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Accurate Words

“Good” isn’t an emotion.  If I ask a client how they’re feeling and they say “good,” I remind them that’s not a feeling and it’s too nebulous.  I can guess what they mean by “good” but it’s still a guess and I might be wrong.  People use those nondescript words so often; those words that are up to interpretation.    Someone misinterpreting the word “good” may not have big consequences.  But what if you’re part of a couple on the verge of an argument, starting to become more emotional as you’re both trying to be understood?

This is probably the most important lesson I’ve learned from doing couples therapy – use words and phrases that most accurately convey a thought and emotion.  About three years ago, in a couple’s session, I watched the couple start to quickly escalate into anger despite the fact that they were saying the same thing.  They weren’t arguing opposing views.  If most anger comes from feelings of fear and powerlessness, I asked myself why they would be feeling afraid and powerless if they’re not disagreeing.  Obviously, they don’t feel understood, so they must be describing different concepts despite using the same words.  I stopped and asked them both to go into more depth about what they were hearing from each other, not what they were saying.  What was heard wasn’t exactly what was said, because what was said wasn’t exact.

There’s a split-second that happens leading up to, and during conflict couples have.  Because one or both of them is not describing something as accurately as possible, they are misunderstood, therefore unheard, leading to a disruption in the connection.  Panic and anger ensue.   Repeat this pattern long enough and couples start to exist in a state of disconnection and instability.  When this split-second moment happens in sessions I stop everything immediately and then I start to ask them clarifying questions until they realize “oh I thought you meant…”

When it happens in individual sessions, I have the same response.  Even though I’m fairly certain I know what the client means, I start asking them clarifying questions so they can refine what they’re saying in the most accurate way possible.  I’ll do this over and over until they develop the skill that allows for deeper and more informative conversations, as well as greater connection, intimacy, and peace. 

Become more nitpicky in conversations.  When it feels like a conversation has suddenly gone off the rails, stop and ask what the other person heard you say.  Stop and tell them you want to make sure you understand what they’re saying.  Give them and yourself a better chance to be understood.

Example of an interaction with inaccurate phrasing:

Partner 1: I feel like you hate me.

Partner 2: (Insulted and confused) What are you talking about?! I don’t hate you.

1: Well that’s how I feel.

2: You can’t tell me I’m doing something just because you say you feel it! I can’t take this!  I’m leaving.

Inaccurate turned accurate:

1: I feel like you hate me.

2: Hate?

1: Well, that you don’t like me.

2: What do you mean you feel it?  You believe it?

1: I don’t know.  I’m scared that you’re liking me less.

2: Is there something I’m doing that indicates I like you less?

1: You’ve been getting home later for a couple of weeks. I’m afraid that you don’t want to be around me and I’m worried you’ll leave.  Do you like being around me?

2: Of course I do.  But right now I just need more lighthearted conversation.  You’ve been upset about work for a while and I know you need to support but I don’t have the mental space to listen at the end of every day.  So I’ve been getting home later.  I was scared it would lead to a fight if I told you, so I avoided the conversation.

1: I didn’t mean to be negative.

2: I know. And I’m sorry work is stressful right now.  Let’s just make sure we have fun talk too.

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Find Your Lighthouse

September 2, 2021

British comedies and Headbanger’s Ball on MTV got me through high school.  I recorded them on Saturday and Sunday and watched them over and over throughout the week.  I’d sit in school and think about them as classes dragged on.  In 1992 hair metal was dead.  Grunge was taking over the mainstream and Headbanger’s Ball was playing Alice in Chains (love em) and Soundgarden (eh.) 

On one particular night, something different came on: “Low Self Opinion” by Rollins Band.  It’s a stark looking video, filmed almost entirely in black and white.  There’s no storyline.  No scenery.  Just the band.  They’re shown as silhouettes against a white background, leading up to a silhouetted profile of the vocalist, who turns to the camera as his face is illuminated and he yells “I think you’ve got a low self-opinion, man.  I see you standing all by yourself.  Unable to express the pain of your distress, you withdraw deeper inside…”

Right in the middle of all these videos with the stereotypical metal-look comes something else. Built like a brick house, tattooed with things like “More Than Soul,” the Crimson Ghost (the Misfits logo,) the Black Flag bars, and a massive back piece of a sun with the words “Search & Destroy” written across the top is Henry Rollins.  The tattoos were done by Rick Spellman.   I know this because I was hungry for what this guy had, and I went on a hunt to get it.  Sitting on a creaky wooden chair in my dark room, watching this video, something changed.  There was a light pointing in a direction I didn’t know existed.  There was a lighthouse.

The purpose of a lighthouse is to guide ships through dangerous waters, to safety.   Henry Rollins became my lighthouse.  This guy looked solid, substantial, capable of handling what was coming at him.  He was looking straight ahead and yelling what was in my head and heart.  I immediately had something to orient myself.  But that wasn’t all.  I found a double cassette of a Rollins spoken word show.  I didn’t even know there was such a thing as spoken word performance.  It had humor but it wasn’t comedy.  He wasn’t reciting anything.  No band.  Just Rollins on stage telling stories.  Most of those stories involved hard-earned lessons, disappointments, loss, and anger.  They weren’t feel-good stories, but they allowed me to feel good because I felt less alone and I started to understand that there was more than what was right in front of me.  Through those spoken word shows I found more shows.  Through all of them I started to learn about Black Flag, John Coltrane, Harold and Maude, weightlifting, poetry, books, and a thousand other things that then led me to even more things that have become important to me. 

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I started learning how to navigate the dangerous waters.  I had an image of what was possible and what I wanted to be.  I wanted to be stronger and feel safer.  So, I got my first set of weights.  There were actual words for what I was feeling, and I wanted to write them down and wear them on my sleeve.  So, I did just that.  I wanted to find music, books, and movies that I related to.  So, I began searching.  This was pre-internet by the way, so it wasn’t easy.  I would make a two-hour roundtrip drive every week to get a cassette or magazine.  I was operating in the dark most of the time.  But I had a lighthouse.

Do you have a lighthouse?  If you don’t have one, find one.  Find something or someone to help you orient yourself.  Get an image of where you want to be and just point yourself in that direction.   Identify qualities that several people have and form an idea of what you want for yourself.  But don’t just imitate someone.   Learn from them.  Be inspired by them.  Use them as a guide through dangerous waters.  And listen to Black Flag.

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Write Anyway

Why do so many of us find it difficult to sit down and journal?  We can write to-do lists, notes to others, texts, even gratitude lists.  But there’s something about the free-form writing that gets us stuck.  For some, it’s the fear of examining difficult topics or feeling certain emotions.  In my case, I start to look at what I’m writing through the lens of what someone would think if they read it.  I’m even doing it right now.

So why is it important that I try to write this blog?  It’s important that I try because it’s difficult for me to do, because I want to improve in my writing, and because I made the commitment to myself to try.  Just like seated meditation.   Doing things mindfully isn’t that difficult for me.  I can walk mindfully, eat mindfully, even butter my toast mindfully.  But I need the seated time because it doesn’t come as easily.  I want to improve at it.  I need the seated time because I committed to doing it. 

My favorite idea in Stoic philosophy comes from Marcus Aurelius.  He discussed the idea that “the obstacle is the way.”  He wrote “the impediment to action advances action.  What stands in the way becomes the way.”  The answer to every difficult situation isn’t to just push through.  By the same token, what does it reinforce in our perception of ourselves if we default to avoiding or working around the difficult task?  I talk a lot in sessions about the idea of “process vs. content.”  In short, I think that often times, when it concerns issues that bring people to therapy, what we do can be less important than the act of doing.  Regardless of how good a meditation session is, or how good this blog entry is, the act of meditating and writing is already a success, simply because I’m doing what isn’t easy. 

Following through on what I commit to doing for others is an act of respect and love.  Following through on my commitments to myself is an act of self-respect and self-care.  It’s treating myself the way I want others to treat me.  Just because I’m the giver and the receiver doesn’t make it any less important.  Following through on my commitments to myself reinforces that I am worth effort.  I am worth struggle.  I am competent. 

So, once I click “publish,” my mission is accomplished.  I hope this resonates with someone.  But even if no one reads it, it’s an important and successful effort.