On One Way to Skin a Cat (Blog #878)

Last night my parents and I ate at Denny’s for my dad’s birthday because they give you a free meal–a Grand Slam–if it’s your birthday. When we got home it was after midnight, and I was pretty beat. So I read a chapter in a book about Internal Family Systems and went to bed. This morning I slept as late as possible, ate breakfast, then decided that despite it being Sunday, I needed to paint at my friend’s house that I’ve been working on this month. “What is WRONG with you?” my dad said. Now THERE’S a loaded question.

I have an entire blog about the answer.

So far, I’ve completely painted four rooms at this house, and today I started the fifth. I don’t know, I think it’s a living room, but there’s a closet area (that leads to a porch), so maybe it’s a bedroom. Either way, it’s been entirely brown, ugly brown, from the bottom of the baseboards to the top of the ceiling, and my job is to paint it white, pure-as-the-driven-snow white. Anyway, this afternoon and evening I moved the furniture out of the room, prepped the room, and rolled on one coat of paint. Also, I ended up scraping part of the ceiling in the closet area because it was flaking off when I rolled it. Talk about a damn mess. Alas, it’s all part of it. With four rooms down, I’ve convinced myself nothing is going to get in my way. Come hell or high water, this room will get done too–one roller swipe, one brushstroke at a time.

While painting I listened to YouTube lectures about a variety of topics–the gut-brain connection, myofascial release, synchronicity. And whereas I learned a lot, a voice in my head that often shows up whenever I’m learning something new said, “You’ll never be as smart as those people.” Or rather, “You’ll never be enough.”

IFS compares the voices in our heads to a family of different personalities. That is, I have an inner critic who was active today, but I also have an inner loving parent, a voice that says, “Sweetheart, you were born enough and will die enough. Nothing you do or don’t do can ever change that.” One thing I like about the book I’m reading about IFS is an analogy it uses–the idea that our minds are like living rooms in which our internal family members come and go. Think of it like this–maybe your perfectionist shows up and hangs out on your living room sofa when you’re at work or with your parents but retreats into another room and takes a nap when you’re–I don’t know–playing canasta or eating Mexican food.

Like, how often do you think, I’ve got to eat these chips PERFECTLY?

Somewhere I heard the question, “Do you believe every thought you think?” For most of us, sadly, the answer is yes. Why? Because WE thought it. Alas, we have tens of thousands of thoughts a day, and most of them aren’t even true, especially when we’re thinking about US. (Which, really, when are we not?) Personally, I think there’s a lot of freedom in the idea that just because you think a thought doesn’t mean it’s true or accurate. (The Work of Byron Katie is based almost exclusively on this premise.) And I really like the idea that a thought can simply be the opinion of a part of you, not of the whole, that if you’re beating yourself up it may just be because your inner asshole is camped out on your living room couch and has taken over the remote control.

For me, there’s been a lot of relief in not taking my thoughts so seriously. Are there self-critical thoughts I wish I could never have again? Sure. But we living in a you’re-not-enough society, and certain messages are pretty embedded in all of us. However, just because we may never be completely rid of self-criticism doesn’t mean we can’t make major strides toward self-acceptance. This evening my friend asked me if I wanted to paint with a sprayer instead of a roller and brush. And whereas I said no thank you, it’s good to have the option. My point is that both in painting and in personal growth, healing, and transformation, there are many tools available. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

 Beautiful isn’t something that comes in a particular package. Beautiful is simply being yourself.

"

On Cognitive Distortions and Feeling Good (Blog #650)

Yesterday, upon the recommendation of my physical therapist, I joined a gym–Planet Fitness. It’s like fifty cents a day, so that’s not bad. Anyway, my physical therapist said if I got hooked up with a gym and could exercise/rehab more on my own, I wouldn’t need to be in their office as often. Well, I spent all day today intimidated about going. You know how it is when you haven’t been to the gym in a while. Yesterday while I was touring the place, it was like everyone there had way bigger muscles than me. I guess I got–what do they call it?–the imposter complex.

Like, I don’t belong here.

This afternoon I did my rehab exercises twice at home, at least the exercises I could do without equipment. In between I took a nap, finished reading one book, and started another. Well, sort of started. Over four years ago, shortly after I began therapy, my therapist gave me a book about Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), a psychological approach that (like The Work of Byron Katie) suggests that our suffering is directly related to the thoughts we think. And whereas I read about a third of it way back when, for some reason I never finished it. But then I pulled it off the shelf today as a prop for one of my exercises and decided to pick up where I left off.

This ended up being the perfect thing, as I applied some of the book’s techniques to my hesitation about going to the gym. For example, in addition to my rehab exercises, I’ve been wanting to try some resistance band exercises for my upper body, some stuff I saw online, but I didn’t really know where to start. I thought, If I can’t do this perfectly, I don’t want to do it at all. The book calls this All or Nothing Thinking, and, like the other Cognitive Distortions it lists, always leads to suffering and not Feeling Good. (The book is called The Feeling Good Handbook by David D. Burns.) Also, I thought, Other people will think I’m weird because I walk funny. The book calls this Jumping to Conclusions, which includes Mind Reading (assuming you know what other people will think) and Fortune Telling (assuming things will turn out badly).

Simply identifying these thoughts as Cognitive Distortions was enough for me to “snap out of it” and remind myself that 1) I’m no stranger to a gym and am capable of asking for help if I need it, 2) I’m going for my health and not for anyone else’s approval, 3) any progress is good progress, and 4) what other people think of me is none of my business, and besides, if they’re anything like me, they’re probably mostly worried about themselves.

So I went. Granted, I waited until this evening so they’d be fewer people (and more parking spaces), but I went. And get this shit–it was fine. For a little over and hour, I did my knee rehab exercises and even used the stair machine and stationary bicycle. (The only cardio machine I’m not cleared to use is the elliptical.) Plus, I did a couple sets of resistance band exercises. Part of me thinks, Yeah, but it was only twenty repetitions, but the book says that’s Discounting the Positive, the way you might brush off a compliment about how good you look by saying, “Ugh, I still have five more pounds to lose.” Never mind the fact that’s you’ve already lost thirteen.

So I’m not going to do that. Going to the gym is going to the gym. Twenty repetitions is twenty repetitions.

Before I left the gym, I realized I was actually having a good time, moving my body, learning new things, listening to my headphones. It was even nice to be around other people, even though I didn’t talk to anyone except the folks at the front desk. But I did see one girl who had a prosthetic leg, and that helped put things in perspective. I thought, I just injured a leg; I didn’t lose one. As much as anything, I’m proud of myself for going, for not only stepping outside of my comfort zone, but also for pushing myself ever so slightly.

Now it’s after midnight, and despite my nap this afternoon, I’m ready for bed. My body really wants to sleep. My brain, however, is thinking that I NEED to come up with a really great ending. The book would call this a Should Statement, as in, I should deprive myself of sleep and come up with something better than “the end.” But again, that line of thinking doesn’t lead to Feeling Good, so I want to recognize it for what it is–an imposter–a thought that doesn’t belong here. Or is at least one that’s no longer welcome. In it’s place I’m thinking, This doesn’t have to be perfect. You’ve done enough today. Give yourself a break.

The end.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Both sunshine and rain are required for growth.

"