mental health

A Message for You

/ Laura Peetoom / Leave a comment

One’s commitment to a series (books, shows) and other repeated experiences rests on two things, surprise and satisfaction. Either one or the other, depending; when it comes to book and TV series, I prefer surprise. When the thing offers no more surprises, no twists that I didn’t predict, then I’m out. Others look for satisfaction: “Package delivered, just as expected.” These two aren’t warring; they’re equal companions, in different measures, in all persons. One holds you up and one carries you forward.

Sometimes life feels like a bad series. Nothing satisfies, and the only surprises are blows. Your little ship is cracked and breaking and your sails are torn. In this state, your limited energy is spent on just not sinking, never mind catching wind, and getting out of the doldrums seems impossible. But you’re a ship and meant for going places. You have to fix your sail. How?

Ask for help. Pray for a windfall, to God or the universe — just enough blessing to make the extra effort worthwhile. Then, cast a line into your future — some interest that a slightly-stronger you might pursue. Let that pull you forward while you fix all the holes. And then, one day, your sail will lift, then swell. And you’ll be ready to put your hand to the tiller and your eyes on the horizon and go.

sailing

Homesick

/ Laura Peetoom / Leave a comment

For the past five-and-a-half months I’ve been living in a dream world of my own making. I miss it.

When I was a child, I read to escape. Escape from boredom: our TV was a tiny black-and-white with no cable, I didn’t like sports and my school friends lived scattered and far away. Escape from company: I like quiet but I was in the middle of six kids and my parents liked to entertain, so I would retreat with a book to my bedroom or, if that wasn’t safe enough (I shared rooms with an older or younger sibling until I was 15), to the assured solitude of under-the-guest-room-bed. Escape from pain: in the worst year of my childhood, I read hundreds of folk- and fairy-tales, craving the triumph of the youngest over the oldest, the poor over the rich, the dreamer over the doer, the weak over the strong, whether through magic or the hero(ine)’s own, surprisingly sufficient nature.

One of my favourite writers, Diana Wynne Jones (may she rest in delight), said somewhere that she started writing for escape, too; that she and her sisters were insufficiently supplied with books to read and so she had to write to relieve the privations of not-so-benign neglect. I didn’t envy her lack but I did wonder what it would be like to be that motivated. I wanted to write so badly but couldn’t seem to stick to it. My notebooks were full of sparky ideas, beginnings and endings; I constantly described things in my head, in beautiful sentences that went nowhere; I wore myself out trying to figure people out and cast them as main characters in their own stories. I wrote good letters, all this time, and I helped many, many writers of stories see their way through sticky bits to the best story they could create, as an editor of children’s and YA fiction. I learned so much.

Finally, I got a job where I could create and write short works and be paid for them immediately. I went through hard psychic times, in which I figured out a few things about myself; I was seized by a story idea that wouldn’t let me go and which I worked on for over two years while I figured out a few more things about myself, including the probability that I have ADHD (diagnosis pending). With that last discovery, I’ve been able to forgive myself for “wasted” time and really get to work, using all the skills I’d gained so far. While I was working on my YA science/speculative novel, I discovered that I could get lost in writing the way I do in reading. I can wrestle with the angel of attention and win its blessings: total absorption, suspended time, surprise and delight and, finally, a finished project — beginning, middle and end.

The title of my novel is Otherwhere. I think there is going to be a sequel.

P.S. I have been blown away by this photographer, whose Instagram posts have often captured exactly and eerily what I imagined for my invented lands.

Tears

/ Laura Peetoom / 3 Comments

Tears are the waters of truth. As in labour, they flow to ease delivery. 

Truth will out; to stifle it completely means a death. Arriving, it pains; abandoned, it dies. Protected, it has a chance. It will teach those who receive it what they need to know to raise it up. Truth transforms.

Truth is so strong. Even the worst parents produce miracles, while the best parents release into the world something steady and ready to repeat itself. Truth is also vulnerable, dependent as it is on cracked vessels to carry it. Despite our best efforts, it gets twisted, it frays. When the truth is that we’ve botched it, the tears are scalding, hot as fire. Bitter truths still bless our attention, though. When the blood is washed away and the broken body carefully wrapped, we will receive the same truth again, more softly, in a shower of sorrow.  

Therefore, respect tears, yours and other people’s. Respect them especially when they come in anger or relief, or inexplicably. Don’t suppress or ignore: interrogate. Pause the conversation and ask yourself — ask the weeper — calmly, curiously, without fear or haste: “Where are these tears coming from?” 

Spread your hands and prepare to catch the birth of truth.

Photo copyright LauraPeetoomWriterOnline, 2020

With thanks to Kathleen Sutcliffe, BA, MDiv, RMFT, RP, for asking the question.

Forgive

/ Laura Peetoom / 1 Comment

Forgiveness sheds what hampers you.

Imagine being in a bouncy castle; only, it’s not for fun, you’re living there, trying to get stuff done, trying to get places, and there’s this moving, bouncing, rocking, unsteady surface beneath your feet. All the time. 

That’s your victimhood. When you forgive, you plunge a knife into the side of it and all the air comes out. It’s not gone; your pain is not gone. But you can get around much more easily, here and there and everywhere.

And you know, traffic has a way of wearing at things. By the end of your life, your pain may be worn away to scattered scraps—so easy to pick up and toss into the trash can on your way to heaven. 

But Out

/ Laura Peetoom / Leave a comment

I’ve done some emotional learning in my time and one of the most useful little tools I was given was to stop using the word “but”.

It’s a small word with a powerful punch that you can feel coming. The tension of its imminence raises hackles and closes ears and when it lands it negates everything that came before it. So often, it acts not like a simple conjunction but more like an injunction. Let me give you some examples.

  • This is a great piece of work! But you made some spelling errors.
  • You have some great ideas but they aren’t very practical.
  • We’re really proud of how well you’re doing in school but you could be a little more helpful around the house.

Now let’s revise, using alternatives.

  • This is a great piece of work! One final pass and it will be ready for posting.
  • You have some good ideas and I’m eager to see how you would put them into practice.
  • We’re really proud of how well you’re doing in school and would love to see that same improvement around the house.

Do you feel the difference?

It takes some practice to be able to censor yourself, pause to rethink, and then go on along the lines I’ve shown above. The first step is to simply replace the word “but” with “and”. It will feel unnatural, even silly, but and it works!

Butting Heads

Remember how I said we can feel that “but” coming? Well, people with low self-esteem or a lot of insecurity are especially sensitive to that tension and develop ways to cope with it. (This is a subject worthy of its own post, so I won’t elaborate right now.)  Whatever their strategy, it takes energy and thought and they end up missing half of what you’re saying — the complimentary half. All they hear is what comes after the “but” — the criticism, which they respond to according to their particular coping method: excuses, accusations, anger, tears, withdrawal, some act of passive aggression or active rebellion.

When the “but” doesn’t arrive, it’s disarming. The anxious listener is surprised and quickly runs through what they just heard, realizing that half of it was positive. Suddenly, where there was an enemy there is now an ally. Where there was conflict, there is cooperation.

The anxious listener is surprised… 
A great scene, with Ebenezer and Bob the day after Christmas.

The Difference One Little Word Can Make

The word “but” invalidates what comes before it: “This is true but this is more true.” The word “and” sets up a dialectic, in which two opposite truths are balanced as equals. Human beings like balance. It feels good. In balance, there is space and time for thought, choice and meaningful action.

Let’s go back to that second set of examples used earlier and unpack them a little.

  • This is a great piece of work! One final pass and it will be ready for posting.
    • The writer (for example) gets a no-strings compliment and is invited to prepare the work for publication, the implication being that there are some minor fixes to do. The writer can choose to leave the work as-is and not publish or find out what the errors are, fix them, and post the work.
  • You have some good ideas and I’m eager to see how you would put them into practice.
    • The colleague (for example) gets some clear validation and an invitation to build on their success. They can choose to continue on their own or ask for some input or guidance. They can also ask for clarification: “I understood that this was a brainstorming exercise. If we are problem-solving I can come up with more practical ideas.”
  • We’re really proud of how well you’re doing in school and would love to see that same improvement around the house.
    • The teenager (for example) gets both validation and praise and an invitation to go further. It’s not a demand which they have to respond to in the moment; they can carry the invitation until they choose a way to define it—by cleaning up their room unasked, or taking out the trash, or attending to a younger sibling. The good feeling coming from the no-strings praise will be their motivation.

I have had great success with the “but out” strategy with my kids, at work and in relationships with friends and family members. Try it yourself and, if you get a positive result, consider encouraging others by sharing your experience in the comments section. 

The Tough

/ Laura Peetoom / Leave a comment

When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

Great saying — except the “tough” often don’t know when to stop. If you suggest they take some time off and rest, they say, “Yup, sure. Will do.” And then they don’t.

I’m Fine!

Some people have trouble understanding that psychic distress is real (i.e., has measurable effects) and universal (i.e., if you are a living creature with a brain, you will experience it). These people are “fine” and “just have to get this done”; it’s only other people who feel anxious and overwhelmed. Their quaint belief is sustainable as long as the stress has a deadline. (The job gets done and everyone gets a rest.) It’s different when the stress is long-term and without a definite end. In such times, how do you show the Energizer bunnies and never-say-no types that they really do need to check out for a while?

Honestly, Buddy …

You’ll have to be direct, because a stressed-out person doesn’t do subtlety. To avoid sounding accusatory it helps to call out observable effects — impatience, irritation, brusqueness, mistakes in what they’re doing, mishearing what others are saying. If there’s blowback, validate their feelings (“I can see this really upsets you”; “I understand you may not want to hear this right now”) and reassure them of their value: “You’re an important member of this team. We can’t afford for you to burn out.”

It’s a Blizzard Out There

I find it useful to avoid psychological language. Lots of people discount psychology altogether or think it doesn’t apply to them, and will tune you out the minute you start talking about feelings. Try weather analogies instead. Compare the current situation to a hurricane or ice storm — any climactic condition that interrupts business as usual and impedes our habits. Liken the brain to a house or a car or anything that might take a licking in such weather. Rest, recreation, whatever is grounding and spiritually or mentally restorative: this is like putting shutters on the windows or making sure the tank is filled and the windshield wipers are working.

Because a storm is what we are experiencing now, during this Covid crisis. NOTHING IS NORMAL, and our brains are working overtime, making adaptations all day, every day. Eventually, our brains will recognize the patterns of the new normal and will be able to work more efficiently. In the meantime, we’re going to be feeling anxious, overwhelmed and exhausted — whether we are aware of it or not.

Aware = Care

The key point is awareness. Our “tough” friends (lots of our “emotional” friends, too!) are often unaware of their own anxiety; indeed, some of them don’t understand anxiety at all. They confuse it with worry and are blind to its effects on their behaviour. Again, under ordinary circumstances we can chalk this up to “personality” and make the necessary accommodations. But in a crisis, unacknowledged anxiety can cause serious problems. Because anxiety is really uncomfortable, even painful. The anxious person will do anything for relief — act rashly, pick a fight, lash out. Those actions cause damage which then takes precious energy to rein in and repair.

People who are aware of their own anxiety, on the other hand, have their inner traffic lights on yellow. They approach tricky situations cautiously and give others the benefit of the doubt. They check their first reactions and balance them against the facts. They remember their manners!

Take a Rest; Then Bring Your Best

The emotionally aware can really help in times like this, by calling out (lovingly or at least non-judgementally) any anxiety-driven behaviour they observe and offering clear and acceptable ways for the colleague, friend or family member to take a break and take care of themselves.

But be careful, you emotional geniuses: Your gift can quickly become a burden. Expect a point at which you must stop helping others and care for yourself for a while. You might find it difficult but it’s a matter of survival. Say to yourself, “Just because I understand it doesn’t mean I’m responsible for it.” Picture the concern or situation or person as a book. Close the book and put it on a mental shelf. You can always pick it up again later; in the meantime, take a bubble bath, go for a run, hug a tree or smash some tennis balls against a wall for a while — whatever it takes to settle your insides and clear your mind.

Friends, we need to pace ourselves. Because this is a marathon we’re running.

Tense Time

/ Laura Peetoom / 1 Comment

This is on my mind.

We’re living in a tense time. Unable to live our lives in the usual way, we are missing the conscious and unconscious ways we feed, comfort and satisfy our deep selves. This means we’re going to encounter one another’s inner wailing infants much more often. Wailing infants can neither hear nor understand words. Apologies and explanations are useless. If you have tried and failed to appease someone who is really upset with you, don’t take it personally. Don’t respond with anger, impatience, annoyance. Be the grown-up. Respond with love.