My So Called Life

In a few days, my sister will be walking across the stage in a cap and gown for the third time from The University of Texas at Austin. Yes, THIRD time. She will be receiving her post-Masters degree because one, apparently, is not enough for this bright, hard-working and driven person with whom I have the pleasure of being related. (Congratulations, Stephanie!) 

“After the confetti has settled, post-college life can feel overwhelming, daunting, and uncertain.”

Over the next few weeks, countless videos of inspiring commencement speeches for the graduating class of 2017 will be posted to YouTube. (Dr. Will Ferrell's USC address is worth the 25-minute investment, in my opinion.) After all, this is graduation season. A season of excitement and promise of a bright future. While this may be true for those who have secured jobs in their desired field, for the rest, after the confetti has settled, post-college life can feel overwhelming, daunting, and uncertain. 

Freshman 18-year-old you had this idea of what graduating 22-year-old you would be and something isn't matching up. You've stepped into adulthood all of the sudden without a map, yet you're expected to navigate this new terrain like a pro. It seems your peers are owning adulthood, and life, in general, for that matter: excelling and mastering their dream job, climbing their respective field ladders, settling into romantic relationships and all the while still make time for Sunday brunch. Why, then, is it so hard for you? Is your internal compass faulty? Did you miss the manual that everyone else received along with their diplomas? How do you begin to figure things out when you don't even know where to start? 

“How do you begin to figure things out when you don’t even know where to start?

What happens when life doesn’t go according to the script you had laid out?”

What happens when life doesn't go according to the script you had laid out? This is a question for everyone, at every life stage. (However, I think for those coming into their own during their 20s, this question can be particularly challenging.) I doubt many people include cancer diagnosis, miscarriages, heartache and heartbreak, divorce, unemployment and other gut wrenching realities in their "Oh, The Places You'll Go" ideals. And yet, they find their way onto that undesired landscape. 

The unexpected can really disrupt and disorient us. Living in this haze, we wobble and stumble forward trying to find some version of our dreams, some aspect to not feel so powerless and helpless, some landing place to not feel inferior. I believe two things can happen here: 

1) It feels too excruciating to keep trying, to make sense of things, to be disappointed that life isn't what you wanted/thought it would be so you numb out. You disconnect and isolate from yourself and others emotionally and you find solace in various addictions to stifle your inner strife.

OR

2) It feels quite painful, excruciating at times, and you bravely choose to engage the pain. You allow yourself to explore false beliefs you have about yourself and the world. Our pain highlights an emotional depth needed to live a life of meaning, purpose, and hope. Our pain informs our joy. Our pain, like our joy, makes us real. Emotional resiliency is birthed.

There's not an in-between. There is not an option to not not feel pain if you want to have a life of connection. You either ignore your pain, which has its own cost, or you choose to befriend your pain and see what it wants to tell you. You're at a crossroads. This decision has far weightier and far-reaching implications than most others you'll have to make.

I wish for you the courage to remain present in the midst of uncertainty, disappointment, and expectations not being fulfilled. Perhaps you'll stumble upon something beautiful among the unexpected. 

Secret Keeper

“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”
— George Orwell

We all possess secrets. We've been entrusted to keep them. We have also offered them to others to hold with us or sometimes for us. At times we consider it an honor to be a confidante and other times it is a curse to be asked to hide something that should be revealed. Secrets are not just things we keep from the outside world; they are most often things we keep from ourselves.

In last month's issue of Pyschology Today, writer Carlin Flora explored the damaging effect secrets have on our mental, emotional, and physical health.

Founder and director of The Institute of Behavior Therapy, Barry Lubetkin explains, "Deep secrets are often traumatic events from the past such as a rape that has made someone feel vulnerable or a compulsion or obsession that feels too shameful to disclose". Other buried secrets according to Lubetkin include illnesses, a stigmatized identity, an addiction or a moral transgression such as a marital affair. Shame underlies much of secret keeping but secrets aren't necessarily secluded to the realm of shame. Flora says that "Hopes and dreams that people don't dare speak aloud are also secrets."

We withhold, not just painful memories but also celebratory or exciting things, because to acknowledge them requires vulnerability, to let people really see us, fears AND hopes. We wonder what people will think if they knew. Or if they did know, we don't want to know what they think because it may be different than what we want to hear. And if I acknowledge it to you, I am simultaneously acknowledging it to myself. Dare I speak aloud my deepest fears and fantasies? What if my fears become reality? And will I be able to bear the crushing weight of disappointment if my dreams do not come true? So we protect ourselves through withholding, denial and dismissal.

The mental bandwidth expelled to protect secrets takes a physical toll. According to Michael Slepian of Columbia University, "Secrets we consciously protect alters the body's stress response and "depletes mental resources". Studies conducted by James Pennebaker of The University of Texas at Austin "found that people who had a traumatic sexual experience as a child or teen were more likely to have health problems as they got older, particularly if they had hidden the trauma from others". 

“Secrets are usually a signal or manifestation of an underlying set of conditions. If someone is experiencing shame or fear, they create an internal marketplace for secrets.”
— Nando Pelusi

However, Pennebaker found that making sense of traumatic events had a powerful effect on the body. Those who spent 20 minutes each day for several consecutive days visited the health center "far fewer times in the following months than students who had written about a general topic or who revealed a secret but didn't delve into the emotions around it".

Clinical psychologist Nando Pelusi explains that secrets are a mirror of what one believes about themselves. Beliefs that one is incompetent, deficient, worthless, unlovable is often hidden beneath a traumatic secret. Pelusi advises the importance of "[taking] apart the traumatic event. Someone might always regret what happened, but if he looks at it in a safe environment, like a therapists' office, the trauma diminishes because it's been powered by secretiveness". 

“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter-they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside so long.”
— Slyvia Plath

Examining and exploring the purpose of the secret and the beliefs that have held it in the dark can release the power of shame. Being willing to look behind the curtain to find a mere man instead of the all powerful Oz can be quite painful. The Wizard of Oz was constructed for a reason and we are slowly dismantling that image, facing fears of who we are and are not. But from there, if you are willing, you can find meaning and chart a new course for yourself with healthier, more accurate beliefs of your true identity. 

,

Masters of Illusion

,
““Hush, Dorothy,” whispered the Tiger, “you’ll ruin my reputation if you are not more discreet. It isn’t what we are, but what folks think we are, that counts in this world.””
— Frank Baum, The Road to Oz

Early on, we unconsciously learned to present certain things to the world (like a powerful man in sunglasses) so the world will accept us. Oscar-winning director Barry Jenkins sums this up brilliantly about the transformation of his character Chiron in his film Moonlight, "Over time some people become less and less themselves and instead turn into this thing that they feel like they need to be in order to survive."

So we hide in plain sight. We keep our true selves tucked away beneath layers and layers of the false images we portray. Carlin Flora's Psychology Today article, "Unlocking the Vault", dives into our propensity to hide. She interviews Barry Farber, Professor of psychology and education at Columbia University, who explains, "A struggle plays out constantly between a wish to be known and helped on one hand and the avoidance of feeling the shame of acknowledging pieces of ourselves we're not pleased with." Like the Tiger, we want to present ourselves in the best possible way that causes others to think highly of us because that is what "counts in this world". And somehow, being human with faults, fears and wounded histories doesn't fit into that equation so we bury those parts of us into the recesses of our soul.

“To quiet the noise of incongruence between the mask and the man, it’s easier to assume the mask is the man.”

To hide our humanness, we put a lot of energy to maintaining these facades. So much energy is given to employing these covers and keeping them in tact that we can't hear what is happening inside us.

To quiet the noise of incongruence between the mask and the man, it's easier to assume the mask is the man.  We lose track of who we are and unknowingly allow the self-protective ways of relating to take over. You wear this mask long enough and become known this way so it seems foolish to take it off. If you took it off, who would you be? Would you even recognize yourself? And would you be accepted without it? 

Yet, you're tired. You're tired of being different things to different people. It's exhausting wondering if you'll be exposed. Ultimately, it's lonely being a stranger in your own skin. Something inside longs to breathe, to connect, to love, to belong, to be known. That part wants to be real, wants to be authentic, wants to be true. Being true means accepting yourself as human and loving and seeing those parts you deemed unworthy. 

We can only test the climate of authentic revelation in a safe environment of compassion, kindness, patience and understanding. Without this, the masks and the belief of their necessity will be reinforced. As you shed those false layers, you'll come face to face with the painful reasons that caused those layers to originate. This uncovering is uncomfortable and can feel disruptive but it is necessary. You're knocking down what you've falsely built your world around in order to rebuild something true. This is wildly vulnerable.

But if you are willing to give yourself the gift of your own humanity you will learn like the Skin Horse, that "real" is a "thing that happens to you". When you are really loved, then you become real. Becoming real takes time "but once you are real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

That sounds like a comforting invitation to me. Will you accept what being real can offer you?

“Once you are real you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always.”
— The Velveteen Rabbit

Befriending the Stranger

“Before we can become who we really are, we must become conscious of the fact that the person who we think we are, here and now, is at best an imposter and a stranger.”
— Thomas Merton

Manipulating and mastering one's image is crucial these days. Social media let's us present the outward looking face we want. We determine what someone sees and knows through various filters because there are great rewards to be had (follower increase, "likes" which studies have showed increase our dopamine levels-our brain's reward system). But maintaining for the sake of reward has its dark side. Think about public personas and their falls from grace and how quickly contracts are dropped in order to disassociate from their now marred/soiled image. (Hi, Ryan Lochte.) Which is usually followed by PR attempts to reassemble and salvage whatever can be done from the charred remains.  

When we unwittingly show we are less than perfect in some way, we pay a price. While our mistakes may not take on the depth of public scrutiny as celebrities, we have all certainly felt the sting of someone's disappointment, their judgment and in some cases, even relationships ending. This is not new...we've talked about this before. But it's worth continually revisiting. 

Because we determine to get around in the world as unscathed as possible, we layer our personality with various masks to protect our authentic selves from any form of harm that will leave us feeling rejected, misunderstood, shamed, lonely.  We become enslaved to our defenses and feel naked without them.

Ian Morgan Cron sums it up well, "Made up of innate qualities, coping strategies, conditioned reflexes and defense mechanisms, among lots of other things, our personality helps us know and do what we sense is required to please our parents, to fit in and relate well to our friends, to satisfy the expectations of our culture and to get our basic needs met...[Our adapative strategies] get triggered so predictably, so often and so automatically that we can't tell where they end and our true nature begins." 

“The line of truth and facade becomes so blurry. Over time, we lose ourselves and don’t recognize the person staring back at us in the mirror.”

These masks are quite successful at keeping us well guarded from painful relational interactions so we continue to rely on them. So much so that we forget they are masks and assume they are us. The line of truth and facade becomes so blurry. And who we are actually gets buried underneath the layers. Over time, we lose ourselves and don't recognize the person staring back at us in the mirror. 

This is a sad and sobering consequence. To not know one's self is truly a tragedy because you cannot be known and if you cannot be known, you cannot be loved wholly. We'll continue this ongoing conversation but I want to leave you with this beautiful exchange from The Velveteen Rabbit. May we all learn to have the courage to be made real. 

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?" 

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real." 

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit. 

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt." 

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?" 

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." 

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled. 

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.” 

“May we all learn to have the courage to be made real. ”
,

Hygge it out

,

I know I'm late to the hygge game. My apologies. While there isn't an exact translation in English, as best as authors can explain, the Danish word means feeling cozy, "like you've gotten a hug, just without the physical touch" (Meik Wiking, The Little Book of Hygge), or "an appreciation of the simple pleasures in life" (Signe Johansen, How to Hygge). 

The qualities that define hygge are simplicity, happiness, balance, beauty and quiet. Along the way we've decided that the pursuit of hygge is the pathway towards happiness. 

Happiness has become a barometer of how well we're doing at life. If this is true, the majority of Americans are failing. The World Happiness Report ranks the U.S. at 19th among the 34 countries measured. This would make one think the appropriate step is to find ways to curate more happiness in one's life.

But what if the point is not to secure individual happiness? What if happiness is actually the source of the problem?

In an interview for Scientific American, Emily Esfahani Smith explains, "The happiness frenzy distracts people from what really matters, which is leading a meaningful life. Human beings have a need for meaning. We’re creatures that seek meaning, make meaning, and yearn for meaning. The question is—how can we lead a meaningful life? The route to meaning lies in connecting and contributing to something bigger than yourself—and not in gratifying yourself and focusing on what you, yourself, need and want, as the happiness industry encourages us to do.”

To be clear, Esfahani Smith "[doesn’t] think there’s anything wrong with feeling happy, but [she] think[s] that setting happiness as your goal and relentlessly chasing it can lead to problems."

“Because so many of us are struggling to understand our ‘why’, I think we’re turning to false substitues for meaning.”
— Emily Esfahani Smith

She expounds on those problems. "Research shows that there are millions of people who are unsure of what makes their lives meaningful—and that rates of suicide, depression, anxiety, loneliness, and drug addiction have been rising for decades. Because so many of us are struggling to understand our ‘why,’ I think we’re turning to false substitutes for meaning—like technology and the pursuit of happiness—to fill our existential vacuum."

We, as a culture, are restless, overloaded, consistently battle FOMO and consume to fill what is empty. Esfahani Smith finds that meaning evades us because we deny ourselves moments of reflection. It is difficult to reflect when you're constantly taking in and consuming. 

If reflection leads to meaning and meaning gives my life purpose, how does one acquire meaning? A requirement for a meaningful life is "being reflective, being present and aware of others" and this occurs through storytelling. Esfahani Smith explains, "Storytelling is the act of taking our disparate experiences and weaving them into a coherent whole—a narrative. Psychologists say that one of the building blocks of a meaningful life is coherence or comprehension. That means that people leading meaningful lives don’t conceive of their experiences as random and disconnected. They have worked hard to understand how their experiences fit together into a narrative that explains who they are how they got to be that way."

The concept of hygge is ultimately to be intentional towards giving and finding spaces to discover your narrative. Many people live disparate stories and it's reflected in their chaotic, busy and noisy comings and goings. Taking the time to sit to make meaning of one's experiences can lead to a life of simplicity, happiness, balance, beauty and quiet. In a culture that praises busyness, you must fight to have moments of togetherness, reflection, and quiet. Often times and for many people, this happens sitting across from a counselor who empathizes, supports, and holds your process as you seek to make sense of it.

And as you learn and grow to reflect and become a storyteller, perhaps meaning making will coincide with Fike (Swedish word for sitting down for coffee and cake).

“How will you create daily rhythms of reflection in your life?”