Martial arts for uncontrollable anger.

Posted on December 24, 2016 by luckyotter

taekwondo

Many people with Cluster B disorders and C-PTSD suffer from periodic, uncontrollable rages. My son isn’t Cluster B, but when he was a young teenager, he had anger issues due to his father’s and my divorce (among other things) and successfully channeled that anger through his involvement in Kung Fu classes. Not only did the classes help him channel his anger, they also taught him how to be mindful and greatly boosted his self-confidence. As his confidence grew, he was less prone to sudden rages.

Many kids these days take Taekwondo classes. Kids who have been bullied really benefit because learning these skills makes them feel less defenseless and more confident. But they aren’t just for kids. Adults with anger problems can benefit from such classes too.

Contrary to what many people think, the martial arts don’t teach violence. These disciplines aren’t just for self-defense. The philosophy behind them is that mindfulness is a must to defend yourself successfully–and that fighting back without justifiable cause will always make things worse. They also teach their students respect for others and demand deference to the instructor.

For Cluster B people in particular, the martial arts provide four things that people with these disorders need so badly:

–learning to be more mindful
–learning to respect others
–channeling anger appropriately
–boosting real self confidence

Here’s a good article I found about how martial arts can be used to help people control angry outbursts and learn to be more mindful.

http://english.astroawani.com/lifestyle/do-you-suffer-anger-disorders-learn-martial-arts-42022

What animals can teach us about mindfulness.

Posted on December 3, 2016 by luckyotter

I’ve always believed animals are our greatest teachers. As humans, we tend to dismiss animals, thinking of them as lesser creatures with limited (or no) intelligence. We think that just because they can’t read, don’t speak, don’t wear clothing, and don’t create art, music, or multi-national corporations, that they don’t have anything to teach us. If anything, we try to make animals conform to us, dressing up lapdogs in cute outfits or teaching them tricks to impress our friends.

Animals have much to teach us, and in many ways, if we acted more like them, as a species we humans might be better off — and a lot happier too. Mindfulness is a skill that helps many of us cope with daily life and eases the symptoms of depression, trauma, and many mental disorders — and there is no person more mindful than a cat, dog, or other animal. Even the Buddha was never as mindful as that Labrador retriever who looks at you with such soulful eyes, or that cat that sits peacefully in your window purring his little heart out.

If you have pets, watch them closely. They don’t worry about the future or fret over things that happened in the past. They don’t obsess over themselves or what others are going to think of them. They don’t beat themselves up over past transgressions or worry that they might not be acceptable. They live completely in the moment, reacting only to what they need to in order to survive and be happy. When they are given food, they happily nosh down on it, thinking about nothing except how good it tastes and how nice a newly-full stomach feels. If you ask your dog if he wants to go out for a walk, he doesn’t sit around sulking because he thought your tone was condescending; he happily jumps up and starts to dance around, sometimes even smiling (I am certain dogs can smile). If you scritch your cat under the chin, she will turn her face up to you, squint her eyes so they are almost closed, and begin to purr. She doesn’t worry that you might think she has bad breath. She doesn’t care! Watch a group of otters at play. They are like happy children, enjoying the water and the bliss of splashing around and swimming in it, and the joy of being together as a group.

Humans are the only creatures who unfairly judge their own kind, are cruel and unjust for no good reason except to boost their own egos, and seem to look for things to be miserable about, even when things are going well.

Many people think we make ourselves miserable due to our higher intelligence that makes us think about everything way too much, and that could be true. But what exactly is intelligence? How do we know that animals don’t have just as much of it as we do, even if they have a different kind of intelligence? Just because we can read words and earn a paycheck doesn’t mean we’re better or have a superior way of thinking. Case in point: have you ever witnessed some people with Down Syndrome? While their cognitive abilities may be impaired, they are some of the most joyful and affectionate people on earth. I remember one day standing on line at the supermarket. Ahead of me was a young man who clearly had Down Syndrome, and he was happily smiling and waving at everyone who looked his way. People smiled in reaction, not because they were being “polite,” and not because they were laughing at him, but because he was spreading joy. You couldn’t look at this man and not feel a little of his natural happiness. Studies have shown that people with very high IQ’s are more prone to mental illness and depression. People who aren’t as “smart” do seem to be happier. Sometimes I think too much in the way of cognitive intelligence actually gets in our way and keeps us from living in the moment and just enjoying life. Children at play have a lot to teach us in that department too. We can learn from them.

I’m not comparing the cognitively challenged with with animals and kids to be offensive, but I do think it’s important to point out that all of these groups seem to be more able to live in the moment, and living in the moment is what mindfulness is really all about. Mindfulness and staying in the present leads to joy. So who really is smarter?

Instant joy:

If you’re depressed or feeling bad, just go to Youtube and watch videos of cute, funny and happy animals (or babies, if you prefer). There are thousands of them. They are popular for a good reason: they make us feel better and can make us laugh and smile when we’re down. It always works for me, at least a little.

Dream tsunami.

Posted on November 10, 2016 by luckyotter

tsunami

I just woke from an interesting dream. I’m going back to sleep after I write this (I had to take a “mental health” day today), but I don’t want to forget it so I’m writing this now.

I’ve often dreamt about tidal waves, tornadoes and tsunamis. I know these things represent my sometimes overwhelming emotions that seem to want to pulverize me. Somehow in these dreams, I always survive them — or wake up.

In this dream, I was on a boat — maybe a cruise ship, I’m not sure. It was very spontaneous. I hadn’t planned to be on this conveyance, and was excited to going to wherever I was going. I was talking to some older woman in one of the rooms, who was showing me a lot of old family pictures. I wasn’t dressed or made up, then I looked out the window and saw people walking by on the beach outside laughing. Because I was on a boat, I don’t know how that was possible but it was.

I decided to get dressed and go outside and join the fun. Instead, I wound up in some food court where lunch was being served. My table mate was none other than President Obama! We just chatted like old friends — not about politics, just about the weather and other mundane things. I wasn’t particularly impressed that I was sitting at a table with the president, talking to him; he was just a nice stranger.

At some point I turned around and looked toward the sliding glass doors behind me that led to the deck and couldn’t believe what I saw. A smooth black wall of water, maybe hundreds of feet high, was headed directly toward us! Because I was on a boat in open water, there was nowhere to run. Obama looked too but didn’t seem scared. He told me to put my head down, which I did. I tried to relax and took deep breaths, bracing myself for the onslaught and certain death. I prayed that Jesus would take me to Heaven. I asked him to forgive me for my sins and lack of faith sometimes. I kept breathing and trying to relax, but nothing happened.

Cautiously, I looked up and turned around. The ocean outside was choppy as if after a storm, but otherwise looked normal!

“What happened to the tsunami?” I asked Obama. He just shrugged. I went back to eating and making plans for the day.

*****

This dream was different from my other tidal wave dreams for several reasons.

I didn’t wake up.
The danger passed without me waking up.
I turned to God for protection.
I didn’t panic.

I think this says a lot about my emotional growth. The wave represents my emotions, but I have control of them now, and sometimes, things don’t turn out to be nearly as terrible as I expected them to. Turning to God in moments of crisis can pull me through, as does mindfulness things like deep breathing.

It’s interesting about Obama. I think he was there because this particular tsunami represents my emotional turmoil in the wake of this election. Maybe he represents calmness to me.

Surrounded by beauty.

Posted on August 24, 2016 by luckyotter

I went back to the beach this morning (I finally got up early), and the tide was the lowest I’ve seen it, and it was still going out. Sandbars stretched pretty far into what was covered over by water the day before yesterday, leaving bathwater-hot tidal pools filled with small tan fish (probably minnows), skeins of green-brown seaweed, and tiny hermit crabs. I put my things down on the dry part of the beach and waded out, deliberately stepping in the warm pools and feeling the soft silty sand along the way. Dragonflies flitted back and forth, probably looking for mosquitoes for brunch. The only annoying thing was the many biting sand-flies, which tried to eat up my legs (why didn’t the dragonflies go after those?) But as soon as I’d waded far enough where no more sand was exposed, the biting flies disappeared.

I found a nice spot that wasn’t too mushy (some of the sand here is VERY soft, reminding me of quicksand, so I had to be mindful of that) and fairly free of seaweed. I settled into the slightly cooler water there, which only came up to my waist when I sat down in it.

At first there was no one else but me on the beach. I felt like I was the only person on earth. The sky was a bright blue dome, darkening to almost indigo toward its center, with white puffy cumulus clouds lining the edges against the horizon like lace trim. The water was clear and reflected the blue of the sky. I had waded so far out that I was surrounded on every side by barely moving but ever-changing water. I could tell the tide was still going out by the direction of the tiny ripples, and I kept having to move farther in to stay immersed. I looked back at where I’d laid my things on the beach and could barely see them anymore. I was very far out! I decided not to go any further because I didn’t want to lose sight of my things, even though it looked like the very shallow water went out quite a ways. I also didn’t want to be stuck any farther out if the tide suddenly came in.

I laid down in the water and dug my toes into the wonderful fine sand. I put my hands behind my head and let my elbows rest in the sand, propping my head up so I could see. It was clouding up just a little, and they looked so close overhead I felt like I could reach out and touch them. I heard gulls overhead and way in the distance, I could hear the rumble of a motorboat. I stretched out my arms and legs and just let myself float, tempted to shout to the sky about how great God is and what an incredible gift this trip has been for me, and how blessed I am to be in this healing place right now.

Mindful of my things on the beach and not wanting to drift too far away, I got myself back in a seated position and played with the sand again, rubbing it all over me the way I did two days ago. I decided to give myself a facial (that’s how soft this sand is!) so I plastered some of it on my face, let it dry a little, and then washed it off in the slightly salty water (Gulf water is less salty than ocean water). A few other people were visible here and there now, wading in the tidal pools or sitting in the shallow water. A young couple obviously in love embraced not too far away. Maybe they were on their honeymoon. I hoped things worked out for them.

It was getting hotter and there were more people now, including some kids with plastic buckets and shovels collecting shells and hermit crabs. These kids and their equipment triggered a memory of myself as a mosquito-bitten, golden-tanned and skinny 8 year old, exploring a similar beach much farther north where my parents had rented a vacation cottage for two weeks. That beach was off Cape Cod Bay in Massachusetts, where I remembered the sandbars had stretched out even further into the distance–so far that the deeper water was only a thin dark blue line against the horizon. I remembered playing out there for hours, collecting hermit crabs in my orange plastic bucket and then setting them free, and how fast the incoming tide had moved–so fast my friends and I used to try to race it in. I recalled sunsets seen from our screened in porch, painting the tidal pools pink and orange, and the smell of citronella and the sound of the bug zapper as the armies of mosquitoes dodged into it. Memories of that distant summer fused with the here and now, and time itself seemed to stop. I was still that child, yes–more wounded and damaged, but still essentially intact under my armor born of pain; still curious about everything and still in love with the wonders of the natural world. A child who still possessed the ability to give and receive love. I always wanted to go back to that place; now I’m here instead.

Sandbars off Cape Cod Bay, Brewster, Massachusetts

I had no idea how long I remained out there. It seemed like a very long time. I could have stayed in that heavenly spot all day, but being so fair skinned, I knew I should probably head back to the car before I got too sunburned.

Going with the flow.

Posted on August 22, 2016 by luckyotter

I wanted to get up early and walk on the beach at sunrise, but I guess I was so exhausted from my long drive yesterday and busy evening (also stayed up late blogging about it and chatting with my son) that my body needed extra sleep, and I didn’t get up until about 1 PM!

No worries though. My son has to work all night tonight so he was still asleep too. I quietly ate some cereal and headed out. I decided to go back to Rees Park, where we witnessed the sun set last night. I felt like it was calling me back. This time I had the presence of mind to wear a swimsuit.

The day was hot, very hot–95 degrees and very sunny. I drove to Rees Park and immediately smelled the ocean smell and felt the soothing sea breeze, making it seem cooler. I noticed that unlike last night when we were there, the tide was coming in. There were no sandbars and there were very small waves (really, more like ripples), and a lot less of the beach was visible. Banks of puffy white clouds dotted the horizon against the bright, almost electric blue of the sky.

I took off my sandals and stepped into the water. It was as warm as bathwater! So unlike the ocean water further north, even as far south as Myrtle Beach. Of course, this was the Gulf, a smaller body of water than the Atlantic Ocean, so that probably had a lot to do with the very warm temperature.

I waded out into the water, and when I looked down, I saw small schools of tan colored fish swimming around my feet. I squeezed my toes into the very fine, silt-like sand, an lowered myself into the water. It was like sinking into a bathtub, only so much better.

I closed my eyes and used the rest of my senses to feel nature around me. I felt the ripples gently rocking me, and I just let my body respond to that, rolling over and floating and stretching every part of me that could be stretched. I breathed in the salty air and listened to the seagulls on the shore. I scooped up some of the silt-like sand into my hands, and squeezed the water out of it until the claylike substance squeezed out between my fingers and left a small ball in my hands. I looked at it and could see many tiny shells and fragments of shells studded throughout the ball. It felt so nice in my hands I decided to rub it all over my arms and then lifted my legs out of the water and rubbed some of it on those too.

I looked around me and saw a few other people, also just relaxing and enjoying nature. I had a short conversation with a woman lying in the water nearby, who was visiting her mother. She said this was better than going to a spa, and I agreed.

I just sat there, not caring that the tide was now getting dangerously close to where I’d laid my things. I looked down into the clear greenish water and then looked out where it seemed to stretch out into infinity, becoming dark blue as it receded into the distance. I looked down again and there were those little fish swimming all around me, as if protecting me. I looked back at the beach and gazed at the palm trees and listened to the hissing of their fronds in the gentle breeze. For a rare moment, I was completely in the moment, not worrying about the future or fretting over something in the past. I just was me, just a part of nature. Not my ego or my achievements or my failures or my fear or my anger or my shame. Just me.

I felt the healing energy of the sun, sand and water that cradled me, and realized that this was all God’s doing. It wasn’t the water rocking and comforting me, it was God holding me gently and using the warm water to do that. I never felt like I got that from my family or anyone else I loved, but God has always been there, always ready to hold and comfort me. All I had to do was ask and be open to it. I felt a lump of gratitude form in my throat and thanked him for bringing me to this place. Through grace, I knew I would be healed, that one day my mental disorders would be a thing of the past.

When I got back to the apartment, I found out an answer to an earlier prayer was answered favorably. I think that has everything to do with what I found out on the beach today.

Mindfulness keeps me from quitting therapy.

Posted on August 13, 2016 by luckyotter

In my last post, Jocelyn made a comment about quitting therapy, and this reminded me of something important that’s kept me going: mindfulness.

People in therapy, especially people who have cluster B disorders and have problems either regulating or accessing emotion, often quit when the going gets rough. Narcissists are notorious for quitting therapy (if they ever enter it at all) because of all the Cluster B disorders, NPDs have the most problems allowing themselves to become vulnerable (well, maybe ASPD is even worse that way), but for therapy to work, this cannot be avoided. This is why people with NPD so rarely get better. For most, as soon as they start to feel too much, they’re outta there.

For borderlines, it’s a little easier. We’re not running away from emotions all the time the way narcissists do (although I do to some degree and probably have narcissistic tendencies–I also have comorbid Avoidant PD which also explains my reticence). For BPDs, our main problem is the regulation of emotions that are too intense. But the core issues–abandonment trauma–is the same. When you finally reach the stage of diving into the maelstrom of pain and emptiness, it’s incredibly painful. You feel like you’re dying or going insane. You think about quitting because who wants to live with all that pain?

That’s where mindfulness comes in. Without mindfulness, I probably would have quit therapy after today. But with mindfulness, I can actually let myself fall into the pit of pain and trauma and allow myself to feel those unpleasant emotions. At the same time the mindful part of me is observing myself feeling them as they arise, and thinking logically and trying to make connections and give them meaning. This kind of distance–while at the same time being fully submerged in the feelings–makes the experience more bearable and also makes it more likely you’ll learn something valuable from it. Mindfulness also means you acknowledge that the emotions are not YOU; you have emotions but you aren’t your emotions. You are you, and the emotions are just trapped energy moving out of you.

Without mindfulness, you just feel like you’ve somehow fallen into the 9th circle of hell and will never escape. You can’t separate yourself from the overwhelming feelings and feel consumed by them. No wonder so many people quit when they get to this point. I’m so glad I took DBT classes (even though I blew them off back in he ’90s when I took them) and had the presence of mind to keep the DBT book I was given. It’s been so helpful to me throughout this whole process.

I think mindfulness training should actually be a prerequisite for intensive psychodynamic therapy, especially for trauma survivors (whether they are personality disordered or not), because there is nothing to prepare you for the intensity of the ride you’ll be taking (which seems so gentle and tame at first).

Observing your feelings.

Posted on July 28, 2016 by luckyotter

When you hear the term mindfulness, what that means is to quietly observe your own emotions, not judging or denying them, but just accepting that they exist. This includes observing the way an emotion makes you feel physically or where it seems to reside in your body. When you quietly observe your feelings this way, by default that keeps you in the present and you are not likely to act out impulsively on an emotion. It’s central to mindfulness therapies like DBT.

I feel very anxious today. I don’t know what’s causing it but that doesn’t matter. Probably nothing is causing it; it’s just free floating anxiety. In the past I might have drank too much, snarled and snapped at people to relieve the stress, or just suffered. I might have told myself I was being stupid and to snap out of it, mirroring the very words my narcissistic parents and ex would say to me whenever anxiety (or any other emotion they didn’t like) would strike. Feelings themselves are never wrong, though acting out on them in impulsive or destructive ways can be.

I went outside and sat on the porch and just observed my anxiety. I realized how physical emotions really are. The anxiety manifested as a tightness in my chest (heart area) and the middle of my abdomen [these may correspond with the third (solar plexus) and fourth (heart) chakras, if you’re into that]. I know I have blockages in those areas and this is causing a lot of my anxiety. I breathed deeply, imagining my breath flowing into these constricted, painful areas. It didn’t help a whole lot, but it did a little. I tried to connect the anxiety with a triggering event but couldn’t think of one. I told myself the free-floating anxiety was temporary, like a headache, and that it wouldn’t kill me, so I just surrendered to it without judging it as a good or bad thing, and that the anxiety wasn’t ME, it was just a feeling and would pass. And after a while, it did.

Broken…beautiful.

Image

Surrender.

Image

Art therapy: recycling an old seat cushion.

Posted on July 17, 2016 by luckyotter

This morning I had two small first-world problems.

1. I needed a new piece of art for my hallway wall, which was bare.
2. My favorite outdoor needlepoint seat cushion had turned black and moldy from three weeks’ of rain, and the stuffing was coming out of it anyway.

I’m glad I didn’t throw away the seat cushion, which was my first temptation. I didn’t think it could be salvaged. But I decided to take it apart and see if I had some kind of brainstorm that would save it because the design is so pretty.

I tore out the stuffing, and the needlepoint part of the cushion, which was on the top only, tore away easily as the fabric was nearly rotted. Carefully, I washed the needlepoint panel in the tub with mild detergent and just a little bleach to make the colors bright again, then dried it indoors.

Now I had a nice little piece of needlepoint tapestry, with a very antique look about it (even though it’s actually only about ten years old), but what could I do with it?

Finally I decided it would make a wonderful art piece for my blank wall, solving my first problem. I measured the piece–it was 17.5 x 15 inches, wider than it is tall. I had to find some kind of frame that would fit. I went to the dollar store and purchased a large piece of royal blue poster board for mounting.

I looked at their frames. All were way too small, intended for family photos, not artworks. But next to the photo frames were some cheap decorative photos and pictures already in frames. I finally found a framed photo of a shoreline whose dimensions fit almost exactly. The frame was plain black plastic, which was fine. The hook on the back was in the right place too, so it would hang with the longer side horizontal and the shorter side vertical.

I took my equipment home, removed the backing and the cardboard photo inside (actually the photo is rather nice, so I might put that somewhere else like my bathroom or kitchen), and then carefully cut the poster board to the same dimensions as the cardboard photo. Then I glued the tapestry onto the poster board and set it back inside the frame, and used some masking tape to secure it there.

Here is a picture of the finished result. I think you’d probably pay a lot if you were to buy something like this.

A closer look at the detail:

I find these sort of creative activities relaxing and fun–and very therapeutic. My house is filed with such things I made myself out of odds and ends, or things that I was able to recycle into something exciting and new. And I always finish these projects with my mood improved too.