Category: Self-agency

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Have Hope. Your Impulse Control Is Saving the World

I was walking my dogs the other day when we passed a telephone pole with a thin cable running down the side that had come a little loose. I wondered what it was for and what would happen if someone snipped it. And then I noticed every telephone pole had this vulnerable wire that, if clipped, would it cause chaos for the phone company and the neighborhood? And then I imagined myself doing such a thing, sneaking out late at night with a pair of clippers and wreaking havoc. 

That ability to do something rash, to make a difference, albeit a negative one, exists in all of us. But what about that impulse? Does that exist in everyone? What inspired that unbidden thought? I think it’s that choice fascinates me—the potential to do right or wrong, the proverbial angel and devil that sits on our shoulders. 

Nothing is stopping us, except the desire to live.

Most of us go through life choosing stability instead of chaos. We drive our cars on our side of the street and don’t veer across the line into oncoming traffic. It would be so easy to do. Nothing is stopping us, except the desire to live. That’s a huge desire—to live in peace and harmony. Otherwise, there’d be chaos left and right; and yet, every day, at least in most settled parts of the world, there isn’t chaos.

I’m talking about impulse control disorders.

Let’s go back to my telephone pole. What on earth gave me that idea to begin with? I guess it was noticing it was there and wondering what it was for. But why the impulse to disrupt its purpose? Why the thought of chaos? Why the thought of upsetting the status quo? To feel powerful? To see if I matter? If I have an impact? Do I exist? I wonder if that’s what these kids shooting up their schools are doing—having an existential crisis? They almost always shoot themselves in the end. Do they plan to all along? Such despair.

Is that why people choose to commit harm, because they feel powerless and want to feel powerful?

Does that mean I’m experiencing a certain amount of despair? Do I think, or at least does some small part of me think, I don’t exist, or questions my being? Shall I snip this telephone wire and find out? 

When I was a teenager, I often had impulses towards chaos. Like what would happen if I fell off this cliff, or dove into that crystal clear, but deadly cold water? Perhaps this unbidden telephone-wire thought was a vestige of my teenage impulse control disorder–a time when I had no peace, no power, only emotional upset, and certain impulses would distract me from that pain. 

Is that why people choose to commit harm, because they feel powerless and want to feel powerful? Or because it distracts them from pain? Or because they want everyone to feel the same level of pain? Maybe that’s why the current White House occupant does what he does—to feel powerful because deep down inside he feels like a squashed frog?

It’s almost like having the power of God

Choice. It comes back to that. I think I’m tempted to create chaos only as a thought experiment. I’m fascinated by my right to choose, which some say is God-given free will. It’s almost like having the power of God—the right to choose between right and wrong. It shows trust, whereas our government has taken away many choices.

This reminds me of the story about Satan tempting Jesus in the desert. Jesus makes a choice not to be tempted by unlimited power. And then again on the cross, when people taunted him and said, “If you’re the messiah, then save yourself!” If he could create miracles, believers think certainly he could have willed the nails from his hands and feet, sealed up the holes and walked away. Supposing he could have done such a thing, would it have been like a sober alcoholic taking one sip? Would Jesus have gone on a bender, healing people left and right, knocking down walls, punishing all the bad guys? Would Jesus have become destructive in his almighty power?

Would Jesus have gone on a bender, healing people left and right?

I didn’t clip the wire on the telephone pole

Maybe the Bible authors were making the point that Jesus chose peace. He chose sanity, he chose the status quo. Maybe the fact that Jesus didn’t do anything when he could have, if you believe, was the miracle. He knew it would have created havoc, would have sent him down that dark hole of power abuse. Maybe that’s the meaning of his last words, “It is finished.” He wasn’t tempted anymore. He’d passed the test.

I didn’t clip the wire on the telephone pole. Of course not. The point is, I could have. I could still. We could all do a lot of things we choose not to. Occasionally, we slip. The alcoholic drinks, the sexaholic looks at porn, the president in the White House smashes the government to pieces. Except that’s not a slip. That’s the plan. The reign of chaos is upon us.

However, I still have faith in the common decency and sense of humans, despite evidence to the contrary. Every day, we choose to drive on our side of the street. It’s a fact I don’t take for granted, and one that gives me hope.

Read last week’s post here: How to end self-inflicted emotional suffering

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How to End Self-Inflicted Emotional Suffering

A few years ago, I often got stuck in the old seeking-approval rut, the “I’m-not-good-enough” rut, the “people-don’t-like-me” rut. I rarely get snagged there anymore, except when I’m scrolling through social media posts and comparing mine to others, thinking I don’t generate as many “likes” as they do. Thankfully, the fall doesn’t last nearly as long as it used to. I pick myself up fairly quickly, dust myself off, and continue on my journey towards self-love. I do that with the help of spiritual tools such as readings, prayer, journaling, and admitting this fault to a trusted friend or two. 

In her book Comfortable with Uncertainty, 108 Teachings on Cultivating Fearlessness and Compassion, American Buddhist nun, Pema Chödrôn writes about suffering. “[We suffer when] we proceed as if we are separate from everything else, as if we are a fixed identity, when our true situation is egoless. Because we mistake the openness of our being for a solid, irrefutable self, we suffer.”  [From Teaching #27: “The Facts of Life: Suffering”]

We look for happiness in all the wrong places

Chödrôn goes on to say “[W]e look for happiness in all the wrong places. The Buddha called this habit ‘mistaking suffering for happiness.’ We become habituated to reaching for something to ease the edginess of the moment. Thus we become less and less able to reside with even the most fleeting uneasiness or discomfort. What begins as a slight shift of energy – a minor tightening of our stomach, a vague indefinable feeling that something bad is about to happen – escalates into addiction. This is our way of trying to make life predictable. Because we mistake what always results in suffering to be what will bring us happiness, we remain stuck in the repetitious habit of escalating our dissatisfaction.”

Yes! Such as when I yearned for approval from others and wondered, How can I change myself to get people to like me? That is the “repetitious habit” Chödrôn speaks of, the addiction to easing the discomfort, to easing the “edginess of the moment” rather than simply sitting with it.

What happens when I focus on the discomfort rather than trying to make it go away?

And what happens when I sit in silence and do nothing? What happens when I focus on the discomfort rather than trying to make it go away?

I find compassion for myself.

And isn’t that what I wanted all along? Reassurance that I am a worthy human being?

I am humbled by my imperfections

I wrote a version of this article over four years ago and I see now how much I have progressed towards self-love and self-acceptance, which includes accepting my imperfections. I am humbled by them.

We suffer when we tell ourselves, “I’m not good enough.” Maybe I think my writing isn’t good enough, or my work ethic isn’t what it should be, or I eat too much, or I complain too much. I am not this or that, instead of, I am this or that. Period. I am this. Whatever it is. I am impatient. True. I am often frustrated. True. I am often wrong. True. I am sometimes unkind. True.

And I am lovable. Even likable. I am all these things.

And God still loves me. I still love me. People that matter to me most love me.

Like authors hoping to find their ideal readers

This seeking approval from others, which arises from that discomfort Chödrôn  speaks of, no longer plagues me as it used to. Now, I seek my own approval, or rather, self-acceptance, which includes my many faults. Not everyone is going to like me. It’s insanity to think otherwise. As far as approval is concerned, it’s kind of like an author hoping to find her ideal readers. Not everyone likes the same kinds of books. It’s the same with people. We need to find the people who like us despite our flaws. We don’t need anyone’s “approval.”

Today, I accept myself just as I am, and can change what I don’t like about me, such as my impatience, with awareness and practice. I don’t need anyone’s approval but my own. And God’s, which I already have. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to become more fully accepting and self-loving. It is my life’s journey. I hope it is yours, too.

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Can You Fail to Communicate Clearly with Your Soul Mate?

How is it that after forty-two years of marriage, my husband and I still fail to communicate clearly? We were standing in the kitchen, facing each other when he said, “This is not my problem; this is our problem.”

I was stunned. He was right, of course, but I hated to admit it. I have assumed for years that I communicate well, and that it’s my husband’s fault that he doesn’t understand what I mean when I say something. In that moment of letting the truth sink in—that I was just as much to blame as he was, I wondered, Is he truly my soul mate?

I thought about that for a couple of days, noticing how I felt around him–hurt and betrayed. He was other. I felt isolated and alone. But I also felt a singular sense of relief and identity. I realized I didn’t need my husband to “get me” in order to feel whole. In other words, I didn’t need his validation or understanding of me to feel good about myself. I am still me. It’s just that now I realize I must communicate clearly who I am to him.

So simple, so easy

Now, this may seem crazy to you, and perhaps it is, but here’s an example of how the dynamics changed between us after he made that shocking, life-changing pronouncement. After watching TV together, he got up to clear his dishes. I had an empty cup and spoon to clear. I started to hem and haw in my mind, not wanting to get up, but thinking I must follow his example and get ready for bed, but maybe he would notice and offer to take my detritus with him to the kitchen. Instead, I raised my cup and spoon. “Could you take these, too, please?”

“Sure.”

So easy, so simple.

I know, I know, that’s weird, but that’s what I have done. For years. I’ve had this lingering bullshit talk in my head—I’m not good enough, or I’m lazy, so I’ve got to do this chore (whatever it is) myself and not ask for even so much as a simple favor. Nothing could be farthest from the truth–me being lazy and all. I just have some bad thought habits. It felt so clean, simply asking, “Can you take these for me?”

I was practicing communicating clearly with my husband. I can no longer assume or expect him to understand me at all times or to anticipate my needs. And if I’ve done this with him, how many other people have I done this with?

Practice communicating clearly

For years, I’ve had this lingering bullshit talk in my head.

Clearly, some people may say no when I ask for a favor. That’s a chance I must take. It doesn’t mean I’m bad or unworthy. Plus, I think people like being asked instead of expected to do you a favor. Especially spouses/partners/friends.

The result of communicating more clearly with my husband has been that I am more considerate of him. Just as I want him to hear me out, I must do the same.

For example, these past few weekends we’ve been rearranging the living room. At first I said that’s looks horrible when he suggested an idea. We hired an interior decorator to help us. Best investment we’ve ever made. He was on the right track with many of his ideas.

Remain openminded, not judgmental

We looked for a new area rug. While selecting one online, he said, “Please tell me what you like without filtering it through what you think I won’t like.” After a frustrating search, we went to Home Depot to see the rugs on display. Instead of putting him down for liking something, which I have often done, if not aloud, then in my head, and I think it always comes out sideways somehow, I remained openminded. Lo and behold, we found a rug we both love. I was shocked. Neither of us was compromised our tastes.

How odd that seeing poor communication as a “we” problem and not a “his” problem has made me less judgmental and more openminded. Communicating clearly will take practice, but at  least I’m aware now that it’s never been that he doesn’t get me.

Just because we must work at communicating doesn’t mean we aren’t soulmates. Yes, he is vastly different from me. He’s not my other self. He is his own self, and that is the challenge—communicating with each other so that we understand one another because we are both so different. But understanding through clear communication is possible. And maybe that’s the soulmate part—we care enough to try.

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Surfing Divine Love to Safety

I dreamt that I was way out in the ocean. I caught a wave and body surfed miles and miles into shore. When I got there, I announced my arrival and a woman told me, “That was me, praying you in.” And here I’d thought it was my ability surfing Divine love to safety that had driven me home.

I’m re-starting my memoir with a different focus—my relationship to my motherless self and how I’ve struggled with self-agency vs. wanting people to take care of me. How I have come to learn that self-agency is effective communication, is knowing my needs, expressing them clearly to others and letting go of the outcome. It’s about being responsible for my actions and not those of others.

That wave of protection—harnessing the power of the Divine by my own agency, got me safely to shore. And here was a woman praying for me, caring for me. She had gotten me to shore. And isn’t that what I have wanted all my life? Someone to protect me? Care for me? I was slightly disappointed to learn that it wasn’t my own ability to ride a long wave that had gotten me to safety, but another woman’s power.

I decided it didn’t matter. I was safe either way.