Conditioning

In the last six months or so, I've found myself becoming more self-aware than ever, shedding what I call the PPTs (People, Places, and Things) that have been a central part of what I now refer to as the old me. I've felt myself becoming more tuned into my being's desire and need to pull away from all the gunky conditioning that's been cluttering my existence. With each day it becomes more clear how deeply I've been trapped by my people-pleasing mentality that's an integral part of my conditioning. It's taken me almost a decade of diligent work with a therapist and sincere attention to the things that get exposed by it. A decade sounds like a long time, but I believe once recognized, these things don’t get undone in a day, a month, or even a year. The amount of time it takes to begin being consciously aware of the unconscious thinking and behavior is far less than the time it took for that thinking and behavior to become rooted in me. As I continue to wake up from the deep sleep of my conditioning sometimes I'm filled with an anxiousness. Recognizing how deeply my absolute being has been molded by the five decades of conditioning fills me with a sense of immediacy. One hundred and eighty degree changes must happen NOW! I've spent so many years trapped in approval seeking that it feels like time is of the essence. I know, of course, that this is not true. Reversal of this thinking and embracing my self-awareness takes time. It's a journey not a destination.

We aren't meant to exist only in the conditioning of our upbringing. We aren't meant to exist only within the limitations of our parents. The ideas they have for us are limited to their own range of sight, and that's based on their upbringing and their parents range of sight, and so on and so on. The conditioning goes back generations. Our unconscious perception of ourselves is formed by generations of conditioning. We are not them. I am not them.

The biggest aspect of this notion is hearing the voice of my parents in my head. From one parent it's the voice of failure. "Why do you only have that much money left over after paying all your bills?" "Why didn't you get an A instead of a B on that test?" "Why couldn't you..." "Why didn't you...," and on and on and on. I provide for myself financially just fine, yet in the back of my mind I always here that parent criticizing me. This parent means well. This parent's intentions are to inspire me to always do my best. At 58 I finally get that. But growing up when that parent's words come across in a harsh and brutal tone, the 10-year old me doesn't understand that. When that parent is barking at you to stop crying (and you're crying because of the way they've just barked at you for something) you only cry more. An impossible loop for a 10-year old to escape. When you're playing little league baseball you're afraid to swing at a pitch for fear that you'll miss and that parent will yell at you. So you don't swing at all and get yelled at just the same. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. So from the get-go half of my thinking was "failure," "disappointment," "loser," and a overwhelming sense of apology for simply being human. This parent grew up in a physically abusive household; parents beating each other up, father beating up sons, mother slapping daughters. Knowing how this parent grew up and what kind of conditioning there was in that household helps me understand that parent better now. I can empathize. I can cut this parent some slack for my conditioning. It was never done to harm me. This parent simply didn't know any better. 

The other parent was a people pleaser. Terrified of not making everyone happy, except themselves. If everyone is happy, pleased, and satisfied, but that parent is sitting in misery, it was all worth it. That was this parent's thinking. This parent instilled in me the notion to always please. Always be available. Always do just a little more. Always at your own expense of course. This parent grew up in an emotionally abusive household. This parent told me a story of being badgered by their mother one Christmas to tell her what the present was under the tree (my parent knew and was sworn to secrecy.) My grandmother finally wore her child down and this parent of mine told her what was in the package. My grandmother immediately said, "Now you've ruined my Christmas." She had no idea what that does to a child. She had no idea what kind of hurt and psychological damage that causes. As a boy, teen, and adult I saw this over and over. My grandmother would treat my parent with such psychological cruelty. She actually told my parent once that, "You'd be happier if you weren't so fat." So, this parent took on the role of people pleaser. Make everyone happy. Be the ultimate provider, and if you don't, you're a failure. This kind of conditioning is exactly why this parent of mine struggled with weight. This parent's weight problem was clearly an outward manifestation of inner, psychological pain. This lead to health issues, mainly diabetes, which was this parent's ultimate demise. The people-pleasing thinking and behavior of my past is a direct, unconscious conditioning by this parent. That is perfectly clear to me now.

I can see my thinking and way of behaving as a timeline. I can identify now specific dots on the timeline, moments or incidents that changed or molded my thinking, and as the saying goes, knowing is half the battle. It takes courage and ego strength to turn around from the forward path and look behind us. To look honestly as what kind of wind is filling our sails. A good deal of things we see and what gets exposed when we look are things we'd rather not face or admit to. Some people can face those things easily, some it takes conscious effort, and others never find the strength to do so. I feel sorry for those who never find the strength to do so. For me, the awakening self I described initially, I understand now. I have empathy now. I can forgive now. I can grow away from that horrendous conditioning how. Some of it is beyond horrendous, some of it mildly disturbing. And I should say that not all of it is bad. I can recount just as many wonderful, loving moments as well. All of it has made me who I am.

I've made my peace with the bad and embraced the good. And it's all okay.

Fiendish Jones and the Need for Permission

Earlier this morning I was just feeding my Frenchie Rufus and doing some cleaning and rearranging in the kitchen when (to me) a profound and probably obvious thought occurred to me. 

I've been operating in my new apartment space with a sort of unconscious need for permission from some nebulous "persona" out there. Even something as simple as where I'm putting the toaster on the countertop became a battle for permission. What if "someone" doesn't like it there? What if they don't approve of my choice of toaster color? What if they criticize my choices?! And on and on it went.

In the moment where I realized fully what I was doing to myself a name came to me as if someone opened my head and plopped it right into my brain. Fiendish Jones. He's basically Snidely Whiplash (for those of you not old enough to remember the cartoon Dudley Do-Right of the Mounties Snidely was Dudley's arch nemesis.) He's the voice that lurks just out of range of my consciousness that criticizes every decision I make. He has a top hat and cape and a long mustache that he twirls as he laughs manically at mentally cornering me yet again. I've constantly found myself asking his permission for just about everything I do.

I didn't even realize until this morning I was operating under this kind of imaginary criticism. Now that I know this, now that I've moved from ignorance to knowledge, from knowing to embracing, I understand that I don't need to seek or be that needy for permission about anything.

What a revelation.

Cheating at Cards and the Timeline of Self Awareness

I had the strangest dream last night about playing a card game called 21. Not the usual 21, though. This involved a random "20" card, almost like a wild Joker card. I was playing with a guy who was cheating. He'd stash the 20 card in his waistline and pull it out to win the hand just at the time when I thought I had him beat. I realized he was cheating when I noticed this enormous wet spot in his crotch. He had pissed himself. "He must really have a huge bladder," I thought to myself in the dream, because his pants were the heavy Carhartt canvas-like material that would be difficult to soak. In the dream I thought to myself he must be nervous about cheating at the card game, otherwise he wouldn't be wetting himself. In my typical fashion, I didn't say anything. I let go of the obvious thing that should be called out as unacceptable. I ignored it, as I always do, in order to not rock the boat or cause trouble. As the card cheating continued and he got more nervous about being discovered the wet spot got bigger and bigger from wetting himself. As his wet spot got bigger I became more frustrated. Not frustrated with his cheating but with my not saying anything. My actions in my dream mirrored my actions in my waking life. I never speak up. I always let things go. I'm always the one to "go along" with everyone else even it makes me unhappy. As long as everyone else is content, my misery, my silent unhappiness is a small price to pay. Waking up I wondered what could this dream mean? What does my personal behavior have to do with a man wetting his pants from cheating at cards?

As quickly as I asked myself the question the answer came to me. The man's growing wet spot was a symbolic "dream challenge" testing the limits of my ability to ignore things that make me unhappy. How long could I accept unacceptable situations sacrificing my own happiness in the process?

In that moment I could clearly see the path from never saying anything, afraid to upset anyone, to the frustration I feel with things. The connection was clear. Suddenly, I could pick out instances all throughout my life where I haven't stood up for my choices or opinions. It was all laid out before me like dots on a timeline. This particular thing in 1972, that incident in 1985, etc. And I could see the product of those dots, how I've arrived here at this present dot on the timeline. I was able not only to see, but also understand, how this has led to the smoldering frustration below the surface I feel most of the time It's been so constant and pervasive for so long I was unaware of it. I couldn't see the forest for the trees.

I've now gone through most of my morning with a new perspective and a sense of empowerment. My vow isn't to do away with this outmoded thinking in one stroke and replace it with some sparkling, brand new mentality. It will take time. Being more consciously aware of when these thoughts and feelings arise in me. Taking them individually, one at a time. Tackling it encounter by encounter, day by day. My happiness and sense of self expects nothing less. 

Living For Others

There is a huge difference between living for one's self and living for others. A person can certainly serve and be cognizant of others and their needs. Holding the door open for an elderly person, going to a movie you aren't particularly interested in seeing but your friend is, spending an extra five minutes on the phone with someone who needs to talk; these are examples of serving and being cognizant of others. 

Sacrificing your needs and desires to put others and their needs before yours is not. That's people pleasing. And while it certainly is a kind and polite way of thinking, it's not healthy. Everyone else around you is happy. You've made sure of that. But guess who is the miserable one? You are! Living for others is constant misery. It's stressful and it doesn't bring the kind of happiness we all deserve. 

It took me a very long time to understand the difference. Being first in your life isn't selfish or being rude or uncaring for others. If we don't make ourselves first in our lives, we can't be of service to others. That's writing a blank check, and that check is going to bounce. If I can't care for me I can't care for you. This is an excellent lesson to carry with us each and every day. 

The Best I Can

I've spent a good portion of my life being a people pleaser and a perfectionist. That's a whole other series of blog posts. I've always chased perfection and made sure everyone else was happy, even if it was at the sacrifice of my own. Perfection is an illusion that only brings misery. A friend described that mentality as "perfectionist despair." 

About a week ago in a conversation with my partner I stumbled on to the best prescription for avoiding perfectionist despair and help with being a people pleaser. It's not complicated. It's just this simple, I say to myself or to others, "I do the best I can in the best way I know how." 

It's just that simple. It's liberating. It frees me from my panic and desperation to be perfect and please everyone else but myself. 

I do the best I can in the best way I know how. 

The Oliver Syndrome

In the novel "Oliver Twist" and the 1968 movie musical version there is a scene at the evening meal. Oliver, with bowl and spoon in hand, approaches the master of the workhouse and timidly asks for more. That scene has been gnawing at the back of my mind for a while now, and I've finally figured out why. It's what I've taken to calling The Oliver Syndrome.

When we're so entangled in people pleasing and worrying what others think of us, we're like Oliver. Ashamed of asking for what we want, frightened of upsetting others. We're timid and afraid to live fully for fear of what others will think or how they will silently judge us.

Had Oliver not asked for more, he would've gone hungry. If we don't give ourselves permission to be, and stop the constant fret over what we think others will think, we starve ourselves of a full life.