Raw and Real

A baby is unfiltered, unrestrained and unapologetic. It is entirely authentic and neither hides nor tones down its emotions or needs. Its enthusiasm is unbridled, its sadness wholly embodied and its affection genuine and unmistakeable.

Baby Peggy does not stop to think about how his feelings or requirements might affect me and Mr Peggy and he is not worried about offending anybody or putting them out. He doesn't rein in his displays of emotion in concern that he's being annoying nor because he fears being overwhelmed by them: he simply is. When he is cross he is cross all over and when he is content he is blissfully relaxed. His smile and attempts at giggling are infectious when he is altogether engrossed in playing with Daddy. 

And do you know what? Yes, there are moments when I just want to be asleep or when I (strongly!) begrudge having to get off my backside to change yet another stinky hind quarter. When I literally want to bang my head on a wall because it's all too much. But I marvel every day at the beauty of this boy and his wholeheartedness.

There's no extra layer, no ulterior motive, no people pleasing or game playing. A baby is straightforward and unapologetic. You may take him or leave him, but what you see is what you get, and the things that you get are infinitely richer for their authenticity and un-self-conscious-ness (definitely a word).

It is refreshing and renewing to be with a person who is so generous and unconcerned in sharing of themselves.

I aspire to be more like my baby and I am infinitely grateful to have the honour of being with him and learning from him.

I think what he is missing is shame. The fear of rejection is what brings the feeling of shame, and how powerful that is. How sad that our longing for acceptance so often hinders us from fully embodying our broad range of states of being. May it be a long time until he experiences the rejection that hardens our shells.

He is also missing the fear of becoming overwhelmed by his emotions. Perhaps this is a less universal experience for adults than the feeling of shame, but it's no less important. At the moment Baby Peggy relies almost wholly on mutual regulation. Mr Peggy and I comfort him when he is sad, hurt or scared and he knows he is safe with us. He stops crying when we pick him up (well... not every time!) because he is secure in the knowledge that he is OK now. Hopefully he will learn that it's OK to fully experience his emotions and that they can be attended to and soothed in whatever way is applicable and that he will be OK afterwards. That way he will feel things at the time, deal with them and move on, just as he does now - no trying to squash them in case they get too big when all that does is means they come back later. 

Because Baby Peggy is so true and uncomplicated, I know how he is feeling and when he has a need, and I can meet that need. He depends on me and that's fine. He is not meant to exist in isolation or be self-sufficient. As he grows there will be more and more things that he manages independently, but perhaps we make a mistake when we try to live as though this is a phase that we completely outgrow as we age. Little steps can help to start to turn this view around, like saying "thank you for helping" instead of "sorry for being a pain."

Thanks little one, for showing me how rich and beautiful an authentic, vulnerable, dependent life can be.

Still Remembering

I need to write something, but I don't know what.

I feel funny at the moment. I think I feel sad. As well as overwhelmed and excited and discombobulated by all the change in life right now, of course.

I have spoken before about memories and how reminders of situations and events from the last couple of years can cause me difficulty. While I was in hospital and for about the first six months afterwards these memories would often come suddenly and bring incredibly intense emotions that I found difficult to cope with and that lingered with me throughout the day. 

Over the last six months I have felt they have relented a little in their frequency and intensity. I am less often triggered beyond my ability to concentrate on the present moment. The intense effects of a memory last less long. I can talk about some things that I couldn't talk about before without becoming completely overwhelmed. 

And yet. 

They haunt me still. The barely-staved-off panic attacks when I have to go to the general hospital. The lingering emotion all day reminding me of the dream I had last night. It's an emotion I still can't place a year on, and the dream hangover ignites further thoughts and memories to make it worse. The same emotion hits me like a wall when things are too similar to previous days, trapping me in my house because I'm too scared of the feelings I'll have if I go outside in the spring sunshine. The colder dull weather this week has been a relief. My camera reel was full of spring photos and blooming life last year but this year there are three. 

The tears I push away and avoid spring up on me less often, but they are all the more vicious because I've hidden from them.

It doesn't go away, and it doesn't become less confusing. There are times when the triggers are further apart, or avoidable or I can box things up and squash them away while I do what I need to do. But this stuff seems to be with me to stay and I don't even know what it is. I think if I'm going to have any luck in managing it I need to understand it, and I need some help with that because I clearly haven't got far on my own in a year! I need someone to help me unpack the boxes, look at the confusing things and work out what to do with them. And maybe I'm ready for that now, which I wasn't a year ago.

Do I have to be sad? Why?

The functions of emotions are to motivate behaviour, to communicate to others, and to communicate to oneself. This short clip explains beautifully. It will use no more than 150 seconds of your life but could open a whole world of understanding to you (sorry, I really love DBT!!).

As you'll know from my previous post, I've been visited a lot by sadness recently. Now, instinctively I really hate sadness. My goodness, it hurts so much. Loss, endings, emptiness, aloneness - they're not pleasant to feel. But I've been on this therapy train for long enough now to pay attention. My life experience tells me that if I ignore an emotion is only going to spring up on me and shout its message louder until I deal with it. It might bog off for a bit, but it will come to get me, and it won't be pretty. And by then I probably won't even know why I have it so it will be so much more difficult to resolve.

I've made a treasure basket (bowl) of
sensory objects that are meaningful to me

So the sadness is shouting pretty loudly right now, and I've made a conscious effort to allow it to be there, talk about it, and to bear it in a healthy way (self soothe, distract, mindfulness - the three pillars of emotional regulation oh how I love DBT ha ha! Useful recently have been working on my sensory cave project, being outside in the countryside, listening to music, starting some gardening projects, talking to friends/family/professionals, listening to meditations, time in my sensory cave and being honest about how I feel even if I'm worried about the effect it will have on others).

The next step, as I like to get my old Brian engaged in things too, is to really explore sadness a bit more. What is it for? What is it telling me? How can I act helpfully towards it to ease my suffering or bear my pain (suffering being an unnecessary addition to pain - there's a whole other can of worms discussion!)?

First port of call is my emotional regulation handouts (from Marsha Linehan's DBT Skills Training Handouts and Worksheets, 2015). Amongst others, sadness is prompted by losing something or someone irretrievably, being separated from someone you care for, being alone, or feeling isolated or like an outsider, things being worse than you expected, things not being what you expected or wanted. Well, my sadness is pretty understandable and accurate then. (As an aside, biological changes and experiences are also included on each emotion sheet, which can be really helpful if you're not sure what emotion you're feeling.) No need to act opposite!

I'm interested to look at the listed expressions and actions of sadness then, to see whether I've been using any of them. Do they come naturally to me, or perhaps not, because I have tended to avoid sadness where possible? Maybe if I don't use them naturally they could help me process the sadness.

• avoiding things
• acting helpless, staying in bed, being inactive
• moping, brooding, or acting moody
• making slow, shuffling movements
• withdrawing from social contact
• avoiding activities that used to bring pleasure
• giving up and no longer trying to improve
• saying sad things
• talking little or not at all
• using a quiet, slow or monotonous voice
• eyes drooping
• frowning, not smiling
• posture slumping
• sobbing, crying, whimpering
• other _______

Looking at the list, some seem helpful and others less so. Perhaps more markers than suggestions, or ways to understand our behaviour compassionately before inviting sadness with us as we continue life. I think the list demonstrates how we can get stuck in a spiral of deepening sadness too, as several of those actions will feed back sadness to the brain and increase the intensity of the feeling.

Just hope you're not such a snotty crier as me!

Some, like crying, are definitely good to try though: no matter how much it feels like you'll never stop once you start, I can assure you it's not true! I have found if I can let myself cry (proper crying, not the leaky face type that comes upon me uninvited!) it really helps to be able to carry on life. It's an acknowledgment. Yes, I am sad. I have a gap in my life and it hurts. That's OK and I'm going to gently carry on with what I want to be doing in life. (Love to throw in a bit of Compassionate Mind too...)

Lastly, the sheet looks at aftereffects of sadness, which could include not being able to remember things, feeling irritable, touchy or grouchy, blaming or criticising yourself, ruminating about sad events in the past, insomnia, appetite disturbance, indigestion and others. Ties in nicely to the post I'm planning on executive function, and hopefully allows us to be a little compassionate to ourselves, understanding why we may have some seemingly unrelated difficulties, and continuing to care for ourselves in a constructive way.


As a final note, another great look at sadness I found is here (What is Sadness?). It takes you through a similar process but points out a few different things such as some people's tendency to avoid sadness (See also this 80 second clip on avoiding sadness. It references Borderline Personality Disorder but is relevant to most people.) and how we may want to respond to others' sadness. I particularly like this quote on the function of sadness:

The universal function of sadness is to, in some way, signal for help. This can be a signal to others saying that we need comforting, or to ourselves to take some time and recoup from our loss.

That is the message I'm going to take away from this curious little exploration of my sadness. I have a human need for comfort, and it is entirely right to experience that need and tend to it in a healthy way. As my psychiatrist told me all the time, sadness is there to show that you care.