Mental panic attacks are the scarier version for me because they seem to come from nowhere. Often, my mind starts buzzing and filling up, even resembling the ESPN app multicast feature. Multiple streams are playing simultaneously, but only one has audio.

Note: This is part of an ongoing series on what mental illness feels like for me. Read the introduction and associated disclaimers here.

As I wrote before, I differentiate mental panic attacks from the more common variety I experience, physical panic attacks. In a physical panic attack, I am usually triggered as a result of intense emotions, and I can feel it building to some extent, or at least notice warning signs. Mental panic attacks seem to strike out of the blue, and thus are more uncertain and terrifying to me.

First episode

Even though I described them as being like an ESPN multicast in the introduction, it is not always this case for me. The first mental panic attack I experienced occurred while out on a walk with no headphones. I had been walking on a regular basis throughout the summer and fall last year, and one morning at the end of October, I was having trouble with my AirPods, so I just went walking without anything to listen to. As I neared the one mile point, I started to think that I needed to talk with my psychiatrist because my medications were not working out well. I am still not sure where my mind went, but I had the distinct thought, “I am not ok.” I decided to turn around and get straight home, even though I had planned for my walk to be longer.

Even later that morning, I could not remember the content of what was playing in my mind. I got to the point where the voices were shouting, and I felt completely overwhelmed. I wished that I had brought my headphones so that I would not be alone with my thoughts. I began to sing church hymns to myself as I walked, and one verse in particular stuck with me:

When dark clouds of trouble hang o’er us
And threaten our peace to destroy,
There is hope smiling brightly before us,
And we know that deliv’rance is nigh.
We doubt not the Lord nor his goodness.
We’ve proved him in days that are past.

We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet

I sang that over and over to myself until I got home and immediately crawled back in bed. My wife asked if I was ok, and my response was, “Not really.” She then asked if I could tell her about it, to which I replied, “Not yet.” She gave me a couple minutes and then told me she was scared and asked if I had gotten hurt or if I was having suicidal thoughts. I told her “No” and she just curled up to me and held me so I could fall asleep. A few hours later, she came back down and asked if I would let her in, and I was able to tell her about what had happened.

Multicast mode

One of my next mental panic attacks happened a couple months ago. I got up early one morning, and was getting ready to go to the temple. I could not find the right clothes, and started to get stressed and sat down in our closet. This is from my journal that day:

After a couple minutes, I reached up and grabbed my robe, turned out the light, and used it as a pillow to lay down for a bit. As I was laying there, I found that my mind started going like crazy. I had a few different trains of thought going loudly at the same time, and started picturing them like the ESPN app with multiple games at once. I started with two going on, and progressed to four happening all simultaneously. In the app, you can choose which one has audio at any time, but you can watch them all at once. That’s exactly how it felt. Then I heard some of the kids get up, and felt the stress that inevitably comes from them starting to get after each other. Luckily, I feel asleep.

Looking ahead

There are some similarities for me between physical and mental panic attacks. In both cases, I get to a point where I am overwhelmed by the sensations and cannot continue normally. They both exhaust me to the point where I need some recovery. They are both terrifying because I lose control of part of my body. And fortunately, the frequency of both is decreasing as I learn to manage my OCD more effectively.

I prefer to watch a single game at a time, whether in the ESPN app, or among the thought trains of my mind. That is not always my reality, and I am learning to not be so afraid when things do not go as I expect or intend. Moving forward, I may continue to experience mental panic attacks, but my goal is to step into them instead of recoiling and assuming the fetal position. Much of life is hard and scary, including my own mind at times. I am beginning to accept that.

The best analogy I have found for physical panic attacks is the Obscurus discovered by Newt Scamander. It sits dormant inside of me, ready to burst out and wreak havoc and destruction at any time.

Note: This is part of an ongoing series on what mental illness feels like for me. Read the introduction and associated disclaimers here.

I have had a number of panic attacks over the past few months. There are two different flavors, or types, that I have experienced. I will cover the second type, mental panic attacks, in a later post. I think of first type as physical panic attacks. During one of those, I become physically debilitated, and essentially lose control of my faculties for a time. These are usually short in duration, typically one to three minutes or so, and then the recovery can be anywhere from half an hour to an hour.

As I have worked through the beginning of treatment at the OCD & Anxiety Treatment Center, I have found out that I do not meet the criteria for panic disorder. That means that my panic attacks are a function of my OCD, which also means that as I work on managing my OCD, I have a good chance that my panic attacks will decrease in frequency and severity.

In the movie Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, we were introduced to the Obscurus creature, and its host, the Obscurial. When I watched the movie, I was struck by the similarities between Credence losing control of his Obscurus, and my experience of a physical panic attack. Physical panic attacks have always come as a result of a heightened and flooded emotional state. Often, I am dropped to the ground, even forcibly, so that I end up with bruises on my arms and knees. My breathing becomes rapid and shallow, and sometimes I am left screaming. I am usually overcome with a physical sensation of pressure and tightness. I clutch my arms and squeeze and feel as if I am holding on for dear life. When it passes, I am left completely weak, in mind and body. I feel totally exhausted.

On the Harry Potter Fandom site, we read:

An Obscurus was the manifestation of the repressed energy of a magical child (known as an Obscurial). Described as a “dark” and “parasitic” force, an Obscurus was created when the child in question consciously attempted to repress their talent or were forced to do so through physical or psychological abuse. This energy could manifest itself as a separate entity that can erupt in violent, destructive fury.

This further solidified the connection for me. The energy inside me that bursts out during a panic attack feels just like a separate, violent, destructive entity. I often feel like I am repressing it and pushing it back down inside me. The more I fear it, the more power it has over me.

Unfortunately, most of my panic attacks have occurred at home with my family. I have made sense of this as I learn what triggers them, and come to a greater understanding of the distortions in my brain surrounding my family. I often feel a deep sense of failure when I do not live up to my unrealistic and idealistic expectations of myself. I project a lot of disappointment on others toward myself, especially on my wife. This means that at times, I can be a difficult person to live with. In a household of six children, there are ample opportunities for patience to be stretched thin, and for me to make choices that are not in line with perfect parenting. This is particularly challenging when those choices can lead me to an emotional outburst and physical panic attack.

I do not know what the future of the Fantastic Beasts movies holds, and how things will go with Credence. I would like to think that he will learn how to control his Obscurus more so that he is able to live his life. That is how I see myself moving forward as well.

There will always (at least it feels like always at this point) be an undercurrent of risk that the beast inside of me could awaken and leave me writhing on the floor. But as I get to know it better, it loses some of its potency. And as I learn to manage my OCD more effectively, hopefully I will experience fewer and fewer attacks.

When depression is weighing me down, I feel like I am staring down the dark pit Rey faces on the island of Ahch-To.

Note: This is part of an ongoing series on what mental illness feels like for me. Read the introduction and associated disclaimers here.

Early in my experience with mental illness in the summer of 2018, I was trying to explain how I was feeling to my wife. I had the idea to show her a clip from Star Wars: The Last Jedi. The first time Rey learned from Luke Skywalker about the Force, she saw various aspects of the island, and the balance that existed. She saw the pit on the island, and sensed the great darkness it represented. For a few seconds, her perspective was poised over the pit, looking down into the depths as it looked larger and larger.

My diagnosis does not include clinical depression. So when I speak of my experience with depression, it is in the context of depression associated with OCD and anxiety. Many mental illnesses are related—feeling anxious leads you to a mental state that is discouraging and feels depressive.

With that disclaimer, I will state that I have felt the crushing effects of depression. There have been many days since I started to grapple with these issues that I have felt that I was floating in the air above that dark pit, ready to plunge down at any moment.

Most of the time that I recognize the pit in my mind, it is accompanied with feelings of hopelessness. When I am staring down into the darkness, it feels like it will never end. My mind revolves around the darkness, and starts telling me that there is no light at the end, and I will never escape these feelings. Those are dark days.

In the movie, the scene climaxes with a huge fountain of water spurting up through the pit like a geyser and Rey collapsing on the rocks. This seems like it would be the perfect end to one of my depressive episodes. No matter what, I know that I am going to be exhausted, and left gasping for air, either physically or mentally. But to have the sweet cleansing rush of water course through the last bits of my mind feels like the best possible outcome.

This cleansing purge is not always what comes to me at the end of a depressive episode. When it does come, it is often in the form of writing. I am able to process the overwhelming thoughts and feelings I am having through getting them out on the page. As I write, and read what I have written, I am able to identify destructive patterns and distorted thoughts that I can confront with compassion and truth. The reality is that things are rarely as bleak as my mind sees them. And nearly always they are more nuanced. I have a tendency to see everything in black and white, and the more that I can see in between two extremes, the healthier my mind can be.

The most important thing for me to remember is that any episodes, or even days, in which I am staring down the pit will come to an end. The darkness does not last forever. If you find yourself floating above a fictitious island, looking down in a dark pit, remind yourself that this, too, shall pass.

Anxiety for me is like the arc reactor, as shown in Iron Man 2. At times, it pulses and the energy it emits ebbs and flows. But it is always spreading poison throughout my body.

Note: This is part of an ongoing series on what mental illness feels like for me. Read the introduction and associated disclaimers here.

As I wrote about in my coming out story, I only became aware that I was affected by mental illness in the summer of 2018. One of the first physical symptoms that I noticed was a burning in my chest. I remember so clearly the day when I realized it was present. My wife had arranged for us to have a nice date together, and we went to the carnival for the night. We had a lovely evening. I had started therapy by that point, and when I realized that there was a sensation in my chest, I felt almost betrayed by it. My thinking was that because I was in therapy and I was working to make things better, I shouldn’t be feeling this now. It felt like I was doing worse than before starting therapy. I chuckled at myself with my wife, and came to the conclusion that the feeling had been in my chest for a long time, but I had learned to ignore it. I felt worse now because I was finally becoming aware of how I was actually feeling.

Since that time, I have noticed the same burning sensation come and go. In religious terms, sometimes you hear of a “burning in the bosom” which is not what I was experiencing. I struggled for a long time to find the right analogy to help me to understand the feeling I was having. Finally, I watched Iron Man 2 again, and saw the early arc reactor. In the movie, this is the device that gives Iron Man his power, but it is also killing him as he uses it because it is spreading poison throughout his body. It hit me that this was nearly the exact way in which I experienced anxiety. The analogy breaks down if taken too far, with the most glaring discrepancy being that I do not believe I derive my power from my anxiety.

Having a mental image to associate with the feeling that was sitting in my chest made it a little less scary. Instead of having a small monster inside my chest writhing and clawing to get out, there was just a small, powerful disc of energy. The disc would glow and pulsate at times, and the feeling would be stronger, and at other times it would lie dormant. But since I noticed it that day in the carnival, there has not been a single day without it.

The poisonous aspect resonated with me as well. When the arc reactor is powered up and emitting energy the most strongly, it is causing physical harm and side effects. The same thing happens for me. When my anxiety flares up, it often has immediate physical symptoms. I will write more about the most of extreme of those separately in How physical panic attacks feel. But long before the panic strikes, my body is noticeably affected. My heart starts to race, and my breath gets more shallow, as if my chest is not capable of expanding fully. My judgment begins to be impaired, and my temper shortens. Sounds startle me much more easily. Patience wanes, and I feel as if I am losing some control of my executive functions. In many ways, this is easy to understand or explain, especially after listing a number of the symptoms. This is what happens when your brain gets in a fight-or-flight mindset, which is exactly what is happening. I am being flooded with adrenaline, and responding to threats that I perceive.

Learning to live with this anxiety reactor is remarkably similar to Tony Stark’s work. Left unchecked, this is going to cause serious damage to me and my life. In Tony’s case, he had to invent a completely new element to create another model of the arc reactor. I am unlikely to build a centrifuge in my basement and synthesize an element, but I am finding ways to adjust the arc reactor with which I will keep living. One of the reasons that my brain goes into fight-or-flight is that I have often taken steps to soothe my brain and address the threat, which strengthens the perceived reality of the threat. I am learning to notice the pulsing of the arc reactor, and instead of firing up my hand cannons, just breathe and acknowledge it.

Essentially, I am seeking to downgrade the model. I want a less powerful arc reactor. I do not think that I will ever be completely without one. But I am hopeful that I will learn to live with it more peacefully and calmly.

An exploration of the phenomenon of considering a topic for the purpose of answering someone else’s question instead of just learning for yourself.

Links

💮 Coming out (tl;dr Hi, I’m Ben, and I have OCD. 👋)

What is OCD?

The OCD and Anxiety Treatment Center

Dialectical behavior therapy (DBT)

Black and white thinking (Splitting)

A series with an inside look at the effects of mental illness and the way that I have made sense of it in my life.

Introduction/disclaimers

For a couple months, I have wanted to write about my mental health, and the different disorders or symptoms that I have faced. I continue to improve, and am currently working in an intensive outpatient program for my OCD. In a glorious cycle, as I become better at facing my mental illness, I am able to be more objective and detached about my experience, which helps me face and handle it better. So, while I do hope that sharing my experience can be helpful for others to recognize what they may be facing, this is primarily a selfish series in which I want to better understand myself and what I’m going through.

This is further a selfish series because I want to capture the current state of my thoughts around mental health. I can already feel myself bending and changing in my treatment. I know that I will progress and see things, including myself, differently as I move forward. Writing my experiences now preserves this fragile part of my mind, just like a before picture. I do not know if this is a series I will revisit in the future, but I already want to read it again in six months when I am a different person.

My mind requires me to issue a few disclaimers. I am not a mental health care professional. Essentially, I don’t know what I’m talking about. I may mix up terminology. I will almost certainly speak about disorders and symptoms incorrectly. I come to this as a fellow traveler on the road to discovery, seeking merely to share my observations of the journey, not as a sage atop the mountain of mastery and understanding. I do not speak definitively on any of these topics. Instead, I speak highly subjectively of my experience with them. If this is triggering for you, leave it. If it is offensive to you because of how wrong I am, I apologize. Try your best to let it go. If it is helpful to you, find a way to pay it forward and extend care and compassion to people in your life. I take no responsibility for what you will do with what I say. I simply seek to share my story.

Articles

• What anxiety feels like
• What depression feels like
• What physical panic attacks feel like
• What mental panic attacks feel like
• What OCD feels like
• What intrusive thoughts feel like

Conclusion

Writing this series has been a wonderful experience for me. I have found the process to be therapeutic as I confront different dark realities of my mind and shine light on them. It has also been helpful to get concrete examples to better understand what I am experiencing. When I notice certain feelings in my body, I can now recognize them more easliy. As they have become more familiar, they have lost some of their danger and mystique.

I mentioned in my microblog post that this has been my best writing. As I alluded to, I mean that in a couple senses of the word. First, I feel the most proud at having written this series. It was deep and meaningful to me, and I felt vulnerable in sharing these private thoughts and experiences, and I celebrate that. This is the kind of writing I want to do more of. Second, this was immensely helpful to me to process and concretize my perceptions. I understand myself better, and feel a little more self-compassion.

Everyone has been or will be touched by mental illness. My hope is that we can have a more open and honest conversation about our experiences. Only in this way can we encourage the people we love (including ourselves!) to get the help that we so desperately need. I am so grateful for the support structure I am blessed to enjoy, particularly for my wife. And I hope that I can help others and pay forward some of what I have received.

After coming to grips with the fact that I have a mental illness, I realized that I am part of the secret society of mental health sufferers.

It is sad and ironic that one of the pernicious lies of mental illness is that you are alone and different from everyone else. While there is some truth to being different than most (or maybe just some!) people, you are far from alone. There are so many other people that grapple with the same kinds of issues.

I have been humbled and touched by the response to my post a few weeks ago announcing my own struggles with mental health, Coming out. So many people reached out with kind words and compassion. But even more than that, many people responded by sharing some of their own struggles with mental health.

I think it is fair to say at this point that everyone has been touched by mental health issues, either directly or through a loved one.

At times, I almost wish we wore a special emblem like the Freemasons to be able to easily identify each other. I understand that this is a deeply private part of people’s lives, and many are not willing to share it openly. From my own experience, I have found so much healing in acknowledging my struggle and openly sharing with others. I think we often fear stigma or backlash—I certainly did for a long time myself. But I have been met with compassion and love instead, and I relish the chance to extend that to others.

I want to pause and acknowledge the privilege I enjoy. As a straight white man, I have all of society behind me to fall back on. There are so many people who suffer with mental health struggles that do not have the same resources and privileges. I can only imagine what they go through.

Whether you belong to this secret society of sufferers or not, we all need understanding and compassion. I hope that we can be more comfortable sharing our struggles with each other, and when someone is vulnerable that we respond with validation and encouragement.

This never works as a parent. We can’t tell someone to do the action that represents the feeling we want them to develop.

I went out on a walk a few days ago, and overhead a scuffle between a couple small children. One of them started crying, and then the dad noticed. He yelled out, “Tell him sorry right now!” I had to chuckle to myself as I continued walking. I completely understood the dad, and how easy it is to say something so unhelpful and asinine.

Most likely, the dad wanted the offending child to actually be sorry. He wanted the child to learn that what he had done was not acceptable, and to feel remorse. If the child had actually felt remorse, an apology would have naturally followed. As parents, we recognize how silly it is to tell our children, “Feel sorry for what you just did.” It is so much easier to focus on the action rather than the feeling, and so that is where our parenting focuses.

This is similar in many ways to the phenomenon I noticed a few weeks ago, and wrote about in Living with incompetence. We often settle for focusing on what is easier to measure, and leave aside the more important, but more amorphous, root cause.

When we fall into this trap as parents, we teach our children the same behavior. They grow up learning that recognizing and feeling remorse for injuring someone else is not important, but rather the outward expression of those feelings. We don’t need to feel a certain way—we just have to act a certain way, and then we will be acceptable.

A better approach to this kind of situation is to stop any violence and then redirect our children’s attention to more positive actions. We ignore the inappropriate behavior as much as possible, and look for opportunities to reinforce positive behavior. Then later, we can have a discussion with the child when emotions have calmed. We can explain why the behavior was wrong, and the impact it has on other people. We don’t need to teach our children to feel remorse; instead we teach them empathy, and when they injure another, the remorse naturally follows.

In my opinion, one of the biggest problems attacking society, and especially our children, today is a lack of empathy. We have become utterly self-absorbed, and all events and actions are viewed in relation to their impact on us. We have lost the ability to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes and see how our behavior and actions might be affecting them.

We must first master this skill in our own lives. We have to be self-aware enough to get outside of ourselves and care more about other people. As we develop and model this behavior, we become capable of passing it on to others, especially our children. As a result, the world will be a much better place.

We often attach so many expectations and hopes to recommendations we give others that we deny them the opportunity to simply experience the moment.

I recently returned from a vacation with my brother in Mexico. He was able to live in San Carlos for eight months last year, as his company has an office down there. I tagged along for a business trip of his, and we had a great time relaxing.

While we were there, I noticed an interesting phenomenon in myself. There were a few evenings when we watched a movie together, and they were typically ones that I recommended that he had not yet seen. I found that I had an increased level of anxiety as we watched those movies, and I was worried about whether he would like my recommendations. I wanted them to be just as great for him as they were for me.

Because he had lived there for a while, many of the food options we chose were recommendations from him. He wanted me to try some of his favorite spots. I projected the same kind of anxiety on him for these recommendations. I felt pressure to like the food so that he would not feel bad. I’m sure that he did feel some anxiety, but not to the level that I created in myself.

I realized how common this is. Almost anytime we give someone a recommendation, we get emotionally invested in it. We want so badly for the other person to have the same wonderful experience that we did. Ironically, this heightened desire often makes that enjoyment impossible.

The problem is that introducing additional expectations can be toxic. We take a situation which may be just fine, but by building it up to be amazing it becomes a disappointment. Even in instances when it is not a letdown, the additional stress we have introduced invariably detracts from the enjoyment everyone involved could have had.

We have to remember that there is no success or failure attached to recommendations. When we give a recommendation, we are offering a possibility, not a guarantee. In the best situations, we merely provide the idea for someone to do something. They may choose to do it or not. They may enjoy it or not. They may recommend it further or not.

If we can separate the expectations from the situation and approach the situation with curiosity, we provide a safe place for true enjoyment. The key is for us to allow each other, and even ourselves, to merely experience the moment with no judgment attached.

Thoughts on the spectrum of kindness and compassion we extend in talking to others, talking about others, talking to ourselves, and talking about ourselves.

Links

🌀 Relative Suffering

The Screwtape Letters

There are enough times when “How are you?” comes from someone for whom “Good to see you” is not the correct response to merit further consideration.

A couple weeks ago, I shared my thoughts on the common greeting, How are you? In that article, I expressed my displeasure with this question, particularly as someone who struggles with mental health. My reply of choice was to sidestep the question and neither answer truthfully nor lie, and simply state, “Good to see you.”

Since that time, I have noticed a number of occasions when even this is not appropriate. One of the most common of these situations for me has occurred while shopping. Since I have been on a healing retreat the past couple weeks, I have not interacted with friends and colleagues as often. I have been surprised at how often I am still confronted with this personal question from complete strangers.

When I do not know the person at all, responding with, “Good to see you” is not appropriate. Partly it sounds weird, but mostly it simply is not true. Most of the time, I would be much happier if I could shop efficiently and effectively without speaking with anyone.

So I have taken a new approach in these situations. When someone greets me, “How are you?” I simply respond, “Thank you.” Often it’s followed with a question that I actually have, such as the location of a specific item.

I have found some interesting reactions to my “thank you” response. Most of the time, people just continue on without missing a beat. We have merely exchanged polite niceties and can now continue with our information transaction. Occasionally, an observant person will be a bit taken aback that I have not answered the question. And my favorite has been a response back of, “Fine, thanks.” There is an assumption that not only did I answer the question, but I asked a similar one in return.

This new approach of mine has done a couple things for me.

First, it has reminded me of how little people actually listen. This is hard for me to stomach, and is part of the reason I had to come up with an alternative response in the first place. What I say impacts me much more than most people with whom I interact.

Second, this has resolved a further point of distress. It has enabled me to move more gracefully through social interactions that might otherwise be awkward or painful.

This may or may not be the right approach for you to take. I encourage you to explore your responses to common situations and evaluate whether any change is needed. Most importantly, I urge you to consider no longer throwing away personal questions as greetings. Save them for the people who matter the most to you, and then care enough to get a real answer.

Instead of ordering the best value, order the size you actually want.

I imagine that my experience is similar to yours. When I go to order food, I am mentally doing a quick calculation between the different sizes to identify the best value. If 20oz is only 50¢ more than 16oz, it is nearly impossible to order the smaller size. Even when I actually want the smaller size.

This leads to many different problems. Instead of being satisfied with my order, I have to choose between eating to discomfort, or grappling with the feeling of having wasted food. Often times, I will eat more than I wanted so that I am taking full advantage of the great value that I got.

I remember a particularly poignant example of this when eating at Smashburger one day. They were having a promotion on the Triple Double which made it even cheaper than the regular burger. I did not actually want that much meat, but I felt compelled to order the bigger burger for cheaper. My friend came behind me and ordered the same burger, but asked for only a single hamburger patty. I was struck by the brilliancy of his solution. That had never even crossed my mind.

As I have been on my healing retreat, I have seen a few movies in the theater. I used this as an opportunity to practice the new approach I wanted to take. It is a real challenge for me to pay $4 for a smaller bucket of popcorn, when the large is $5 and comes with a free refill. The thing is, I can never eat that much popcorn without getting sick. So I have forced myself to order the smaller size and stop worrying about the value I am missing out on. And I have enjoyed my movies much more with just the right amount of popcorn.

There are many situations in life when we make choices based on the perceived value of the options. Instead, we need to become more comfortable with ourselves, and more aware of our desires. And then be willing to act based on what we actually want, not what we think we should want. This is a much happier, and more comfortable, way to live.

When gratitude is trivialized too often and too thoughtlessly, we run the risk of discouraging it to the point where it stops altogether.

As I have been in Mexico, I have noticed an interesting linguistic phenomenon. By far, the most common response I’ve noticed to someone expressing gratitude is, „De nada.” I’m sure there are part of the U.S. where “No problem” or “It’s nothing” are the most common responses to “Thank you” as well, so this is nothing of a cultural indictment. But it got me thinking.

I wrote recently about trivializing apologies. The fact that we do that feels more explicable to me than our tendency to do the same with gratitude. With an apology, we at least might be seeking to extend mercy or uplift the other person.

However, when we trivialize gratitude, I think we do it thoughtlessly, even without realizing it. Just as with personal questions masquerading as greetings, we can fall into the trap of using societal niceties without considering what they actually mean, or the effect they might have.

Perhaps this will be easier to understand when we stop to think more about what is actually happening when someone expresses gratitude. Of course, there are thoughtless “Thank you”s bandied about, and they can muddy the waters. But typically when someone expresses appreciation, it represents a moment of vulnerability. They are self-aware enough to notice feelings of respect, admiration, or gratitude, and they are opening themselves up to expressing those emotions. It is often not easy to share our true emotions, and if sharing is not met with gentleness, it can be truly painful.

When we respond to appreciation with phrases such as, “Oh, it was nothing,” or, “No problem at all,” we are probably trying to be modest. We don’t want to appear conceited, and somehow believe that if we validate what the other person is saying, we will be perceived as arrogant enough to assume that what we did was important and merited thanks. When we fall into this mindset, we are being selfish and self-centered.

When someone thanks you, you are not the point. Not even your actions are the point. The point is the other person, and their willingness to express themselves. That ought to be welcomed and celebrated. We would be much better off if everyone was more wiling to share what truly matters to them.

So the next time someone appreciates you, stay in the moment for a minute. Resist the urge to think of yourself and how you might appear. Focus on that person and the feelings they are sharing. Honor and validate that sharing, and encourage it to continue.

In our efforts to reassure someone that their transgression was not overly severe, we can inadvertently trivialize the effort it took for them to apologize to us.

It is not uncommon for our natural instinct to preserve harmony and avoid discomfort to emerge when someone tries to apologize. We become uncomfortable that the other person is regretting what they have done, and seek to assure them that we are not upset. As I wrote about a few weeks ago in Replacing sorry, we sometimes do this even when the other person is not apologizing. They say the words, “I’m sorry” and we immediately feel compelled to tell them that it’s fine.

This scenario plays out so frequently that it deserves more thought and introspection. I think that part of our instinct comes from a good and natural desire to not let another person take full blame when they are not completely guilty. In his wonderful book How to Win Friends and Influence People, Dale Carnegie tells a story of using that instinct to his benefit, and suggests that we can similar.

I was in for it. I knew it. So I didn’t wait until the policeman started talking. I beat him to it. I said: “Officer, you’ve caught me red-handed. I’m guilty. I have no alibis, no excuses.“

That policeman, being human, wanted a feeling of importance; so when I began to condemn myself, the only way he could nourish his self-esteem was to take the magnanimous attitude of showing mercy.

Instead of breaking lances with him, I admitted that he was absolutely right and I was absolutely wrong; I admitted it quickly, openly, and with enthusiasm. The affair terminated graciously in my taking his side and his taking my side.

When we are right, let’s try to win people gently and tactfully to our way of thinking, and when we are wrong—and that will be surprisingly often, if we are honest with ourselves—let’s admit our mistakes quickly and with enthusiasm. Not only will that technique produce astonishing results; but, believe it or not, it is a lot more fun, under the circumstances, than trying to defend oneself.

Another reason for our aversion to apologies is that we want to feel merciful. There are selfish and selfless tendencies at work here. We feel a noble desire to uplift the other person. We see them suffering, and want to do our part to relieve that suffering. However, too often, we are more concerned with our feelings than theirs. If someone apologizes to us, that puts us in a position of judgment and we want to feel the satisfaction that comes from extending mercy and we assume the way to achieve this is to say that the apology was unnecessary.

Often, we dismiss the need for an apology because we are not comfortable with sitting in the emotions that it stirs up. We do not feel willing to take ownership for our own mistakes and truly apologize for them, and so we have a hard time hearing someone else do it. Guilt is an uncomfortable companion.

However, this is not always the case. I had an experience this week that made me think about this more deeply. I joined my brother in Mexico for his business trip, and we were able to stay in a condo that his company owns. He was bringing tacos so we could eat lunch together. A few minutes before he was supposed to arrive, I got back from a walk and took a quick shower. Almost as soon as I got in, I heard him come in, and I regretted my decision. When I got out of the shower, I told him, “I want to apologize, and I don’t want you to trivialize it.” He was a little taken aback, and said he was ready to hear it. I told him that I was sorry I had taken a shower and cut it so close. I felt like he had made an effort to come back so we could enjoy lunch together, and I had thoughtlessly wasted some of that time. He replied that he appreciated my apology, and also felt that we had plenty of time, and was not bothered that some of it was spent with me in the shower.

That felt like a pretty perfect interaction.

A true apology is a major moment of vulnerability. When someone is willing to be that honest with themselves to recognize that they feel regret for their actions, and then are willing to put themselves out and tell someone, we should honor that. Respecting their vulnerability doesn’t mean that we have to agree with them. But if our response is dismissive, we trivialize an act that was anything but trivial. We also miss out on an opportunity for a real, human connection.

I hope that I can be better at admitting when I am wrong and truly apologizing, regardless of how it might be received. I also hope that I, and all of us, can be more gentle when someone is willing to be honest and vulnerable enough to apologize. If we can do that, we will encourage that behavior, and make it easier to be vulnerable in the future. And that is a good thing.

It is important to acknowledge and validate your own suffering irrespective of its intensity relative to the suffering of someone else. You don’t have to suffer the most in order to have suffered.

It can be a real challenge to allow yourself to have a hard time. All too often, even in the midst of struggling, you say to yourself, “I know someone else has it worse.” While that may be true, it is not usually helpful or healthy.

I think that people who struggle with mental health issues are particularly prone to fall into this trap. I hear many people on my new favorite podcast, The Hilarious World of Depression, minimize their own struggles and say that others have a much harder time.

This is a cognitive distortion—a mental trap that has the effect of trivializing your experience. It actually doesn’t matter at all if someone else has suffered the same, or less, or more than you. If you are suffering, let yourself suffer. Acknowledge that it is hard. Validate your experience. Treat yourself with compassion.

This can be much easier to see when framed in the context of someone else, instead of yourself. Imagine this scenario. A friend comes to you and describes a situation that is causing her anxiety and stress. You listen carefully, and after she has broken down crying and shared everything with you, you respond, “I know someone who has it much worse than you. You ought to be grateful you don’t have it as bad as she.”

How would your friend feel in that moment? Instead of offering sympathy and compassion, you have made her feel insignificant and worthless. You have not validated her or the experience she is having.

When I think of this example, I have a visceral reaction. I cannot fathom doing that to someone else. And yet, I do it to myself all the time. All. The. Time.

My hope is that in thinking more about this, I can remember to treat myself with kindness and compassion. I urge you to do the same. We are all in such need of this.

A discussion of the tools I have tried and the system I am using now to record, edit, and publish my podcast.

Links

Shure MV88 Microphone

Wavelength app

Garage Band app

Ferrite app

🎙 3: Intro Music microcast episode

Our societal concept of a badge of honor for having endured suffering can be detrimental and even destructive at times.

As as society, we have an infatuation with suffering. I would like to think that it stems from a healthy, compassionate place. We feel intrinsically drawn to suffering, and our hearts go out to those affected. Obviously, this has been exploited in many different ways. Somewhere along the line, our perspective of the value of suffering has warped.

We now find ourselves in a situation where we glorify and revere people who have suffered. The problem is that, at times, these positive reinforcements create environments that foster and encourage unnecessary suffering. I wrote about one of these environments a few weeks ago: The plague of busyness.

Another environment primed for this warped perspective is the world, or industry, of sports. In nearly every game you watch, you will hear either the coach, the players, or the announcers discuss the adversity someone passed through. It’s almost like we believe that victory is not possible, or perhaps not valuable, unless it comes as a result of suffering and adversity.

I recently finished reading Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl. I was inspired by his ability to endure great suffering, and still maintain a belief and perspective that life is valuable and worth living. Something he said feels particularly relevant:

But let me make it perfectly clear that in no way is suffering necessary to find meaning. I only insist that meaning is possible even in spite of suffering—provided, certainly, that the suffering is unavoidable. If it were avoidable, however, the meaningful thing to do would be to remove its cause, be it psychological, biological or political. To suffer unnecessarily is masochistic rather than heroic.

As I think about my own life, I want to remove the pursuit of these badges of honor. I want to stop trying to suffer in order to legitimize my experiences or achievements. I have value just as I am. I can allow myself to feel joy whether I earned it through suffering or not. There is no “earning it.” The badges are illusory.

I served as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Romania for two years. During that time, we were allowed to send weekly emails, as well as periodic letters and packages to our family. We were also allowed two phone calls home per year—one on Christmas, and the other on Mother’s Day.

A major change to that policy was just announced today:

Effective immediately, missionaries may communicate with their families on their weekly preparation day via text messages, online messaging, phone calls and video chat in addition to letters and emails.

My wife sent me this article, and my first reaction was that I would have struggled with this policy. Here is an example of the flexibility being introduced:

We encourage missionaries to communicate with their families each week using whatever approved method missionaries decide. This may vary based on their circumstances, locations and schedules for that week. It is not expected that all missionaries will call or video chat with their parents every week. The precise manner of communication is left up to the missionary as he or she decides what will best meet their needs.

I am not sure that I would have been able to make judgment calls at that level. The official notice to leaders states:

When communicating with their families, missionaries should be wise in considering the duration of phone calls and video chats. In making these decisions, they should be considerate of their companions and keep in mind the purpose of their service.

This kind of decision-making requires a level of emotional maturity that is challenging to attain. As someone with OCD, which often manifests as excessive and unhealthy guilt, I would have had an extremely hard time making those kinds of decisions. I said to my wife:

I feel like this requires us as parents to teach our kids how to make decisions in a totally different way than I was capable of at that age.

I am excited to see the effect this kind of freedom will have on young people. (Missionaries from our church typically serve under the age of 25.) They are already in a formative period of life. Having the opportunity to learn the skills required for complex emotional judgment calls will be of great benefit to them. This level of ambiguity is a much more accurate reflection of the demands of real life outside of a sheltered environment such as a full-time mission.

I need to make sure that I become comfortable navigating these waters myself. Only then will I be able to pass these abilities on to my children.

There are many situations in life where everything is pleasant and rewarding, but getting started can still be next to impossible.

I went walking in the rec center the other day. I didn’t mean to go walking—I meant to play racquetball. At 7:52am, I sent this to my wife:

I got up this morning and thought I would come play racquetball. For some reason, I thought I would miss most of the people by coming early. Ha ha ha ha. How wrong I was. I guess I will be walking today.

As I went around and around the tiny track, I was struck by how great it felt to be walking. There was a little discomfort if I’m being totally honest, because it was my first day going counterclockwise. But overall, it was an immensely enjoyable experience.

While I was walking, the thought came to me, “This is so nice! What is it that stops me from coming?” I realized that I enjoyed every part of walking except getting started. There is so much inertia to overcome, but once I do, practically everything about the experience is pleasant.

So much of our lives follows this same pattern. Whether it’s connecting with a good friend, any form of exercise or meditation, or creating something meaningful, the struggle is in starting. When we realize and accept that, we are able to take steps to decrease our resistance. It can be as easy as laying out exercise clothes before going to bed. Or perhaps writing the first line of a blog post before stopping for the day. Or scheduling a message to go to a friend at a more opportune time. (Shameless plug—I made an iOS app to help you schedule text messages called Carrier).

Identify the things in your life that you enjoy doing and want to do more. Then consider how you can decrease your resistance to starting. Your future self will thank you.

A few thoughts and stories about my experience visiting Mexico for the first time.

The oft-lauded sports cliché to play through injuries can apply to life more generally with a broader view of “injuries.”

I was listening to my new favorite podcast, The Hilarious World of Depression, while driving the other day and had a realization. There is a strong myth of the tortured creative. People believe that those who are creative do better when they are depressed or anxious. This is a seductive myth, because those who do not consider themselves creative can dismiss it by saying they don’t want all the baggage that comes with it. However, there is a big problem with this myth.

It is asinine.

Believing that creative people do their best when depressed or anxious is like believing that athletes perform their best when seriously injured. No one expects a basketball star to excel after he breaks his leg. They expect him to rest, get medical attention, and take the time needed to recuperate before returning to full activity. People who have mental health struggles deserve the same kind of space for recovery, as well as recognition that their condition is just as serious as physical injury.

Beyond the space for recovery, mental health sufferers deserve compassion and an acknowledgment of the monumental effort involved in confronting daily life. It is easy for us to recognize the effort required for someone to play through a sports injury. But mental wounds are harder to see, both the injury and its effects, and this can make them even more painful. In addition, the playing field for someone struggling with mental health is their every day life. That is the arena in which they are expected to perform, even when they should be on injured reserve.

When I started going to therapy, I told my therapist once about how cranky I am when I am woken up, especially in the middle of the night. To me, that meant that I was a mean and selfish and cranky person at my core. Getting woken up was essentially bypassing all of my defenses and showing my inner personality. Her response was so validating and healing. She encouraged me to consider instead how much work is required of me to interact with people throughout every single day. The fact that I can generally be a kind and patient person in spite of my brain’s instincts to snap and be irritable should inspire compassion for myself.

The next time someone is short with you, or seems to overact to something you might say, pause for a second. Before responding with anger, consider whether that person might be playing through injuries. Maybe she is doing the best job she can today. Maybe he really should be on the bench getting looked at by the trainer. And when you are tempted to beat yourself up because you treated people more poorly than you wanted, practice compassion for any mental injuries you might be carrying. This world can be a rough place. It is ok to admit that you are not at 100%, and make some adjustments.

We would all be better served by approaching our experience with curiosity instead of expectations. And when change is needed, practice compassion instead of judgment.

Our fears and doubts often prevent us from asking for seemingly small changes in our lives that have a disproportionate impact.

I checked in to an Airbnb recently where I would be staying for a couple weeks. One of the first things that I noticed was that the table that was in the room seemed to be a patio table.

The top was something of a stone mosaic. It was beautiful, but had many sharp edges. I wasn’t in danger of being cut, but I certainly wasn’t about to put my iPad on it for any kind of drawing. I often move the iPad around, rotating it to the right angle, and I had visions of huge scratches and gashes on the back.

I called the host and left a message asking if they had a different kind of table I could have. A couple days later, I came home in the afternoon, and found a nice, large plastic table in the room. I moved it into place, and have been enjoying it since. The left chair is for meditation and study, and the right chair is for writing and sketching.

This experience made me think about how often in life I want a small adjustment, but allow fears or doubts to hold me back from making the change. Often I listen to the voices in my mind that say it won’t work, or it’s not possible, or it would be too much of an inconvenience to someone else. The truth is that it is often possible, and rarely hurts to ask. Most people are happy to improve someone else’s life, even at the cost of a small inconvenience.

So to you, reader, and to my future self, I say, have courage. Be willing to make the call and ask for the table. You never know when it might be waiting for you when you get home.

Giving myself permission to get a few nice things has resulted in a desire to clean house and be more minimalistic. Also, spending time researching Patagonia products had a surprisingly uplifting effect on me.

I have always loved small things. And things that collapse. And things that fold in on themselves. And expensive things. It can be a problem at times.

My expensive tastes combined with my OCD have posed challenges for me. When I get into my mind that I want to own something, it becomes a compulsion that can only be satisfied by purchasing the item. Making use of the item is often not required—I just have to own it. Before the iPad came out, I owned a number of digital clipboards that became abandoned in the closet, sometimes directly after being purchased.

I have always felt guilty for this part of my personality. Growing up, my favorite toys were Playmobil, which were pretty expensive for a city parks & rec soccer referee. My paychecks were often viewed in terms of how many sets of Playmo they represented. I felt like I lacked skill and ability to manage money well. And since I spent most of my adolescence looking toward and planning for becoming a father, my inability to control spending impulses was a deep point of shame.

As I have gotten older, I have curbed some of my need to buy new things. It’s not completely gone, but it has become less of a problem. Part of that is because many of the things that I really want are cost-prohibitive to buy on impulse. Another part is that I simply already own most of what I want.

In one of my recent sessions, my therapist told me that at any given time in life, I will have to choose between spending money, health, and time. Prudence is usually required to make wise allocations of relatively equal capacities of those resources. However, there are times in life when we have “excess capacity” in one of those areas. Typically that occurs when there is a serious deficit in one or two of the others. Right now, due to my health being abysmally low, I definitely have more money than health. So I’ve given myself permission to buy some things that I want.

My shopping spree began when I read Ultralight by Leo Babauta a couple weeks ago. I announced to my wife, “Good news! I’m going to be a minimalist. I just need to spend $1000 or so and then I’m ready to get started!” When I told my therapist I wanted to become a minimalist, she replied, “That’s nice. Not now. Your brain is not healthy enough to make those kinds of decisions yet.” She told me that I probably was making a bargain with myself in order to have permission to buy things that I wanted, and I should just buy the things without any strings attached.

So I did.

Over the past couple days, I went to two R.E.I. stores and two Patagonia outlets. I bought a Micro Puff Hoody, some Nine Trails shirts, a Capilene Daily shirt, a swimsuit, a hip pack, and a couple pairs of socks. I also went to a local sporting goods store and bought a pair of prAna Brion pants, and some smashable but versatile Sanuk Pick Pocket shoes. An unexpected bonus was that nearly everything was on sale for the end of the season. However, to be completely honest, I would have bought nearly all of those things at full price anyway.

Before I go any further, I have to pause and acknowledge how blessed and privileged I am. When I think about how few people in the world could decide on a whim to spend a few hundred dollars and essentially replace their entire wardrobe, I am humbled. I feel keenly the sense of responsibility that comes with that privilege. Frankly, my OCD uses that to beat me over the head and tell me how horrible I am for doing something like this. But I know that’s a lie. This is not something that I should do every weekend. But. It. Is. OK. I am not a terrible person for buying a few things that I want and that I know I will use.

I found that as I spent time in these stores, I had a subtle shift in values. It felt so good to say that I don’t need a bag while checking out. I realized that I would throw the bag away, so it was better to just not get one. It felt even better to get a smile and encouraging nod from the salesperson who appreciated the small gesture. The more I read about each item from Patagonia, and all of the care that went into designing, sourcing, and creating it, the more I wanted to make sure that I was doing good with more of my choices. I love reading about the Fair Trade program:

We pay a premium for every Patagonia item that carries the Fair Trade Certified™ label. That extra money goes directly to the workers at the factory, and they decide how to spend it.

As I left the Patagonia outlet in Salt Lake City yesterday, I realized it was time for lunch, and looked around for a local restaurant, and found Twin Suns Cafe right across the street. I had a great meal there in a fun atmosphere. My favorite part was the message on their menu:

Welcome to Twin Suns, we are thrilled that you have joined us for a wonderful meal. It is our mission to serve people a good wholesome meal at a fair price for the quality we serve.

It is our goal to create a place where anybody can come in for nourishment in a casual atmosphere. Hopefully you share our love for food, fantasy, and have a fabulous moment while you join us here.

It was fascinating to me to discover the impact that this shopping trip had on me. I wanted to own fewer, higher-quality items. I was excited to pack my backpack for my upcoming trip with my brother. I wanted to do more and have less. I wanted to be better.

I don’t expect this kind of effect every time I buy things for myself. But I’m certainly glad it came this time.

In my recurring review of how I am using my phone, I have decided to make some drastic changes.

I started reading Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport the other day, and last night, I came across a reference to an organization that was new to me. Time Well Spent is a movement created by the Center for Humane Technology to help people be more intentional about their use of technology. As I looked through their site, one suggestion they made was to turn your phone grayscale, and make it easy to do so using the Accessibility Shortcut to Filter Colors. A friend had done this before and advised me to do the same, so I had set up the shortcut, but rarely used it. I decided that I wanted this to be my default interaction with my phone. I will leave it on, and switch it off only intentionally, and for a short time.

As I thought more about the way I use my phone, I came to a few more decisions. I have found that as I write and publish more, I have begun caring more about whether people are commenting on my content. My use of Micro.blog has turned into compulsive checking and consumption. Part of the reason is that I value the interactions with real people that I have had, and I want to reply to people quickly. But, I have configured push notifications so that I will know when someone mentions me. There is no real reason for me to keep checking for mentions—it has just become habit.

So I decided to change the apps in my dock again. The last time I did that was at the beginning of the year, when I chose to only have apps without badges in my dock. I have found myself opening my phone and mindlessly consuming content, which is a behavior that I want to discourage. My first goal for this year is to be intentional. So I changed my dock again.

I wanted to only have apps in my dock that encourage the behavior I want to be doing most on my phone. I won’t always be meditating, podcasting, writing, or journaling when I open my phone, but having these apps in my face will be a subtle reminder. I want to use my phone more for creation than I do for consumption. When I am not creating, I want to make sure that I am being more intentional. I want to start using Spotlight to specifically search for the app I am going to use, and not just browse around on my phone looking for distraction.

I will see if this approach ends up being helpful or not for me. I know that what I have had in 2019 was better than 2018, but there was still room for improvement. Since that will always be the case, I expect to continue to make adjustments. This quote was from my daily meditation a few days ago, and while I might substitute “phone” for “thoughts,” this is exactly the attitude I want to cultivate.

My experience playing racquetball by myself, and the surprising effect that I found from talking to myself while playing.

Links

Right vs left

Rematch