Mother Effing Chihuahuas

There are a couple of Mother Effing Chihuahuas that live down the street from me.  

I need to pause here for a moment to clarify that I don't think all Chihuahuas are of the Mother Effing variety.  I had a Chihuahua mix and he was a delightful little guy. But the ones down the street are most definitely Mother Effing Chihuahuas. Mother Effing Chihuahuas belong to a lesser class of demons.   

You can determine if the Chihuahua you are interacting with is in fact a Mother Effing Chihuahua if they rush out into the street like a small furry biker gang and pick a fight.  Or in keeping with my original metaphor, they act like hell spawn. I don't know if you have ever been jumped by a Mother Effing Chihuahua biker gang, but I have. Twice.  The first time resulted in spraining the middle knuckle of every finger on my left hand.  I'm a southpaw, so I can't say that was a convenient outcome.

The second time I got jumped was day before yesterday.  A little, black, fluffy, Satan in disguise rushed out at me and Luna, my Great Pyrenes mix.  

Normally this causes something of a kerfuffle while I wrest Luna past as she is bouncing in joy and delight at the sight of another canine.   

But, the day before yesterday, we were testing walking in the snow. I have only lived in a place that frequently snows for a little over a year, and Luna wasn't part of my family last winter, so we needed to do a test run.  I say "we" but really it was for me.  The test was really to see if I can stay upright while walking in snowy conditions, because she clearly had no difficulties.  Luna loves snow. Walking in the snow makes her face light up with joy. Being in the snow is a peak self-actualizing experience for Luna.

Luna

She continued to have no difficulties as I noted with alarm that we were walking on an icy patch.  Icy patches are not good for self-actualizing in measly two-footed mammals. As I was attempting to get somewhere with more traction, a Mother Effing Chihuahua, Mini-Satan (that's his street name), attempted to pick a fight, snarling and growling at Luna and I.  Luna, with four on the floor, kept her footing as she began the joyous bounce of delight.  I promptly landed on my ass.  And for a little extra oomph I had enough momentum to bonk my head too.  

Luckily, my pony tail and the hood on my coat padded my head and middle age has added some extra padding to my booty, so there was no long-term damage.  My ego remained intact, too because no one else appeared to be around besides Mini-Satan.  And honestly, I feel like it is entirely reasonable to have some difficulty around demons, even of a lesser class.  

To her credit, Luna stifled her joyous bounce to sniff inquiringly after my health.   

This was at the beginning of the walk, but I'm no quitter, so after some quiet cursing (On my part, not Luna's. She swears much less than I do), we carried on.  

We went on a walk again today.  I went on a route that is completely lacking in Mother Effing Chihuahuas.  I'm no quitter but I think knowingly tangling with a demon, lesser or no, is living a mite bit too dangerously for me.  

Urban Living and Blackout Poetry

Gizzy

I was minding my own business, walking Gizzy, our chihuahua mix, back from his appointment with his new veterinarian.  We are temporarily living in an urban area, so I can do things like walk to the veterinarian's office and check out the fun shops in between the vet's office and our house.  This is one of the good parts of living in a city, and since it is temporary, I am enjoying it as much as possible.  We passed a book store with boxes of free books out front. Free anything really calls strongly to my spirit, but free books is like a siren's song! Plus, I have a couple of craft projects in mind, as I usually do, so I rummaged around to see if I could find anything to read or to use for my projects.  I found a very cool, vintage garden book that will be good for something but I am not sure what and three hard cover compilations of best selling non-fiction from the early 1990's.  

They didn't work out for the project I intended, so I decided to do blackout poetry instead.  Blackout poetry is written by choosing the words on the page to form a poem.  Because the content of the page directs the tone of the poem it creates an avenue to ideas and themes that I don't usually generate.  I tend to be more rainbows and butterflies, with a focus on nature and my family. These poems seem to explore human nature and the second poem is definitely darker than my usual stuff!  

"Counsel"

He would accept anything that resembled wisdom,

the future,

a new beginning.

The moment I could see a change in mood, grace.

He accepted the ultimate as his own.

"Let me tell you precise words, 

upon advice, upon facts, and intelligence."

I listened and watched since birth.

Thus began years of service,

access to every aspect of community.

To follow the most rewarding activities.

We met human intelligence.

"Darkness"

The sanctuary from life, 

in the middle of the night.

I listened carefully into the bottomless darkness, near the end.

I watched in silent distress.

Continued intrigues present speechless.

It was suddenly clear demons were inside him,

immediately after me.  

Perspective or Watching My Husband Summersault Down A Cliff

Top of our cliff looking down

As a preface to this post, it is important to note that my family and I lived in a house situated directly adjacent to a cliff.  And not the bottom of said cliff, at the top of this cliff. I was initially hesitant about buying a property that included a cliff but I really grew to appreciate it. It came with great views and was a great place to chuck yard debris.  

In August 2017, on one of the hottest days of the year, I walked out in the backyard and approached the edge of the cliff to see my husband, Aaron, disappearing over the edge hanging on to a rope with a hastily tied knot.  The knot promptly untied and he went arse over tip down the side.  As he was summersaulting down the side of the cliff I said "I thought that might happen."  Simultaneously, he was fearing for his life and wondering why I was so nonchalant about his demise.  

My lack of concern was really adding insult to injury because he had spent the day dealing with backed up plumbing.  In addition to a cliff, our home also had a plumbing system with a habit of flooding the basement bathroom (you can read about our plumbing saga).

The attempted climb down the cliff was in pursuit of our Shop Vac, which he had dropped when attempting to dump the water he had vacuumed up dealing with the plumbing fiasco.  

So, Aaron is contemplating his imminent death after a day of vacuuming toilet water from the bathroom for roughly the 249th time, he is at least happy that he won't be dealing with plumbing ever again.  He is, however, very miffed that I didn't express any alarm.  

Before you assume my lack of alarm was because I was expecting to cash in on his life insurance, let me explain.  I had something that my poor husband was lacking.  That something was perspective.  I could see very clearly that he was going to do a complete backward summersault and then come to a stop on a ledge with a cushy tangle of English Ivy and a nice stump acting as a railing. (His landing was a little sideways, so I gave him a 9.5!)

Creek at the bottom of the cliff.

Once he stopped rolling and regained his composure, he located the Shop Vac and three of its four wheels.  The fourth wheel was lost forever more to the English Ivy.  He carefully picked the rest of the way down, walked across the bottom of our property and climbed up the trail we had on the other side of our cliff.  He appeared just in time to be introduced to the plumber who had recently arrived to assess the situation. 

The plumber was very alarmed to learn Aaron had just fallen down a cliff and was also confused by my lack of alarm.  The plumber also lacked perspective. He calmed down when I explained about the soft landing.

Several hours later, it was my turn to be panicked.  We were luxuriating in the shower with our fully functioning plumbing when my husband said "Look at what I found in my butt, honey!"  I was completely lacking in perspective because I wasn't wearing my glasses and all I could see was a darkish blob. My initial response was some level of alarm, after all, nothing good comes out of someone's hind end!   My alarm dissipated when I realized that he had a stick and a couple leaves, which he had picked up during his tumbling exercise.   

Our perspective is one of the keys to understanding emotional reactions.  I had zero panic about Aaron's fall because I could see from my vantage point at the top of the cliff that he was going to have a soft landing after a short tumble.  Aaron experienced complete panic because he was the one tumbling down the side of a cliff.  The plumber had mild panic hearing about it because it sounded terrible but Aaron was not obviously injured. 

When feeling panicked, or anxious, or overwhelmed, etc., checking your perspective can shift your emotional experience. Getting a new perspective on your situation isn't always easy but is certainly more feasible than mid-summersault down a cliff!  

    

What a Vote for Donald Trump Means to Me

The president is the type of man that exploits, abuses, and manipulates others to meet his own ends. (Note: yes some abusers are women, however the majority are men)  This type of man is an abuser; abusers may appear different on the outside, but the basic behaviors are the same. It is just the façade that differs.  Abusers want power and control. They don’t care who is harmed, so long as they get what they want.  They lie, coerce, gaslight, sexually assault, emotionally abuse, physically abuse, manipulate, and financially control others. The abuser minimizes, denies, blames, and vilifies others to detract from their own transgressions. This is behavior that our President publicly demonstrates on a regular basis.

 

My background of working with survivors of domestic violence, child abuse, and sexual assault means my knowledge comes from experience. Many of my clients are recovering from being exploited, abused and/or sexually assaulted by this type of man.  There are people who have had their PTSD triggered every day since campaigning began in the summer of 2016 because of their exposure to Trump's behavior. This type of behavior is not leadership, it is abuse. Because of his behavior, and the Republican Party's willingness to enable him,  Trump's presidency had allowed other perpetrators to feel they have permission to exploit, manipulate and abuse.  His behavior legitimizes their behavior.  The President has undermined the lifework of all service professionals, including myself and my husband,  who work with survivors of violence and abuse. 

 

This is not normal. This is not okay. This is not like any other president in my lifetime, even though we have had some deeply flawed presidents who made very poor decisions (sex with an intern, for example). I know some people voted for him as an attempt to make changes to the politics they were tired of. However, the changes that need to be made cannot be done at the hands of an abuser. He was not the answer then and he is not the answer now. 

 

I endeavor to be flexible and inclusive of different ideas, philosophies, and policies. However, I draw a definite line at abusive behavior.  The President’s abusive behavior is unacceptable and a vote for him is a vote to condone abuse. It demonstrates support for an individual who violates  every value I was raised with and strive to apply to my life’s work, personally and professionally. Put more simply, he is an abuser, and a vote for him means you are siding with an abuser.  I always side with the victims. It breaks my heart that so many I love and hold dear have fallen prey to this man and his abusive tactics.  I hope for better for all of us.

      

A note to the reader: I have primarily been unaffiliated with any political party.  I aligned with the Democratic party this year so that I could vote in the primaries and hopefully nominate a candidate with a broader appeal, not because I consider myself a Democrat.  My values typically align with more progressive policies, but I have voted for a variety of political parties and will continue to do so, depending on the issues at hand. So, this is not a Democrat vs. Republican stance.  

Breaking Free and a Reason for Hope

(A note to the reader: I am discussing aspects of history, racial equity, white supremacy, colonialism, and fundamentalist Christianity.  I am choosing to write about these things because I noticed a compelling intersection with my work as a psychologist assisting victims/survivors of violence leave abusive relationships. While I am generally well-read, I am not a historian, a scholar of racial inequity, a member of a racial minority, etc.  The themes and ideas I am writing about are very rough due to my need for further education in these concepts.  They are likely discussed by other more qualified individuals, with better clarity.)


People all over the country and the world are protesting in opposition to police brutality, specifically against Black Americans*.  The protests’ immediate trigger was the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis by a police officer over an alleged counterfeit $20 bill.  This is one of many deaths of Black Americans at the hands of the authorities and it has been happening since the birth of our country. 

As the world erupted in protests, property was damaged or destroyed; police officers in some places escalated their violence. Everyone around me had strong reactions- anger about police brutality, anger about racism, anger about all cops being labeled as bad cops, anger about property destruction, anger about political polarization, anger about everything it seems.  

In addition to anger, the protests caused the collective level of anxiety to rise, skyrocketing above and beyond the already high levels due to the Covid-19 pandemic.  

My own anxiety also initially increased, but then I noticed that I had a sense of hope.  This is an unexpected reaction for the circumstances, so it caught my attention.  

After some reflection, I realized that I more hopeful because aspects of the protests and activism mirror my work with victims/survivors of domestic violence. 

This feels similar to helping women leave abusive relationships.  I have spent my entire career working with survivors of domestic violence, helping women leave abusive relationships and helping women protect their children against abusive ex-partners.  There is a distinct pattern to the process. 

The first stage of an abusive relationship involves tension-building.  During this stage there is mounting unhappiness on the part of the perpetrator.  The victim attempts to keep the peace in any capacity that they are able. She will anticipate as many of his wants and needs as possible to try to prevent an explosion that often leads to violence. 

The second stage is the crisis stage. This is when the perpetrator uses violence and/or manipulation to attempt to control his partner. The violence can be in the form of emotional abuse, escalating to physical violence and even death of the victim. The perpetrator will escalate his use of violence if the victim attempts to leave or resist the abuse.  

If the victim doesn’t leave the relationship and is still alive after the crisis stage, the relationship goes into the honeymoon stage. This is much like it sounds, the abuser makes amends.  He often acts the same as he did at the beginning of the relationship, gives gifts or expresses support. This is done to maintain control of the relationship. 

All phases of an abusive relationship have elements of power and control, described in the graphic to the right.  There is constant restriction and control in multiple facets of her life, always. 

As a country we are at the crisis stage.  Instead of continuing to experience the abuse, we are leaving the abusive relationship with white supremacy, colonialism, and fundamentalist Christianity, which are elements embodied in the criminal justice system's treatment of Black people.

I want to be clear that when I refer to the criminal justice system being a perpetrator of violence, I know not all people working in the criminal justice system are perpetrators, or that every police officer, corrections officer, judge, parole officer, etc. is a perpetrator.  My husband's cousin is a police officer and he was recently recorded hugging a protester.  One of our good friends is a corrections officer and he is known for his ability to de-escalate angry, agitated people.  I am well-aware that there are police officers, corrections officers, judges, parole officers, etc. doing their very best in a difficult situation.  Their efforts do not in any way negate the parallels between the criminal justice system and domestic violence perpetrators. Nor does it negate that we have a problem in the criminal justice system. 

There is ample statistical evidence that the justice system is unfairly and violently biased against Black Americans.  If the process was unbiased the percentage of Black Americans vs. the percentage of White Americans who are arrested, prosecuted and convicted would be approximately the same as the percentages of those groups in the general population.  They are not, even though the percentage of both populations that commit crimes is the same. Additionally, data kept by the FBI clearly shows Black people are much more likely to be seriously injured or die at the hands of police or in prison. 

Education and health outcomes are additional well-researched areas that demonstrate significant racial disparities in resources and outcomes.  This research demonstrates how white supremacy, colonialism and fundamentalist Christianity pervade all our institutions and alter how Black people are treated. 

As a culture, we are attempting to leave the relationship and our abusive partner, the criminal justice system, is escalating the violence and/or manipulation to keep us under its control.  In this case, it is the protesters and activists who are in the role of the woman attempting to extricate herself from the abusive relationship.  Institutions in the role of the abusive partner, such as police departments, are in some places escalating the violence to intimidate their partner back into the relationship. This is a very common tactic of domestic violence perpetrators.  

Some police departments are choosing a more conciliatory route, and are marching with the protesters, giving out hugs, etc.  Many of these departments and many of the individual officers are sincere.  In these instances, it is important to ensure that the conciliatory actions are backed up by the history of the department. If their history of treatment of Black American’s doesn’t line up with the more recent, conciliatory actions, manipulation may be part of the motivation. This is the perpetrator who brings flowers after he has shoved his wife against the wall, is kind and loving for a few weeks after he cracked her ribs and promises to never do it again.  

In both of those scenarios, what I have learned is if there is a plan where the woman has support in all the major areas of need, such as housing and income, bravely follows through and doesn't fall prey to the abuser’s aggression and/or manipulations, she can escape.  Yes, that is a lot of ifs, but I have seen happen many times, so I know it is possible.  Most of the time these men are bullies and bullies are cowards. They use aggression and violence to control others because they are so psychologically fragile.  If abusers are faced with a united front, one that doesn't succumb to their attempts to beat or manipulate their victims into silence, they can't tolerate the loss of control and they quit.  On an individual level, they often find a new victim. However, because we are doing this on a societal level, we have an opportunity to limit their ability to find new victims and cause harm.  

This gives me cause for hope and I write this to share my hope with you. 

As I sit here writing this, there are examples of many different groups uniting to bravely withstand the escalation of violence by refusing to fall prey to the aggression and violence directed at the protesters and activists. They are united by the core value that abuse is not okay. 

We have the momentum; it is important to keep going.  

*after research and consultation I decided to use the term Black American's rather than African-Americans because many Black Americans are from Caribbean countries and do not identify with the term African-American.  The use of  the term Black American is meant to be more inclusive.  I also opted to use the term Black American instead of People of Color (POC) since the current movement centers around Black Americans, although there are disparities in the treatment of individuals in other groups as well.  If you have feedback regarding these terms, please share them with me!

Wintertide

Wintertide

The glow of molten gold

illuminating the winter sky.

A gilt band amongst pewter,

encircling boughs of evergreen.

Beautiful Wintertide,

gold and silver intertwined with jade.

Spent Blossoms

Remember that the end of one thing, no matter how catastrophic, is the beginning of another.

Be patient, my friend, while we wait for winter to pass.

The bleakness of spent blossoms brings the assurance of flowering again.  

Tipped Straws

We were in the car after making it through a Taco Bell drive through.

My sweety

I know, gross.  But my husband had been sick and when he is sick he wants to eat the grossest, greasiest stuff he can get his hands on. 

I didn't part take of this feast because I have allergies, and Taco Bell grosses me out too much anyhow.

We got back on the freeway, heading home after a trip to the Emergency Department to ensure that he didn't have appendicitis.  He didn't, he had some horrible intestinal virus that did a convincing job of acting like appendicitis.

As we drove along, he tipped the straw of the iced tea towards my mouth so that I could have a slurp. 

With that small movement, much of my stress faded away and I felt completely loved. 

It has been a tough run the last few months.

Without going into excruciating detail, we have had the loss of beloved pets, a sick & mentally ill family member who has been a danger to self and others, some work related crises, my daughter started middle school, family conflict and etc.

Oh, and all this was happening with Lyme Disease and our treatment ever present in the background.

It has really sucked. 

But what has made the sucking bearable is the small things like a straw tipped towards my mouth.

Napping with the critters on a Saturday afternoon.
Can you find all 4?

Or laughing hysterically when we really didn't have any business laughing.

Or napping with the dogs and cats on a rainy afternoon. 

So very many things can go wrong all at once, it is easy to lose perspective.

It is easy to focus on all the things that are totally going wrong versus the things that are totally going right. 

Certainly, all the things going wrong needed some attending to.

But having that as my primary focus would have crushed me. 

I could be flattened by depression and anxiety right now.

I continue to get up every morning and enjoy my life because I remember that my life is more than the stresses, the pressures and the responsibilities. 

I certainly don't enjoy every moment of my life, because like I said, we have had some serious sucking around here.  And, sadly, there are somethings that are unresolved and I am fairly certain will create more sucking. 

However, I do very much enjoy my life because I remember all the parts that make up my life and while I am aware of all that sucks, it is not my focus all the time. 

So find your tipped straws people. They are there, I promise. 

Ju-ju Bee: The Cat That Ignored Me

I had to get a selfie to prove she
was paying attention to me!

I have a cat named Ju-ju Bee.  She is rather elusive to tell you the truth.  I have fewer pictures of her than all my other animals, including the chinchilla, who is nocturnal!  

Despite having been born in my closet, she has spent most of her 4 years of life ignoring me and all the other human members of our family.

She also mostly ignores her brother, Blizzy Boy.  

Ju-ju loves our St. Bernard the best.  She spends lots of time grooming Kona's face and rubbing her face all over Kona's face. She also occasionally naps with Kona. 

But people, nada.  Nothing. Zero. Zilch.  

Ju-Ju's bff Kona

She really could care less.

Well, unless she is out of food. When she is out of food she meows and looks at me pointedly.  

Otherwise, I and the rest of the family are non-entities.  

Until a few months ago when she started visiting me when I was eating breakfast.  She would sit on the table so I could pet her with one hand while I ate with the other.

Luckily, I am sort of ambidextrous. I can wield a spoon with my right hand while petting a cat with my left.   

So far I haven't attempted to eat the cat or pet my oatmeal.  

I see papers, I must sits!

A couple nights ago I was working on a project at the kitchen table and she did the typical cat thing-  she sat on my papers.  

This has literally never happened before.  

And she was purring and head-butting me. I've only heard her purr a few times.  Her brother is a constant purr machine.  He purrs so intensely that he drools.    

I seriously don't get it.  

If she was a person with such a drastic personality change I'd suspect drug use or a head injury.  

She's a cat though, and I am pretty sure I don't have some secret stash of cat nip in the house.  

So far she continues to ignore the rest of the family, human or canine.  

She graces me with her presence at breakfast and then spends the rest of the day doing important cat things.  

I'm curious to see if she progresses to sitting on my lap, or let's not get hysterical, sit by me on the couch.  

She is really the cattiest of cats I have ever known!  

Never a dull moment around here.  Just when I think I have stuff figured out, the Universe is like "Nope!  Just for funsies, Ju-ju is now going to pay attention to you! Hahahaha!!"  

I'll just consider it a gift from the Universe and be grateful there is never a boring moment around here!  

Little Miss Mini-Me Perfectionist

I used to think that perfectionism was made, not born.

Then I had my daughter.

She was a born perfectionist.

I know this to be true because she started doing perfectionist type things before she even had a vocabulary.

My earliest evidence of this was when she was approximately 4 months old.

We were introducing her to rice cereal and I saw her little eyes following my hand as I filled the spoon with cereal and sent it to her mouth.

She grabbed the spoon, attempted to get some of the rice cereal and direct it to her mouth.

This was a spectacular failure, of course because she had the hand-eye coordination and gross motor control on of a 4 month old infant.

She then scrunched her eyes shut and proceeded to scream with all her might.

Trying solid food for the first time, this was right
before she tried to do it by herself.  

The kid was pissed that she could not do this by herself and had no concept that this was beyond her current capabilities.  

You might think it is a bit of stretch to describe an infant as a perfectionist but I don't know what else to call someone who has unreasonably high expectations and is upset when they can't meet their expectations.  

I'd already been undoing my own perfectionist tendencies but when I saw that, I really doubled down. I didn't want to reinforce anything with my own behavior.

When she got older, my husband and I started coaching her on establishing reasonable expectations, learning from mistakes and not taking failure at a task to heart.

That might be a bit much for a toddler, but having been a perfectionist my entire life, I could see the writing on the wall.

We did much of our coaching via Legos because my daughter has always loved building with Legos.  She would have a vision of what she wanted to construct and set out to complete it.   

If everything went smoothly, then no problem.  

If not, then we would commence coaching.  She'd say things like "I can't ever get it right" or "I'm not good a this" or "This is too hard for me."  

We'd say things like "That's not true, you just made an amazing car yesterday" or "You are trying a new technique, it takes some time to learn" or "Trying something new is hard at first, it will get easier if you keep at it."  

We emphasized the importance of understanding that people are not immediately good at everything, that learning is not always smooth and easy, and mistakes just highlight where we need to learn more. 

We also spent a lot of time emphasizing that she learned and grew at a different rate than her friends, so comparing herself to their progress was not super helpful.

There were a lot of melt-downs, mostly on her part but occasionally me too.

It is incredibly frustrating when your child refuses to do something, say tying her shoes, believing they are incapable, when you know for a fact shoe tying is a skill she can learn.  

And, I am a very goal-directed person, so it is really, really, hard for me to re-route.  I just want to push her through it.  

So, per usual, I had to do my own personal growth.  

I don't know about you, but having a kid has pushed me to grow as a human more than any other endeavor, except possibly marriage!

So, I practiced patience, and if you ask my mother, she will tell you that is not my strong suit.

And I practiced patience some more, and if you ask the rest of my family they would concur with my mother.  

While I was practicing patience, we continued coaching our daughter.  Helping her learn that mistakes are a normal part of learning and managing her expectations seems to have paid off.

This was day 3 of riding lessons

She recently had two weeks of horseback riding lessons.  

Because it was an entirely new skill set, it was difficult for her.  She really struggled.

But rather than freaking out or quitting, which would have been her response a couple years ago, she used mistakes to direct her learning and was excited about making progress.  She was not focused on being perfect.    

It was such a joy to see.  

Perfectionism is hard to live with and the energy devoted to trying to be perfect is better used elsewhere.  

I'm excited to see her continued growth, which is one of my favorite parts of parenting. 

Also, I love horses, so I am not at all sad that she wants to continue with that activity! 

Firing My Inner Perfectionist

For many years perfectionism had a large command center in my psyche.

Everything was fueled by the desire to do everything right.  

I've been in "recovery" from perfectionism for about 20 years and it is fully a work in progress

Failure used to completely freak me out.  Not little mistakes like misspelling words in my notes, but, you know big ones like getting a B+ on a test when I expected to get an A. 

When I "should have" gotten an A. 

Me at the height of my perfectionism with
my approved dissertation proposal

If you are thinking that a B+ really isn't that big of deal, you'd be right.  But in my mind that was a big mistake and the potential consequences ranged from flunking the class to flunking out of school to being homeless.  

By the way, that type of thinking, where a small issue becomes a catastrophic failure, is called catastrophizing.  

I was an expert at catastrophizing.  

To protect against potential failure, I studied obsessively.  Studying is an important part of education but neglecting other aspects of life to study isn't really good for one's physical or mental health.

It was not a coincidence that I was also severely depressed and had panic attacks when I was in college.

I eventually settled down with the studying but the perfectionist stuff followed around elsewhere.

You know, thinking I needed to have a perfectly clean house, always be caught up on my paperwork, never forget anything, & ____________ (fill in the blank).  

Once I realized it wasn't just an issue with being an over-achieving student, it was an issue for my entire life, I had to come up with a new strategy.

So, I fired my inner perfectionist.  

I thanked her for pushing me through school and for the fear of failure that fueled me for a long time, but there are better ways to be motivated.

For a while, I had to fire her every week because she liked to come back to consult.  

Eventually I was able to develop a set of beliefs that made my psyche a hostile environment for her.  It was very hard for her to maintain much of a foothold, much less an entire command center!

I adopted the approach that everything is a work in progress.  If something isn't quite right, well, that's okay because I'm not actually done with it yet.  

Unless there is an external deadline, I just work on things as I am able.  I am done when I am done. 

If I have an external deadline, as long as I meet the basic requirements, it is good enough.  I had to test this a bunch of times before I was comfortable with it.

I'd put a reasonable amount of time and energy into a report for work, rather than totally obsessing.  Then I would turn it in and wait.  My inner perfectionist would freak out, insisting something bad would happen because it wasn't perfect.  

Precisely nothing would happen, and I would tell her to shut up.

Or I would invite friends over when my house wasn't perfectly clean. My inner perfectionist would scream that my friends would be uncomfortable, or hate my house or hate me or whatever catastrophizing she could invent.  

Again, precisely nothing would happen, and I would tell her to shut up.

Enough times and she did actually shut up. 

On the rare instances where something needed to be adjusted or fixed, nothing horrible happened.

So, I could still tell my inner perfectionist to shut up!

Then I realized that failure simply shines a light on areas that I lack information or need to improve my skills.  

This can be fixed, unlike failure, which presents itself as permanent.  

I recognized the vast majority of the mistakes I make have zero significance for my future, my relationships or my well-being. 

Kona is part of my anti-perfectionism and is cute too!

Also, I got a St. Bernard.  I'm not kidding.  Kona has so much hair and general mess that having a perfectly clean house is not possible.  Since it is not possible, I'm not even tempted to try!
These changes released me from the constant nagging created by my inner perfectionist.  

Occasionally, she still likes to show up and start issuing commands.  

Some days it is more of a fight than other days.  Some days it is a knock down, drag out fight.  

But I go back to what I've learned- tell to her shut up and escort her to the door.  

A Short Story About Plumbing

A short story about our plumbing: Not long after moving in our home 5 1/2 years ago, the plumbing backed up and flooded part of the downstairs. 

Plumber showed up- "probably tree roots, blah, blah blah. Use this stuff." We paid $$$. 

Plumbing backed up again, this time some other explanation,"blah blah blah." $$$. 

Backed up again. "Blah blah blah" $$$. 

The new, fully functional drain pipe.

My husband, Aaron tries to fix it himself but the drain snake isn't long enough. 

Plumber, "blah, blah, blah," $$$. 

Aaron decides enough is enough and buys an 80 FOOT drain snake. Clears the drain himself several times. 

Eventually surmises that the drain snake is clearing a blockage so far down the pipe that it is in the city's pipe. 

Call out the city- they decide, "Nope, it your problem." 

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

Had the city out a few more times. 

Had a few more plumbers. 

One plumber tells us the main drain pipe out of the house has a sag that is causing everything to back up. It will cost approximately $5000 to fix. 

This was last summer. We were way too overwhelmed with the symptoms Lyme Disease & treatment to deal with it. So we procrastinated. 

When he felt well enough a few weeks ago, Aaron started to dig out the pipe. We were planning on getting it done and trying to figure out how to do it inexpensively. We weren't sure how to meet those two goals, recognizing that Aaron operates at about 50% capacity most of the time. 

This morning- 71 minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off, the city rang the door bell and informed us that we couldn't use our water because they were fixing their part of the sewer system. 

THE PART THEY HAVE SAID ALL ALONG WASN'T BROKEN AND INSISTED THAT IT WAS OUR PROBLEM!! Turns out their part (a concrete pipe) WAS TOTALLY CRUSHED so of course stuff eventually built up and backed up into the downstairs of our house. 

I'm guessing they won't be paying for us to remodel the downstairs bathroom. 

The story could stop here... I could just marinate in irritation that we dealt with the problem for 5 1/2 years and were about spend a ton of money on something that wouldn't fix the problem.

Or...

I can reframe, which is often called "Looking on the bright side." 

I prefer to use the term reframe because sometimes people get irritated when you tell them to look on the bright side.

So, the reframe for this situation that this is one time procrastination paid off and we don't have to scrape together $5000!

Cue celebration!  Now the time and energy we would have to devote to this problem can be devoted to something else.

Hopefully, that means we will finally build a tree house for my daughter, which is another thing that has been pending for 5 1/2 years!  

Now I can marinate in relief and excitement, which is so much better!

$11.00 an Hour?!

"$11.00 an hour?!"

This is what I said to myself in shock and horror after I finished calculating how much I made per hour.

Because I own my own practice as a licensed clinical psychologist, I am not an employee and I don't have a consistent salary.  So, I had to do math to figure out my average income per hour. I charge the same no matter what but the reimbursement varies based on a bunch a factors that are too boring to discuss in detail here!

The $11.00 per hour discovery sent me into a huge career crisis. I really expected that my bottom line would be better.

Me and the guy who balances the checkbook.

I was horribly disappointed and was in a huge funk all day long.

When my husband got home from work, I told him about my shocking discovery.

He looked at me like a deer in the headlights.

He has a work flow for these situations- situations where I am really confident and he knows I am way, way off base.

His first step is cringe, inwardly, because he doesn't want to alarm me, especially when I am already upset.

His second step is to identify the problem while also complimenting me.

In this instance it looked something like "I appreciate your work on this and you are very cute, but that can't possibly be true."

I can get indignant and generally I insist that I am right.  I'm also a pretty confident person and sometimes this backfires.  In this instance, I was relieved because, $11.00 an hour with a doctorate is absurd.

If I insist I am right, he tries steps 1 (deer in headlights) and 2 (identify problem and provide compliment) again.

Then usually I am ready to hear his input.  My husband explains his understanding of the situation, in this case where I went wrong with the math.

Usually I argue a few minutes (or more but I don't want to admit that, shhhh!) and he tries again.

(I'd like to take a minute here to express my thanks to the Universe that my husband is so patient!)

Eventually I can see the situation more clearly. And over time I have learned I have some persistent blind spots.

Math for example.  Despite doing poorly in nearly every math class and never, ever being able to balance a checkbook, I always assume my calculations are correct.

And then I make assumptions accordingly, which is why I had a career crisis.

I know I am bad at math, yet I frequently assume that my numbers are correct.  This, by the way, is the definition of insanity.  Doing the same thing over and over, expecting the outcome to be different.

I have finally learned to ask myself  "does this seem reasonable?" when I get some ridiculous number. Because this is the definition of good mental health, when you constantly run into the same problem, figure out different behaviors!

Don't get me wrong, confidence is a good thing. The answer isn't becoming insecure about myself in general. 

The answer is to pay attention to the feedback you are getting from the larger world.

Every action has a reaction. This is true of physics and this is true of behavior.

If I consistently screw up math it makes sense to change my behavior.  With math it is to be skeptical of my answers and ask for someone to go over my numbers.  (And also to brush up on multiplication tables! No, that's a lie, actually learn my multiplication tables!)

If I experience the same problem over and over in different contexts, that doesn't mean there is something wrong with everyone around me.  It means I am doing something to elicit a consistent pattern of responses from those around me.

I once knew a medical doctor that had the exact same complaint about every medical practice he had worked at. I don't remember the complaint, but he had worked at four or five medical practices across two states. The only consistent factor was him. This suggests that it was his behavior that was the problem, not the medical practices.

There are exceptions to this rule, I am sure, but it works as a good basic guideline.*

We all have blind spots and we can identify those blind spots when we take time to process the feedback we get from life, be that a calculator or loved one!


*individuals in abusive relationships need to ensure that the feed back they are getting in genuinely from many sources, not just their partner because abusive partners engage in gaslighting, which seeks to make the victim question their grasp on reality in all areas.  More information is available here.

Dingy Whites: Or How We Are Shaped By Our Beliefs and Expectations

Do you remember this commercial?

I do.

Only I didn't remember that I remembered it until I was folding laundry.  

That's because of these shirts.  The shirt on the bottom is one of my husband's thermal  shirts that he has had for a while. The shirt on top is brand new.

I cringed when I saw the old shirt because it was just so gross and embarrassing. 

I pointed this out to my husband and he shrugged.  He's not the kind of guy that cares about clothes.  

He works from home so he mostly wears thermal shirts and fleece pj bottoms.  Getting "dressed up" involves blue jeans and a clean t-shirt.  

Then I got to thinking. Where in the world did I get this idea that bright white clothes were even a thing?  Why was I embarrassed by a shirt?    

80's commercial television, that's where.  

I was a kid in the 80's and I wasn't even paying attention to detergent commercials.  

But they were there, establishing a set of beliefs I didn't even know I had.

The belief that dingy whites are gross and embarrassing.

Admittedly, this isn't that big of a deal.  I can either get over it or I can start using Oxydol.  

However, our underlying beliefs and expectations about ourselves and the world we live in are a big deal.

These beliefs and expectations shape how we feel about ourselves, other people, our homes, our jobs, our country and our world.  

If I have the belief that other people are mostly out for themselves; self-absorbed jerks who don't care- then my interactions with others will feel hostile.  I will interpret the unfriendly cashier at the grocery store as being intentionally hurtful. 

That is the kind of stuff that ruins days.  

If I approach that same situation with the mindset that everyone is just doing the best they can, then I interpret the behavior of the grumpy cashier much differently.  Changing my expectation changes how I interpret the situation. This allows me to see that the grumpy cashier is tired and having a bad day.

This applies to each and every interaction we have, including our interactions with ourselves.

If I believe that I am stupid, then I interpret the mishaps that occur every day, such as losing my keys, as evidence that I am stupid. 

That is also the kind of stuff that ruins days.  Give it enough time and those kind of thoughts also create depression and anxiety.   

If I believe I am capable, then I interpret those same mishaps much differently. Losing my keys is just something that happens and I don't devote much emotional energy to it.  

This sounds fairly straight forward, right?  

Unfortunately, like my unhappiness with dingy whites, many of our beliefs are unconscious.  They were "programmed" into our brains before we even started Kindergarten.  We are constantly receiving messages about what to believe and expect.  

If our beliefs and expectations are not healthy or are not accurate, it creates a lot of distress.  

So how can you figure out your unconscious beliefs and expectations?

A good place to start is to be aware when you have an emotional reaction to a situation that is stronger than seems reasonable.  

Going back to the dingy whites example, it was weird that seeing the difference between the two shirts made me feel embarrassed.  This prompted me to spend more time thinking about where that feeling came from.  

Or if you are consistently feeling disappointed, you might want to check your expectations.  Feeling frequently disappointed is a sign that your expectations are too high.  Adjusting your expectations can dramatically improve your emotional experiences.

Also, the books When Panic Attacks: The New, Drug-Free Anxiety Therapy That Can Change Your Life and Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy are helpful in identifying and changing underlying thought processes that are not helpful.  

Therapy is also a valuable tool in learning more about your underlying beliefs and expectations.  Most primary care providers can make referrals to good therapists in your area.  

Thoughts underlie our feelings so it is important to figure out how to wrangle them.  

For my part, I've decided the whites are just going to be dingy because I don't want to spend any more time on the laundry than I already do!