Mental Health

Doing Yourself a FAVR

in Anxiety / Conflict / Depression / General / Mental Health  by Paddy Ducklow 0 comments

I find myself talking about FAVR a lot. Usually, the people I visit with are treating themselves and others poorly, without FAVR. They have been taught to listen to themselves (what self they are not so sure) and usually the self they listen to is condemning and critical. This internalized hurt bubbles over like volcano flow into other relationships and work. I would love these folk to do themselves a FAVR.

Looking inside often does me no favours. In fact, it may well lead to rumination and regret. You know rumination, don’t you? Repetitive, self-scourging assaults that seem to never end. The victim is usually you or your closest intimate. You might wake up with dreams of discouragement. These are ruminations too.

Looking inward can lead to deep contentment and change. You can look inwards to pray and meditate and wonder. But rumination is the opposite way of looking in. Rumination compares and criticises. These are verbs that make one feel sick and tired, perhaps depressed.

Looking outwards is to do oneself a FAVR. It is to turn the focus of your energy from faults, unhappy history, relationship regret and the like to 4 distinct visions. Future. Abilities, Values. Relationships.

Future: when you look outwards to your future, I am not talking 5 years or 6 months. Consider looking ahead for 24 or 48 hours. Can you look to see what is possible for the next 2 days? What excites you, frightens you? Can you connect with your work or your partner or your kids in the next several hours? Plan a short-term future.

Abilities: the resources to accomplish your 24-hour future are yours to exercise. Knowing your skills for living are what keeps you going. List them. Think about them. Practice them. These are things you do. What do you need to do? Will you do it?

Values: these are the up-and-out qualities of hope or kindness or gratitude. And these are just 3 values of dozens that you construct your life on. Values create an “upward slope” for your future. I ask some of my client-friends to shout values in the morning. (“Yes, and out loud” though try not to wake your roommate.) Why shout? Because when you ruminate you shout your short-comings in your head. Shouting values is a commitment to eliminate the inside crud.

Relationships: I think that everyone needs 3 intimate friends, 12 closer friends and 70 associative friendships. Intimate friends are people you turn to without thought or worry. Closer friends join you for dinner and drinks and may well have your best at heart. Associative friendships are people you know to talk to and high-5 but not necessarily much more. If you don’t have friends, start with the associative ones. Join a woodworking club and build birdhouses. How about Toastmasters and make a few speeches? Maybe those senior walkers — the funny old people (like me) who stride off with a walking stick or 2, a flagon of tea, a Tilley hat and a backpack to hike the hills of Horseshoe Bay. It is about being friends, not about style.

Doing yourself a FAVR is about mental wellbeing and social health.

Lunar Tide Spirituality (Guest Blog)

in Depression / Mental Health / Trauma  by Paddy Ducklow 0 comments

This blog is written by a client-friend who has endured enormous hardship and abuse and has found clarity and confidence in herself and in God. Amazing really. Here is part of her story.

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There are many forms of spirituality that scatter the landscape of Christianity. Having at a young age already experienced severe trauma and witnessed the suffering of my mother due to a terminal illness, I was always perplexed by those with a full solar spirituality. Barbara Brown Taylor describes this type of Church:

“You can usually recognize a full solar church by its emphasis on the benefits of faith, which include a sure sense of God’s presence, certainty of belief, divine guidance in all things, and reliable answers to prayer. Members strive to be positive in attitude, firm in conviction, helpful in relationship, and unwavering in faith.” 

I have travelled my own dark night, both spiritually and personally, several times. I learned that my relationship with darkness was safer than another person’s solar spirituality. I have encountered darkness and I have survived.

I would describe my faith as a “lunar tide.” God is the moon, ever present, best seen in the dark. I am the tide being pulled out into the deepest parts of self and then pulled back into the landscape of others. I submit to the ebbs and flows of life by the sheer grit and grace of this lunar pull.

There is a deconstruction of certainty when one is pulled into the deep, tossed around and then pulled onto a new shore. When one has waded into the depths, relationships with others are disoriented, never to find a shared sense of common experience. This only adds to the loss of bearing.

Lunar tide spirituality teaches me about God. He is always there in fullness but, depending on where I am, I may only catch a sliver of Him. If I am in the deep, I may not catch a sighting.

I no longer believe in the safety of my spirituality. I’ve buried too many friends, held suffering babies, journeyed with others through chronic illness, and suffered myself with debilitating depression.

I’ve given up trying to be more spiritual than God. Every pull into the deep has brought me to a new level of embracing my own humanity. That may, in the end, be the grace of this lunar pull.

 

[You are welcome to comment on this blog or anything else you see on my website. Please suggest improvements or ideas, or just dialogue. Contact me at life@theducklows. Hear from you soon. Thanks.]

My New Anxiety Mantra

in Anxiety / Change / Counselling / Emotions / Mental Health / Psychology  by Paddy Ducklow 0 comments

Anxiety manifests physically before your brain can figure out what’s going on. You might feel it in your gut or in your breathing. But watch yourself to see what happens with you.

Today I was doing supervision with a fellow psychologist and she asks 3 questions of herself when she is anxious. I think that I will try it with myself and I recommend it to you as well.

First question: “What am I anxious about?” and give yourself some time to figure it out. It might surprise you that it is not what you first think it is. If you think a bit deeper, you might find a thread of anxiety that runs throughout your emotional life. And it might not be the current circumstance or tension you are dealing with.

Second, “Whose problem is it?” Most anxious people take on the upset feelings of others in their emotional world (e.g. mothers, teachers, neighbourhood children…) and think it is theirs to worry about. Again, think it through and get to the truth.

And #3: “Is there anything I can do about it right now?” If not, let it go. At least until you figure you need to pick it up again.

Now I have a weird disclosure to make. I use the “Reminders” app on my MacBook to tell me when I should start to worry about something! When I put a time clock beside the thing I am anxious about, my iPhone gives me a ding to remind me to be anxious. I laugh when I see that I have reminded myself to worry. Weird isn’t it? Reduces my anxiety though.

Waking Up Tired

in All Entries / Change / Counselling / Emotions / Mental Health / Psychology / spiritual direction  by Paddy Ducklow 0 comments

John Blase, poet of “The Beautiful Due,” calls this poem “True Autumn” and it seems to my mind to be well understood as “generativity,” that stage in life beyond just being old (see Erik Erikson’s seventh stage of psychosocial development: generativity or stagnation). I have borrowed Blase’s first line, “Waking Up Tired” as the title, perhaps because I understand that so.

John, By the way, is becoming a best friend of mine, not that he knows me at all, but that I am knowing him. You will see his writing posted on my office door at Carey and I often read his poetry in lectures. His rich words resonate with my life and the work that I do, and I often find myself grateful to his sensitivity to all things human and spiritual. I was grateful that he happily allowed me to repost his words. Here they are:

He woke up tired of life. Not life in general but life specific, as in the way he was living it. Yes, that’s much closer to the truth: He woke up tired of his life. He’d reinvented himself about fifteen years ago, surprised everyone including God. It was a bloom for the better, he called it his late spring liberation.

But now he was in his Indian summer, true autumn would set in soon. He sensed this next season would not be one of putting on but falling away, like the leaves. Not a manufactured stripping a la flagellation, but natural, prompted only by the wind’s ways. The feeling was impossible to shake, that his absolute survival depended on this change. He simply could not continue on with the way things were. If he did he might uncle to despair, and that would be more than he could bear. That would be to admit a great defeat. That would be to give up on life, to trample underfoot the gift.