Getting Unstuck: Schedules, Large and Small

 B"H

In my last post, I discussed the delightful state of being anxiously poised between activities, unable to effectively pursue any of them.  Specifically, I'm talking about when such inability is not due to external factors, but rather to an attack of anxiety that Will. Not. Quit.

I talked about writing out the feelings underlying the stuck feeling, and how that is a first crucial step for me in moving past stuckness.  Today I am going to talk about variations on scheduling as an anxiety-buster.  For me, this must happen only after the feelings-discovery portion of the program, but for someone else it might be a stand-alone technique.

There are a few ways to use scheduling to inch past anxiety.  One is the tiny tasks technique.  I have read variations on this technique in several sources and used it successfully.  You must identify the tiniest micro-movement that you can make toward your goal.  For example, I have a check to write and deliver for a donation I am making.  I am stuck on it, and it's not getting done.  So I decide that the tiniest movement I can take toward completing the task is to get out a pen with which to write the check.  Then I assign myself the task of taking out a pen.  I don't have to do it immediately, as long as it is on my list.  If I get out a pen before the end of the day, I have succeeded.

Some people get really crazy with the tiny tasks technique and find that just because they've gotten out a pen, they are ready and able to write the check.  This hardly ever happens for me.  Instead, I assign another tiny task the next day: Put the recipient's name on the check.  Or I even lose track of my goal for a few days because it's that overwhelming.  But when I next think to do a tiny task, the pen is waiting.  

By tracking your progress using tiny tasks, you end up with a long string of successes to your credit.  If you are one to make lists, which I would recommend, as it counteracts the brain fog that anxiety can produce, then you have a series of happy check marks for your completed items.  That almost gives a person the belief that she can accomplish something.  Hooray!

Another use of scheduling to creep past a stuck point is to do what I call micro-scheduling.  I take a short period, a maximum of three hours long.  I list things that need to be done.  And I take a moment to jot down next to each task how long I think it will take.  Then I plug my activities into my short period of time, scheduling in ten or fifteen minute blocks.  If I have an activity that will take longer than fifteen minutes, I break it into its component tasks so that I have something specific to do for every ten or every fifteen minutes of my short time period.  Then I start at the beginning and follow the schedule.

It is not necessary to attack the most difficult stuck thing with micro-scheduling.  The idea is just to get a little momentum going so I can get to feeling better about myself.  I often find that when I am stuck, I freak out and decide that I am so behind that only doing everything at once is acceptable.  (This is not a logical decision.)  Micro-scheduling allows me to hold myself accountable for one thing at a time.  It makes the process feel much more straightforward and less fraught with feelings of inadequacy.

A third use of scheduling to break through stuckness is weekly scheduling.  In weekly scheduling, the time blocks begin each hour.  You start with a weekly list of things to do, and assign them time according to the number of hours they are likely to take.  (Hint: round up.)  Sometimes I will make note of a half-hour when I have to do something at a specific time, like an appointment.  Other times I will just list more than one thing in my hour, knowing that all of the things will fit in that amount of time.

The point is not to follow my schedule slavishly.  The point is to move most of my decision making about how I am spending my time into one weekly session, which I do when I am calm.  I can picture how I want my days to look, and then schedule the associated activities.  Things get lost a lot less.  

But sometimes, the schedule gets disrupted for any of a number of reasons.  Then, I cross out what I scheduled, and write in what I actually did.  That way I can see what I missed and may need to think about for next week.

What I have found most liberating about a weekly schedule is that I can schedule in my self-care, rather than wait for time to magically show up for it.  There will always be more chores to do, more work to pursue, more good deeds to undertake, etc.  Weekly scheduling makes me prioritize.  It is more important to me to write in my journal than to dust the baseboards.  It is more important to me to write a blog post for an hour than to spend the time on making another dish for Shabbos.  In this way, scheduling strengthens my self-knowledge, which in turn allows me to better predict how I will function with the greatest ease and enjoyment in the future.

Weekly scheduling gives me mental repose, because I know that I have remembered my priorities in advance.  I don't have to fight time to get a moment to read; reading is scheduled in.  I may have given up another activity to include reading.  That's called knowing what I truly value.  All those little decisions about what to do with each hour of the day paint a picture of my life.  And I am holding the paintbrush.

Getting Unstuck: Beneath the Surface

 B"H

Good mental health is a tricky thing.  I can "have" it one minute and then "oops!--" and it's gone.  I can make a plan for completing tasks and keeping up with self-care that I can follow in a "good" moment, and be quite unequal to the challenge of following it at another time.  This often results in something that looks like procrastination, but feels more like a standoff between the desire to "be in the flow," and the fear of being judged for anything I may do.  Here are some things I have learned from others and about myself that help me get moving when I am stuck.

Foremost, it is essential for me to stay in touch with my feelings.  It was explained to me that even naming your feelings is a step toward tolerating them.  The rationale is that when your feelings are "just how it is," they are all encompassing.  When I can say, "That is sadness," I introduce the possibility that another state exists.  The feeling becomes something that is present with you, but is separate from you.

I find it necessary to go deep with this technique.  It's not enough for me to say "that is sadness," I need to identify the particular sadness and let it feel seen before it will stop demanding every bit of my attention.  I do this by putting my attention on the feeling and seeing what comes to mind.  If I don't get an intuitive "hit" right away, I talk or write about the thing that has come to mind until I do get that feeling of recognizing the cause of the sadness.

Sometimes I discover that I am trying not to think about my feelings to avoid discomfort.  For example, if I am writing about what came to mind, and suddenly discover that I am far into intellectual-land and no closer to the source of the feeling, I have been jumped by avoidance.  At that point the best question I can ask myself is, "What do I not want to face?"

I have always been a shut-down type of avoider, but some people are activity-based avoiders.  They become a flurry of activity, doing anything but the thing that they're stuck on.  Again, we can ask, "What do I not want to face?"

An advantage I have is that writing or speaking out my uncomfortable feelings is invariably cathartic for me if I push myself far enough.  If someone was trying to face feelings and get unstuck, but didn't get a catharsis from writing or speaking about it, I would suggest setting aside 10 minutes (or 5, or 1) to tolerate the feeling.  Any time during the toleration period that one's attention went to something else, one would return it to the uncomfortable feeling.  And one would make sure to breathe deeply during this time.  I would love for someone to undertake this technique as an experiment and report back on how it works.

For best results, I need to be active, rather than reactive, in identifying my feelings.  If I can journal a bit daily, things are less likely to reach the point where my internal standoff has a tension like an old-West shootout about to happen.  However, the better I feel, the less I want to disturb my peace by digging into uncomfortable feelings.  And so, predictably, tensions build until "oops!--" the good mental health I was enjoying is gone.

The way I am currently working on getting out of this cycle is by studying a book called Shaar Habitachon, or, The Gate of Trust, in English.  It reminds me that every single outcome in the world is a result of G-d's choice, not my own efforts.  Why does water flow downward?  Because G-d made it that way.  But, as in the story of Moses at the Sea of Reeds, G-d could always make a different choice.  Thus, natural laws guarantee nothing.  With such an understanding, the key action we can take to make a difference is to trust G-d.  Because it's going to go the way G-d makes it go.  

The only thing we can choose is our own effort -- and that means an effort in the mind, because it is possible that you won't have the right circumstances to take action.  So we can choose to dedicate ourselves to a certain way, but our degree of dedication does not foretell the results.

How does this interrupt the cycle of good mental health leads to laxity leads to poor mental health?  If I can understand this piece about trusting G-d, then I will not be afraid of the results of looking into uncomfortable feelings, because I trust G-d with the outcome.  Why does looking into unpleasant feelings have to lead to feeling unpleasant?  Beyond a momentary discomfort that is necessary to determine that the feelings before us are actually the uncomfortable ones we've come here to work on -- why wouldn't we feel joy in untangling the misunderstandings which have plagued us?

Practically speaking, when I think that my business is in good order and I don't have pressing negative feelings to address, instead of relaxing, I'm going to start writing on a new topic: Why Not Trust G-d?  (Thousands of reasons come to mind.  But I know that they are in fact the troubles that are so inured in me that I can't yet view them as feelings rather than realities.  Happily, I know the ways to process them that I have just described.  There is hope for real progress in my mental health!)

My Orthodox Life

 B"H

It seems that Netflix has brought up a need to point out that many Orthodox Jewish women love their Jewish lives and were not G-d forbid abused, repressed, etc.  I thought I'd add my perspective to the genre, as someone who is generally not overflowing with good feelings and enthusiasm.  You see, I have fairly significant depression and anxiety.  So I don't experience my Orthodox Jewish life as overflowing with abundant joy, as some of my co-religionists do.  Also, many people have mentioned the great meaning they take from being mothers.  I am not a mother, which is a bit unusual in Orthodox Jewish circles.  But I still think that Orthodox Judaism is best for my life.  Let me tell you why.

Enough light has reached me through the study of Judaism over the years that even on days when I can't see the light, I know that it is there.  My complaint has changed from, "Why is life so meaningless?" in my earlier, more secular life, to, "Why does a meaningful life feel so far away from me right now, and how can I find it again?"  Anyone familiar with the tenets of the growth mindset can see that the latter question gets me much further than the former.  The latter question believes in something.  The former is lost.  In fact, I would attribute all of the work and self-care I have done over the last two days to the question, "...how can I find it again?"  

Believing in meaning is a game changer.  Another game changer is believing in G-d.  My orthodox Jewish practice provides me with dozens of practical opportunities daily to remember about G-d and G-d's perspective.  Which is considerably more enlightened than my own.  It is deeply comforting to know that, while I don't know why I feel the way I do, Someone has a plan.  Now, being human, I don't catch a noticeable whiff of G-dliness every time I say a blessing.  Prayer is not easy, nor always a relief.  But, like self-care, I give it the space to happen.  

Remember Winnie the Pooh?  Who said that a hum is not a thing you get; it's a thing that gets you, and the most you can do is go where it can find you?  Practicing Judaism gives me places to go where my awareness of G-d can find me.

Orthodox Jewish communities are typically tight-knit, with members often working, praying, celebrating, eating, and recreating together.  I'm in that world.  One tiny thing that is going right in a big way for me is that I can easily stop by a friend's house.  That's right, I live walking distance from several friends whom I can just drop in on.  I never had this in my former secular life.  Plans always had to be made.  But being depressed, plans are quite a hurdle.  Thanks G-d my tiny bit of social energy isn't burdened by plans!

I also benefit socially from the rituals and expected social norms in my community.  When I go to Sabbath prayer services, I know that nothing is required socially beyond "Good Shabbos."  I know I can go to a celebration, find the principals, say "Mazal tov," and then scoot if my anxiety is acting up.  Even if someone starts a --gulp-- conversation, it is easy to respond with the following formulae:

1. "How are you?"  Answer: Baruch Hashem!  (Blessed is G-d!)  No personal information was required in this interaction, yet it is a full and appropriate response.

2. "This (fortunate thing) is happening to me!"  Answer: Baruch Hashem!  May it be only blessings!

3. "This (unfortunate thing) is happening to me."  Answer: May we see revealed blessings very soon!

4.  (All other comments)  Answer: Ah.  Oh.  (Okay, that's my own, not a Jewish thing.)

Knowing what is expected, and that the ritual words are expressions of sincerity, makes it easier for me to function.  I don't have to second-guess what I said or wonder how awkward I was.

A third major reason that orthodox Judaism works for me as a depressed person is that I don't have to like how things are going.  We believe that we are still in exile from our eventual homeland, and from the era of the Messiah.  Why should things be exactly right?  We're headed in the right direction, but we're not there yet.  This belief cuts down significantly on my cognitive dissonance.  If I see things in the world, whether my own world or the larger world, as being messed up, I'm not necessarily wrong!  But most importantly, I can make a difference in putting things to rights.  

Every act of goodness and kindness counts.  Sometimes the smallest, seemingly insignificant thing, or a seemingly selfish thing, can make all the difference to someone else.  I've experienced this personally, to the point that even my "moaning and complaining" sessions over the course of six months turned out to be the thing that kept someone else afloat.  We never know.  G-d knows, we never know!  And not knowing is a great comfort.  If it had to make sense to me now, I'd come to some dismal conclusions.  But I can not like it and know that I don't see the whole picture yet.  I call that faith.  Not the pretty sort of faith with butterflies and angel wings.  It's a tough, stringy faith.  It's faith while wading in swamp mud.  But it works down here where I live sometimes.  And that's better than anything I've found before.

Thoughts on Passing

 B"H

Our dog passed away this week.  We know it's part of nature's cycles, without which the miracles of renewal would not be possible.  (Really.  We'd run out of carbon at some point, I suppose.)  We had prolonged our dog's life with modern medicine -- lots of it -- for several years.  Her life would have been more painful and shorter without our intervention.  Yet because of this good, we found ourselves on the horns of a dilemma: When does the quality of life take precedence over life itself?

Our first dog had made the question simpler.  She had a reasonable quality of life until a stroke took out her back legs.  With her pneumonia set to recur due to her inability to move, as well as the fact that she couldn't take care of basic life functions on her own, we knew it was time to set her free.

But this dog, who was with us just six days ago, was still relishing life through the pain.  She still loved bagels, walks, and cuddling.  She had a habit of leaping and snapping at the air when excited, for which we nicknamed her the Yellow Snapper.  And at the same time, her eyes grew more dull.  She began to yelp if we tried to lift her.  Her breathing was heavy.  When I was fully convinced that she was in significant pain despite her 30 pills per day, I agreed to let her go.

The decision made me angry.  How can it be that such a beautiful spark of life is allowed to burn out?  It's easier, sometimes, to see the intrinsic good in animals than in people, with their ability to make (questionable) moral choices.  How can that good expire from the material world, and how much poorer and less justified is the material world given its loss?  Moreover, how far have we stretched beyond our reach in choosing to administer death?  There seems to be no good answer.

This world is full of hard outer shells that block much good from shining forth.  Yet its redemption is that it carries the good inside, making good tangible and actionable.  The world falls again when a life ends.  The only solution I know of is to retrieve the good that was lost.  Use the good you knew to create more good.  Dig through the pain and anger to make the good carry on.  Do it so that you carry the lost life forward with you, rather than carrying only the loss.  Immerse yourself in the knowledge of that particular good, and live it.

There are indignities like death that cannot be righted.  But the source of goodness is unending.  This seems to be a contradiction, just as balancing quality and quantity of life seems contradictory at times.  Faith, to me, is that with all my uncertainty, conflict, error, and pain, I expect the good to take precedence.  Despite the reality of loss, I expect goodness to matter more.  I hope you can too.

How Are You Being Treated?

 B"H

As I recover from the freeze, I am thinking about other people I know with mental health challenges.  One thing that stands out to me is how many people I know who are inadequately treated for their mental health.  Why do I say they are inadequately treated?  Because for some people I know, waking up filled with dread or with quiet despair or with anger about being here another day is standard.  That feeling is the primary thing between them and a productive, fulfilling life.  

I certainly didn't know that these unpleasant feelings can be considered depression.  They were just so normal.  After having been treated intensively for depression, I am still building my way out of that dread of the day.  But I see movement, which is how I define the difference between depression that is being treated and depression that is being inadequately treated.

For myself, it was possible to have two therapy sessions per week, plus medication, and still be inadequately treated.  I needed some serious retooling of my thoughts to make better progress away from my depression.  This came in the form of a "PHP" (Partial Hospitalization Program): six hours per day onsite, doing group work in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, Narrative Therapy, Art Therapy, Self-Esteem classes, Family Therapy, Shame Resilience Theory, Goal-Setting, Behavioral Activation, and more and more.  We re-wired my brain with a combination of insight and persistence.  Of course I still need to check and tend the wires regularly.  But I consider myself adequately treated now, because when I do the things I know how to do for depression, they work.  At my best, I can characterize my days as reasonably happy.  Some days are not my best.  But all in all, I'm ready to take on other challenges, like living a meaningful and productive life.  Depression no longer takes up all of my energy.

So I'm putting out a call for everyone who deals with a mental illness to consider: am I being treated adequately for this challenge?  Can I tell that I am making progress?  Do I have times when my illness doesn't define my mood?  If the answers are no, please ask your providers what more you can be doing to heal.

Be warned, though: getting adequate treatment may very well involve going into the parts of your mind you dislike most.  For me, this has meant feeling and acknowledging a vast amount of shame.  Most recently I uncovered that shame is actually attached to taking productive action.  Not handy.  And ever so embarrassing, because it comes from the notion that I am to be so "good" that I don't have to do anything.  If I must engage with the world, I feel I have failed.  If you've ever wondered how people who have privileged identities get so funny about just doing normal stuff, this is part of it.  I squirm greatly at taking effective action, because it is, according to my old beliefs, an admission of being not good.

I would be failing you if I didn't provide some amount of hope for this dismal situation, so here is how I deal with my old beliefs about shamefulness.  Articulating the answers to the following questions begins to help change the feelings.  We think differently about the situation, and it produces different emotions than before.

1. What is an opposite to my old belief that action means I'm a bad person?  

    --It's good to participate in the improvement of our world.

2. Is there any evidence that my old belief is true?

    --One of my parents used to take pride in my accomplishments so personally that it felt like I was irrelevant.  That was an experience of feeling bad/dismissed for having acted.  I also felt like a thief for feeling any pride in my accomplishment, once it became clear that the credit belonged to my parent.

3. Is there any evidence that the opposite could be true?

    --My grandmother was part of the generation that came of age in the 1920s, and truly believed in working for progress.  I respect her lifetime accomplishments.  My religion also specifies that working toward a better world is each of our individual concern.  Finally, there have been times in my teaching career and my dance career when I found out that what I did influenced someone in a very positive way.  The fact and the feeling of making a difference are phenomenal gifts!

4. What belief will serve me best?

  --Opposite belief wins!  It makes much more sense, and is true in my experience, that it is good to participate in the improvement of the world.  The original belief's arguments are less compelling.

If you are at a point of wondering whether it's worthwhile to seek further assistance with your mental health, please try this exercise.  My counselors call it "putting your thoughts on trial."  What belief has kept you from trying to get adequate care?  What is an opposite to that belief?  What evidence is there for your current belief?  What evidence is there for the opposite belief?  Which belief serves you better?

No exercise is a silver bullet, though exercises can be powerful.  If you find it would be best to adopt a new belief, but you can't do it right away, give yourself time.  Look for evidence to support your preferred belief from day to day.  Consider what you might do if you held the preferred belief.  No strings, just become aware of your options and your choices.  May a consciously-chosen future become yours.

Total Mess Does Not Begin To Describe Shame

 B"H

Three weeks ago, we had winter in Texas.  It lasted for just a few days, but it was notable because we not only lost power and water, but also had freezing temperatures for several days.  Managing without power and water is a hazard of living in hurricane country.  But usually the temperatures are more livable.

The loss of power seemed to drain me of power as well.  My routines, from showering to opening the fridge, were gone.  Our diets were gone -- we were eating dry food from the shelves only.  Work was gone, because no power means no access to what you were writing.  Most communication was gone, as we were conserving cell phone power in case of emergency.  

As we timed logs on the fire and estimated how many we could afford to share with other families, I gazed with trepidation at the reality of suburban survival without power and water.  It was chilling.  I mean, I was already chilly, so maybe I overestimate.  But my sense of being powerful and capable took a hard hit.

(Also, we solved the firewood rationing issue.  Rich braved the icy roads in his four wheel drive truck and bought several loads of wood to distribute to those who needed it.  Rich does not lose his sense of power so readily.  As long as he has a way to help someone, he feels capable of pursuing his G-d-given mission.)

For the next two weeks, long after the power and water came back, I struggled.  I coulda woulda done much better in a rural or wilderness survival situation.  But in a nice little neighborhood that lacks good supplies of branches, dry leaves, rocks, and stream water, I was stymied.  There is a great gap in my ability to survive, and help others survive.  We were okay this time, thank G-d.  Yet I was filled with guilt that echoed through my skull until I was good and depressed.

The thought of moving forward with my writing left me baffled.  I couldn't imagine having enough focus to proceed.  Just journaling?  Which helps me get out of depression?  That would involve looking inward, into the mess.  I spent some time looking at the blank page, but couldn't muster the gumption to articulate anything that was happening.  Take a walk?  I can make myself take it, but I don't have to inhale or enjoy it very much.  

The waves of dark grey depression and the resultant ebb of motivation kept coming.  At one point I remember, knowing that anything I could do would chip away at the depression, approaching a drying rack of dishes.  I looked at the dishes.  I looked at my hands.  I couldn't convince myself to move my hands.  I had hit a wall of shame so large that I felt I couldn't bear to make a mark on the world, not even by putting away dishes.

Brene Brown, a researcher here in Houston, works with shame.  She identified four steps that lead to greater "shame resilience."  As in, we may not get rid of our shame entirely, but we can bounce back faster.  Oh boy, do I want to bounce back faster.

1.) Recognize shame and the ways that you personally tend to feel ashamed

2.) Recognize the circumstances that triggered your feeling of shame this time

3.) Tell your shame stories to others, and give and receive empathy

4.) Take apart your reasons for feeling ashamed and reevaluate them

So now I see, in my case, that:

1.) My shame felt like being embarrassed to do anything.  I believed I should feel ashamed for being unprepared to take care of my people.   

2.) The shame was triggered by not knowing how to respond to a weather emergency, combined with the loss of my usual self-esteem reinforcement routines.   

3.) I'm telling the story now.  And finally,  

4.) I need to take a long look at the sense of desperation I have around protecting people under my care.  It probably comes from my desire as a kid to protect my little sister, but being unable to shield her from our parents' divorce and subsequent nuttiness.  It's not wrong to want to protect people, of course.  But to feel desperately bad about oneself for things beyond one's control -- that may be a bit much.

And now, let's open up the shame party.  Consider trying out the exercise above for yourself.  Feel free to share with me, or with a friendly, trustworthy person in your life.  I want to get better at ending shame, because I don't have three weeks to spare for shame-based depression.  Who's in?

Planning To Be Present

 B"H

Much of my direction for recovery from depression has involved sticking to plans: healthy routines, social plans, self-care plans.  I have set goals, scheduled my week, prioritized my tasks.  In my treatment program I received worksheets on Behavioral Activation, a.k.a. try to do some fun stuff and also accomplish something, you might feel better, really.

It's plenty of work to stick with plans while the tides of emotion flow up and down.  But last week, the plans stopped all at once.  We had a winter storm, and the power went out.  And stayed out.  And my priorities changed.  1. Keep the house warm.  2. Figure out how to prepare food.  3. Try to get warmer.  4. Ration phone use. 

Thank G-d, the power eventually came back.  (Not before my neighbor came over to ask, "What are we going to do when it gets dark?  I can't read by flashlight, and it's too early to go to bed!"  Your guess is as good as mine, sir!)  And I realized that I have all these ideas in my head that I "should" be accomplishing my various plans and goals each day.  Going a few days without them, I began sinking into a negative self-worth hole.  My self-care plans and business plans and goals were standing in as another substitute for genuine positive self-regard.

I am still grappling with the reality that self-worth isn't worth much if it's conditional.  Even "If I'm getting better, I'm worthy" is a trap.  My character traits are a trap if I use them to feel worthy.  My accomplishments too.  If I must have a "because," then I'm worthy because G-d made the world with me in it.  That's all.

But in the meantime, not having a reason to feel worthy equals feeling unworthy.  That's hard.

Yet isn't it an excess of ego that leads me to think that I can determine whether and when I am worthy?  Even when I judge myself unworthy, I am still retaining the authority to be the judge.  That same judge is telling me that I have had a good day and can feel good when I follow my plans.  

Plans, perhaps, are the training ground for a higher calling: the call of the moment.  The moment is all that exists.  The plans are for the future.  The regrets are for the past.  The only place and time when we are called upon to meet the call is here, now.  The contents of the now give us our relevant frame of reference.  If it snows, keep warm.  If you have power and heat and food, there is another way of improving the world.  We're just accountable for one moment at a time.  And if G-d hasn't taken us out yet, we're still worthy, according to the Definer of Worth. 

It seems that the next-level secret of feeling okay about myself will be... to let go.  To let go of the ego that insists I'm only good conditionally.  To let go of trying to be better, and accept just being good.  To let go of planning as a measuring stick, and use it only as a support for treading the path.  To let go of mandatory progress, and accept rest and exploration.  And mistakes.  Accept missteps as one more piece of information for the next present moment.

It's going to feel like a big mess at first.  But it is a step closer to living in the present with a full heart.