Monthly Archives: December 2015

SNOW

Snow, as heavy as death,

How you break the frail back.

Shoveling is a gladiator sport, and

Winter is the lion which slays you.

 

Roar the oncoming hordes of flakes.

Sodden mittens clench the staff,

A blade against an unrelenting foe.

Blisters in anticipation.

 

Hurl the churlish weapon in futile rage.

A pain given is a pain received,

For every shovelful is death to someone.

And snowmen weep when the sun comes out.

 

Latticed crystals mock in six-sided glee

Covering once more the open ground.

Laying the monstrous earth to sleep.

Writing epitaphs in mounds of white.

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Overwhelmed? It might be time to A.C.T.

 A Super Simplistic View of

Acceptance and Commitment Therapy

Crazy Christmas
This is how my brain feels on Christmas. Any Questions?

The holidays come around every year and every year I struggle to get through them despite depressive inclinations. The DSM V (Dismal Scrooge Manual) describes it as a tinsel-bedecked, window-flocked, overly-piped Chipmunk Christmas Album version of Seasonal Affective Disorder.* On occasion I have had to suppress the urge to strangle someone with tangled Christmas lights if they so much as Ho Ho Ho in my direction.

Based on the theory that which does not kill us makes us stronger, in the past, I have responded by leaping maniacally manically into the holiday spirit with an elaborate annual letter with photos and captions, holiday cards, and a cookie party inviting all my friends and their children to festoon my carpet with a thousand and one sprinkles.

But the stress of my life has had an accumulative toll and this year, I seriously wondered if I was going to live long enough to see my child grow up. So I got help. I’ve been seeing a therapist (because all the cool kids are doing it) and for months now I have been trying to embrace a very simple philosophy that gives me a headache when I try to employ it. Repeat after me people:

“I am not my thoughts or emotions.”

The therapy in question is called A.C.T. a lovely acronym which stands for Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. During months of weekly visits with a very nice therapist through the V.A., I’ve managed to grasp the ideas behind the program. There’s even an APP for that on the VA website.  But it’s like chess, you can learn the rules pretty easily, it’s becoming a grand master that takes practice.

Describing A.C.T., as it turns out, is harder than I thought, but here goes:

OBSERVE

First, I learned that you step outside of whatever thought you are having (good, bad, indifferent, the emotional context doesn’t matter) instead you focus on recognizing that all thoughts are separate from who you are. You accept that you have thoughts of worthlessness, failure, depression, whatever, and then you say, “Okay. I see myself thinking X, Y, Z.” The goal isn’t to get rid of the thought or even dispute them.** After you accept that you have had a thought, you are to ask yourself “Is that thought helpful?”

BE MINDFUL

Second – be present in your life. Practicing mindfulness is what I like to call the “Woo Woo” portion of ACT. This involves active observation either of a task or meditative relaxation where you might hear a soft-spoken speaker tell you to listen to your breath while imagining leaves floating on water carrying any extraneous thought away from your observer state.*** After learning mindfulness came what I consider the more concrete portion of the therapy: Commitment.

BEING COMMITTED

Third – Values versus Goals. I was given a few different lessons in determining what really matters to me—defining the way I want to live my life. Once I decided what values matter most to me—health, being a good parent, writing—I wrote goals as steps that life. Goal: I will get to sleep by 11:00 p.m. (in progress), Goal: I will not swear at my child. (Damn.) Goal: I will value my writing and make time in my day to respect my creativity. (Ta dah!)

PRACTICE

Okay, but what happens when your week sucks bilge water? I’ll give you an example of one day I reported to my therapist:

Me: “…child has been sick …. I haven’t slept…today he flooded the kitchen AND the bathroom, he emptied the liquid dish soap into a garbage can—twice— and then, he turned on the stove past the click-click starter point, filling the house with gas, and he turned off the refrigerator…blather…blather…hysterical tears…

[My therapist always gives me time to have a mini-meltdown and she makes comforting noises before redirecting me to our opening woo-woo practice. Her voice is a soft monotone and very hypnotic as she reads from the page.]

Therapist: “Okay let’s do a mindful relaxation session. Get comfortable. Focus on your breath, but you do not need to change your breath. Breathe as you normally would. You are comfortable. You sense your hands, your feet, and your head is centered on your body….”

This goes on for a bit and then I heard the following sentence:

Therapist: “…you do not need to fix yourself.”

Me: “Bwa ha ha ha ha hah!”

I laughed so hard I was crying. I laughed so hard, I almost peed myself. I laughed so hard, the therapist started laughing. She broke out of ‘robo-voice’ to say, “Well…there isn’t anything wrong with you that needs fixing.”

It took an effort, but I finally stopped snorting and threatening to burst into manic laughter every time I thought of that sentence.  Somehow we got through the exercise. Afterward, I told her it was the best session I had and it was worth it just to be able to laugh like that.

A.C.T. doesn’t pretend to be a solution to any problems you have in your life. I like that about the program. My goal isn’t to try and ‘fix’ my thoughts, or make them go away, or pretend they aren’t there. A.C.T. is teaching me that, yeah, I may be depressed, I may have negative thoughts or feelings of worthlessness, but, I’m not going to let that stop me from trying to have a better life. It’s teaching me that I can choose to act in my best interest in spite of my mental illness.

One of my favorite lines from a movie, comes from A Beautiful Mind. In this movie, Russell Crowe plays John Nash, a mathematics genius who is nominated for the Nobel Prize for his theories in economics in spite of the fact that he is a diagnosed schizophrenic. In the scene I’m remembering, Nash is meeting a member of the Nobel Committee who is there to see whether awarding Nash the prize will lead to embarrassment.

Nash say that he might embarrass the Nobel Committee, and when asked, admits that he still sees the hallucinations that mark his schizophrenia.

Nash says, “I still see things that are not here. I just choose not to acknowledge them.”

He further explains: “I’ve gotten used to ignoring them and I think, as a result, they’ve kind of given up on me. I think that’s what it’s like with all our dreams and our nightmares, Martin, we’ve got to keep feeding them for them to stay alive.”

From now on, I am going to try and feed my dreams instead of my nightmares; take the actions that will help me to live my values; and acknowledge that some days will be easier than others. I pledge to be as kind to myself as I would be to a friend who felt this bad. And I will remember “I do not need to fix myself.” In truth, I already possess a beautiful mind.

Asterisk Bedazzled Footnotes:

*Not to make light of people who actually have S.A.D. No Joke.

**Although A.C.T. has some nifty terms for handling destructive ideas–like ‘cognitive defusion’–that makes it sound like your brain is a bomb about to go off.

***For some reason, I always imagine floating elephants down a river on a leaf. I have no idea why.

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Anyone truly wanting information on the subject can check out the following links:

Social Work Today

List of Resources from Contextual Science

A Toy Too Far and an Emotional Sucker Punch

IMG_8977

My inner child typically goes wild during the holidays: perusing the many catalogues that come to the house pointing to each item (or circling) the ones I want the way I did when I was a kid. Now, instead of Easy Bake Ovens or Barbie accessories, I’m eyeballing whatever takes my fancy and trying to justify buying it.*

Brookstone
My butt really deserves a $5,000 massage

Yet, this time of year also brings with it the anxiety of gift buying that grows more intractable every year. Worry about buying a commensurate gift or any gift for an unexpected kindness makes me want to avoid people.** Trust me, when I say “You shouldn’t have!” I really mean it. The Big Bang Theory’s neurotically lovable character, Sheldon, said it best: “You didn’t get me a gift, you got me an obligation.”

But I understand, there is a joy in sharing and caring for the ones you love. But maybe, just maybe, we don’t have to do it with tangible, pricey exchanges—beautiful bows, notwithstanding.

This brings up today’s quandary. I have looked up from November’s hole of self-absorption to realize Christmas is barely two weeks away. I have not strung the house with any kind of decoration. I have not written any cards. I have baked no cookies. I have purchased no gifts, no boomwhackers or fandoozles. In short, I have been the Grinch who Ignored Christmas.

My son, however, has finally noticed the holiday comes around every year. He has started dragging me to the toy aisle to point out the extremely expensive plastic monstrosity which is this year’s IT toy:

HotWheels
Because nothing says love like $99.99 worth of plastic.

Now, I try not to be a Scrooge when it comes to my kid. But there is a history here that wars with my better nature. Maybe it is because he is autistic, but in the past my son has insisted on one toy in particular. He will drag me or run to the toy department to make me follow him. He will try to get me to buy it…or, failing that, will try to tuck it under his arm and walk out with it. It takes the skills of a ninja for me to sneak out, buy the item, wrap it and hide it where he can’t find it, and keep it secret until December 26th.

Then, when the holiday rolls around, and I wait to see his excitement as he opens his present, I am floored by the total disinterest the toy produces when it is actually removed from the many trip wires they use to entrap parents into never returning the item for fear they would have to repackage it. It’s as if, the minute it is out of the box, it loses whatever magic it possessed in the store when I refused to buy it for him.

So I sat down with my son and pulled up several much-cheaper options online which he willingly clicked on and watched the video ads that promoted them. Over, and over, and over. Afterwards, I type out my questions on the iPad and wait for his painstakingly slow replies:

Me: “Why do you want the garage toy?

Son: “It is wider.”

Me: “It is very expensive. Let’s see if we can find a cheaper toy you like.”

[interlude with several nearly identical v-tech toys.]

Me: “Will you like this toy instead?”

Son: “Yes”

Me: “Is there anything else you would like for Christmas?”

Son: “Crayons.”

Me: “Okay, anything else?”

Son: “I would like you to teach me to talk.”

It took me a few seconds to remember how to breathe, that’s how much the sentence hurt. I typed a few more sentences about how well he is doing and how much I now know about him because of the iPad…but he is done for the night. He runs off to play and I get a glass of wine and try not to cry.

It is entirely tempting to just order the damned prized toy to make up for all of the things my child doesn’t have. It is a constant measure of guilt that underscores many of the decisions I make as a parent. It is a trap of desperation: “If only I can make him happy it will make up for him being a non-verbal child with autism.” But I have been down this very expensive road before and, though it is a scenic route full of enticing detours, I stick to my pecuniary path. I order a VTech Ultimate Amazement Play Park car set that will make him happy for at least an hour at half the price.

Do we as parents say “No!” to the overpriced toys and the overpriced holidays since we know that it isn’t worth the cost?  On the other hand, do we really want to face disappointing our child and the associated guilt? This is my continual quandary.

I would really like to know, where do you all come down on this issue? Do you cave and buy the exorbitant junk or do you grit your teeth bear the price of impecunious, parental perspicacity?***

Asterisk Bedazzled Footnotes:

*I am impulse consumerism personified.

**Let’s be honest, people make me want to avoid people.

***Because I like alliteration, so there.

When a Tune Haunts You…

 

A certain song got stuck in my head while I was cleaning this weekend. Then things got weird. You may all thank (or curse) me later.  Enjoy

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I’m Getting Buried in the Morning

To the Tune of (what else) “I’m Getting Married in the Morning

 

Scene: Graveyard, shadowy suggestion of a tomb and various headstones.

Enter: Vampire singing

 

Vampire: “I’m getting buried in the morning

Ding dong the corpse is looking fine

Don’t try to stake me

Or reanimate me

But get me to the crypt on time!”

 

“I gotta be there by the morning

Or else I won’t be looking in me prime

Dawn’s light will baste me

Fricassee and waste me

So, please do, get me to the crypt on time!”

 

[Enter sweet young thing to be mesmerized by vampire.]

 

Vampire: “If I am hungry, roll out a vein

Vampire Bite
He totally sucks…but that isn’t always a bad thing. Photo courtesy of Pixabay

 

Girl:  “This sucks!” [fainting]

Vampire: “If I should drain you, try not to complain”

 

[sucks victim dry, drops her]

 

Vampire: “For I’m getting buried in the morning”

 

[Enter Zombies – crawl from graves/blankets of grass?]

 

Zombies: “Braai-aiiiins!” [Instead of Ding Dong] [Chew on girl dead on floor.]

Vampire: “The Zombies are just fine.

After their dinner, your brains will be much thinner.

So get me to the crypt,”

Zombies: [shout] “Get us to the crypt,”

Vampire: “So get me to the crypt on time!

 

-Music Slows Dramatically –

[Frankenstein monster enters in tux]

Frankenstein: “Aaunnnnghgh.”

 

[All take off hats to mourn]

 

Vampire: [Gesture to Frankenstein]

“He’s getting married in the morning.”

“The poor sod’s doomed before his time.”

Frankenstein: [nods agreement] “Aaunnnnghghg.”

 

Vampire: “We should detain him

In the mausoleum chain him…”

 

Bride of Frankenstein: [Stalks across stage, drags Frankenstein away.] “Hands off, Vlad, this monster’s mine!”

 

Vampire: [shrugs, then pulls cape across face]

“If I’m a villain, well that’s okay.

The bad guy has more fun anyway.”

 

[Vampire will get into coffin – or lie on table to be raised and carried away.]

 

All: [even dead girl – who becomes zombie]  “He’s getting buried in the morning.

Ding dong, the corpse is looking fine.

Vampire: [sitting up] “Don’t try to stake me

Or reanimate me

But get me to the crypt…”

All: [moving slowly] “Get him to the crypt…”

Vampire: [Stands causing zombies to fall back – dramatic pose] “For unholy sake, get me to the crypt…on…

Ending One:

[Lights up-with a vengeance.]

Vampire: “Oh crap.”

[Vampire disappears in a poof of black smoke. Zombies shamble off, muttering ‘Brains?’ softly.]

Janitor: [Crosses stage with broom, whistling theme song, sweeping up vampire dust. Looks to audience.] “The refrain gets them every time.”

 *

Ending Two:

[Begins where the last refrain stopped.]

Vampire: [singing] “Time.”

Zombies shuffle off taking Vampire with them.

Brief pause with lights still up.

Whistling comes from off stage and Woman (or man) enters

 

Woman: [draped in crosses and garlic necklace, holding stake.]

“He’s getting buried in the morning.

This time, death is gonna take.

With this, I’ll impale him.

Behead and flail him.

‘Cause this vamp slayer’s got a lot at stake!

[End Scene – Lights out]