Responsible (Blog #1081)

When you stay home all day (#flattenthecurve), you can get a lot done. This afternoon I watched two videos about the esoteric history of Egypt with my dad and finished two custom-order brooch projects. Then this evening I dusted and vacuumed my room and cleaned my bathroom and shower. And washed my sheets. Woowho. That’s twice this year already. Then I cried while watching American Idol and took a much-needed shower. Now I’m basking in all the cleanliness. I’m clean, my sheets are clean, my room is clean. God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.

Except for COVID-19, of course.

Along these lines, this morning I read a Facebook post about COVID-19 that used the phrase “we’re not in control.” And whereas I agree with this statement and said as much a couple days ago (that at some point we have to surrender), I think it’s a statement worth clarifying. Because how often do we through up our hands and say, “What can we do!?” when, in fact, there’s plenty we can do? Too often, that’s how often. What I mean is that although we are not in control of viruses, epidemics, and pandemics, we ARE in control of ourselves. To this end, we can make CHOICES, to wash our hands, to stay home, to practice social distancing, to reflect and act consciously rather than out of panic, and to be kind at the grocery store. To fill our time, hearts, and homes with patience and understanding rather than blame and fear.

Unfortunately, so many of us spend our lives cleaning our physical homes, even to the point of obsession, but not our internal homes. In other words, we have sloppy minds, filled with rage, guilt, finger-pointing, worry, and anxiety. Alas, we think, This is just the way I am. (Deal with it.) Having spent the last several years purposefully working on my interior, I’m happy to report that, no, it’s not just the way you are. Rather, if you spend your days feeling stressed or nervous or being rude and inconsiderate (and I know it’s not fun to admit these things about yourself), chances are it’s simply the result of past dramas and traumas (like, you’ve developed defense mechanisms) or because you haven’t learned a better way (or haven’t wanted to). It’s not because, although you may have been told this once or twice, you were born a wretch, totally rotten, beyond hope.

This is a complete lie. Utter nonsense. Sure, you may have some work to do, but–I promise–you were made from stardust. You are a mystery, and your life–as it is right here, right now–is worthy of your respect, gratitude, and awe.

Getting back to the idea of control, six years of therapy and consistent introspection have taught me that there are few things we don’t have SOME say in. Indeed, in all this time there hasn’t been one rough relationship or situation that I haven’t been able to do SOMETHING about. Sometimes this has looked like having a difficult conversation or distancing myself, and sometimes this has looked like changing my attitude. Or forgiving. Of course, the challenging part about admitting that you have choices even in gross circumstances is that you have to be responsible for the consequences of those choices. For example, recently I flipped off someone that I actually care about. Now, I did it with two fingers, but the look on my face said the second finger didn’t count. Anyway, I could have handled it better. But I’ve been upset with and hurt by this person for a while now, and this is the way my held-in feelings came out. So there’s been some relief. And if I ever have to own up to being a little shit in that moment, I’m ready to. My actions are never anyone else’s fault.

My life is mine to own.

Perhaps this is why more people don’t get into therapy or otherwise take a good, hard look at themselves. It sucks. I mean, who wants to be responsible? Tonight on American Idol there was a contestant in their mid-twenties dressed like an eight-year old. Indeed, they handed the judges a book they wrote–when they were nine. And whereas they had a beautiful voice and did well, it was clear that their inner child was running the show. Oh well. We all act like children or little shits occasionally. Because we all have parts of ourselves that still need healing and show up from time to time (daily) in order to let us know.

In times of crisis like these Mr. Rogers is often quoted as saying, “Look for the helpers,” and its our unhealed parts that like to hear this. But one of his staff pointed out in the podcast Finding Fred that that advice was meant FOR CHILDREN. As adults, we’re meant to BE the helpers.

So this means growing up. And this sucks.

I recommend it anyway.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

If you’re making yourself up to get someone else’s approval–stop it–because you can’t manipulate anyone into loving you. People either embrace you for who and what you are–or they don’t.

"

On Manipulation and Cleaning Up Your Act (Blog #1039)

This afternoon I cleaned my room from top to bottom. Every book came off its shelf and was wiped down. Every knickknack came off its perch and was dusted. I pulled out my trundle bed and cleaned under there. (Talk about gross.) I even took apart the fan I turn on every night for white noise and cleaned it. You know how it’s difficult to clean a fan. Well, now mine is spic and span. No more dust on the blades. No more hairs wrapped around the propeller shaft. And whereas all of this took time, it was worth it. Sitting in my room now, I feel lighter, brighter.

God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.

Here’s something. Last week I did some yard work for a new client. Before agreeing to the job, I said, “I charge this much an hour,” and they said, “That’s great.” Well, it was a big job. Over the course of two days, I raked and bagged forty-six large bags of leaves in their backyard. When I finished I said, “I can take these bags around front if you’d like,” and they said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well,” I said, “if you think you’re going to want me to move the bags later, I’d rather do it now than come back.”

Again they said, “Don’t worry about it.”

So I totaled my hours, and they paid me. Also, they gave me a fire pit off their back porch. “You can have it if you’d like it,” they said. “I never use it.” And whereas I kept hearing my therapist say, “There’s no such thing as a free lunch,” I said, “Sure, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it off your hands.”

So I loaded it in my car, and that was that.

Or so I thought. What I mean is that this afternoon my client texted and said, “If you would put the leaves by the curb for pickup, that would be cool. They pick up Tuesday.” Well, something felt off to me about this, I guess because they didn’t actually ASK me to move the leaves. They just said, “That would be cool.” I mean, I think it’d be cool if someone would bring me breakfast in bed every day, but so far that hasn’t happened. Anyway, trying to determine if they wanted a favor or an employee, I replied, “I can do it later today. Also, it’ll probably be an additional one to two hours of labor/cost. Is that good?”

To which they replied, “Not really. I’m pretty tapped out. I can do it. Or we can call it a trade for the fire pit.”

Then they added, “Either way, I’m good.”

I responded, “I understand. And as I understood it, the fire pit was a gift. I’m happy to bring it back.”

“Oh no,” they said. “It’s fine. Enjoy it. It was just sitting there. Total misunderstanding.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. Good luck with everything.”

Y’all, I hate shit like this, when someone refuses to be direct. When someone says one thing but means another. When someone gives you a gift and later uses it as a tool for manipulation. This is why more and more it’s important for me to be as clear in my personal and professional dealings as possible. “This is how much I charge an hour. I’d rather move the bags now than come back later. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” This being said, I understand that, especially in the south, it’s extremely difficult for people to ask for what they want in plain terms. It’s MUCH easier to say, “If you don’t mind, that’d be cool.”

Alas, having played the indirect game for decades, I get it. I really do. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve hinted or subtly suggested my wants and needs, especially in terms of money, work, and compensation. Indeed, not all that long ago I would have driven my ass to Fort Smith and broken my back hauling forty-six bags of leaves from this lady’s backyard to her front yard, all the time HOPING she intended to pay me. Instead of just asking up front, “Are you going to pay me?”

Here’s the great thing about being up front. It gives someone a chance to say yes or no. Likewise, it saves a lot of time and drama. Today when my client (um, former client) said, “That’s not really good,” the rest of my day opened up. Because I certainly wasn’t going to spend three to four hours of my life driving across the bridge, working, and later cleaning myself up without pay.

You know, because it would have been a “cool” thing to do.

The lesson that I continue to learn is that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Does this mean that you should suspect everyone’s motives. No, I don’t think so. People are kind and do kind things every day. But, as Jesus said, be wise as serpents. Meaning that when a total stranger offers you a gift and later uses it as leverage, don’t be surprised. Meaning that in the future I could just ask, “Does this come with any strings attached?” And then the person could be honest. They could say, “No, I’d really like to get rid of it.” Or, “Yes, I was hoping you’d lower your rate or come back to move the bags for free.”

Getting back to the idea of manipulation, I think it’s important to call things for what they are. This being said, MOST of us have private agendas, so I don’t blame anyone for being indirect or trying to get me to do free work by way of guilt or any other strategy. I’ve done it. We’ve all done it. Still, it simply doesn’t work for me anymore. I prefer the direct, honest truth. Along these lines, no conversation about manipulation would be complete without pointing out (what should be) the obvious–it takes two to Tango, and it takes two to manipulate. What I mean is that someone can TRY to manipulate you, but you have to be complicit in their manipulation in order for it to work. Meaning you have to also be indirect, you have to FEEL guilty, and you have to DO the thing they’re asking you to. (Of course, if you do the thing with a conscious motive, like, “I’ll do this for free so they’ll like me and be my friend,” you’re also being manipulative. As Byron Katie would say–checkmate.)

So who’s fault would it have been had I gone to move the bags of leaves today and gotten stiffed? Mine. Because I would have known better, especially since my gut had alerted me to a problem.

All this to say that THIS is what the journey of self-discovery and growing up looks like. In fairy tales the hero faces giants and dragons, but in real life we face our clients, friends, and families. Better said, we face the fears and issues that our clients, friends, and families bring up in us. (And they face the ones we bring up in them.) Is this difficult? One the one hand, yes. It’s hell. It means being responsible and accountable for everything that happens in your life, or at least being responsible and accountable for the way you handle it. On the other hand, cleaning up your act (your communication, your life) is no more difficult than cleaning up your room. What I mean is that it happens one knickknack or interaction at a time.

Does this TAKE time?

Of course, but it’s worth it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

One thing finishes, another starts. Things happen when they happen.

"

This Sucks, I know (Blog #727)

Recently my therapist recommended the book If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him!–The Pilgrimage of Psychotherapy Patients by Sheldon B. Kopp. I started it last night and read more this afternoon and evening. And whereas I’m only about a third of the way through (55 pages), I adore it. Through the use of personal stories, metaphors, and myth, Kopp perfectly describes the journey of therapy, a journey he says often begins because a person is struggling or in pain and wants something more, something better. He relates this to the hero’s journey of all time. It’s fabulous. But beware, he says, “Everything good is costly, and the development of your personality is one of the most costly of all things. It will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty.”

I know what you must be thinking–Where do I sign up?

That final sentence–it will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty–was the last thing I read before falling asleep early this morning, and it’s been on my mind since I woke up. I think because it’s true. You go to therapy wanting someone else to take care of you, but you find out you have to take care of yourself. You go to therapy wanting to feel better, but also wanting your life and relationships to stay the same. (This isn’t possible.) You go to therapy wanting answers, but end up with more questions. Because nothing in life is for-sure.

This sucks, I know.

In terms of illusions, Kopp says that at some point patients (pilgrims, seekers) must give up the idea that they’re special. This is a tough one for me. Maybe for anyone in America, since we’re so focused on the individual and-the-aptly named social ME-dia is all about ME, ME, ME. But as a specific personal example, once when I was telling my therapist about a breakup, she said part of the problem I had in that relationship was that I thought I was special. That is, I saw that my ex lied to a number of people in his life, but I didn’t think he would lie TO ME. (He did.) Because I’m different somehow. Because no one else understood or cared for him like I did. Whatever. It was all bullshit. Liars lie to everyone. Even me. Even you.

This sucks, I know.

Another illusion Kopp says we must give up is the idea that we’re going to live forever. Said another way, we must accept the fact that we’re going to die. Because nothing here is permanent–not your age, not your beauty. He uses the therapy hour as a template for impermanence. Mine lasts fifty minutes, but the point is the same. For an agreed-upon amount of time, my therapist and I sit down and discuss what-the-hell-ever. Then the alarm goes off, and that’s pretty much it. Maybe we drag it out a little, but more often than not, I leave with items still on my list of things to talk about. Time’s up. We did the best we could. All good things must come to an end.

This used to really bother me, when my therapist and I weren’t able to talk about everything on my list. Now I know anything can wait. There will be other sessions. And even if they’re aren’t–because at some point our relationship will end–I know I have myself. That’s another point that Kopp makes, that ultimately we are our own teachers. Other people can help us, but nobody else can really DO anything FOR another person. That is, I can take your physical trash out to the curb, but I can’t take your mental trash out. I can show you how I cha-cha, but not how you should. Because they’re your feet, your hips, and they don’t move like mine. So each of us is responsible for himself/herself/themselves.

Pronouns are so confusing these days.

But back to not finishing things on the list and all things coming to an end. I could start crying right now if I thought I’d never see my therapist again. Not because I NEED her, but because she’s taught me that I don’t, that–honestly–I don’t need anybody. I don’t mean that to sound cold. I love you, and I enjoy our time together, just like I do with my therapist. But I know I’ll be OKAY if we never talk again because I have myself to come back to. That’s why I think I’ll cry after my last session with my therapist, whenever that is. Because I’m grateful for the work we’ve done together. I’ll be sad, sure, just like I’ll be sad when I write my last blog post. Yes, one day it will be time’s up for this project. One day it will be time’s up for EVERYTHING in life–our lovers, our health, our waistlines.

This sucks, I know.

This afternoon my dad and I took my aunt to see her dermatologist. As I read my book in the waiting room, Dad asked about the title. And whereas I haven’t gotten to that chapter in the book, I told him I think it means that if you think anyone else, including your therapist, is your savior (if you see the Buddha on the road), kill him. Said less violently, take him/her/them off the pedestal you’ve put them on. Because only you can save you. (The Buddha isn’t OUT THERE, he’s IN HERE.) Only you can take out your mental garbage, only you can clean up the relationships in your life, and only you can do anything about anything else that’s bothering you. This is YOUR life, and this is YOUR journey. So you have to take responsibility for it. You have to grow up.

This sucks, I know.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

You can’t change what happened, but you can change the story you tell yourself about it.

"