Poopy, Poopy, Poopy Perfectionism
We all know someone who is a perfectionist.
This is rather unfortunate. For, what is perfectionism?
Self-hatred. Inadequacy. Shame. Guilt. To name a few characteristics driving perfectionism.
The perfectionist is a rather hideous creature behind their thinly veiled mask wishing 'things would be better' when they're actually just hating things as they are. The world is not perfect. Human beings are not perfect. So who are we to think that things ought to be perfect? Who are we that we are so special we expect perfection in a world that cannot provide it? How unreasonable is this? How offensive is this?
The perfectionist is further doomed to be continually let down. And this state of let-down-ness is yet another unattractive characteristic of the perfectionist. The inadequate nature of the perfectionist causes them to see inadequacy in everything else in the world. The perfectionist typically lacks self-reflection. This is key to remaining a perfectionist. Instead of admitting they are let-down with and by themselves, the perfectionist claims to be let down by others, let down by people and things outside of their control. Because, after all, if it were in their control it would be perfect.
The perfectionist will always try to place themselves above others. They also claim not to be doing this as they do it.
So, my question, as always, is: who told us we aren't good enough?
I don't have this problem because I do think I am good enough. I do not think I am better then people or above them and more valued than them. I just believe in my heart that I am good enough.
To the perfectionists out there: who told you that you weren't good enough? This seems a much more productive pursuit than self-hate riddled distaste of human beings driven by a false sense of moral certainty. That is what the core of perfectionism looks like.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Friday, May 10, 2013
Re-Considering The Environment, Not That One Though
The Other Environment
The Environment I'm referring to is the environment a child grows up in. There are some strange beliefs in the world. Some remarkably strange ones with regards to genetic factors and genetic contribution. I am rather entertained by these thoughts. That is, until I realize they have a driving force of their own and they are actually believed.
Of note: Schizophrenia, suicide, depression. Some Mental Health Fruit Salad, otherwise known as comorbidity but that is another topic entirely. Each one of these has an area of study entirely dedicated to learning the genetic contributions to/of ____ (fill in the blank).
If a person's parents have schizophrenia it does not necessarily follow that that person would have schizophrenia. Otherwise, we would know who would and who wouldn't have schizophrenia. Same goes for suicide: I knew a guy who went to Adler School of Professional Psychology in Vancouver, now, I am uncertain if this was his belief, the school's belief, or the person who relayed the message to me was mistaken, but I was told that people are genetically predisposed to suicide, just at they are genetically predisposed for schizophrenia.
Oddly, nobody considered the environment in making a statement like this. If you are growing up in a house where life is particularly sucky and then one day your father commits suicide, then you probably are more likely to commit suicide as an adult, if you make it that far. But suicide is typically a result of sucky life circumstances, nobody commits suicide because they are just too fucking happy to be alive. The sucky life the suicidal father provided is likely sucky enough that the child would consider suicide an acceptable solution. Is that genetic? No.
Depressed people shouldn't be parents. Children deserve unconditional love and a healthy enough environment to thrive. Depressed people cannot provide that. So if a depressed person provides a life for their children it is likely to be a sucky a life. A common cause of depression is, oddly enough, sucky stuff happening in life. The problem in these situations is depression and suicide, those are the solutions to much greater problems...sometimes related to sucky life circumstances. I don't need to go to Adler to figure this out. This is introductory logic. This is jaded cynical perspective. I certainly don't have a PhD in that, do they offer one though?
Schizophrenia is a bit trickier to understand but I would not put too much weight into the genetic factors. Considering there really is no evidence. It is mostly hocus pocus. So remember: What type of world did the child grow up in? This seems like a more important question, if you are going to ask one.
The Environment I'm referring to is the environment a child grows up in. There are some strange beliefs in the world. Some remarkably strange ones with regards to genetic factors and genetic contribution. I am rather entertained by these thoughts. That is, until I realize they have a driving force of their own and they are actually believed.
Of note: Schizophrenia, suicide, depression. Some Mental Health Fruit Salad, otherwise known as comorbidity but that is another topic entirely. Each one of these has an area of study entirely dedicated to learning the genetic contributions to/of ____ (fill in the blank).
If a person's parents have schizophrenia it does not necessarily follow that that person would have schizophrenia. Otherwise, we would know who would and who wouldn't have schizophrenia. Same goes for suicide: I knew a guy who went to Adler School of Professional Psychology in Vancouver, now, I am uncertain if this was his belief, the school's belief, or the person who relayed the message to me was mistaken, but I was told that people are genetically predisposed to suicide, just at they are genetically predisposed for schizophrenia.
Oddly, nobody considered the environment in making a statement like this. If you are growing up in a house where life is particularly sucky and then one day your father commits suicide, then you probably are more likely to commit suicide as an adult, if you make it that far. But suicide is typically a result of sucky life circumstances, nobody commits suicide because they are just too fucking happy to be alive. The sucky life the suicidal father provided is likely sucky enough that the child would consider suicide an acceptable solution. Is that genetic? No.
Depressed people shouldn't be parents. Children deserve unconditional love and a healthy enough environment to thrive. Depressed people cannot provide that. So if a depressed person provides a life for their children it is likely to be a sucky a life. A common cause of depression is, oddly enough, sucky stuff happening in life. The problem in these situations is depression and suicide, those are the solutions to much greater problems...sometimes related to sucky life circumstances. I don't need to go to Adler to figure this out. This is introductory logic. This is jaded cynical perspective. I certainly don't have a PhD in that, do they offer one though?
Schizophrenia is a bit trickier to understand but I would not put too much weight into the genetic factors. Considering there really is no evidence. It is mostly hocus pocus. So remember: What type of world did the child grow up in? This seems like a more important question, if you are going to ask one.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Simple Approach To A Complex Problem
...By No Means A Solution, But A Healthier Approach
Colin Ross is one of my heroes. I had the great opportunity to listen to him speak on two occasions now. In his presence I recognized how much a force he truly is. One of his books I am currently reading is The Great Psychiatry Scam. This cute little section I will quote reminded me about something that is very important to me and after the quote I will tell you why:
"Chapter 1: True Memories of Early Amnesia
I was born in a class-five
hurricane, and I howled, at the
night, the rain and the driving
mediocrity. But it's all right now,
in fact it's a gas. Jumping Jack
Flash, it's a gas. Jumping Jack
Flash, it's a gas, gas, gas.
Which reminds me of Aunt Jemima, Mexican jumping beans, and flatus. Which reminds me of psychiatry.
Which in turn reminds me of a patient I interviewed as a psychiatrist in Winnipeg in the 1980's. He said that he had been persecuted by Greyhound Bus Line for 2,000,000 years and that the RCMP had decapitated him several days previously. When I asked how he could be talking to me when he had been decapitated, he shrugged, raised his hands as a disclaimer, and said 'I'm just telling you what happened.'.
If that philosophy is good enough for him, it's good enough for me..."
The reason I love this is because it so very true when dealing with what has been labeled 'Mental Health Issues'. I hate that label but I don't get to decide things like this.
If a person is hearing voices, I don't care that that person has some disease and that the voices aren't 'real'. For that person they are real. That's the starting point for working with them. You can't just tell them they are crazy and need to get better and maybe give them medication and lengthy expensive treatment that doesn't work. Why not start by accepting what they are telling you?
I went to this really terrible suicide prevention training through work, it was terribad. We did role playing, which is almost a complete waste of time, and my coworker and friend had a card that told him the following: you have been hearing voices and they are telling you to kill your sister and you love your sister very much as she is the only one in the world who is there for you and so you want to end your life to protect her, you don't want to talk about the reason because of your shame so you are hard to communicate with. I received a card that said: your patient wants to end their life because they are hearing voices. That's all the information you get to work with.
So, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to save the universe, I started asking questions of my 'patient'. He replied he heard voices. So I asked how many voices, male or female, curious exploratory questions to find out what I'm dealing with. The 'specialist' in charge of the training interrupted and said: so, the voices aren't real, this is a suicide risk assessment, your job is to find out if they are a risk or not. Well, no shit lady, in order to find out I need to know the story. The person ended up talking to me anyway so I'm assuming a legitimate risk is involved on some level.
I continue. He says: they tell me to do things. I say: what kind of things? He says: stuff. I say: what do you mean by stuff? He says: well, you know, just stuff. So I decide it is time to corner him into narrowing down the story and giving me details. I say: good stuff or bad stuff? He says: both. I say: ok, can you give me some examples. He says: Well, it is just stuff. I say: do they tell you to go buy groceries, do they tell you to clean the house, to drive around, day-to-day stuff, what kind of stuff? The lady interrupts and tells me I'm mocking the patient. Actually, I'm working with a difficult human being who doesn't trust me. It is different. But I didn't say that to her, she would be unwilling to learn anyway.
She reminds me one more time that the voices aren't real. At this point I give up, I realize what I'm dealing with and let her give me advice, put on her big shit-eating grin like she's accomplished something, and walk off. Then I turn to my coworkers and say: was I mocking? All three in the group said: no, that was a good approach I thought. But hey, maybe I'm wrong. The voices were real for the character. Why is that so hard to accept?
Therein lies a major un-humaning involved in mental health services today. I don't hear the voices but they do. That needs to be accepted.
If the philosophy was good enough for him, what makes me so special it is not good enough for me?
Colin Ross is one of my heroes. I had the great opportunity to listen to him speak on two occasions now. In his presence I recognized how much a force he truly is. One of his books I am currently reading is The Great Psychiatry Scam. This cute little section I will quote reminded me about something that is very important to me and after the quote I will tell you why:
"Chapter 1: True Memories of Early Amnesia
I was born in a class-five
hurricane, and I howled, at the
night, the rain and the driving
mediocrity. But it's all right now,
in fact it's a gas. Jumping Jack
Flash, it's a gas. Jumping Jack
Flash, it's a gas, gas, gas.
Which reminds me of Aunt Jemima, Mexican jumping beans, and flatus. Which reminds me of psychiatry.
Which in turn reminds me of a patient I interviewed as a psychiatrist in Winnipeg in the 1980's. He said that he had been persecuted by Greyhound Bus Line for 2,000,000 years and that the RCMP had decapitated him several days previously. When I asked how he could be talking to me when he had been decapitated, he shrugged, raised his hands as a disclaimer, and said 'I'm just telling you what happened.'.
If that philosophy is good enough for him, it's good enough for me..."
The reason I love this is because it so very true when dealing with what has been labeled 'Mental Health Issues'. I hate that label but I don't get to decide things like this.
If a person is hearing voices, I don't care that that person has some disease and that the voices aren't 'real'. For that person they are real. That's the starting point for working with them. You can't just tell them they are crazy and need to get better and maybe give them medication and lengthy expensive treatment that doesn't work. Why not start by accepting what they are telling you?
I went to this really terrible suicide prevention training through work, it was terribad. We did role playing, which is almost a complete waste of time, and my coworker and friend had a card that told him the following: you have been hearing voices and they are telling you to kill your sister and you love your sister very much as she is the only one in the world who is there for you and so you want to end your life to protect her, you don't want to talk about the reason because of your shame so you are hard to communicate with. I received a card that said: your patient wants to end their life because they are hearing voices. That's all the information you get to work with.
So, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to save the universe, I started asking questions of my 'patient'. He replied he heard voices. So I asked how many voices, male or female, curious exploratory questions to find out what I'm dealing with. The 'specialist' in charge of the training interrupted and said: so, the voices aren't real, this is a suicide risk assessment, your job is to find out if they are a risk or not. Well, no shit lady, in order to find out I need to know the story. The person ended up talking to me anyway so I'm assuming a legitimate risk is involved on some level.
I continue. He says: they tell me to do things. I say: what kind of things? He says: stuff. I say: what do you mean by stuff? He says: well, you know, just stuff. So I decide it is time to corner him into narrowing down the story and giving me details. I say: good stuff or bad stuff? He says: both. I say: ok, can you give me some examples. He says: Well, it is just stuff. I say: do they tell you to go buy groceries, do they tell you to clean the house, to drive around, day-to-day stuff, what kind of stuff? The lady interrupts and tells me I'm mocking the patient. Actually, I'm working with a difficult human being who doesn't trust me. It is different. But I didn't say that to her, she would be unwilling to learn anyway.
She reminds me one more time that the voices aren't real. At this point I give up, I realize what I'm dealing with and let her give me advice, put on her big shit-eating grin like she's accomplished something, and walk off. Then I turn to my coworkers and say: was I mocking? All three in the group said: no, that was a good approach I thought. But hey, maybe I'm wrong. The voices were real for the character. Why is that so hard to accept?
Therein lies a major un-humaning involved in mental health services today. I don't hear the voices but they do. That needs to be accepted.
If the philosophy was good enough for him, what makes me so special it is not good enough for me?
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Do You Think Your Dues Are All Paid Up?
Giant Quote From One Of My Favourite Human Beings I Have Never Met:
Gordon Livingston is someone I consider to be a hero. His website is here: http://www.gordonlivingston.com/
I have read the following books of his:
1: Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart (Thirty True Things You Need To Know Now)
2: And Never Stop Dancing (Thirty More True Things You Need To Know Now)
3: How To Love
I am currently reading:
The Thing You Think You Cannot Do (thirty truths about fear and courage)
The brackets are the subtitles. These books are amazing. Gordon is amazing. If you ever want to learn valuable lessons on life read these. If you have ever felt pain, heartbreak, sorrow, or loss, read these. If you have ever experienced happiness, joy, laughter, togetherness, read these. If you are a human being: read these.
I could write for days about why I think this man is so fantastic, and I would love it, but what I'm going to do instead is type out a giant quote from his book on courage and hope nobody sues me for copyright infringement!
Here goes:
Chapter 4: You have never suffered enough.
'The truth will set you free, but not until it is finished with you.' - David Foster Wallace
"Those who have suffered a catastrophic loss, such as the death of a child or spouse, often take slender consolation in the idea that they have 'paid their dues' to God or to the universe and that no more sacrifices of this magnitude will be required of them. I indulged this fantasy for a time after my twenty-two-year-old son Andrew killed himself in the grip of bipolar illness some years ago. Sure, I thought, no further misfortune could befall me that would approach this. Seven months after Andrew's death, my six year-old-son Lucas was diagnosed with a particularly virulent form of leukemia. Six months later he too was dead.
What can we learn from such apparently random devastation? That there is no defense against the vagaries of chance in this life? That we are being tested by having our worst fears realized? That we need more lessons on powerlessness and humility? I couldn't figure it out. Then it began to dawn on me that there is nothing to figure out, that as Robert Frost (who lost four of his six children) said in his old age, 'In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life - it goes on.' Such a conviction is at once both defenseless and liberating.
Nobody tells us when we are young that there are no limits to pain. Instead, most of us are allowed to indulge the fantasy that if we do well in school, work hard, and respect authority, we will be spared the crushing grief that is the fate of other people, those we don't know. It is doubtless just as well that we are not burdened with the gift of foresight. In the yearbook marking my fiftieth college reunion, I closed my brief autobiography with the paraphrase of a favourite song, 'I wish somehow I didn't know now what I didn't know then.'
A subset of the category we label 'courage' is resilience, the capacity to respond to adversity with a determination not to be defeated by it. Anyone who has attended a meeting of The Compassionate Friends, an organization of bereaved parents, learns that people vary widely in their reactions to grief. About one-third of those who have sustained such a loss appear defeated by it. Their best hopes have been burned to ashes and they will never recover. For another third, time will do its work and they will struggle back to some semblance of their former selves. How long this process takes is individual and unpredictable. A third group manifests the reality proposed by Ernest Hemingway: 'The world breaks everyone, and afterwards, some are strong at the broken places.' These are the people who plant gardens, establish the memorial funds, accompany others in their mourning. They are more than survivors; they have prevailed."
The chapter goes on but that's a big enough quote. Now tell me, is it possible to read this and walk away like it had no meaning and no relation to you or your life?
Gordon Livingston is someone I consider to be a hero. His website is here: http://www.gordonlivingston.com/
I have read the following books of his:
1: Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart (Thirty True Things You Need To Know Now)
2: And Never Stop Dancing (Thirty More True Things You Need To Know Now)
3: How To Love
I am currently reading:
The Thing You Think You Cannot Do (thirty truths about fear and courage)
The brackets are the subtitles. These books are amazing. Gordon is amazing. If you ever want to learn valuable lessons on life read these. If you have ever felt pain, heartbreak, sorrow, or loss, read these. If you have ever experienced happiness, joy, laughter, togetherness, read these. If you are a human being: read these.
I could write for days about why I think this man is so fantastic, and I would love it, but what I'm going to do instead is type out a giant quote from his book on courage and hope nobody sues me for copyright infringement!
Here goes:
Chapter 4: You have never suffered enough.
'The truth will set you free, but not until it is finished with you.' - David Foster Wallace
"Those who have suffered a catastrophic loss, such as the death of a child or spouse, often take slender consolation in the idea that they have 'paid their dues' to God or to the universe and that no more sacrifices of this magnitude will be required of them. I indulged this fantasy for a time after my twenty-two-year-old son Andrew killed himself in the grip of bipolar illness some years ago. Sure, I thought, no further misfortune could befall me that would approach this. Seven months after Andrew's death, my six year-old-son Lucas was diagnosed with a particularly virulent form of leukemia. Six months later he too was dead.
What can we learn from such apparently random devastation? That there is no defense against the vagaries of chance in this life? That we are being tested by having our worst fears realized? That we need more lessons on powerlessness and humility? I couldn't figure it out. Then it began to dawn on me that there is nothing to figure out, that as Robert Frost (who lost four of his six children) said in his old age, 'In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life - it goes on.' Such a conviction is at once both defenseless and liberating.
Nobody tells us when we are young that there are no limits to pain. Instead, most of us are allowed to indulge the fantasy that if we do well in school, work hard, and respect authority, we will be spared the crushing grief that is the fate of other people, those we don't know. It is doubtless just as well that we are not burdened with the gift of foresight. In the yearbook marking my fiftieth college reunion, I closed my brief autobiography with the paraphrase of a favourite song, 'I wish somehow I didn't know now what I didn't know then.'
A subset of the category we label 'courage' is resilience, the capacity to respond to adversity with a determination not to be defeated by it. Anyone who has attended a meeting of The Compassionate Friends, an organization of bereaved parents, learns that people vary widely in their reactions to grief. About one-third of those who have sustained such a loss appear defeated by it. Their best hopes have been burned to ashes and they will never recover. For another third, time will do its work and they will struggle back to some semblance of their former selves. How long this process takes is individual and unpredictable. A third group manifests the reality proposed by Ernest Hemingway: 'The world breaks everyone, and afterwards, some are strong at the broken places.' These are the people who plant gardens, establish the memorial funds, accompany others in their mourning. They are more than survivors; they have prevailed."
The chapter goes on but that's a big enough quote. Now tell me, is it possible to read this and walk away like it had no meaning and no relation to you or your life?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)