The Healing Power of Laughter

The daily rituals that make up the gaps that make up a life

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Sun, 14 Jan 2024 22:12:00 +0000

"There's a lot of beauty in ordinary things."
Pam Beesly-The Office

“Life is not measured by time. It is measured by moments.”
Armin Houman

I recently watched a little animated series called “Carol and the End of the World.” It’s about a woman who continues to go to work as an administrative assistant, despite the fact the world is going to be hit by another planet in a few months and is coming to an end. And she’s not the only one. Hundreds of people go to work at “The distraction,” every day while the rest of the world loses itself in hedonism, religion etc.

Ask a lot of people what they would do if they won the lottery, and many will tell you they would quit their job immediately. But a much smaller minority will tell you they would probably just keep on working. This show is about that group.

When asked about his motivation to create the show, the writer said the show was, “A love letter to routine. A show about the comforts of monotony. An animated existential comedy about the daily rituals that make up the gaps that make up a life.

And for some reason I couldn’t get that last line out of my mind.

“The daily rituals that make up the gaps that make up a life.”

I started making an inventory of some of my life’s rituals. I chat with my elderly neighbour about the weather and what’s going on in our little town nearly every day. When I go to the gym, I make some kind of light-hearted, self-deprecating remark to the manager about working out and my disdain for it. There’s a young waitress at the coffee shop I go to every day who noticed me reading my Kindle, and now we talk about what we are reading and give each other recommendations.

Just a lot of little things. Those are a few that jump out to me. A bunch of small interactions each day that on their own don’t amount to much more than a little good-natured banter. Each of these interactions are just an N of 1. Unimportant in the grand scheme of things and just little moments that most people have over the course of a day.

The gaps that make up life.

But when you start tallying up all these sums, they just might equal a good day, a great year, and even a happy life.

Because when you think about the gaps that make up a life, that’s a lot of time to account for. And we use a whole lot of that time walking around in a daze. Headphones on, face buried in our phones, lost in our own ruminations and worries. As David Foster Wallace says, “It is extremely difficult to stay alert & attentive instead of getting hypnotized by the constant monologue inside your own head.”

And I think for a lot of people filling the “gaps” isn’t even about other people. Maybe it’s the way they go to the bank, or clean their house, or get their hair cut once a month on a Tuesday. I think one of the reasons a lot of people struggled during Covid was because these routines became disrupted. It’s the same reason a lot of people struggle when they are newly retired. The same reason it’s not always good for people with mental health issues to take too much time off of work when they are feeling down.

Rituals and routines serve a purpose. Perhaps a bigger one than we even realize.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have often considered routine to be a kind of enemy in my life. I was always about taking the big swings. Visiting that exotic country. Seeing that gorgeous place. Continuing to complete that bucket list.

But if I’m REALLY honest about my travels? I often remember my little interactions with people a lot more than the beautiful location. When I was in Bali recently I had to walk past a block of shopkeepers on the way to the beach, and ended up enjoying my morning banter with them over the course of the week a lot more than seeing the sites.

This is new kind of self-discovery for me. Although I philosophically understand the idea that it’s not the destination but the journey, I think I never stopped to consider how the minutiae of the journey could actually have such meaning.

In closing I will close with a little vignette from Mark Duplass about how he needed a day to slow down and enjoy his daily rituals and moments.

A good lesson for us all.

The Fairytale of Sydney- A New Year’s Eve Reflection

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Sun, 31 Dec 2023 01:28:00 +0000

Getting through Christmas season is always an adventure. It’s that time of year when time just flows a bit differently. Some years I get this crazy itch to go home. Many years I take some kind of exotic trip. On rare occasions I just stay home.

This year I decided to see what my own city of Sydney had to offer.

I spent three days walking the city, seeing the sites, visiting my favorite pub for a sing-a-long, and reflecting on my life, the state of the world, and where things were going.

Like many people I suspect, sometimes I get a song stuck in my head that follows me around for a few days or even weeks. Often this song becomes part of the “soundtrack” for whatever experiences I’m having at the time.

I recently learned that the most popular Christmas song in the UK is “The Fairytale of New York” by The Pogues. For those that might not be familiar with this song, it’s about a couple of drunks looking back on their lives and their lost dreams while also remembering when things were good. It’s not exactly the most “feel good” song, and it’s a little surprising it’s become such a popular Christmas song. Maybe people recognize it as being a little closer to real life than other Christmas songs. Who knows? But I must admit I became a fan this year and have sort of had the song on repeat these last couple of weeks.

A sad footnote to the story was that the lead singer of The Pogues, Shane MacGowan, died this year not long before Christmas. Much like the hero of his Christmas song, Shane lived life hard and fast. His death kind of seemed like the end of something to me. I got the same feeling when Kurt Cobain died in 1994. Like an age was coming to an end. The Pogues were dirty, gritty, and cool. And at the risk of sounding like an old man shaking his rake in the air, they don’t really make music like that anymore. A lot of history’s most influential musicians have died in the last few years or are on their last laps. Like I say, it felt like the end of something to me.

But as for this the song, one particular lyric stood out to me.

‘It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me,

won't see another one’

Now look, I’m not trying to get morbid here, but when I heard that lyric, I thought back on the past year and all of the friends I had lost since last Christmas. Many likely had no idea they “wouldn’t see another one” at the time, I’m quite certain of that.

I couldn’t stop thinking about this. For those of us that have lost friends, particularly at a young age, it all seems kind of surreal when it happens. Freud once said the two biggest mistakes people make are thinking illness and disease won’t happen to them and thinking they have an unlimited amount of time.

So as I was walking around Christmas night, I was thinking about all of this and the fact that for some of us, this WILL be our last Christmas. It was a sobering thought and as I was walking the streets I reflected about what that meant. If we know this to be true, I mean we REALLY know it to be true, what should we do with this information? Call our friends and family and tell them we love them? Take a trip to some exotic place we’ve always wanted to go? Focus more on our health? Quit our jobs and hit the road?

As I was thinking these thoughts, I heard music and followed the sound. I realized I was at Martin Place, where Sydney’s biggest and brightest Christmas tree stood proudly. It was Christmas night around 9 PM and I assumed most people’s Christmas was over by now.

But I assumed wrong.

There was a huge crowd of people around the tree. There was a singer belting out Christmas songs, and people were loudly singing along. Others were taking pictures in front of the tree and laughing and dancing.

But all I heard in MY head was the Fairytale of New York,

'You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing Galway Bay
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day’

It was the happy part of the song when things were good. That was the vibe at the tree that night. These people were joyful and happy and completely in the moment.

It was a lovely place to be. Some of these people were probably having the best Christmas of their lives. Making memories that they would remember forever.

And man was that feeling contagious. It made me realize that, although my earlier thoughts were that it would be the last Christmas for some people, that didn’t mean life stopped happening.

And more than that, it made me realize that not only was that a pleasant alternative, it was actually the point. We need to live as much as possible, because time was fleeting.

As Emily Dickenson said,

That it will never come again
Is what makes life so sweet.

And after that, I bought myself some Hot Chocolate and joined in with the singing. I might have 50 Christmases’ left or I might have one. I didn’t have much control over that.

But I sure as hell could enjoy this Christmas. This moment.

That was in my control.

So in the end, I had my little “Fairytale of Sydney.”

And to all the people I’ve lost this year, thank you for sharing some of your time with me. I won’t forget the gift. You’ve helped me realize that we don’t get unlimited time and I need to use mine as richly and authentically and as passionately as I possibly can.

Happy New Year everyone.

Saudade and updating your personal soundtrack

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Fri, 08 Sep 2023 03:36:00 +0000

This has been an interesting year for me. After all those stifling Covid years, I must admit I got the travel bug again. They are calling it “revenge” travel. Not sure who I’m getting revenge on though? Society? The Man? Either way, I’m here for it. I’ve been back to Chicago, been to Vietnam twice, and am going to Thailand next month. All sounds great, right?

The thing is, funny stuff sometimes happens when we travel that people never talk about. There’s a feeling of displacement. A loneliness. A desire to be back home amongst one’s things. Psychologists have done a little research on this phenomenon. People have strong needs for both belonging and connection, and sometimes these things don’t come easy when you’re a stranger in a strange land.

I recently had one of these strange moments while lying on a beach in Vietnam. It should have been a perfect moment, but like many people do with perfect moments these days, I ruined it by picking up my phone. While scrolling, I saw that Jimmy Buffett had died. I felt an incredible sadness, but also something a little more complicated than that.

I was a huge fan of Buffett when I was younger. For a few years there (my twenties for instance) I practically WAS Jimmy Buffett. The whole vibe of traveling around, drinking Margaritas, and exploring new places fit my lifestyle perfectly. His music was the soundtrack of my 20’s and 30’s, and I have a million memories of that time of my life. But more recently? Not as much. So why was I hit with such a powerful wave of emotion?

In thinking about this, I thought about a fascinating word in Portuguese called “Saudade.” A loose definition of the word is, “An emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone. It is often associated with a repressed understanding that one might never encounter the object of longing ever again.”

And I think I got it. Of course it’s sad when someone that has brought a lot of great music and joy has passed. But somehow it’s also more than that. We also miss that time and that place in our own lives. Who we were back then. The fun we had. Perhaps how carefree and bold we were. The friends we had. Our youth. Our vitality.

So it’s not just remembering the music and the band that creates these nostalgia pains. It’s how we used to feel about things. The passion. The excitement. I remember getting ready for “Monsters of Rock,” my first concert and one of my first overnight trips with friends.

And when I held up my lighter when The Scorpions sang, “Winds of Change”? Man, I didn’t think any moment could ever possibly top that.

And that’s the part I think we miss. As Sam Ewing once said, “When you finally go back to your old home, you find it wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood.” And I think some of the same concept applies. The “pain” from nostalgia comes from the idea that we can never replicate that time and that place again. The Welsh also have a great word for this called “Hiraeth.” Loosely translated to, “A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home that maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for lost places in your past”

And I was having all these thoughts, I took a look around me. I thought about how the 18-year old me would feel about sitting on a gorgeous beach in Vietnam drinking a cold beer while sitting in a hammock.

And that’s the moment I stopped feeling so sad and started feeling something else. In grief counselling we call this “integration.” Like, I can remember someone I’ve lost and feel not just sadness but also some happiness remembering the good times we had and all the positive ways that person had affected my life. It’s an important step in the grieving process, but perhaps also a way of reconciling our feelings about those memories from our past. It’s okay to miss something or someone and be sad about it, but also good to give some equal time to the good parts.

So with a smile this time, I opened my phone and cued up a video by Jimmy Buffett. Not one of his main songs like Margaritaville, but one on my old favourites called "They Don’t Dance Like Carmen No More." A song about Jimmy himself lamenting how they don’t make music like they did in the good old days.

The irony was not lost on me.

And as I sat there, I also came to a different realization. It’s always within our power to find new songs, experiences, and people that will continue to make up the soundtrack of our lives. It’s not over. As long as we are drawing breath, we still have the chance to do that.

So by the time I rolled out of that hammock, I was already planning my next adventure. Figuring out what’s going to go on to my next mixed tape.

So anyway, RIP Jimmy. You're gone but not forgotten. Music is pretty immortal like that.

But for the next little while, I’ll be looking for some new sounds. As a wise person once said, “Embrace uncertainty, some of the best chapters of your life won’t have a title until much later.” One day in the future, I will undoubtedly look back wistfully at that moment lying on a beautiful beach in Vietnam. It’s something we always forget.

Some day we will miss today as well.

And me? I’ll try and find the dance floor. They definitely don’t dance like Carmen no more. They don’t even dance like they did at my first Monsters of Rock concert.

But somehow I think I’ll still figure it out.

Kyrie Eleison (An Easter essay about Kangaroos, cars and self-forgiveness)

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Mon, 10 Apr 2023 11:31:00 +0000

For years I have tried to make a point to write an essay around Easter time. It’s not for religious reasons or anything like that. It’s just, Easter always signified the beginning of spring for me in the US. The end of a long winter. And perhaps more than that, a chance to clear the slate and find a sense of renewal.

That’s what the Easter holiday seemed to be about to me. Forgiveness and starting over. The “Kyrie” as a Catholic kid meant “lord have mercy.” You confess your sins and then you get forgiven and get the chance to do better. Although I’ve dropped the religion, I never really dropped the lesson.

And as a child of the 80’s, the song “Kyrie” by Mr. Mister was also quite popular at the time. I have always held the phrase in my mind. Kyrie Eleison.

The lyrics of the song went like this.

‘When I was young, I thought of growing old
Of what my life would mean to me
Would I have followed down my chosen road
Or only wished what I could be?

Kyrie eleison down the road that I must travel
Kyrie eleison through the darkness of the night
Kyrie eleison where I'm going, will you follow?
Kyrie eleison on a highway in the night’

So why am I telling you this?

As it so happens, I was driving on a dark, Australian, ocean road the other night and this song came on. I started belting it out as loud as I could. My own little carpool Karaoke.

And then I saw it. A huge Kangaroo directly in the middle of the road that didn’t seem inclined to move.

Lord have mercy.

I swerved at the last minute and narrowly avoided killing both the Kangaroo and myself. It was just one of those lucky things.

At least I think it was lucky. I’m not ruling out it was something else.

As I say, I’m not the religious type anymore, and it’s not the point of this essay to get into why. Spirituality is a complicated thing in a person’s life.

But I still believe in the message of Easter. Forgiveness. Atonement. Renewal, Starting over.

And I can tell you, when I pulled over to the side of the road in that moment, I thought about all of those things. It wasn’t exactly a “near-death” experience, but things could have certainly gone badly there. I briefly pictured the headline. “American psychologist tragically dies in Kangaroo encounter.”

Not exactly the way I wanted to go.

But as with anything, I also wanted to think about the lesson. I often talk to my clients about releasing themselves from shame and guilt through the act of self-forgiveness. Learning to accept they are human and sometimes are going to say and do things they are going to regret. Personally I have a “greatest hits" list of these things that likes to play when I am trying to sleep in the middle of the night. I think many of us have such a playlist.

So this Easter, I vow to practice this self-forgiveness. To let things go. To give myself this sense of renewal.

Sure it took an 80’s song and a Kangaroo to remind me, but better late than never.

So in closing I will leave you with a quote from Lin-Manuel Miranda-

"How long are you going to keep carrying that one conversation in your heart?
The one where you said or did the exact wrong thing?
It's DONE. Nothing left but to learn. Drag it to the trash file. Click 'empty trash'

Yes, you're sure.

Free up that heart of yours."

Amen to that.

And Kyrie Eliison on the road that you must travel.

Two tables at a Mexican restaurant in Australia (A Christmas story)

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Thu, 22 Dec 2022 05:06:00 +0000

Every year, I try and involve myself in a Christmas story. And I never know what the thing is going to be. Sometimes I volunteer my time. Or give an anonymous gift to someone in need. Every year it’s a little different. I say this not to brag. It’s just. I’ve been fortunate in my life. It’s a very small thing to pay it forward a little at Christmas.

Anyway, tonight I was sitting having dinner in a lovely Mexican restaurant. There are hundreds of those in Chicago alone. There’s maybe 10 in Australia. It’s a massive treat for me to sip those Margaritas and eat those chips and salsa. You miss the strangest things when you’re away from home.

But anyway, my Christmas story.

As luck would have it, I was seated between two tables with a very young girl (let’s call them both Jenny). One of the tables was “Jenny” having dinner with her grandparents. Just the three of them. The other table was “Jenny” and the entire young, tired, henpecked biological family. Both “Jenny’s” looked adorable enough on the surface.

But that faded rather quickly.

The young family was having a hard time, as young families often do when they are out to dinner. The poor parents barely got to take a bite herding the kids, and their entire dialogue was just one pleading reproach after another. “JENNY! Eat your vegetables!” “Wipe your mouth.” NO YOU CANNOT HAVE ICE CREAM BEFORE DINNER.” Jenny!!! How many times do I have to repeat myself!!!!”

It didn’t look like much fun.

But the interesting part came from watching the second table. That “Jenny” was acting exactly the same way. But no matter what she did, the grandparents seem to have endless patience for it. They were even delighted by some of her shenanigans. “Oh Jenny, you’ve knocked down Poppas beer! He’s probably had enough anyway!” “Jenny, of COURSE we will have ice cream, but let’s try a couple of bites of our dinner first.” “It’s really such a pleasure Jenny.”

It was a fascinating thing to behold.

Why the difference?

As far as I can tell, there are few things more delightful to people than being a grandparent. From watching my own mother in action, they practically BEG for time with the children. And let’s be honest, kids aren’t exactly easy.

So what gives??

As I was watching them all interact, I think I started to understand. We don’t realize the most significant moments of our lives while they are actually happening. The young family certainly wasn’t sitting there thinking about a little Christmas dinner with their children as a “precious memory.” They were tired. Stressed.

But the grandparents? It was like they were making every second count.

So what had they learned?

A lot it seemed.

One of my favorite little lines from the TV show “The Office” is from a scene I absolutely love. The character of Andy looks at his coworkers for the last time and says, “I wish there was a way to know you were in the good ole’ days before you’ve actually left them.”

In other words, we don’t always appreciate moments while they are happening. Don’t understand the significance of a crazy family dinner at Christmas. Time with loved ones. Laughter. Road trips. The anxiety of the moment takes away the ability to reflect on those things, and often they don’t become clear until much later.

But the grandparents sure as hell understood the lesson. You could see it in their eyes. They could forgive all of Jenny’s little mistakes because they had the most precious gift of all.

Time.

The problem with that particular gift when you’re young, is that it’s sort of like getting a pair of socks for Christmas.

But let me also tell you this, after 40 or so you’ll probably appreciate a good pair of socks more than you could ever realize.

But as for the gift of time, it’s something you could see the grandparents appreciated more than anything. But with the right kind of eyes, you could also see that they were the young family once upon a time. They had so much gratitude for their time with their granddaughter. And gratitude, particularly gratitude for time with others, usually doesn’t happen until you’ve lost something. A relationship. A family member. Your youth. Your health. And when you’ve had the luxury of perspective, you promise yourself you’ll take time more seriously. Savor moments. Cherish people.

And then we forget again. Then remember. Then forget again.

But sometimes when the cycle repeats itself enough times, the lesson finally sinks in.

And that’s what I saw in those grandparent’s eyes. An evening out with their precious little granddaughter all to themselves was the best gift they could possibly imagine.

As for the other family? They continued to have a rough time. I happened to catch the dad’s eye right as he reached for his Corona and we shared a look. He started chuckling to himself as he surveyed the carnage of overturned chips and salsa at his table. Perhaps he was having the tiniest moment of clarity.

Here are some things I often hear from clients in therapy sessions.

1. Man, I can’t believe how fast my kids got old. I’d do anything to have one more day with them as little kids again.

2. I only see my family once or twice a year these days. Everyone is just so busy all the time.

3. I wish I had spent more time with my grandparents before they passed. You always think you’re going to have more time.

And perhaps the biggest one.

“I wish I had told people I loved them before they died. There were so many things I didn’t get a chance to say.”

And as a (more than) middle-aged man sitting there drinking Margaritas and eating cheese dip like it was my job (Both tables will probably outlive me) I realized I had remembered a lesson I had also forgotten. Time is the best gift. The purity of your attention is the best gift. And yes, I even got a little choked up there thinking about all of this. I probably looked like a crazy person sitting there.

But that’s not QUITE the end of the story.

On my way out the door, I paid the bill for both tables. It was my little way of saying thank you for reminding me of such an important lesson.

As, I was walking by the window, I saw several of the people involved looking all over the restaurant and out the window. Who paid our check? Why would he do that? A Stranger?

And so I hope I gave them a little story to tell. I hope they have an amazing holiday. They still had lots of time. They still had their health. They still had each other.

And me???

I finally had my Christmas story.

I was getting to where I could see the truth. Someday I'll be brave enough to speak it.

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Mon, 09 Aug 2021 02:57:00 +0000

When you are about 12 or so, it’s inevitable that you’re going to have to do your first book report. In my day, you sometimes just read the back cover and tried to bullshit from there. Now kids have Wikipedia, cliff notes, and all kinds of other ways to circumvent this process. But invariably, the time comes where you just have to read the damn book.

Why am I telling you this?

I was getting to that! The reason is, the quote above comes from the first real book I ever read, The Outsiders by S.E Hinton.

Lots of you have probably seen the movie (best cast ever!) I would guess lots of kids from my generation actually did read the book. The quote above speaks to the protagonist of the story finally realizing the folly of the toxic masculinity he has been raised with. He’s sick of being a tough guy. Sick of burying feelings Sick of being unable to talk about things that men typically avoid for fear of being branded weak.

But there’s also a lot in the second part of the quote. He’s still gotta live in this world, and just because he’s found this enlightenment doesn’t mean everyone else is on the same page.

As someone who has worked with a lot of younger males, I can tell you that they will often do almost anything to avoid a discussion about feelings. If you want to talk about YouTube or Fortnite, you can’t shut these guys up. You try to sneak one question in about emotions?

Suddenly everyone has got to go to the bathroom,

My point is, the avoidance of these discussions is wired into us at an early age. Sure there has been some great work done recently trying to reverse this process. Here is a wonderful talk about how teaching mindfulness can reduce stress and violence in schools.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2r6TWTqr8FM

And yet, toxic masculinity persists. As much as we talk about mindfulness, mental health, and self-care, many school corridors are still closer to Lord of the Flies than "I’m Ok you’re Ok." Much of what we see as therapists from our adult clients started somewhere in these years. Bullying. A parent with impossible expectations. Somewhere along the way we lose our confidence. Lose our shine. How do I know? I’ve BEEN in classrooms where I’ve asked kids what they want to be when they grow up. And they always have a BIG answer. An astronaut. A professional athlete. A doctor!!

No one ever says they want to be a burned-out middle manager with crippling social anxiety.

Parents have a lot of “greatest hits” when it comes to encouraging children to express their emotions. The ever popular “use your words” has been around for decades.

But the truth be told, we are BORN with a built-in GPS for expressing what we need. When a baby cries, they are not doing that just to keep you awake. They are telling you that they need something. When we tell kids to “use their words” we are trying to continue to give them language to tell us what they need.

But as we know, childhoods don’t always go so smoothly. Some children (particularly boys) learn to internalize emotions rather than verbalizing what they need. This could look like bedwetting, or bullying, or temper tantrums. Hell, some of the adults I know still do those things (alcohol is usually involved). But the point is, these are “protest” behaviours, or said another way, “I want you to read my mind” behaviours. We expect that people should just KNOW what we are feeling or what we need, but of course it doesn’t work that way.

Freud said, “Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in an uglier ways.”

And boy do they! Silent treatments. Binging on food or alcohol. In some cases, even violence or self-harm.

Turns out that “use your words” thing is pretty important.

I once heard it said that courage is the value that almost all other values spring from. We have to get past our fear. Fear of being different. Fear of being “too sensitive.” Fear of being made fun of by others or disrupting the status quo. Sometimes the easy thing to do is just avoid speaking up. We avoid the temporary consequences without realizing how dire the long-term effects of this approach can be.

But as for me? I went back and read The Outsiders again and thought about what it was like to read it is as a 12-year old. Am I really so different now? DO I have the courage to speak the truth? Not necessarily. Not all the time. I still stuff plenty of emotions away (along with the corresponding Pepperoni Pizzas) rather than have a difficult conversation.

But I’m beginning to find my courage again.

Instead of a book report, I’ve committed to reading 50 books a year. Kind of a weekly book report if you will. I’m going back and reading all of the books that shaped me in some special way growing up. The next stop was The Catcher in the Rye, another book that made a significant impact in my younger years. I came across the following passage,

“Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them - if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry.”

Amen to all of that. In sharing our words, we deepen our understanding of just what it is we’re doing here spinning around on this little blue ball in the middle of space. All of us have something to share. All of us contain a piece of the puzzle that might lighten the load or increase someone’s understanding of this shared experience.

Don’t let those words go unspoken.

Be brave enough to speak them.

After a rough 2020, have you lost sight of the horizon?

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Mon, 04 Jan 2021 22:20:00 +0000

Let’s face it. That was a very long year.

I can’t imagine there is a single human being on the earth that didn’t have to alter their plans in at least SOME way last year.

And here we are in 2021. As John Lennon said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

It’s been a humbling year realizing time cares little about our plans.

The other day I watched this show “A Million Little Things” and heard this quote about depression that I haven’t been able to get out of mind. The speaker in this instance was commenting on how John F. Kennedy Jr. lost sight of the horizon when he crashed his plane, and explained how this might also be seen as a metaphor for depression.

Maybe he just lost sight of the horizon. I was watching this documentary on JFK Jr. You remember when his plane went down? … Anyway, Kennedy was a novice pilot. He was flying at night, and the clouds came in, and his instruments were telling him which way was up, but he didn’t trust them. The truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t see it. He lost sight of the horizon and nosedived, and by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late, and he couldn’t pull up. That's depression.

Depression is losing site of the horizon.

Another way of saying this, is that depression and suicide are highly correlated with feelings of hope, and to feel hope we need to have some belief that better things are ahead.

And with seemingly never-ending negative news stories, 2020 certainly put this idea to the test.

Many people I have seen have lost site of the horizon last year, as their ability to plan for the future was severely compromised. Small business owners not sure if they can hang on for much longer. People with immigration issues, praying for Visas that will allow them to stay in their new countries. People with relatives overseas they desperately wanted to reconnect with. These aren’t little worries, but real life and death uncertainties about what was going to happen next for them.

And they’ve lost sight of the horizon. Lost their sense of hope. Been swallowed up by constant worry about the future.

In considering this idea, I’ve delved deeply into the concept of burnout as it relates to this. Although most of us are familiar with the “traditional" definition of burnout, I recently discovered there were at least eight kinds of burnout that might affect effect someone. They are-

1. 1. Mental burnout: My mind cannot process any more; it’s fried.

Emotional burnout: These heavy or anxious emotions are exhausting me.
Compassion burnout: I cannot hold any more loving space for anyone else; I’m tapped.
Relational burnout: I’ve been overgiving to others, my organization or my community/family, and I am over it.
Survival burnout: I’m exhausted from trying to make ends meet and stay afloat.
Superperson burnout: The weight of taking on so much is too much; I can’t hold it all anymore.
Passion burnout: I love what I do, but I’ve given too much and pushed too hard.
Physical burnout: My body is revolting; I have depleted my life force.

As I read through this list, I note that many of the people that I see fit with these less traditional definitions of burnout. For instance, people in the helping professions have certainly suffered from passion burnout this year, as a job and career they love has become overwhelming.

For many people who have spent a lot more time with people indoors this year, they have suffered some relational burnout. They love the people in their lives, but perhaps are feeling the burdens of overexposure and overdependence.

And for others, they might be completely drained physically. When we deal with relentless stress, cortisol floods our nervous system and we begin running on this reserve, stress-induced fuel source. It was never meant to be a permanent source of energy, and when we lean on this source too much we can become dependent on it. Consider this quote from physician Gabor Maté-

“For those habituated to high levels of internal stress since early childhood, it is the absence of stress that creates unease, evoking boredom and a sense of meaninglessness. People may become addicted to their own stress hormones, adrenaline and cortisol, Hans Selye observed.

To such persons stress feels desirable, while the absence of it feels like something to be avoided.”

In other words, we start depending on feeling stressed out to get us through the day!

I often tell people that tears release cortisol, so when they find themselves crying more than usual, it’s often the body purging itself of stress.

So if you have been feeling these symptoms of burnout, please listen to your body and recognize you need to slow down. It’s kind of like driving a car when the check engine light comes on. If you’re like me, you probably just ignore it for a while. But that light is a warning sign, and might prevent a little problem from becoming a much larger one. What are your “check engine” warning signs? Increased irritability? Impatience? Insomnia? We all have a few.

Returning to the opening quote in this vignette about losing sight of the horizon, we can revisit the tragic story of John F. Kennedy Jr. and his airplane. As it turns out, he might never have crashed that fateful evening if he had just trusted his instrument panels. And that’s how our internal intuition system works as well. Like a highly sophisticated instrument panel.

When your body sends you an external pain signal, it’s alerting you to the fact that something is in need of repair. Our emotional guidance systems work in a similar way. Increased crying, poor sleep, and irritability with our loved ones are all signs from our instrumental panels that we need to change course and find another way of doing something.

So if your system is telling you to slow down, please listen to it. It's there for your protection. Take some extra time for yourself. Get out in nature. Say "no" this week at least once no matter how hard that might be for you.

Get that check engine light turned off.

Because soon enough, we find our cruising altitudes again. All of the seasons of our lives come to an end and eventually give way to something else. New beginnings. New narratives. Changes.

And hope. That comes back as well.

God speed in 2021.

In search of Divine Nonchalance

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Tue, 01 Sep 2020 23:56:00 +0000

If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine. It is lethal.

Paulo Coelho

Both my wife and daughter think I'm this gigantic loser and they're right, I have lost something. I'm not exactly sure what it is but I know I didn't always feel this... sedated. But you know what? It's never too late to get it back.

Lester Burnham- American Beauty

If you’re like me, you’ve watched a lot of TV in 2020.

For most of us, it’s been a locked up, holed up, masked up kind of year. For me, it will be the first year in more than a decade I haven’t gotten to do any overseas travel. With Covid and all the corresponding bullshit that goes with it, it’s just not on the cards this year.

I fully acknowledge this is a first world problem, and that for many people, 2020 has presented much bigger challenges than that. But I do think it’s safe to say that many of us might have lost our spark this year in one way or another. It’s certainly what I hear from people every day as a psychologist.

But anyway, back to the TV.

I recently began watching a fascinating show called Dispatches from Elsewhere. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

The premise of the show comes from a 2013 documentary called “The Institute” which documents an elaborate game/challenge/alternate reality activity that originated in San Francisco, which challenged people to participate in activities that forced them to take more risks in their lives. Think of a less violent version of Fight Club. They started by leaving cryptic message on telephone poles. It sometimes involved dancing or other artistic endeavors. It might sound kind of silly, but over 7,000 people eventually participated.

A theme runs through the show that I haven’t been able to get out of my head.

“Divine nonchalance.” The phrase originally comes from a Tarot card pictured on “The fool.” The definition I like is, “A kind of naiveté. Almost like a childlike relationship with the world around you. That freedom from inhibition that sparks creativity and inspiration and allows random beauty to occur.”

Divine nonchalance ha? How do I get some of that back into my life??

Kids are born with it I think. Everything is up for discussion with them, and no question is too silly or intrusive. They are born with that insatiable curiosity and they are just trying to figure it all out.

But somewhere along the way, we lose something. We settle into jobs, marriages, and routines. Predictable lives. We can also settle into ruts very easily. One day we stop taking chances and talking to strangers. We lose the ability to surprise ourselves.

One of the hallmarks of anxiety is we start caring too much about EVERYTHING. Our brains are like computers with 20 tabs open at the same time. We worry about work and kids and money and Covid and health and parents, and all of a sudden our computer starts to get a little fried. Worry becomes a permanent part of our lives.

But just so we are clear, 85% of what we worry about has either a neutral or positive outcome. 85%!! I once heard “Worrying is like praying for things you don’t want.”

Seems pretty accurate…

So again, how do we find some of this nonchalance? Even a LITTLE would be nice. But “Divine” nonchalance? That seems like a lofty aspiration.

But the other day, the answer came to me.

I was at a small gathering in my town the other day, and observed a family watching a street performer. The little boy kept approaching strangers and asking them questions. The little girl was spinning around dancing and bumping into people.

The henpecked mother finally corralled the children and yelled, “All you two are doing today is talking to strangers and dancing!!”

And then I had my answer! Talking to strangers and dancing!!!

So for the last week, I have gone out of my way to strike up conversations with new people. Take some chances with people. Some risks.

And as the people who know me in my little town can attest, I often get in trouble for dancing. We are in “Level 2” lockdown at the moment, and your ass is supposed to remain in your seat.

Mine will never remain there. My ass will not be silenced!

I would encourage you to think about how you might find some more of this divine nonchalance in your own life. More silliness and less worry. More music and less internal noise. Less caring and more chances. Less permission and more forgiveness.

Do something weird today.

Doctors orders!

The art of racing in the rain

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Sat, 04 Jul 2020 22:46:00 +0000

“To separate oneself from the burden, the angst, the anguish that we all encounter every day. To say I am alive, I am wonderful, I am. I am. That is something to aspire to.”

Garth Stein- The art of racing in the rain

We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

D.H. Lawrence

Ok, full disclosure, the title of this essay comes from a wonderful book and movie about grief, loss, and the amazing unconditional love that comes from being a pet owner. Check it out!

Racing in the rain. In the movie it refers to driving a race car in difficult conditions. But the larger metaphor is about resilience under trying circumstances.

Last night I got to see some of this. Not at a car race or anything like that, but at a little concert on the wharf.

Queenstown, the town I love in, is almost entirely reliant on tourism to survive. With Covid ravaging the globe and borders closed, it has been financially devastated. 8,000 jobs were lost. Unemployment went from around one percent to nearly 20 percent in short order. Many of the people who live here are from other countries. They can’t afford to go home and they can’t afford to stay here.

So what is a town to do?

Dance. Last night, the answer was dance.

I was observing all of this from the background. At first anyway. It was pouring rain and people hovered under the trees for a while. First, a tiny little girl began to spin (kids are born with a wonderful instinct to dance). Then a couple joined in. And, as often happens with a dance party, the whole crowd soon followed. 15 minutes later, the whole crowd was bouncing along to the music and dancing in the rain.

And yes, yours truly joined in.

It was so nice to be with people again. Joyful people. Exuberant people. People forgetting their troubles for a moment and celebrating being together again through the healing power of music.

The art of racing in the rain.

Like all great moments, it eventually came to an end. Sadly, they always do.

But I know I will always savor that little moment.

We’ve got to keep living, no matter how many skies have fallen.

What are you pretending not to know?

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Tue, 23 Jun 2020 04:18:00 +0000

If you work in psychological circles long enough, you hear all the clichés pretty quickly. Almost all branches of psychology have some version of the “magic” or “miracle” question.

(Some version of "Suppose tonight, while you slept, a miracle occurred. When you awake tomorrow, what would be some of the things you would notice that would tell you life had suddenly gotten better?"). There are lots of established ideas about the importance of letting yourself feel feelings instead of suppressing them. Lots of information in any kind of therapy can be gleaned by asking people how they have coped with what’s happened to them.

But we’re not here to talk about any of that today.

Because recently I came across the question in the title here. What are you pretending not to know?

I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I’ve used it with friends a number of times recently and gotten everything from puzzled stares to hour-long answers.

What are you pretending not to know?

Here are some common ones.

My partner and I haven’t been intimate in months. I feel like we have fallen out of love and neither one of us is talking about it.
Although I promise myself I’ll get around to it one day, I have neglected my health for decades. If I don’t prioritize it soon, life as an older person will be full of sickness and pain.
My parents are getting old and I barely talk to them. They will be gone someday soon. Why aren’t I calling them and spending more time with them?

Perhaps if you are still reading, you might be wondering why I would be pointing out such depressing information.

Because I firmly believe it might be the most important question we ever have to answer.

Many of the niceties of modern life require the telling of some little white lies. We tell people we are “fine” when really, we are anything but. We construct carefully crafted versions of ourselves on social media letting people know we are “fine.” We have a small-talk script that kicks in whenever someone asks about our work or family or relationships.

Fine. Everything is fine we say.

But I have come to believe this contributes to self-deception which over time can become deeply entrenched. The little white lies we tell others soon become part of a much larger narrative around what we are pretending not to know.

I’m taking mine one at a time now. I started with my teeth. For years I was pretending not to know that if you don’t floss and regularly visit a dentist, bad things will eventually happen. Painful things.

I had a difficult and shameful conversation with my dentist shortly afterward. But I feel better now.

I would encourage you to ask this question and really reflect on the answer. I know the health piece certainly applies to me, as does the one about staying in touch with family. I suspect that many of these answers for people would be about personal relationships.

The point is, we put ideas out of our heads when they are uncomfortable. It’s protective. Who wants to think about unfinished business all the time? And yet, our brains hate unfinished business. It's called the "Zeigarnik Effect."

On the other hand, our emotions are always providing us feedback in one way or another about the things we want to change. Here are some examples.

Emotions always communicate:

Bitterness shows you where you need to heal, where you’re still holding judgments on others and yourself.
Resentment shows you where you’re living in the past and not allowing the present to be as it is.
Discomfort shows you that you need to pay attention right now to what is happening because you’re being given the opportunity to change, to do something different than you typically do it.
Anger shows you what you’re passionate about, where your boundaries are, and what you believe needs to change about the world.
Disappointment shows you that you tried for something, that you did not give in to apathy, that you still care.
Guilt shows you that you’re still living life in other people’s expectations of what you should do.
Shame shows you that you’re internalizing other people’s beliefs about who you should be (or who you are) and that you need to reconnect with yourself.
Anxiety shows you that you need to wake up, right now, and that you need to be present, that you’re stuck in the past and living in fear of the future.
Sadness shows you the depth of your feeling, the depth of your care for others and this world.

This has been a helpful guide for me as I think about all of the ways I might be denying things I need to know. We are gifted and cursed with an extraordinary feedback system. Being uncomfortable can be a positive thing when we examine these feelings closely and try and figure out what our guts are trying to tell us.

And as for me? I have another dentist appointment on Friday. I have been pretending not to know this all week, but in the end, I know the problem isn’t going away. I can take a little pain now. Some bad dentist jokes. A couple of sharp needles.

But no more pretending not to know.

I remember the day the world came back to life

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Wed, 13 May 2020 06:36:00 +0000

September 08, 2001 was a super annoying day for me.

I was managing a large nightclub in downtown Chicago. It was late summer, blazing hot, and the bar was so packed you could barely move.

God I couldn’t wait for that night to be over.

A couple of days later I was sitting at my computer. A plane hit the world trade center. It was time to turn on the TV. Then another plane hit right in front of my eyes. It was now clear. America was under attack. As the day progressed, it was thought that the Sear’s Tower was the next target. It was a mile from my house.

I didn’t leave the house for three days. It was terrifying.

On that next Friday, I went back to work. Normally on a summer Friday night, the bar would be so packed we would have a line down the street.

There wasn’t one person in the bar.

Not. One.

The staff sat around looking at each other in bewilderment. Was this it? The new normal?

People in Chicago were crippled with fear. New Yorkers were going through something far worse.

Markets were crashing, people were paralyzed and America had come to a standstill.

As the evening wore on, we heard a noise. It was a large group of bagpipers marching down Division Street playing songs. A quick thinking bouncer ran down and dragged them into the bar. They took a small break and we bought them some drinks.

They began to play again. Amazing Grace.

And then, the most wonderful thing happened.

As the band began to play, people started peeking out their windows. The sound of the bagpipes blasted through the otherwise quiet street, and people began to inch closer. They moved in closer. Then closer. Then even closer. Soon, the whole bar was packed with people with their arms around each other singing along to the song.

I was stunned.

The healing power of music is a well-documented phenomena, but this was something bigger than that.

People wanted to be with people again. It’s hard-wired into out DNA. Societies throughout history have risen and fallen based on the ability of people to cooperate and coexist. But fundamentally, in that moment, people pushed past their fears and followed their instincts to be together again.

So why am I bringing this up?

Because we are now in a period of forced separation. As a psychologist who has spent the last couple of months on the phone with people in isolation, I feel this. Their alienation. Boredom. Disconnectedness.

Here in New Zealand, all of this ends tomorrow. After two long months, we can see people again. Get out hair cut. Eat in a restaurant. Go to a gym. Many parts of America are now opening up again as well.

Here is my wish.

What I failed to mention, was that after 9/11, something quite amazing happened in America. People were extraordinarily kind. United. Even grateful. Living through that traumatic experience woke something up inside of people. Forced them to evaluate how fragile life really is. Take perspective on what was really important and what wasn’t. People Started calling their family again. Reconnecting with old friends.

Sadly, it didn’t last.

But as for the lockdown? The world has never been through anything like this before in our lifetimes. Not even close.

I really hope we emerge kinder. More grateful. Present. Appreciative. And I really think we will.

Throughout this lockdown, I have been sitting in my living room with one of the best views in the world.

But I have been through everything you have, I assure you. Boredom. Overeating. Loneliness. Restlessness. Worries about money. Employment. Health.

It has been my honor to try and guide people through their troubles, even as I have been struggling with my own. It was the most interesting two months of my career.

And towards the end, I saw resilience begin to return. Fathers sobbing on the phone with gratitude who have come to the realization that they never really knew who their kids were. People who attended therapy for the first time when they had been putting it off for years. Lonely people who vowed to find their courage and find their way back to people when the world came back to life.

I hope people remember these things they have learned. We might not ever live through something like this again.

Tomorrow is a big day for me. I have made a reservation at the nicest steakhouse in town. I’m going to order the biggest steak and the nicest wine and savor every moment. Enjoy being around people again. It’s been a long time.

And I’ll remember the day the world came back to life.

And I don’t want to forget this time. Slip back into old habits. Take for granted the previous gift of life. Time with other people. A nice meal. Friends. Laughter.

This time, I hope to God I won’t forget.

Some thoughts on the coronavirus, social isolation, and the Porcupine’s dilemma

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Sun, 15 Mar 2020 08:27:00 +0000

What a few months it’s been for the world.

When this thing was happening in China, it was kind of scary. Scary in that “happening to other people” kind of way, where we voice our sympathies and then just kind of go about our business.

We’re way past that now. The minute I knew it was real was when Tom Hanks announced he had it. Tom Hanks!? Shouldn’t he be immune? He’s Forest Gump for God's Sake.

And now, around the world, it just continues to get more real. Major sports bringing in hundreds of millions of dollars have been canceled. Whole countries are going into lockdown. Stock Markets are crashing around the world.

Scary times. Unprecedented in most of our lifetimes.

Scary times bring out the best and worst in people. Read the news and you’ll find stories highlighting all shades of humanity. Tremendous acts of kindness. Overt racism and tribalism. Fear-based hoarding.

And the toilet paper. Oh my God the toilet paper.

And now we’ve been told to socially isolate. For some people this is going to be very hard. But for many of us, we were sort of doing this anyway.

The whole thing reminds me of something coined by Arthur Schopenhauer called “The Porcupine’s Dilemma” summarized below.

A troop of porcupines are milling about on a cold winter's day. In order to keep from freezing, the animals move closer together. Just as they are close enough to huddle, however, they start to poke each other with their quills. In order to stop the pain, they spread out, lose the advantage of commingling, and begin to shiver. This sends them back in search of each other, and the cycle repeats as they struggle to find a comfortable distance between entanglement and freezing.

There is a great deal about human nature encompassed in this little parable. Human beings are constantly coming together, hurting each other, distancing themselves, and then seeking the comfort of other human beings again.

Ever wonder why one of the worst punishments we can think of for our prisoners is to place them in solitary confinement?

Because we’re social animals. And we need each other.

Even if we also sometimes drive each other crazy.

I know this because I’m a bit of a porcupine myself.

As we move forward in these next few difficult months, I am reminded that we are now in an enforced period of separation. Think about the comfort of a hug in a church, or a high-five with a fellow parent when our kid’s team wins a game. Even the sense of belonging we feel following major sports and rooting for our favorite teams.

For a lot of people, some of that stuff is sort of on hold right now. They are big things and there are going to be some consequences.

Loneliness. Boredom. Irritability. Anger. Those are some of them.

So what do we do?

We have to try and love each other. And if that’s too big, at least respect each other. Understand that when we take those 100 rolls of toilet paper off the shelves, that’s affecting someone else. When we make a remark denigrating another race or country, that’s affecting someone else.

I once read this story about England during World War II, where, due to the relentless air raids, the social classes broke down. The Nazis were coming, buildings were crumbling, and the fate of the world hung in the balance.

And yet, people reported feeling a kind of euphoria. A sense that they were all in this together. A belonging that they had never felt as a country when they were at peace.

There’s a very powerful lesson there.

Remember respect. Remember empathy. Remember little acts of kindness and support towards each other often goes a very long way.

Let’s keep calm and carry on.

There are places I remember- How the places in our life affect our mental and physical health.

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Sat, 15 Feb 2020 19:11:00 +0000

I was sitting in a bar a few years ago in a rut.

I’d been in the same place in Chicago for a while. My career was a little stuck and I was bored.

And I heard the guitar player start to sing, “Joe’s run off, to Fire Lake.”

It’s a great old song by Bob Seger. Bikers love it in particular. It’s about adventure. Longing. The open road.

Something changed for me that day. It was like the call of the wild.

Suddenly I knew I had to stir things up a little.

Two months later, I landed in New Zealand.

But more on that later.

There has been plenty of research on how the places in our lives affect our happiness, serenity, and inner peace. Almost everyone I know has a “happy place” somewhere in the world. As a kid for me, it was at Ecola State Park in Cannon Beach. Pictured here.

I recently read a book about the innate human longing to be near the water called “Blue Mind: The Surprising Science That Shows How Being Near, In, On, or Under Water Can Make You Happier, Healthier, More Connected, and Better at What You Do.”

Blue Mind

It talks about how much more peaceful we feel being around water, and the psychological benefits of finding this. Many people throughout human history have drifted towards the water, in many cases for economic reasons. But this book shows there is a lot more to it. I mean we are mostly MADE of the stuff. I bet a lot of people will almost innately understand the relationship between water and their emotional well-being. It seems to be almost wired into us.

Of course, it doesn’t HAVE to be water. Maybe for you, it’s the mountains. Or the desert. Maybe it’s your local park. Wherever it is, I bet it’s a place where you feel better. Take a little break from your worries. Think a little more clearly. Even doctors are getting hip to this nowadays. Here's a fantastic clip about a Bellingham doctor who prescribes park visits instead of pills!
Park visits instead of pills!

I once did this little exercise where you had to review your life and find the themes and activities that kept popping up for you that made you happy. Maybe as a kid, you loved to draw and paint, and kept coming back to it at various times in your life. Maybe it was making music. You get the idea.

But for me, it was always traveling. I’ve had that wanderlust since I was a child. The desire to see more, do more, explore more. It’s never stopped. I worked in five different national parks in my twenties, and even that didn’t scratch the itch. It’s a kind of longing. Anticipation. Hope.

Many people describe having had “peak” experiences in nature. Peak experiences are often described as transcendent moments of pure joy and elation. These are moments that stand out from everyday events. The memory of these events linger in our minds for a long time, and can even feel like a kind of spiritual experience. Peak Experiences

I’ve certainly had a few. One that stands out came during a hike to the very bottom of the Grand Canyon. Although I was alone, totally exhausted and physically depleted, I looked around and saw where I was. I realized how far I’d come, but also how much more there was to do in my life. I felt this powerful surge of energy that is still hard to explain. It was joy. Vibrancy. Exuberance.

These moments can sometimes be harder to find as we get older. Life intervenes. Holidays might turn into theme parks, minivans, and screaming kids. Work gets more intense. Money issues linger. All of a sudden we have perhaps lost sight of that primal need to be in nature once in a while.

I suspect this is how a lot of ruts get their start. Watch a Labrador when it gets near water. It will dive in head first and ask questions later. That’s primal.

And I submit that we humans have this need as well.

How do I know?

I recently went through another one of these “rut” periods.

And once again, I listened to the call of the wild.

So if you can’t reach me at the moment, I’ll be back on the open road. Not all who wander are lost. I think it’s just the opposite of being lost. It’s more like finding something again.

But in the meantime, I hope you find YOUR happy place in nature again. Spend some time there. Reconnect with this part of yourself.

And as for me?

Joe's run off to Fire Lake...

Love Actually

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Sun, 08 Dec 2019 08:53:00 +0000

Ok, warning right off the top. This essay started off as one thing and then kind of became another. It’s also sort of a Christmas story.

But let me back up.

A few weeks back I had to give a speech. It had to be funny, and charming, and smart, and kind of ted talky without seeming like I was trying too hard. It was sort of a tall order.

So, like any good plagiarist in the 21^st century, I turned to the place any sensible person would go.

Youtube.

While browsing various videos, I came across a wonderful graduation speech by David Foster Wallace called “This is Water.” Here’s a quote.

“It is extremely difficult to stay alert & attentive instead of getting hypnotized by the constant monologue inside your head.”

The entire speech is a reflection on how we get so wrapped in our own heads, and what we might chose to do about it. If we can somehow remember that the “idiot” in traffic, or the “moron” holding up the line at the store might just be having as bad of a day as we are, we might even chose to be compassionate instead of irritated. To get out of our monologue of near constant complaint and rumination and back into the world with the others.

It’s a wonderful idea. Easy to understand, much harder to actually implement.

Because much of our irritation with the world, is actually irritation with ourselves. When I snap at someone in a store, I really am saying, “Can’t you see I’m having a bad day?” “Don’t you know how many things are going on in my life right now?”

But of course they don’t know. And we don’t know what’s going on with them either.

But you can bet they are fighting some kind of battle (not my quote by the way.)

Deep down we all want to be seen. To be understood. But life intervenes. Gets busy. Gets messy.

But someone needs to make the first move sometimes, and that someone can be us.

Which leads us to my Christmas story.

I was away for a weekend recently, and had two very fun days. Without getting into the details, on the third day, my head was less than stellar, my back hurt from a lumpy hotel bed, and I was quite irritated with the world.

And then I remembered. That relentless monologue of complaints!! Don’t feed that damn thing today.

As luck would have it, Love Actually was on that morning, and I sat and watched the whole thing before I went out for the day. It was gong to be a very busy day of Christmas shopping out there, and I wanted to see if Love actually was all around. But more importantly I wanted to see what I could do to contribute to this.

So I went around the city, and got to know everyone who served me. The barista at the coffee shop. The man selling me the underwear I ran out of the day before. The guy at the brewpub who patiently walked me through all those amazing beers.

And then I simply took a second, went online, and wrote them the most glorious reviews. Katie was a true artist with a coffee machine. Derrick is an amazing ambassador for your beer. Bob sells a hell of a pair of underwear.

You get the idea.

And then I went and showed them what I had written. I tried to be as specific as possible with my compliments while also being sincere.

What I got in return were some of the happiest smiles I had seen in a long time. It reminded me of this experiment I saw one time where a cameraperson went around and told everyone something about them that was beautiful. Here is a picture of the before and after.

See the difference?

I do not share this story to simply pat myself on the back. Nine times out of ten, I would have proceeded through a day like this being irritable with people. Fed the monologue. Then I would have felt guilty.

It’s no way to spend a day.

The lesson is something we need to practice. All the time. Every day.

When you change your perspective, everything really does change. Like you are literally turning one of those old kaleidoscopes and rearranging the things you see.

We can rearrange the world like this anytime we want.

But fuck is it hard to remember that.

As for me, I am embarking on a long trip home for Christmas. There will undoubtedly be pressures, squabbles, hangovers, and silly family arguments.

That’s the holidays. That’s why guys like me are so busy this time of year.

But I’m going to remind myself that Love Actually IS all around.

But someone has gotta make the first move.

This year, I’ll give it a shot.

Merry Christmas!!!

Keep Yourself Alive

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Tue, 29 Oct 2019 01:24:00 +0000

I have to admit, as movies go, I love a music biography.

Sure they take some liberties with the stories, but overall these make for great cinema. And I’m a sucker for a good redemption story. Johnny Cash in Walk the Line. Ray Charles in Ray. Elton John in Rocket Man.

But today I wanted to talk about a song from the movie Bohemian Rhapsody about Freddy Mercury and Queen. It was one of their first hits and features at the beginning of the movie.

Keep yourself alive.

It’s sort of become my goto song this year. I play it on my phone when I’m struggling to get through 20 minutes on the treadmill.

‘Keep yourself alive’

In this instance it means, you’re getting old dude, and the choices you make all have consequences. Now get on that treadmill and finish the job. Exercise might save your life.

But I’ve also thought about it with my clients, many of whom are literally fighting to find a reason to keep going. Often a person considering suicide doesn’t want a whole lot of advice about mental health or managing anxiety or whatever. They are just looking for one reason. Sometimes just one. And it’s your job to try and find this. Instill some hope. Find something worth sticking around for.

Keep yourself alive’

And yes, in one instance I even helped put this song on someone’s phone (yea for pirating.) It’s sort of become our thing. We play this song when life feels like it’s not going anywhere, and find that one reason to keep going.

And sometimes things do get really dark for people. Sure you’d like to be that therapist who dazzles a client with advice about beating depression or how things pass or how suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

But that’s not always the move. Someone in a dark place doesn’t always want to hear that stuff. They’ve probably already thought about these things and then feel guilty for feeling suicidal. It’s important to meet people where they’re at. Sometimes you need to empathize with the fact that life in that moment has lost all of its light. And sometimes one person, just one person, being able to listen to their story without judgement is itself quite therapeutic. Support comes with many faces. Sometimes it’s just listening. Often it’s just listening.

And in being this person for someone else, the most amazing thing happens. You keep YOURself alive. The single best antidote to feeling worthless, useless, and hopeless, is to be that person for someone else. It sounds counterintuitive, but I have almost never met a depressed person who didn’t have that kindness or compassion towards others, that they were often unable to give to themselves. As Robin Williams said, “I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.”

Amen.

So for anyone reading who finds themselves struggling to find their hope, please, just for today at least, keep yourself alive. Listen to some music. Eat your favorite food. Watch a silly movie.

And no, I’m not just some pompous psychologist dishing out simple advice. I’m talking like this because sometimes it’s been a struggle for me as well. We all need to dig for our reasons to keep going once in a while. But things do change. They do pass. Again, I’m speaking from personal experience. Think of all the mornings you didn’t think you could get out of bed to face another day. How many financial worries that have come and gone. All the bad holidays. All the long winters.

You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.

Now keep yourself alive.

Which wolf are you feeding?

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Thu, 26 Sep 2019 01:13:00 +0000

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.

“It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.

Agatha Christie

“I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'”

Kurt Vonnegut

Ok. Have you read through all those quotes? Good! All three have been important things for me to reflect on in my life. I hope you enjoyed them as well.

But let’s talk about the wolves.

Encapsulated in that little story, is a great deal of what you need to know about having a successful life.

Which wolf are you feeding?

As a psychologist for many years now, I still battle with this every day of my life. Sure I can advise others about doing this, but if I’m honest it is something I continually struggle with. Traffic is moving too slowly? Yep, that bad wolf is getting a steak. I’m in a long line that’s not moving? Same thing.

But even beyond life’s inevitable inconveniences, I sometimes feel hurt or rejected or angry about little interactions in my life. Someone doesn’t text me back. A patient rejects one of my suggestions. A cute girl I try and talk to begins frantically looking for someone else to talk to.

Bad wolves all around.

I have come to realize (although I often forget), that we have a choice as to which wolf we are going to feed perhaps dozens of times a day. It is VERY easy to feel self-righteous, offended, and disrespected. We are all brilliant at taking our own perspective.

But how much of life might be different if we could ask ourselves, “What else could this mean?”

It is often hard to access the positive wolf in these situations. Indignation and self-righteous anger is sometimes quite validating.

As we approach a new year, I would urge everyone (still) reading to think about the wolves in their own lives. Are you choosing to be grateful for what you have, or resentful about what you don’t? Are you practicing compassion when others are hurt or angry, or thinking about how their behavior has upset you? (this is a hard one).

Over a lifetime, we will be confronted by a million variations of these choices again and again and again. And if we chose anger too many times, we can eventually develop a resentful and bitter view of the world. It doesn’t happen all at once, but little by little and choice by choice by choice.

And I would like to end by reflecting on Kurt Vonnegut’s quote, “I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'”

Life is hard enough. Let’s be honest. It IS shit sometimes. But there are some good moments too.

There’s always a choice as to which lens we want to look at things from. That’s both the blessing and curse of free will. As John Milton said a long, long time ago, “The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.”

Now go forth and feed your good wolf!!

What are you willing to suffer for?

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Wed, 05 Jun 2019 22:53:00 +0000

The chains of habit are too light to be felt until they are too heavy to be broken.

Warren Buffett

“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

I have to confess, I am a consumer of all things psychology. Lengthy books. Simple articles. Pop quizzes about which Harry Potter character I most resemble psychologically.

It’s sort of a guilty pleasure.

Recently I came across the idea highlighted in the title of this essay. In each instance you say to yourself, “I don’t have time” when you put off doing something you want to do, rephrase it to “I don’t make time.”

Seems simple enough. Probably an idea you could find on a couple dozen Pinterest boards.

But I think it’s a bigger idea than that. Perhaps one so big it needs looking into.

But I’ll start with myself.

I recently read a great book called “The Subtle are of Not Giving a F*ck.” It’s a popular book and I’m not going to rehash the whole thing here. But there was one concept he discussed that I couldn’t get out of my head.

Don’t ask yourself what you want. That’s too easy. Ask yourself what you’re willing to suffer or struggle for.

So if I want to be in great shape, I’ve got to be willing to suffer the pain of going to the gym on a rainy morning when I don’t feel like getting out of bed.

If I want to find a great relationship, I’ve probably got to kiss a few metaphorical frogs and suffer through a few bad dates along the way to appreciate the right person. And even more likely, I may have to suffer through some serious self-examination about mistakes I’ve made in my past relationships.

So what AM I willing to suffer for?

I ask myself this every day now.

The truth is, health and appearance IS a source of stress for me. And yet I can always seem to rationalize skipping the gym and ordering a pizza. I work late. It’s raining. There’s something good on Netflix. My exercise gear smells funky (that one is sort of legit).

But the truth is, these are just excuses. I don’t MAKE time for exercise because I’m not always willing to suffer.

And as Mr. Buffett says, the chains of habit are too light to be felt. Until they’re not anyway.

So yes, I have been to the gym three days in a row this week. I suffered each time with the alarm clock, the rain, and yes, the exercise gear. But I made it, and I felt a lot better afterwards.

And I think a lot more about my time now. The truth is, I lost another dear friend recently who was way too young to go. I wish I could say he was the first, but the truth is, I’ve lot at least a dozen friends way too soon to health problems in their 30’s and 40’s.

It all goes so fast.

And like Gandalf says in Lord of the Rings (geeky reference), “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that has been given to us.”

I am including a powerful video about jellybeans as a final reminder of this concept. This is a fascinating reminder of what we REALLY do with our time.

It scared me straight like one of those shows where the punk kids get sent to prison for the day. I include it as a gentle reminder to myself and to everyone.

Make the most of your time.

The boys in the band (A tribute to some old friends)

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Wed, 22 May 2019 02:26:00 +0000

Whenever it wants, the past can come kicking the door down. And you never know where it's going to take you. All you can do is hope it's a place you want to go.
Stephen King- Hearts in Atlantis

Harry: [about Auld Lang Syne] What does this song mean? My whole life, I don't know what this song means. I mean, 'Should old acquaintance be forgot'? Does that mean that we should forget old acquaintances, or does it mean if we happened to forget them, we should remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot?

Sally: Well, maybe it just means that we should remember that we forgot them or something. Anyway, it's about old friends.
When Harry Met Sally

When we were about 20 or so, three good friends and I had a band. We’d get together, have a few (more?) beers, and crank up our favourite music.

The only catch was, none of us could actually play an instrument. Or really sing.

No, this band was more of the air guitar variety, but still, we ended up playing our various “instruments” nearly every time we got together. One of our favorite jams was “Touch of Grey” by the Grateful Dead.

There were four of us back then, although others would drop in from time to time. Mostly we would perform this silly ritual long after the party had ended, the guests had left (or passed out) and we were the last men standing.

It’s funny to think back on those days now. How young we were. How full of promise.

Today the last of those three guys passed away. His name was Dirk, and he was one of the nicest dudes I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Here is Dirk.

Here is Sam.

And here is Chad.

Thinking about them all being gone now hit me with a tidal wave of both grief and nostalgia. It seems like only yesterday we were goofing around drinking cheap beer and pretending brooms and mops were guitars.

A number of questions flooded into my head as I heard the news.

How could they all be gone now?? We’re still in our 40’s! We get more time than this!

Why did I lose touch with these guys? We were all such good friends.

What am I going to do to make sure I stay in better touch with my friends?

What am I going to do with the rest of my own time?

In thinking about these questions, I realized I have come back to some version of them over and over again in my life. I often find myself going back to an article I read called “The Top Five Regrets of the Dying," written by a hospice nurse about themes she heard over and over from people at the end of their lives.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
"Often they would not truly realize the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying."

I need to read that more often. Really take it into my heart and integrate it into my philosophy of the world. Friends aren’t just hypothetical entities we can pick up with whenever we get around to it. They are living, mortal beings with a finite amount of time left on this earth.

And I’ve learned the hard way, that sometimes this time runs out before we think it’s going to.

I’ve also learned that platitudes are of no real use to people. “Thoughts and prayers” don’t do a whole lot either. We’ve gotta pick up phones. Hop on planes. Stoke the coals. Even the best relationships need a little fresh oxygen once in a while.

But for me today, I’m gonna remember my three old bandmates and what they meant to me in that time in that place in that little corner of the world. Dirk was older than us. Someone we looked up to. An older brother of sorts who was fiercely loyal and protective of his tribe. He played the (fake) harmonica. When we were in High School we were on the wrestling team together. Our team sort of sucked, and Dirk as the heavyweight would often get onto the mat after all the rest of us had gotten our asses kicked.

On one such occasion, he had to fight this massive dude who was about twice his size. The guy hadn't lost all year, and their team was already smiling and laughing before the match even began.

But then I looked in Dirk’s eyes.

They were blazing red, and his determination was absolutely fierce. He saw the rest of us were demoralized, saw the other team disrespecting us, and something in him kind of snapped.

Dirk pinned that dude a few minutes later. When the referee pounded that mat, we all went a little crazy. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.

But they didn’t know about Dirk’s heart.

So that’s the part of him I’ll remember today. High School wasn’t the greatest time for me. I was gangly and awkward and didn’t always have people looking out for me. But Dirk did. He was one of those guys. One of the ONLY one of those guys.

Plus he played a mean air harmonica.

So tonight I’ll go home, open a cheap beer, and listen to Touch of Grey as a tribute to an old friend.

But after that, I’m making a list of old friends who haven’t heard from me for a while. No more excuses. No more avoidance. No more too busy.

Friends are worth it. They keep us going. Make life worth living. They are our historians, our laughter, and our memory.

Cherish yours. They won’t be here forever.

Believe me, I know.

Rest in Peace Old Friend

Here be dragons (A guide to facing our biggest fears)

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Sun, 21 Apr 2019 23:44:00 +0000

“So do we pass the ghosts that haunt us later in our lives; they sit undramatically by the roadside like poor beggars, and we see them only from the corners of our eyes, if we see them at all. The idea that they have been waiting there for us rarely crosses our minds. Yet they do wait, and when we have passed, they gather up their bundles of memory and fall in behind, treading in our footsteps and catching up, little by little.”

Steven King

If you look at a map from early explorers, they often had ways of marking things that seem pretty odd to us now. Unexplored areas would often include pictures of giant Sea Monsters and Dragons and exotic animals.

“Here be Dragons” became the way we described these parts of the maps.

Here be Dragons.

I got to thinking about this phrase as it relates to those things we avoid facing in our lives. I think most of us have some. My personal map has got Sea Monsters EVERYWHERE!

Here be dragons. A more accepted psychological term might relate to “core beliefs.” Those maladaptive narratives buried deep beneath layers of sophistication and impression management and the version of ourselves we chose to show to others.

Some common core beliefs are “I’ll always be a fat person” or “I don’t deserve to be happy” and even “I’m not worthy of love.”

Much like the early explorers avoided areas in the world because they were perceived to be too dangerous, we often avoid facing our own personal demons.

Sometimes we get away with this avoidance. For a while. We rationalize and put things off and tell ourselves we’ll get around to fixing things one day.

The problem is, by avoiding these dragons we don’t live the best lives that we’re capable of. We don’t find the best versions of ourselves.

Over the years I’ve heard a lot of examples of these dragons. One woman who identified as a hypochondriac was always pampered and cared for when she was sick as a child. She began associating being sick with being loved, and kept repeating that pattern over and over again. We finally identified this connection between being sick and being loved after many months of avoidance, canceled appointments, and therapeutic cat and mouse games.

Another example came from someone who couldn’t get their weight under control, despite decades of fad diets, personal trainers, and pills. In exploring her personal dragons, we found that she had turned to food as a source of comfort as a lonely child who moved around a great deal after her parent’s divorce. She had a hard time making friends and turned to food as a kind of companion. Years later, her weight acted as a kind of shield against getting to know people and risk being hurt. Food was the mechanism to keep this whole pattern churning.

Facing this particular dragon was very hard for her, as food was the only coping strategy she really knew. With some patience and hard work, we identified this pattern. That was half the battle. Even KNOWING about the dragon isn’t always enough. We still have to face it and respond to it.

It’s interesting to think about the motif of facing dragons. These stories go back in mythology for thousands of years. Why would that be? Massive fire-breathing creatures have never actually existed or been observed by men.

And yet, we conjure them. Have always conjured them. Perhaps that’s where the symbolism really comes from. These giant monsters have always been a reflection of one’s inner conflict with themselves.

Because that’s always the biggest battle. The largest hurdle. Even Marcus Aurelius, who conquered large swaths of the earth thought so. He often lamented how the biggest battle was harnessing the conflict in his own mind. Most great men and women would say the same I would guess.

So on this Easter Sunday, I vow to face a few of my own dragons. To slow down, examine some of my own patterns, and face things I have been avoiding. For people wishing to do the same, a core belief exercise may be a good start. As always, it’s better to have a little help along the way. See a therapist if you need to. But my wish for anyone reading is to face these dragons and limiting beliefs that have distracted them from living their best lives.

Easter always seemed like a good place to start. It’s all about renewal and starting over. Although I’m no longer religious in any traditional sense, I did always feel a huge sense of relief getting out of my powder blue suit after a two-hour mass.

THAT was a great sense of freedom.

So in the spirit of the holiday, I reflect on the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald in a letter to his young daughter.. “For what it’s worth, it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start over."

I wish the same for all of you.

Happy Easter!

Are you becoming unstuck in time?

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Sun, 10 Feb 2019 07:31:00 +0000

Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time. Billy has gone to sleep a senile widower and awakened on his wedding day.
Kurt Vonnegut- Slaughterhouse Five

Books and music. Music and books.

These things have been my salvation in life.

Here’s a little story about one of each.

Let’s start with Kurt Vonnegut and in particular Slaughterhouse Five. This book was a life-changing and perhaps even life-saving book for me. Mostly, it’s Kurt Vonnegut discussing his own wartime PTSD symptoms through the character of Billy Pilgrim, a veteran of the Dresden bombing who becomes “unstuck in time” as he leaps to and from different time periods of his life. Vonnegut worked out his own PTSD symptoms in part by writing this book, but was also making a point about the fierce and awesome power of the mind to time travel. Particularly a mind that has been affected by trauma.

I’ve never been able to shake the phrase “unstuck in time.” It describes things I see as a therapist EVERY single day. Many of my patients just can’t shake loose from traumas or heartbreak from their pasts, and regularly time travel back to those places in their minds, in an endless loop of painful memories.

Others jump in time to the future, where they can’t stop worrying about things that might happen, and all of the bad stuff they’ve conjured up in their minds.

Depression, Anxiety, and PTSD are all functions of people becoming unstuck in time.

But let’s come back to that. I want to tell you about the music part of the story.

A short while ago, I was driving back from the beach, and heard the song, “This is the time” by Billy Joel. It was late at night, I was cold, a bit lonely, and it was a strange song to hear on the radio, all things considered.

I heard the lyrics,

‘This is the time to remember
Cause it will not last forever.’

And I’ll be damned if I didn’t become unstuck in time.

In that moment, I was 21 again, exploring the world, in love, and driving down the open road.

I drove for miles like that before I realized what happened (P.S. it’s a little scary we do that while we’re driving). That was a good memory, but on the other hand, kind of sad. Although I was young and hopeful at the time of that memory, I was also pretty anxious about my future and very unclear about how things were going to work out for me.

The French have a word called Énouement, which means, “The bittersweet feeling of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.”

That’s sort of how I felt.

Now then, back to the mental health side of this.

ALL of us time travel sometimes. Every single one of us. Some of us look back at the past and ONLY remember the good parts. We fondly recall a lost love, but forget all of the reasons that person is out of our lives to begin with. We think our youth was the most fabulous time of our lives, but forget how hard it was being broke and often not really knowing who we were back then.

Others are inconsolable about things that have happened, and simply can’t move on. They become unstuck in time, and replay painful stories and memories in their heads that render them unable to experience joy in the present moment.

Anxious people prefer to visit the future. They’ve already made up their minds about how things won’t work out, and all the things that are going to go wrong. The psychological term for this is “catastrophizing” and it is a hallmark of most anxiety disorders.

In thinking about time traveling and how it affects our functioning, I’m certainly not suggesting we shouldn’t cherish and remember fond memories from our past. And sometimes we DO have to anticipate the things that are coming in the future and plan a little for a rainy day.

But becoming “unstuck” in time is a different matter. This is when our minds take us out of the present moment to visit another time and place to avoid something in our current lives. Perhaps we decline a social invitation because we feel like it couldn’t possibly measure up to an epic time from our past. Maybe we blow off a job interview or turn down a promotion because we’ve already decided to imagine the problematic future consequences we’re sure they might come with.

As John Milton said hundreds of years ago, “The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.” That’s the power of the mind to time travel. A great memory can totally make our day, but the SAME memory can lead to intense feelings of sadness.

This is the fork in the road. Once upon a time, a VERY long book was written about depression and anxiety called, “I never knew I had a choice.” I slugged through it. It took me weeks.

But 90% of what I got from the book was right there in the title.

I never knew I had a choice.

Perhaps the goal is to learn from the past, behave kindly with regard to our future selves, but understand that the person operating NOW is the only one that can do anything about things.

So yes, I’m going to continue to listen to Billy Joel and look back fondly.

But I sure don’t want to miss anyone great in my current existence that could make tomorrow’s memories a whole lot better. I even put it on my refrigerator.

Be here now.

Be here now.

Be here now…

I don't wanna forget, but I'm sure I will.

Then remember.

Then forget.

So it goes...

Every Silver Lining's Got a Touch of Grey (Explaining the U-Shaped Life Satisfaction Curve)

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Tue, 22 Jan 2019 07:19:00 +0000

Oh yeah, life goes on
Long after the thrill
Of living is gone
Jack and Diane- John Mellencamp

As much as I loathe this aging thing, I'm beginning to recognize that I am now a healthier person in terms of self-worth and knowing who I am and where I fit in the world. That’s been a good trade-off for the wrinkles.
Patty Duke

Many of the people I see in therapy are in their 40’s.

And man, they can’t get no satisfaction.

And I can relate! What is it about middle-age that causes this? There are some obvious candidates. A lot of people are taking care of older parents as well as younger children. Health and energy are often declining, but conversely, it’s a little early to think about retirement.

Psychologists and doctors and men with red sports cars have long debated the existence of the mid-life crisis, and, really, the jury is still out on this one. But there DOES appear to be some evidence for something called the U-Shaped Life Satisfaction Curve.- Observe

In investigating this idea, I didn’t simply cherry-pick a single graph. Jonathon Rauch wrote an entire book on the subject called, “The Happiness Curve: Why Life Gets Better After Midlife.”

In this book, he does a thorough examination of the U-Shaped Life Satisfaction Curve, and digs into the research that seems to suggest a dip in happiness into the 40’s and then a significant upswing.

Why would this be??

In the interest of full disclosure, this isn’t merely a research question for me. I know the malaise, the boredom, and the disconnection that comes with this time of life, and I want to figure this shit out as well.

Many people Rauch interviewed for his book talked about how they “SHOULD” be happy. They’ve got more money now, they’ve advanced in their careers, and have put a lot of those manic sorts of stressors from early adulthood behind them. They SHOULD be happy.

So why aren’t they?

Rauch examines a happiness equation described as H=S + C +V +T

“H” is happiness. “S” is your emotional set point, which describes where your sort of default happiness setting lies. “V” described factors under your control, and “T” is time’s influence on life satisfaction.

And therein lies the rub. The way we look at time. People in their 40’s tend to look back at their past and think of all the good things that DIDN’T happen for them, and look into the future and see all the bad things that MIGHT happen to them.

It doesn’t seem entirely fair.

And before you think it is only humans that tie themselves into these middle-aged knots, consider the following fact. Even CHIMPANZEES seem to go through this same sort of funk in the middle of their lives.

At this point, the four of you that are still reading may be saying, “Are you really saying that Chimpanzees and Apes have mid-life crises’?

Yes. I’m really saying that. Read here if you'd like to look at the evidence.

Another contributing factor is something called “affective forecasting.” It's this thing we do where we look into the future and predict how we’re going to feel about things. It turns out we kind of suck at it. Although we THINK it’s going to be awful getting older and dealing with sickness and so forth, the truth is, humans mostly just adjust to things and return to their baseline functioning. Remember our happiness set points? That’s what this is all about.

But in examining the U-Shaped Curve, the news is not all bad. That curve takes a sharp left turn at some point, and happiness really seems to rise from there.

Why?

For one thing, our emotional regulation begins to improve. As my grandfather used to say, "Don’t sweat the petty things, and don’t pet the sweaty things.” We seem to “get” this a lot more as we get older.

We also seem to seek opportunities to take some of the things we have learned and pay it forward. Erik Erikson called the conflict in midlife age “generativity versus stagnation.”

In other words, we either get stuck and unsure about what to do next, or put the wisdom we’ve accumulated towards the service of others. Psychologist Dan McAdams called this the “redemptive sequence.” Sure we’ve made mistakes, but there’s still some time to do some good. Much of the upswing of the curve is about this giving, connection, and redemption.

Rauch also closes the book expelling that one of the reasons for the upswing in the curve can be summed up in three simple words. Gratitude comes easier. Sure everything didn’t work out exactly as we planned, but we begin to be more thankful for the things that we do have. Therein lies another large piece of the puzzle.

As for me? One of my favorite songs growing up was “Touch of Grey” by the Grateful Dead, a band I embraced in my own (decades long) wayward youth. It celebrates the wisdom and resilience of aging, and the lines “I will get by," and “I will survive” became a mantra for Deadheads young and old.

When I was 16, I knew every word to the song, and would belt out the lyrics,

“Oh well a touch of Grey
Kind of suits you anyway’

It had little relevance to my life at the time. It was still fun though.

But now? Sometimes I look at the sink, and wonder if that stray hair is actually brown or grey. But really it doesn’t matter.

Cause maybe, just maybe.

A touch of Grey,

Kind of suits me anyway...

The End of History Illusion (You're not done cooking yet!)

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Tue, 11 Dec 2018 21:52:00 +0000

“Living with integrity means: Not settling for less than what you know you deserve in your relationships. Asking for what you want and need from others. Speaking your truth, even though it might create conflict or tension. Behaving in ways that are in harmony with your personal values. Making choices based on what you believe, and not what others believe.”
― Barbara De Angelis

“Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

When I was a young man, I was at a party for a relative who had saved a special piece of cake for some occasion or another. It was amazing cake, and the more I thought about it sitting there, the more I desired it.

Finally, I went in, devouring that cake in a matter of seconds as I ate fast and furiously to avoid detection..

Later the grownups got wind of this and rounded up all of the usual suspects. As I wiped the chocolate off of my face, my turn in the interrogation line arrived. With bits of cake still all over my cheeks, it was gut check time.

"So Joe, it’s a simple question. Did you take the cake?”

I thought long and hard before answering.

“The truth is, I can’t lie about it anymore. I saw my little brother Jim snooping around the fridge a few minutes ago.”

LIAR!!

We have a pretty good idea about why kids lie. To avoid consequences. To avoid disapproval from adults. For kids, this is somewhat understandable, as they haven’t yet learned to stop digging when they find themselves at the bottom of a well. More lies lead to more trouble and even worse consequences. Most kids eventually figure this out. Most kids.

But another kind of lie develops as we get older, as we stop lying as much to others, and start lying a lot more to ourselves. Here are some common ones.

“It’s too late for me. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“I’ll never meet anyone else. I’m too old. Why even try?”

“Why bother getting in shape? I’ve done too much damage to my health already.”

Perhaps you’re reading this and thinking, wow, do people really say those kinds of things to themselves? It’s so defeatist.

Lots of people tell themselves these kinds of stories.

Even doctors, lawyers, and psychologists.

And me. Yes, I’ve told myself every one of those things at one time or another.

The psychologist Alfred Adler called these stories, "life lies.” Stories of self-deception we engage in to justify our bad choices and avoid responsibility.

Paulo Cohello said it like this, “What's the world's greatest lie? It's this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what's happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate.”

Some of this is summed up by something called the “end of history illusion." For reference sake, here is a short video explaining what that is. Essentially it refers to the idea that wherever we are now is the “finished” part of our personal history.

And man is that wrong. So very, very wrong. The truth is, we change so much in a decade we can sometimes hardly understand what we were thinking ten years earlier. We change in dramatic ways, even in a year.

So knowing our personal history is a work in flux, it’s also good to think about our future selves, and how they’re going to enjoy living with the consequences of our current choices. When I order pizza, skip the gym, and spend money buying things online when I get home, my “present” guy is pretty content.

But somewhere out there is a future version of me that I think is gonna be a little pissed off he didn’t pay a little more attention to his health and save a few more bucks when he was younger.

The end of history illusion is an important thing to think about every day. With this in mind, I decided to engage in a Self-authoring suite created by Jordan Peterson, that asks the following kinds of questions,

Imagine your ideal future:

Who do you want to be?

What do you want to do?

Where do you want to end up?

Why do you want these things?

How do you plan to achieve your goals?

When will you put your plans into action?

Write about the ideal future that you have just imagined for 15 minutes. Write continuously and try not to stop while you are writing. Don't worry about spelling or grammar. You will have an opportunity to fix your mistakes later.

Dream while you write, and don't stop. Write at least until the 15 minutes have passed. Be ambitious. Imagine a life that you would regard as honourable, exciting, productive, creative and decent.

Remember, you are writing only for yourself. Choose goals that you want to pursue for your own private reasons, not because someone else thinks that those goals are important. You don't want to live someone else's life. Include your deepest thoughts and feelings about all your personal goals.

And honestly, there is nothing earth-shattering about this approach. Lots of people have created similar programs, so pick the one you like. The key is, YOU are authoring this story, not fate, not your past, not your parents. YOU.

But I can say that for me, writing it down was important. It became clear to me that a lot of what I do to get through the day (i.e. order pizza, turn on Netflix) is not in the service of my future goals.

But I’m learning that there’s always time to change the story.

Now go forth and prosper!

What’s on your mental health playlist?

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Fri, 02 Nov 2018 21:00:00 +0000

“I’m out of ideas Doc.”

Words you never wanna hear as a psychologist.

But the truth was, I was sort of out of ideas myself. I’d been traveling the world for a month, and suffering from a combination of postpartum travel blues, jet lag, weird sleep, and general malaise.

Think, man, think! This guy is here humbly asking for your help. You’ve gotta give him something.

I remembered he liked music, and so we started talking about that. I asked him what songs he played in his life that had meaning for him.

We made a list of all of his songs, and put them together into a playlist he could listen to when he was feeling down. And there it was, the mental health playlist was born.

I don’t flatter myself that I was the first one to think about this. I’m not the millionth person to think of this. And yet, it was a great reminder to me about the healing power of music.

In putting together my own mental health playlist, I did some somber reflection. These songs aren’t just happy songs. Sometimes you want something that mirrors the sadness you are experiencing to feel that sense of empathy and connection. Some songs are silly reminders of stupid things you’ve done with friends. Others are about new love and some are about broken hearts.

But we’ve all got some.

Here are some of mine.

1. Dancing in the dark- Bruce Springsteen

There are a few lines in this song that reflect what loneliness, isolation and depression feel like.

I ain't nothing but tired

Man I'm just tired and bored with myself

And-

I check my look in the mirror

I want to change my clothes, my hair, my face

But in spite of this, the narrator feels some hope and the song ends strong.

There's something happening somewhere

Baby I just know that there is

You can't start a fire

You can't start a fire without a spark

This gun's for hire

Even if we're just dancing in the dark

So sometimes when I’m feeling down, I listen to this song and try and find that spark.

There’s something happenin’ somewhere!!

I repeat that line often. Sometimes I just hop in the car until I find it.

2. Garth Brooks- The Dance-

Alright, this one might seem a little surprising, as I’m not a country
guy per se. But this song is beautifully written by Tony Arata.

'I could have missed the pain

But I'd have to miss the dance

I’ve always took it as a song about taking chances and being willing to suffer the pain of trying and failing versus never trying at all. When I am feeling sorry for myself or not happy where I am in my life, I go back to this song and remember. You’ve done a lot of cool stuff in your life. You’ve had the courage to have the dance.
There’s more music left to play. Don’t get soft now. Get out there
and try again.

3. Here comes the Sun- The Beatles

This song is so important to me, I wrote a whole other essay about
it. It’s the perfect reminder for me that life has seasons, and in these seasons contain some long, cold, lonely, winters.

And I’m not just talking about the weather.

And yet, the darkness doesn’t last forever. If you’ve ever seen what
the outdoor patios look like in Chicago on the first nice day after
a long winter, you’d know what I mean. People are laughing,
happy, lustful, wild, and generous! You can literally see it.

4. Falling Slowly- (From the movie “Once’)

Not everyone will know this one, but if you haven’t seen the movie,
check it out. It’s about two damaged people finding love, purpose,
and meaning in creating music together. It’s even better that it’s
based on their actual story of meeting each other and starting a
band. In particular, this lyric is the one I’m drawn to.

“Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You'll make it now”

I love that! I’ve felt like that sinking boat so many times in my life,
but it reminds me that I have the ability to choose something
different. It’s a beautiful song and a beautiful movie.

I have a lot more. Sometimes I just listen to “Walking on Sunshine”

to give my life a little kick-start. But you get the idea. Your life has
a soundtrack. Crank that shit up!

Sometimes these playlists are the only thing getting us through the day.

But in the meantime, I’ve got my ideas back. Music has a way of doing that.

Nietzsche once said, “Without music, life would be a mistake.”

Nietzsche was right!

Matters of great concern should be treated lightly, matters of small concern should be treated seriously

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Sat, 06 Oct 2018 09:28:00 +0000

Embrace uncertainty. Some of the most beautiful chapters in our lives won’t have a title until much later.

~Bob Goff

Among the maxims on Lord Naoshige's wall, there was this one: "Matters of great concern should be treated lightly." Master Ittei commented, "Matters of small concern should be treated seriously."

~Yamamoto Tsunetomo

Okay, if you have ever read a thing I’ve written, you probably get it by now. I love quotes. I’ve been collecting them since I was about 12, but these two are relatively new to my collection.

I had to think about the quote from Tsunetomo (a samurai from hundreds of years ago) for quite a while. What exactly is he saying here? Forget about the big stuff and focus on the small things instead? I thought we weren’t supposed to sweat the small stuff?

WHICH DAMN QUOTE AM I SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE??

But I kept coming back to the quote, and now I think I get it. We all worry about the “big” stuff sometimes. Am I going to die someday? Am I always going to worry about money? Is my health going to decline? Are people I love going to die?

Yes, yes, yes, and yes…

All that stuff is inevitable. I accept it. I get it. I’m not even that upset about it anymore.

Because matters of great concern should be treated lightly. All that is going to happen. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in 50 years.

But they most assuredly are going to happen.

Some might think this is a little morbid, but I think it’s the second part of the quote that gives us the solution.

“Matters of small concern should be treated seriously.”

I think I get it now. It’s the little moments. The little bit of laughter with friends. That moment while you’re traveling between periods of boredom where you see something that blows your mind. A baby’s first smile. A moment at work where you feel like you made a difference for someone.

The small moments. Those things we take for granted. Those tiny little pieces of our days where we experience something that makes us feel a bit more alive.

And if we're honest, we also blow right through a lot of little moments. We forget to give people our undivided attention. Turn on the TV instead of talking to our families. Stare at our phones while we’re out to dinner with our partners.

And if you miss enough of these little moments, you really can lose it all. One quote about parenting I really like goes, “Listen earnestly to anything your children want to tell you, no matter what. If you don't listen eagerly to the little stuff when they are little, they won't tell you the big stuff when they are big, because to them all of it has always been big stuff.”

That’s pretty powerful when you reflect on it. Kids get the importance of the little stuff right from the beginning.

I also love the quote about embracing uncertainty, and how some of the most beautiful chapters of our lives won’t have a title until much later. Good lord is this true. Looking back on our lives, those periods of fear, change, and adjustment, all eventually become the notes and music of a much larger song.

All the same, it’s hard to remember these lessons while things are happening, Life comes at us pretty fast, and sometimes we forget that our experiences won’t have full clarity until much later. A broken heart feels like we’ll never find love again, but we need to go through a few of these to appreciate the depth of what love really is. We lose a job or change a major or leave our homes, and feel that maybe things aren’t going to work out, but later see these events were all just little pieces of a much larger jigsaw puzzle.

You get the idea.

A while back I had a chance to pass this idea on. Some of the great summers of my own life were spent working in the National Parks in the US. I worked at Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, and a few others in between. I returned to Yellowstone and saw all those fresh-faced kids running around, flirting, teasing, and (hardly) working and told a kid to squeeze every moment out of this experience, as it may end up being one of the greatest summers of his life.

And the funny thing is, I remember someone saying the same thing to ME when I worked there all those years ago. I nodded, smiled, and thought, “sure thing old man, the decaf coffee is over by the Prime Rib.”

I got the distinct feeling that this kid was thinking something similar.

And I get it. I really do. Sometimes we just don’t appreciate the most significant moments of our lives while they’re happening.

But as someone in the “middle-age” chapter of my life, I realize it’s more important than ever to reflect on the little moments. Great memories have often been the fuel that has kept me going through the hard times, and I know they are a kind of currency my future self will most certainly be able to spend.

I want to generate a whole lot more of them.

And right now I’m not really sure what this chapter will be called one day. I’m sure the answer will come to me at some point, but right now I’m going to try and be bold and accept there are things I just don’t know yet.

But I do want to be a better “noticer.” A braver stranger. More present. More aware.

Because matters of small concern should be treated seriously.

The Love Boat. Soon will be making another run.

noreply@blogger.com (Dr. Joe Guse) — Wed, 08 Aug 2018 05:38:00 +0000

“I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it -- to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once. ”

Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

The one thing we can never get enough of is love. And the one thing we never give enough is love.

Henry Miller

I’ve always struggled with love. In retrospect I think it started while watching The Love Boat as a kid.

My mother always told us that couples could not share a bed together unless they were married, and I had no reason to doubt this. And yet, on the show, couples would often arrive at the boat an unmarried couple and wind up in bed together. During these moments, my mom would jump in front of the screen, block the scene, and tell us that the couple got married during the commercial.

That seemed. Weird to me. Is that how it all worked? A cruise and then marriage and then whatever happens in bed? All in quick succession like that? It all seemed a little too easy to me. Later, an older cousin set me straight on the whole thing.

But the damage was done.

But now then, what IS love?

I was recently challenged to answer this question. Sometimes I get these requests from a website or a magazine. Once in a great while, even a TV show. But in this instance?

It was a kid writing for his High School paper.

And somehow, that made me actually put some serious thought into it. He seemed very sincere.

The Ancient Greeks posited there were seven states of love-

Storge- Love we have for our family and children.

Philia- The love between good friends.

Eros- Sexual Love. Desire. Can be all consuming.

Ludus- Playful love. Flirting, teasing, fun, lighthearted love.

Agape- Love for everyone. Selfless love. Self-sacrificing love.

Pragma- Mature love. A deep understanding that develops between long-married couples. Pragma is about making compromises to help the relationship work over time, and showing patience and tolerance.

So let’s start there. Love is family, friends, lust, play, and mature commitment.

That’s a pretty good list. Seems like whenever I watch a show about ancient times, everyone is either naked or killing each other. Not too much different than TV about modern times come to think about it. But their list provides a good starting point.

Jumping forward into the 20th century, a psychologist named Robert Sternberg focused more on romantic love. He found that there were three triangles to love consisting of intimacy, passion, and commitment. He discovered that few couples truly reach and maintain all three of these states, and the diagram below shows some of his descriptions of love when a piece of the triangle is lacking.

And importantly, he introduces the concept of intimacy, which Sternberg describes as “feelings of closeness, connectedness, and bonding in loving relationships. It thus includes within its purview those feelings that give rise, essentially, to the experience of warmth in a loving relationship. “

So good. We’ve got a new player in the game. Eliminating the Greek’s family and friend’s love, and combining it with our 20th-century additions, we now have passion, play, intimacy, and mature commitment.

One important component not yet mentioned is the concept of vulnerability. But this can also be confusing to people. If we take the word vulnerability at its standard definition, we read, “The quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.

That doesn’t sound so good, does it? Love can go wrong. Make us hurt. Leave us feeling too exposed and helpless. Perhaps the best description of this helpless feeling comes from Neil Gaiman, who writes,

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest, and it opens up your heart, and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life… You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like "maybe we should just be friends" or "how very perceptive" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love.”

Woah! Do I really want to feel something that “turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart?” That sounds painful!

But perhaps there is another side to vulnerability. The wonderful teacher and writer Brene Brown describes vulnerability as, “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.”

But also that “Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.”

So that sounds pretty amazing, I would strongly encourage anyone to watch the following video if they would like to learn more about this beautiful woman and fantastic concept. It could be 20 minutes that changes your life.

But back to our list. Now we have passion, play, intimacy, mature commitment, and vulnerability. It’s a fine list, and one that I think most people would do very well to embrace.

But just one more thing.

One of the best things I ever read about love wasn’t from a psychologist or romantic poet, but from a Hasidic Jewish man who didn’t know his wife very well when they got married. He had all the requisite butterflies during their brief courtship and thought he had found the Ben Affleck, romantic comedy, happy ever after he was looking for.

But he was wrong. That wore off pretty quick. It often does.

What he discovered was that love wasn’t a feeling or an emotion so much as it was an action that we need to revise and update continually. Very much a verb and not a noun. Here is his article for your further consideration.

I didn't love my wife when I got married

So in our final tally of what love is, we have passion, play, intimacy, mature commitment, and vulnerability that we need to manifest through action and demonstrate to the person that we love.

That’s as good as I can do today kid. I’m not even sure you’re asking the right person. I’ve been messing this up since the other guys nominated me for “best kisser” on Valentine’s Day when I was six.

But Godspeed on the battlefield.