard times and for the people that care about them during the holidays.  It is a timely edition of the larger OptionB, which is a website based on the book written by Sheryl Sandberg (of Facebook) and her experience of losing her husband suddenly.  Worried about raising a son alone, she consulted experts about how to build resilience after tragedy. From the book, she began the website that offers guidance and ways to connect with others. They have literally hundreds of articles and support group options for everything from grief and loss, incarceration, divorce and separation, health and injury, abuse and sexual assault, and LGBQT facing rejection.  

One of the best gifts you can give this holiday season is to be there for friends and loved ones who are separated from family, coping with loss, or going through other challenges. Small gestures of love and support—from heartfelt cards to thoughtful conversations—go a long way.  #OptionBThere

Some good tips from #OptionBThere include offering practical help to someone, including grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, or helping them manage purchasing gifts.  They also have ways to greet someone with sensitivity and words of caring, such as simply saying, “I’m here for you this holiday season.” They even have a series of holiday cards you can send for no cost via e-mail.  I was impressed that Papyrus partnered to develop these cards (it’s nice to know that’s where your eight dollars a card at Target goes).

Personally, this is my first holiday season without either of my parents.  I already feel an emptiness. While I know it will be an honor to carry on some of the traditions my parents started for us (grab bags for each night of Chanukah followed by a visit from Santa the last night?), there is a bittersweetness.  What #OptionBThere offers is a way to help people create a holiday that works for them. There is even a section advising how to “declare Your Holiday Bill of Rights.” I found it helpful just to know what I am feeling is normal and how to express it without bringing others down.

While nothing can replace someone you love or take away the losses you experience, feeling the supportive presence of others is a huge help. So please, take the time to read through #OptionBThere and share it with people you know. And if you really feel the giving spirit, go ahead and make a donation. In the words of Option B:  “show your friends and loved ones that you’re there for them – and that you understand how they’re really feeling this holiday season.  Blah-la-la-la-la,la-la,la, la!”

 

Last week I wrote about my wedding anniversary.  This week what’s on my mind is a different kind of anniversary, the anniversary reaction.  I was hesitant to write about it because I’d written a post about it before, but then it occurred to me that repetition is exactly the point!  An anniversary reaction, or as Ellen Hendrickson, PhD refers to as “the echo of a trauma or a loss,” is a repetition of a date or month or even a season during which a significant or traumatic event occurred.  And for me, today being my deceased sister Sarah’s birthday, and the smoke of wildfires causing my daughter’s school to close, the echoes of multiple losses are whispering loudly.

As research shows is common, although an anniversary reaction is predictable, the intensity and quality greatly varies.  Some years on my sister’s birthday or the anniversary date of her death I find myself sad and cranky, waking up in the middle of the night until I remember.  Other years I anticipate the date, often with a mix of dread and bittersweet nostalgia, appreciating that I still care and remember my sister reflexively. As I walk around our city today, with a deep smell of smoke and the sight of people wearing air filter masks, the topic of conversation is a collective sense of traumatic recall, people triggered by the similarities with a year ago’s tragic events.  Even the checker at my grocery store shared with me her evacuation story from last year’s fire.

If you are lucky enough to live a long time, the anniversary dates will stack up.  Each season may bring the anniversary date of the loss of someone or something important.  We can have reactions to a loss of a job, an accident, or even a move from far away. Any big change, especially if sudden and unpredictable, will be stored in our psyche, ripe to be triggered by the association of the time of year it took place.  Depending on your current stress or life circumstances, the awareness and the reaction will ebb and flow.

Two big steps I’ve found helpful are preparation and ritual.  If I note the date ahead of time in my calendar and create some kind of commemoration, as small as lighting a candle or reading a poem, or visiting somewhere that has pleasant memories, it gives my feelings a container and a space to be experienced.  It also helps to tell people. Even if it has been a long time since the actual event, trauma lives in our minds and our bodies, and the best healing for trauma is sharing our stories and finding comfort.

WIth the holiday season coming, filled with all of the traditions and memories, it’s important to remember that life is rich and complex.  We can have both pleasant and distressing memories at the same time, connected to the same event. An anniversary can make us feel sad that so much time has passed since we were last with someone we loved and we also can cherish and have gratitude for the person we lost and the new love we have found.

And lastly, for most people, an anniversary reaction usually is a finite period of time.  It helps to remind myself that once the date passes, I usually feel better within a few days or weeks.  And if you don’t, it may be a good opportunity to reach out for some help. Our grief changes as we change, and even when we think we have worked through something, it just may need to be revisited again.  There is nothing wrong with you if sadness or trauma resurfaces. In fact the best anniversary gift you can give yourself for old trauma might just be some new support and compassion.

If according to tradition the first anniversary gift is paper, the 10th is tin, and the 20th is china, what should the 23rd  be?  Just recently,  my husband and I decided to go with technology. On sale at half price, we gifted ourselves a robot vacuum cleaner that would help with the dust and fur that collects on our great room floor.  While I joked about it being the most unromantic gift we could find, little did I know how that black and silver bot would grow on me, winning over my heart with its can-do attitude and its daily offering of perspective and inspiration.

Each morning at the programmed time, our little bot buddy heads out to work.  It ventures ahead doing its job until it bumps into something. Not in any way deterred, it turns slightly, proceeds, until it bumps again. Bump and slight turn, bump and slight turn, it continues on for hours, eventually traveling around our entire floor. Then, when it begins to run out of power, it takes itself “home” where it rests and recharges, preparing for the next day’s efforts.

My black bot buddy never gets upset, never blames itself or anyone else for its mistakes.  It follows its path, faces an obstacle, slightly adjusts and tries again. It never needs to hide its errors or recoil with embarrassment or shame.  It stays in the moment, adjusting to experience and feedback, not getting hung up on the past or worrying about the future. It rests and recharges, never a sleepless night.  Bump and turn, bump and turn.

What would it be like, I wonder, if I could be more like my roomba?  How would it be if I let myself try, bumping into life’s roadblocks, without the self critical voice or the generalization of one little bump meaning more than it has to.  In fact, the bumping is part of the process, a natural state of going forward without knowing in advance what the journey looks like. If I could view every bump I encounter as guiding feedback, a message for adjustment, how much calmer would I be?  How much less would I worry about my daughters and feel energized instead of stressed?

What a great metaphor for a successful life as well as a successful marriage:  Wake up each day with purpose; let experience be your guide; then go home for rejuvenation.

 

I was e-mailing a friend and colleague that I hadn’t talked to for a while, trading our “How have you beens.” Her response was not what I expected, however, and made me stop for a minute to re-read. “I am no longer the busiest person I know,”  Rossana shared, and described the deliberate changes she’d made to slow down, do less, and make space for quiet. As I thought about what surprised me, it occurred to me how rare it is, and actually refreshing, to hear somebody so pleased and proud to be less busy.

It’s much more common to hear the opposite, I think most of us would agree.  So frequently when you ask someone how they are, you’ll hear them go on about how busy their lives are, between work, travel, and social engagements. And especially people who are retired, I’ve noticed, will tell you how so very busy they are, even when they have no professional obligations and set their own schedules!   What is it that makes us overstuff our lives, making a plan for every moment? It almost seems that being busy is a badge of honor that proves we’re important or popular. While most everyone, myself included, say they long for more free time, we fill up our calendars the first chance we get.

I can’t help wonder whats driving our obsessive need to do so many things and then post about it on social media.  In fact, I often discover with people I work with in therapy, and for myself, that NOT being busy brings up fears of being unworthy or unloved. We may fear losing respect or connection if we miss out on an opportunity or worry we may let someone down if we don’t live up to an expectation. We, as a society, are addicted to feeling productive, it seems. Sitting still or doing nothing feels like wasted time, and makes people uncomfortable. And cell phones are the greatest tool to help us hide, both as constant entertainment that distracts us or as a way to instantly reassure ourselves of our importance.

I also notice that in a busy culture that values achievement over affiliation, we tend to feel that “time is money.” With this pressure, time feels more and more valuable, which, ironically, makes us try to squeeze more and more into every moment.  And the more we shove into our schedules, the more harried we feel, and paradoxically, the less we enjoy what we’re doing. Even Google has noticed how impatient we’ve become. Their research shows that most people now will abandon a video if it takes more than five seconds to load!

Perhaps it’s just human nature to mistake quantity of engagement for quality.  Writers and philosophers throughout history have worried about squandering the brief time we have on this Earth.  And they didn’t have to contend with binge watching Grey’s Anatomy. So for me, Rossana’s wise example (thanks for allowing me to share it) made me reflect on the difference between being with people versus truly feeling connected, and doing something versus actually being fulfilled. The former experiences can only become the latter if we offer both our time and full attention. Because the truth is, when it comes down to living a full life, we actually need to do less to experience more.

In my last blog post I wrote about the quality of “certainty” – the benefits of being “certain” to having confidence and the benefits of being “uncertain” in terms of a growth mindset.  In the days following this post, I kept reading about this quality and the  consistency in the findings about the differences between males and females.  Research shows a confidence gap, that women not only lack confidence compared to men, but that they will hold themselves back from taking action as a result.

An example of the findings regarding the gender gap in confidence is a series of  studies by Cornell psychologists David Dunning and Joyce Ehringer. After examining women and men’s performances and perceptions in a large number of different ways, they concluded, “Men overestimate their abilities and performance, and women underestimate both.  Their performance however did not differ in quality.” So even though men and women actually score the same, men assume that they did better than they did. Ernesto Rueben, a professor at Columbia, points out that men are not trying to fool anyone, they really believe it. He came up with a  term called, honest overconfidence, backed up by his study in 2011 in which men consistently rated their performance on a set of math problems to be about 30 percent better that it was.

When men  do have self doubt, it is not as repetitive and intense as women and they do not let it stop them as often as women do.  For example, in a study at Columbia Business School, women applied for a promotion only when they met 100 percent of the qualifications, while men applied when they met 50 percent.  Women, on the other hand, tend to paralyze themselves with perfectionism, supported by a large body of research in a number of arenas. We won’t turn in a report, answer a question, or take a risk until we are sure we are perfectly prepared.  Unfortunately, while we strive to be perfect, we miss out on the learning and confidence building we would gain if we tried. In her 2018 study, Kaitlyn Cooper, at Arizona State University, found that women students believed they were far less intelligent than others, even when their grades were equally as good.  She embarked on the study after noticing when advising both male and female students, that female students would frequently say they were “afraid that other students thought that they were stupid. I never heard this from my male students,” she said.

To be honest, I can’t help thinking  about this confidence gap in light of recent political events, and the education of our nation in terms of why women don’t report sexual assault or harassment.   It also struck me in the demeanor of both Judge Kavanaugh and Dr. Blasey Ford in their testimony and I wondered how our differences as men and women not only affect the way we present ourselves, but also in how we perceive one another. If men honestly believe in themselves more than is warranted and are willing to take action based on this, how will they interpret a woman’s hesitancy in speaking out? I think despite our political divide, the courage that it takes for a woman to share her experience, and the respect she deserves when she does, is an area we might all learn to agree on.  

“Are you sure?”  This is a question we get asked or ask ourselves all the time.  How we answer depends not only on the content of the information, but also on our relationship with certainty.  Some people feel quite at home with being certain, while others are more comfortable with a certain amount of self doubt.  How we relate to certainty is an element of our personality that we rarely think about, but it may have a big impact on our well being and on our capacity for change.

Appearing certain gives us an air of confidence, which often attracts other people to us, especially people who are not so sure.  We prefer our leaders to be certain, as it makes us comfortable. But “certainty” can lead to self righteousness. If we believe we already know the right answer, we close ourselves off to new information.  We also tend to rely on stereotypes or assume we know things that may not actually be true. And in a strange way, certainty can lead to insecurity, as we look to affirm our certainty.  In fact, the pursuit of certainty can actually breed more insecurity. Have you ever been tempted to read someone’s e-mail or peak at someone’s phone to “prove” what you “know” is true? Certainty can lead to entitlement, as you feel you deserve to get your way or cheat a little, or that other people deserve to be punished because we are so certain of our right-ness.

Certainty is also the enemy of growth.  The more we can admit to what we don’t know, the more we’re willing to learn.  Uncertainty also allows us to be open to experience. Rather than assuming we know how someone will respond or how things will go, we live with an openness to the present and to newness.  In order to make a change, we have to be able to tolerate possibly being wrong or being in need of a new path. The root of all progress and growth is a willingness to be uncertain and give something new a try.

But there is an opposite extreme to entitled certainty. Some people live their life with a pervasive sense of uncertainty.  They are afraid to know what they know and have difficulty committing to an opinion or action. If we are too identified with our uncertainty, it can paralyze us with self doubt or indecision.  Without some internal sense of what we know to be true, we cannot take a stand or define ourselves.   We are vulnerable to passivity and in letting others dominate us with their agenda.

How we hold our certainty can be an important factor in how we relate to ourselves and the rest of the world. Like holding something delicate, we must do it with care;  firm enough to be a supportive structure of our identity, but gentle enough to allow change and growth. As in most things in life, finding a healthy balance of knowing your truth and being open to new experience is best.  If you are either too certain of your certainess or too certain of of your uncertainness, you will stay stuck.

I had a session with a young man that really touched me this week.  He was driven to our clinic by his boss, who noticed that he was having a hard time.  “Are you ok?” his boss asked. After considering his answer, the young man decided he needed to be honest. A half an hour later he was in my office, sharing with me about the wave of feelings he was experiencing that made him fear he would take his own life.  

It reminded me of a man in a documentary I had seen, regarding suicide prevention. He had miraculously survived jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge.  He shared his story of great ambivalence and pain, standing at the side of the bridge, wondering what to do. He was desperate for a sign of hope. “If anyone reaches out,” he thought at the time, “if anyone asks if I’m ok, I won’t do it.”  Somebody walked up to him and he felt a rush of relief. But instead, they asked if he could take their picture. He did, waited until they had gotten far enough away, and went over the side.

In thinking about both young men, the one in my office and the one on the bridge, it makes me wonder how often there are people around us that just need us to ask them, “Are you ok?”  They may not be suicidal, or in deep distress, but could use a sign that they are not alone. Often, when people feel burdened, they withdraw. Trapped within their own heaviness, they don’t want to be a burden to others.  Yet, most often, they welcome an invitation out of their isolation.

I am grieving my mother’s death and I am often wading through a deep pool of feelings and memories.  It feels good when someone asks me if I’m ok. It is a touchstone and a hand out of my inner world. Depending how I feel, I may share something or simply say I’m fine.  Either way, the gesture is greatly appreciated.