oh, anxiety

Why do you mess with me so? We’ve done this dance only too long. Haven’t I mentioned my dance card is already full?

Let me be clear…

Curiosity, compassion, kindness, mindfulness, they all have multiple spots. Grace, she’s a sweet gal, and light on her feet. I’ll dance with her all night long!

But you, anxiety – you cut quite a groove. Literally! The once smoothly waxed floor has become rough and splintered from the weight of your step. We’re replacing those sections, but it’ll take time, So for now, please take a seat. You’re welcome to remain in the room. You have a place here. Keep watch for us, will ya?

no words

Who are your current most favorite people?

Yesterday morning, I was struggling with old, familiar feelings of guilt from choices made and their consequences and impact. I guess you could say the residual of my humble pie wasn’t tasting so great – like emotional heartburn. I shared this with my wife, hoping she, in turn, would have some words to share with me.

She just sat down beside me. No words. Leaned over, rested her head on my shoulder. My first response was anger. I mean, I was clearly hurting, and all she could do was sit there?? I decided, in that moment, to pivot a bit and just notice the feelings, not enmesh with them, and see what that might reveal. I also decided to tell my wife about my feelings. Not in an accusatory way, but in an acknowledgment of how uncomfortable I was in the moment.

My recovery work around my unwanted behaviors is teaching me that when I sense anger in myself, it’s never really anger. That big feeling is a huge flaming hot neon sign telling me something else is happening, some other feelings, often attached to painful experiences from the past, are showing up. Was I really wanting words of comfort from my wife? Why was I feeling this anger when she was clearly expressing care and compassion with her actions??

When I was a kid, I experienced pretty big emotions on a regular basis. For the first six years, my dad communicated through his behaviors that my big emotions were unwelcome. I understand now that, for a host of reasons, he has always struggled to handle his emotions in a healthy manner. For this reason, there was simply no room for mine. But then he got remarried. I gained a new (step)mom. Maybe she would have room for my big emotions?

My new mom was a talker. If you have a problem, if your emotions are big, just talk about them. Or, more precisely, if I were to tell her about them, she would do her best to make it okay by talking about them. I would talk a little, and then she would fill in all the gaps with words. A plethora of words. Eventually, either she would use enough words that I did get a sense of being seen and understood. Or, more often, the words would basically drown out the noise in my own head until I basically gave up, thanked her for her time, and moved on.

What does this have to do with today’s writing prompt?

My wife is my favorite person. Hands down.

(Intentional digression moment…that expression, “hands down” originated from horse racing. If a horse is far enough ahead in a race, a jockey can release the reins and win, literally, hands down.)

Getting back on track…my wife is my favorite person! We’ve been married 30-something years, and dated for a year before that! Yes, we absolutely were kids when we married – both of us just 19. Sure, my prefrontal cortex wasn’t even fully online yet. Neither was hers. Rational decision making wasn’t always what guided us in those days, just sayin. I wouldn’t change that decision for anything! She is God’s provision for me. My best friend and the one who knows me and still loves me anyway.

This is the person who sat down beside me and put her head on my shoulder. No words.

I didn’t need words. That was my stepmom’s way of dealing with my big feelings. I just expected them. For 30-something years I’ve expected words. Often when I didn’t get them, I would criticize, cajole, and goad my wife into saying words. Even angry ones were preferable to silence. Routinely, this would lead to us “having words” (another idiom for which I didn’t find clear etymology but seems to have origin in the 1700s). We would often continue “having words” until one or both of us would end up feeling deeper hurts due to the harsh words hurled at one another. All because, primarily, I expected her to use more words – based on an often ineffective but normative template used on me as a kid

Our son and daughter-in-law traveled our way for Thanksgiving and stayed for a few days. I love, love my son, my daughter, and their spouses! And I love spending time with them. They also very much make the list as my favorite people. Spending time with them is my favorite activity. When they leave, or when we leave them, I feel as though someone sucked all the air out of the room. The two who were here this time headed back towards home yesterday afternoon. The heaviness hit even before they left. I could tell my wife was feeling the same way. I shared with her how I was feeling. She replied with “me too”. And then we hugged for a minute and sat together.

No words.

humble pie

We didn’t have much in the way of pie at Thanksgiving this year.

This was the second Thanksgiving since mom died. She was always the “hostess with the mostest” – she would cook so much food, and she loved making pies! We would typically have no less than half a dozen! At least a couple of pumpkin pies, along with others including pecan, of course, and some less “traditional” choices, depending on what she felt like making.

But then Covid happened, and for a couple of years, mom didn’t want anyone coming to see her – whatsoever. She never left the house, and never got Covid, but then the other C got her, she struggled for another year-ish, and then she was gone. So last year, in the wake of it all, we moved in with my dad just weeks before Thanksgiving. We were anything but settled, yet trying to establish some normalcy and sense of community for my dad’s sake as well as the rest of the family. It only seemed right to re-establish the family gathering. A lot of grief and uncertainty still hung in the air. Tensions were pretty high. We did our best. It just wasn’t the same, and of course never will be. The food wasn’t quite the same, quite right, and we didn’t have near as many pies. It was the start of a “new normal”.

Something else was going on during that season. I really don’t want to write about, which is why I need to write about it. A few months prior to our move, my addiction brought me into a well-meaning but awkward and emotionally entangled relationship. I wrote about it briefly sometime ago in third wheel. Looking back, it was as if I was trying to only pay attention to the efforts of my left hand (beginning the work of recovery and trying to be helpful to this person) while ignoring my right hand as it was busy sabotaging all my best efforts. By that time, I would describe the relationship as struggling to find any healthy way to live, but really just needing to die already. And what made it so challenging was that, thinking I was in a better frame of mind and could figure out a way to make it work, I brought my wife into the middle of it. I was confused and hurting while she was reeling and in a lot of emotional distress – because of me! Despite our best efforts, that relationship languished on past Christmas and into the next year before we fully extricated ourselves. Ironically, it was my writing about it that brought its death. I’ve experienced a lot of guilt, regret, and grief over the whole mess. Precisely why my answer was hells no to the recent “Do you trust your instincts?” writing prompt!

We only had two pies this year. One pumpkin pie, and a very small pecan pie. It was enough. As for me, I’m learning that humble pie isn’t so bad.

be badass

I volunteer through a platform pursuing connection with people who are hurting or at a crisis point and searching for help via the web. Yesterday – Thanksgiving Day – someone entered a search about “feeling depressed”, and ended up being matched with me.

So, while hanging out with family and friends, I was messaging back and forth with this person. I will not get into their story, as that is not my place.

What struck me was that this person chose to risk being vulnerable, and to share part of their story with me, a volunteer and virtual stranger. It very much reminded me of the quote above from a longer post by Brené Brown, which I read sometime ago.

On a day when many people feel like they must have it all together and present their best image to the world, this person chose to let down their guard, be real, and ask for support. Seeking connection, choosing vulnerability, especially when feeling isolated and depressed, is an amazing act of courage. In the words of Brené Brown, it’s badass.

Be badass.

hells no

Do you trust your instincts?

We are all born “looking for someone looking for us”.

When children don’t routinely find someone looking for them, they adapt. Some kids become more anxious. Others learn to expect less, making the assumption that they are not important. Some vacillate between different ends of the emotional continuum. Others display really huge, seemingly inexplicable behaviors. Have you ever seen a child throwing a stinking fit and thought “this child needs to chill out”? Or, have you seen a child in a busy room, just ignoring the world, and their parent, seemingly content to be alone – and yet it seems really sad? These are examples of adaptive behavior which may be communicating disregulation and dis-integration on the part of that child. They’ve adapted, and their behavior is communicating how they’ve adapted.

All of this adaption happens in the “instinctive” lower region of the brain – the limbic system, or “lizard brain”. The higher functioning areas of a child’s brain are simply not developed yet. But that doesn’t mean their brain is entirely simple or predictable, either. The cognitive ability of the lizard brain is primarily about – but also more than just about – survival and getting physical needs met. It also includes emotional and even (primitive) sexual needs. In a fascinating article I recently read, Dr. Joseph Troncale describes these as “fight, flight, feeding, fear, freezing up, and fornication”.

A child who doesn’t feel safe, who doesn’t receive attunement and appropriate responsiveness from their primary caregiver will adapt. As the saying goes, “kids are pretty resilient”. This doesn’t mean kids adapt well. It just means the survival instincts (there’s the word) of the human brain are very strong! But with trauma, adaptive thinking often becomes maladaptive. This is the essence of addiction.

Now, imagine that maladaptive thinking – aka addiction – has been someone’s way of life for decades. You might say deep grooves have been cut into the addict’s brain. The maladaptive thinking and behaviors are, in essence, their instincts.

I am an addict. In recovery, sure! And for that I am grateful! But do you think it’s a good idea for me to just trust my instincts – or to just go with what seems natural to me??

Hell to the naw!!

In fact, in order to be in recovery, I’ve had to very much stop trusting my instincts! I’ve learned to seek the counsel of others. I’m forsaking trying to do it myself. I’m learning the power of living in a village and seeking connection frequently with others. I’m learning and practicing the pause. I’m putting into place mindfulness practices. I’m building new neural networks and pathways that are more reliable, and provide me the emotional and mental stability I need. But it’s a work in progress.

Now, directly related to how I grew up and the adaptions I made along the way, I do have pretty accurate perception of others. I’m quite good at reading a room. I can sniff out bullies and narcissists. I can’t stand pretense. In other words, I have pretty good intuition. But – and this is a pretty big but – I am still learning that it’s good to seek the wisdom of friends and the perspective of others, because my intuition is still pretty self-protective, which isn’t always the same thing as safe. I tend to lead in within criticism, out of that sense of self protection, when a huge heap of curiosity would serve me so much better! So even when it comes to my intuition, I am learning to set it aside, or at least hold it loosely for a while, to give room for compassion, curiosity, and connection.

holiday anxcitement

We’re just a couple of days away from Thanksgiving. Are you excited, anxious?

For me, this is very much a yes and yes answer!

In the days ahead, I will be around people who are relationally healthy for me, people who I do not experience healthy relationship with, and some who are more of a mixed bag, or whom I enjoy in low doses. Yeah…that’s the reality of family, isn’t it? There will also be more food, and heavier, less healthy food around – with almost an expectation that I will eat it to excess. While food isn’t my “go-to” substance, nor is alcohol, either can become problematic for me, or put me in a state of thinking excess is okay in other areas too.

How do I walk my path of recovery in a healthy way, with all these added situations and stressors? It definitely starts with paying attention – and as Curt Thompson says, paying attention to what I’m paying attention to.

This is a good time for me to do frequent emotional self check-ins. And to include others often in my check-ins as well. I have, historically, been pretty much an internal mess during the holiday season – sometimes external as well. I am learning that I can, now, mentally fast-forward through the next several days and look for situations when my affect regulation might be too amped up (hyper-arousal) or wanting to check out (hypo-arousal).

If I notice I’m starting to “check out”, I could ask one or a few people I enjoy being around to go take a walk with me. I might need to just get away and do some jumping jacks or something else that is physical and would get my heart pumping. I can drink some cold water or even take a cold shower! What’s important is knowing that I do have agency and ability to change the narrative.

If I become anxious, agitated, or overly excited even, then I may need to get alone and do some box breathing or another mindfulness exercise. I could go outside and walk barefoot in the grass – though if the weather is too chilly, that might not really help me down-regulate! Going for a run is also typically a way for me to down-regulate, but may not always, in the moment, be a viable option. My wife and I have started doing yoga together again, after some months of just letting it go. This was great timing to get going again, as I’m already feeling more mindful and I notice an increase in my ability to remain present and engaged. Yoga is great for down-regulating but also increasing integration.

I have tools and things to do, and those are all helpful. Most of all, I have a way of thinking – I don’t know if mindfulness is the best way to explain it? I just know that this holiday season I can focus on compassion – towards myself and others – coupled with curiosity and healthy connection. And, I believe this will be my best, most mindful, regulated, integrated holiday season yet!

dry land

What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever found (and kept)?

“Drowning people don’t have capacity to care.”

In my therapist’s office, I shared a story with her to illustrate how I’m noticing a positive difference in my emotional connection with my wife lately. Then I shared that I was quite frustrated with myself for all the times when I haven’t been an emotionally safe husband. I’ve been so concerned with seeking my own emotional safety, I haven’t held space for my wife’s safety. In other ways, I took her – and her feelings – for granted.

That’s about when my therapist spoke up – with the statement I quoted above.

I started to say something else, but the words got caught in my throat.

Simultaneously, I recognized the truth of her words, and I wanted to argue with them. She was right. But I wasn’t ever really drowning. I tried to envision myself, at any point in my lifetime, when I felt like I might be drowning.

Two images – two different situations from childhood – immediately came to mind.

I’ve written about the first incident previously on my other blog. It was my first solo – no training wheels – bike ride, (and bike crash) as a six year old. I’ve shared the story several times through the years, always with some laughter and a sense of pride in how quickly I got up and returned to riding. I even called myself hard-headed in my previous post.

But, sitting there with my therapist, it occurred to me that the reason I laughed and jumped back on the bike so fast after crashing was that I didn’t want anyone to think I was a wimp or incapable. I mean, it was a pretty ridiculous crash! I wasn’t wearing any safety gear – that wasn’t even a consideration in those days. Hitting my head on a tree was not painless! Yet l, I knew that I couldn’t trust the reaction of my parents to be safe for me. I might get scolded, yelled at. I might lose the chance to try again, and I couldn’t risk that. I had to get up laughing. I had to be okay, even if it hurt, because that was the only way I could guarantee a positive outcome – for me.

The second incident was when, as a boy, I felt close to actually being drowned. It was a rare instance when my family and I were at a swimming pool. At least, I suppose they were around. I was “frog swimming” under water, holding my breath, and swam nearby another bigger, older boy. He reached under the water and stopped my progress by putting his hand on top of my head and holding me there. I was was ready to surface for air, yet he held me for what seemed like a really long time. I started to panic, struggled, yet couldn’t break free of his grasp. I started to choke, and then he let go. I frantically came to the surface, sputtering and coughing. He just laughed. I looked around, and no one seemed to have the least concern. I never told anyone about what happened. What good would it do?

When children don’t have some reasonable expectation that their parent(s) will be there for them in a safe manner, it feels like drowning. And when we’re drowning, we will cling to anything we can. We use irrational thinking. We’ll take other people down with us.

In the safety of the therapist’s office, I realized…I have been drowning for a long, long time. Simultaneously, there was a self-protective part of me that felt unsafe to admit it. I came face-to-face with a falsehood that I’ve been clinging to for decades – that I had to be okay, no matter what. Then, I let go. In doing so, it was as if I could finally feel the dry land that had already formed beneath my feet.

buried…yet alive?

I’m wrestling with a topic that is somewhat unclear and quite complex. Nature vs. Nurture. Who wins? This post has taken me days to compose, edit, and re-edit.

The “experts” say that addiction is genetic. Well, not all… but many. I’m not going to link any specific studies about this. There are plenty. And then, I recently wrote about how Adverse Childhood Experiences bring about changes to a person’s biological, cellular, and genetic makeup.

My grandfather was an alcoholic. And, very recently I learned that, for a fact, he was also abusive. What does this mean for my heritage? What does it mean for my lineage?

This is the grandfather I never knew. Through the ancestry research I’ve been doing, I recently found a relative on my grandfather’s side of the family who actually knew him. This man is my first cousin, once removed, and actually spent time living in the same home with my grandfather. His words were, and I quote:

“The women in our family were mostly practicing Mormon (LDS) and all the men were practicing alcoholics.”

Whoah! Okay, that was way more forthcoming than I expected! But, there was more.

According to this same relative, my grandfather “was a good hearted person but the alcohol didn’t treat him very nice and he had, should we say, harsh relationships.”

This would explain why my great grandfather, on my grandmother’s side, traveled hundreds of miles across the country in the early 1950s to retrieve my grandmother and my dad, forever leaving behind my dad’s abusive, alcoholic dad – my grandfather. Eventually, my dad would also leave behind his dad’s last name when he was adopted by his mom’s brother after her death. My dad’s childhood was an outright disaster!

These are all things my dad has essentially buried most of his life. I’ve heard only whispers of the story until recently. My dad did say something one time about not drinking alcohol because it might not “set well” with him. Just last week, though, he mentioned that he thought his dad might’ve been alcoholic and abusive. So…buried but not forgotten.

My dad had his own addictions, though. He sought refuge and importance in his career – working long hours and eventually becoming his own boss and the boss of others – writing his own destiny, finding security in “success”. He also has struggled with food addiction and unwanted eating behaviors, in his own words, for his “entire life”. This has brought on a slow but sure decline of his health. The body does keep the score.

And, my dad was abusive. I was the target and recipient of that abuse. I’ve written about this before, so no need to belabor that here.

Here’s where I’m trying to go: It seems clear to me that while my dad tried his best to dismiss, bury and kill his father’s addiction issues and patterns of abuse, they remained very much alive.

I seem to have escaped addiction to alcohol, food, or work. Still, I have struggled with unwanted sexual behaviors – aka sex addiction aka intimacy disorder – for most of my life. And while I was not physically abusive to my children, the stuff I’ve put my wife through in years past as a result of my addiction has been pretty awful – and I would have to say emotionally abusive.

I’m in my 50s! I’ve been married since I was 19. While my wife and I have done a lot of work on our relationship over the course of our marriage, I only came to terms with the truth of my addiction a couple of years ago. I’ve discovered the healing power of processing the pain of my own story, and the work of story work. Things have changed, and are changing for me. Things are changing for my marriage, too. Despite our best attempts and intentions, my wife and I have been bumping into each other’s attachment issues for our entire marriage. Now we have common language, understanding, and ways of sensing and then making sense of what we’re sensing. We relate differently now. It’s good. So good!

Some time ago, I read in a blog by Wynne Leon that we all navigate life’s path in our parent’s shadow (I ever so slightly modified that, but Wynne deserves the credit). This truth means my kids, though seemingly pretty well adjusted young adults who are themselves married to wonderful marriage partners, may not be immune to my story and the way it has shaped not just my life, but theirs as well. And despite our best efforts as parents to inoculate them from our own hurts and habits, we still rub off on them in some ways. It’s literally inevitable! But is it really genetic?

I’m learning that the best way to keep from passing down my stuff is not by fighting, dismissing, trying to kill, or burying it. I’m being truthful with myself, seeking support from my village, and sharing honestly about the challenges I face with my family – including my adult kids. Will that be enough to truly bury the story of abuse and addiction that has been passed down for generations? That is my hope, my belief, and my prayer. I want to believe that while genetics may play a part, neuroplasticity is the real hero of life’s story.

I think this is another one of those posts that I just cannot button up nicely. Probably because the story of it is literally still being written – in my life and in the lives of my children, and eventually theirs too. Meanwhile, I’ll keep doing my work, so maybe my shadow lights like a butterfly rather than lands like a brick!

podcast highlight

What podcasts are you listening to?

I listen to several different podcasts. Of course, the list includes stuff about addiction, and not just “my form” of addiction. It also includes stuff about ADHD, the Enneagram, and recovery, parenting, and other subjects. I’ve listed several of them on my (wanted) resources page. Actually, I think it might be time to update that list a bit! Not today, because I’m short on time. But, soon!

Today, I will highlight what may be my favorite podcast episode, ever. I say may, because there are a lot of great podcasts and episodes out there! But this one really helped me understand my brain in a paradigm-shifting sort of way. It is…drumroll…

Dr. Curt Thompson’s Being Known Podcast, Season 1, Episode 8.

This one podcast gave me practical insight and ways of thinking and doing that have radically changed – and I think accelerated – my recovery journey. The link I’ve included will take you to YouTube, but it is worth finding and listening to in whatever podcast format you prefer!

He’s releasing season 8 now, which is all about beauty. I’m really enjoying it so far. And, I will say that as far as seasons go, Season 5 of Being Known has been my favorite for this podcast, which is all about the topic of shame – something I’ve historically struggled with a lot!

Okay, before I sign off, I’d love to know how this podcast hits you! Also, I wanna I know! What’s your favorite podcast episode?

aces in the hole

Aces. They’re the top card to have in many (but not all) games involving a standard deck of cards. In the game of poker, for instance, having four aces will usually result in a win – unless someone else has a straight flush!

In the game of life, however, having four ACEs would not be considered a win. In this context, I’m not talking about cards. I’m referring to the acronym used for Adverse Childhood Experiences.

Early childhood adversity impacts us on a biological, cellular, and genetic level. The ACEs study shows a strong correlation between childhood adversity and chronic health issues – including heart disease, diabetes, cancer, autoimmune disorders, and other health issues, not the least of which is premature death. These are not sociological issues. They’re biological. And they begin with childhood adversity (which is often but not always trauma).

Researchers developed a list of criteria and established just ten questions, and for each “yes”, the participant receives one ACE. They determined that adults with an ACE score of 4 or higher were at significantly greater risk for the things I mentioned above. There’s a much longer list that I won’t include here.

I took the quiz some time ago and determined I have four ACEs. If only this was poker, I’d have a pretty sweet hand! But…this ain’t poker.

The chances of having some seriously maladaptive predispositions and lifelong struggles increase significantly with every ACE. The science is clear. The facts are indisputable. It’s sobering.

I’m grateful to say that having a high, or relatively high ACEs score doesn’t have to be a hopeless situation. With intervention, children with adverse experiences may not see any lasting effects. And, with support, adults can mitigate the effects and even the challenges they may already be experiencing. As I’ve been doing my recovery work, I am noticing a significant difference. Not to say all things are great, but they’re better! And as I continue this path, I anticipate that trend will continue!

The best way to get an “ace in the hole” – in this context a better hand, or maybe a better handle – in regards to ACEs is first awareness and second support and maybe even some retraining. Change – even generational change – is not just possible, it is attainable!

So, how about you? What’s your experience with ACEs? Do you have a “good hand”?