Black Dogs

When I was about three years old, a black Labrador retriever bit me. According to reports from my mother, we were camping, and the dog was tied to a post in the site next to us. At some point, I must have wandered over to pet the doggie (which, as anyone who has ever seen a well-meaning but uncoordinated toddler knows, was probably more like slapping at the dog’s face), and agitated him. At that point, he nipped at me, and tore my ear.

For quite some time after that, I was afraid of all black dogs. As a young child, I had no ability to differentiate size and temperament as disqualifiers for my fear of the dog. Poodles and Dobermans were equal on my list. As I matured, of course, I learned that one black dog, in one particular circumstance, was not a predictor of the behavior of all black dogs. In fact, I even owned a black dog for awhile. This beautiful, black Chow was trained as a hearing dog. She was smart, even tempered, and lovable. I would have missed enjoying an incredible pet, if I would have continued to harbor my fear and prejudice against all black dogs. How grateful I am that my memory of being bitten taught me to avoid agitated, angry, barking, chained, growling things I don’t understand, and not all black dogs!

Thinking of this makes me wonder how many other “black dogs” I have in my past. How many of the other things I avoid, like relationships with coworkers, managers, men, or would-be friends, or stepping out to chase certain dreams, like starting a business, asking for what I want, or living in the moment, are a result of me over-generalizing a particular situation? While it is true that there is a lesson to be learned from failure, pain or stress, and the definition of insanity is to do the same thing and expect different results, I wonder how often I expand that “doing the same thing,” into a grand over-generalization, and get in my own way?

I have started businesses (the black dog) that have failed. Does that mean that I shouldn’t continue to try to build a business from my love of Living in Joy? Or does it just mean that I need to find a way to correct my areas of weakness, like marketing (the growling thing I don’t understand), for example? And how many of these black-dog-generalizations are the voices that strip me of my confidence and ability to persevere?

“You can’t be happy working for someone else. You can’t have the flexible schedule you want. All managers care about are the company rules.”

“Remember the last girl-friend you trusted with all your secrets, and she used them against you? Don’t get close to any women, again. They are all catty and devious.”

I recently read that the “Black Dog,” is a term widely used to refer to depression. I can tell you that these black-dog-generalizations, as I have chosen to call them based on my literal experience with an actual black dog, depress me. I don’t feel joy when I think these things. I don’t feel motivated, or excited, or enthusiastic about life, love or happiness. The good news is: I don’t have to think them. I don’t have to be like the child who misinterprets the real safety message about avoiding growling things as a message to avoid all black coats. I can, instead, view the situation with my adult eyes and see where the threat really is, so that I can mitigate that to the best of my ability. I can take ownership of my contribution to the adverse outcome (I don't slap at dogs on chains, anymore, for example), and stop that behavior. And I can move forward, chasing dreams, and buliding a life of joy.

Update on Love and Belonging

Well, as promised in my last blog on Maslow, I am reporting my well-intentioned but limited success at spreading the feeling of love and belonging, in order to feel more of it, myself.

It turns out that it's quite possible that the reason my Love and Belonging cup is not overflowing is because I am a dork. I did, indeed, go to my women's group. I enthusiastically greeted the first woman to walk into the room. "Hello, Pam*! It's wonderful to see you, again, this week!" She looked at me, trying to smile but missing it, barely, and said, "My name is Paula*."

Oh, brother. This is harder than I want it to be. Maybe just my standard, "Hi, there!" next time. It's not nearly as effective as using names, but surely has to be better than getting a name wrong. Ugh.

(Fortunately, I think she forgave me. I had taken cream-puffs to the meeting. Cream-puffs cure almost any faux pas, if you ask me.)

Have a beautiful Friday!


*The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Intentionally. I actually do know her real name, now.

Maslow

I’ve been spending a lot of time, over the last year or so, thinking about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and our societal and personal ills. For those of you who may have forgotten your Psych 101 course, Maslow’s Hierarchy is a life map that acknowledges that certain needs must be met before others can be fulfilled. In order of priority, physical needs must be met first. We need air, water and food, for example, before we need great poetry. The sum of our lives, then, is presumably spent climbing up that pyramid of needs. We seek food, water and air, and once relatively certain that we have those things available, we seek Safety and Security… shelter, job security, etc. The next need we seek to fulfill, after Safety and Security needs are met, is the need for Love and Belonging.

It seems to me that, as a society, living in America, we have physical and safety needs largely met. Although there are exceptions to the rule, we are no longer hunting for food and afraid of starving to death if there is a 45 day drought. We are no longer living in the early industrial age, for example, where even showing up to work posed a serious threat to our safety. As a whole, we are now trying to find our way through the Love and Belonging stage. We want to feel special. We want to feel loved. We want to feel love for those around us. We want to feel as though we belong… to a team, to a family, to a partner. We want to have found our place where we “fit-in.”

Maslow’s theory has some holes in it, and, certainly, there are critics who point-out that we vacillate between stages more than we conquer one and move to the other. That said, if I accept the theory at face value, I can see how a lot of our societal ills are a manifestation of our attempts to conquer this stage. If you think about people who stay in relationships that aren’t healthy, or teens who join gangs, or young people engaging in promiscuous behaviors, for example, you might be able to see how these behaviors are simply ill-fated attempts to feel Love and Belonging. Even our skyrocketing divorce rates can be a reflection of this, as people are leaving relationships or having affairs. No longer are people satisfied, staying in relationships in order to keep bills paid. We need more than safety and security. We need to feel loved, cherished and appreciated.  

My good friend and counselor, Monte King, addressed this in the Living in Joy workshop last month. He talked about how we are going to wells that are just as dry as our own, looking to spouses and lovers who are as stressed as we are, as exhausted as we are, as needy as we are, and hoping that they will fill us up. We are bound to be disappointed. Even when we look to prayer, or meditation, or a power greater than ourselves (I call Him, “God”), we sometimes have difficulty actually feeling loved. We can know we are loved, or believe we are loved, or have faith that we are loved, but actually feeling loved and like we belong is very different. So, what are we to do?

It may disappoint you to know that I don’t have the perfect answer. I do, however, have a theory. I know that when I gossip about others, I start to suspect they are gossiping about me. I know that if I dislike others, I am certain they dislike me. I know that if I am unfaithful or lying, I imagine others are unfaithful and lying to me, as well. If this “Freudian Projection,” as it is called in psychological circles, happens with negative emotions and behaviors, then doesn’t it follow that it would also happen with positive ones? Like love, and feeling like we belong, for example?

Can we, as part of our learning and mastering of the Love and Belonging level of Maslow’s Hierarchy, intentionally find things to love about others and accept others, in order to feel our own sense of Love and Belonging? Can we forgive the times that they do not show us love and acceptance, and just love them, anyway? And can we stop looking for ways and reasons that others do not belong in our circles or at our workplaces or in our families, and start celebrating all of the reasons to accept them, open-armed, and with a loving heart?

It sounds absurdly challenging to me. So, this week, I am going to do two things: First, I am going to go back to the women’s group to which I didn’t feel much like I belonged, and engage myself by making an effort to help everyone else feel welcome. Second, I am going to show love and acceptance to some person I feel “deserves it” least. I am going to have a conversation and actually listen. I am going to smile, and greet them warmly, and I am going to tell them, “Thank you,” for something I might not normally notice.

Want to try it with me? I’d love to hear how it goes for you. J I’ll report back, too. Have a great week!

"Maid in Manhattan," and Truth

I just finished watching “Maid in Manhattan.” Cute movie. I always like Cinderella tales, however unbelievable. Have you seen it? One of my favorite lines in the movie is said when the heroine (played by Jennifer Lopez) has just been fired, and her mentor, the very wise butler (played by Bob Hoskins), walks to the security window just behind her and returns his badge, as well. Jennifer’s character is aghast, thinking that her behavior has resulted in him losing his job. As she is apologizing profusely, he tells her that he did not get fired, he quit. He then states,

“Sometimes we are forced into directions we ought to have found ourselves.”

Although I love that quote, although I appreciate its wisdom, although I applaud that “life” is structured in such a way as to, periodically, save us from ourselves, I also know that this particular concept can make us feel vulnerable and victimized. It is true that other people’s choices, or even the unforeseen consequences of our own, sometimes propel us into new directions. Friends move away, lovers grow bored and stop calling, companies downsize, rains bury homes in water… And it all feels as if it’s happening “to us,” not of our own accord, and certainly not “for us,” like some cosmic plan for our future delight. However, as someone who vehimently believes that we can be, have and do anything we choose in this life, I harbor a general distaste for all such feelings of vulnerability and victimization.

“Why is this happening to me?” is not generally a cry I endorse. I believe that it smothers our awareness of our own power: the power to choose the most amazing and delightful life we can imagine; and leaves us feeling punished, hurt, and terrified of what, out of our control, might be the blow that ends us. (Dramatic? Sure. But then, in these times, we feel just that overwhelmed, do we not?)

What if, however, instead of avoiding all of those feelings and stifling that lament, I recognize them as also being a part of the richest tastes and textures life has to offer? The questions then become, do I have the courage to feel those helpless, vulnerable feelings, swim in them, and let them nearly drown me? Will I have the fortitude, afterwards, to climb back out of the pit, taking the lessons of that experience with me, and resume my joyful life? Or will I find that it is a Devil’s Triangle, from which I can never return, and I am forever scarred and broken? And wouldn’t, given the general message I try to convey in my writings and seminars, crying out, “Why me? Why now? Why this?” be rather hypocritical of me?

Does my “Living in Joy” premise demand that I am never to feel defeated or desperate? That I am somehow wiser than to succumb to the desire to curl up into a ball, sit in a corner, and sob? I don’t think so. I think, in fact, that my point is exactly the opposite: that remaining in touch with your joy demands that you live honestly. When you're hurt, you cry. When you're happy, you dance. The joy is not found in avoiding pain. It is found in knowing that the places of suffering in which we find ourselves are not black holes from which there is no escape.

So, today, I will wallow in the suffering. And tomorrow (or sometime soon), I will sing. And I give myself permission to do both. After all, as the wise butler in the movie also said,

“What defines us is how well we rise after falling,” which, indeed, requires an initial decent.

Isn’t it amazing that even the most frivolous of tales can remind us of some of the greatest Truths?

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This weeks blog is in honor of those affected by 9-11-2001 who found the courage to wade into their sorrow, and then learn to swim, that they might reach the other side. Never will we be the same. Never will we forget. Always, we will send our love to you, that you might find the joy in knowing that there is life after... 
   

Self-Centered

I read a Post-it Note cartoon the other day that said something like, “I’m tired of all of these people, always thinking of themselves. They need to be thinking about me.” (Thank you, Carrie!)

That makes me chuckle, because when something points out a ridiculous attitude and I see myself, I just have to shake my head. How often I am thinking that very thing, though I haven’t, until now, really recognized it! I’m busy. I’m exhausted. I’m trying my best. I’m overworked. I’m hungry. I’m not feeling valued. I’m not getting what I want. I, I and I. I am so aware, and somewhat annoyed, when people around me are thinking only of themselves: complaining about what their problems are, what they aren’t getting, what they wish would be different. I think to myself, “Quit complaining,” and then I tell them what my problem-of-the-day is, because I need them to think about me. Oh, the contradiction of being at once offended by self-centeredness in others and completely unaware of it in ourselves.

Ptolemy, a second century mathematician modeled the organization of the universe with earth as its center. He was certain all other stars and planets revolved around us, and he could, with some certainty, “prove” it. Americans have often been criticized by other country’s citizens for our lack of cultural and ecological awareness. Infants, developmentally speaking, cannot fathom any other people having any calling but to feed them, clothe them, and hold them. In the same way that we learned the earth is not the center of the universe, that we have a world-wide ecological obligation and an obligation to recognize the merit and beauty of different cultures, and that others are not in existence only to answer our cries, at some point we have to recognize that others are also busy, exhausted, trying their best, overworked, hungry, and feeling devalued.

It is an interesting feeling to become consciously aware of this. Since I have decided to monitor this, I have discovered how often I am focused on putting out my own fires, dealing with my own situations. I can almost feel myself resisting the notion that other people are truly doing their best, given their stressful lives and personal issues. I hear that voice in my head tell me that people who are not helpful, who give me cold French fries through the drive-through, who leave me on hold for ten minutes only to disconnect, are unprofessional, or lazy, or careless. I lament more often than I would like to admit, “Customer service! Whatever happened to basic customer service?”

Another interesting thing happens, however, when I place the lens of how I see myself, (overworked, tired, trying to do my best, frustrated to fall short, and exhausted) over others. Sure the guy who cut me off in traffic has his mind on other things… I hope he gets them handled. Of course the girl who can’t refund my money at the check-out lane seems incapable… corporate rules tie her hands. And if I am wrong when I invent a gracious reason for my being “mistreated,” or inconvenienced, so what? I feel better when I find my patience than when I’m scowling at what I perceive as ineptitude.

I really do think that people are basically the same, and that means that they are basically good, well-meaning, hard working, struggling people. And, although it’s hard to remember that concept when I’m discouraged that they don’t have my needs at the top of their priority list, I’m going to try to do better. In fact, on the days when I don’t feel particularly overwhelmed or discouraged, I’m going to try to put someone else at the top of my priority list, even above myself, because I’m sure, someone, somewhere is thinking: “I’m tired of her thinking about herself all the time. She needs to be thinking about me.” J