a04407f9

Wasting time or the start of an adventure?

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 10:24:34 GMT

Does a fear of wasting time hold you back?

It’s early morning by the river and my attention is drawn, from tired legs that don't like running, to the beauty of the willow branches softly bending over the smooth-running water. The narrow leaves shine golden in the sunlight, moving and flickering with the wind and the ripples of the river below. I stop, entranced, full of awe. Absorbing the moment, the wonder of it all. And a voice unbidden, comes into my head. Am I wasting time?

This voice is a familiar visitor, arriving frequently as I sit down to write, or try something new; a new activity, a new person to meet, new place to visit.

It’s a small voice, but it’s used to being heard and taken notice of, and it makes me wonder what the big deal is about wasting time. How do we know when we are wasting time? More importantly, how do value how we use our time? Most of us use some form of yardstick to decide what is a waste of time and what isn’t, but that yardstick may well have been designed a very long time ago, and not necessarily by us.

If our lives are supposed to be purposeful, productive, making the most of the time we have here, then is it ok to walk by a river bank and lose oneself in its beauty, tentatively pick up a pen and start to write, mould a lump of clay into an unknown shape? Is it ok to explore, not knowing where you will arrive or discover on the way?

I experience the voice that warns me that I might be wasting my time as highly protective. It doesn’t want me to spend time doing things that I might not be very good at, or not good enough at. It despairs of the amount of time I want to spend writing, putting together words that may not be readable, usable, or profitable in any way. Stopping to draw pictures is even further off the spectrum. It doesn’t want me to take risks, so it makes the fear that I may be wasting my time a first and major hurdle, to protect me from the potential risks of failure, disappointment, and rejection.

So for me, and I would guess for many people, we need to get over this fear of wasting time of we are to live life as fully as possible. Using the word “wasting”, rather than spending time in more or less nurturing, constructive, loving ways, is a harsh assessment of ourselves. Free from this self- judgement, we can offer ourselves space to explore, to try out things, to learn, and to have more fun.

How do we let the magic in?

There are many things that can help us get over this fear.

Get Older : I notice as I am getting older, particularly passing 60, the reality that time may be limited is a powerful motivator to get on with things. If I have always wanted to write a book, then I need to start having a go, messing around with ideas now: next year isn’t going to be any better. Next year may not even be mine to enjoy. Learning to play folk fiddle requires moving from the comfort of sheet music to the challenge of learning stuff by ear – and then learning to play it fast. I'm not very good at this but I know that I want to do it. It’s ok to try, to struggle, to be not particularly good at it.

Practice self-compassion . One reason age helps is that we generally develop more capacity for self-compassion: the ability to be kind to oneself, to recognise one’s common humanity, and not to obsess about our inadequacies. This can be a challenge for those of us who have been brought up believing that to achieve we need to push ourselves and beat ourselves up in the process. And of course, be very good….

One of the ways we can increase self-compassion is to ask ourselves what Love would say to us. We can even write ourselves letters from Love, as wonderfully demonstrated by Elizabeth Gilbert in substack . There is even a whole website on Self-Compassion .

Do things you love (and stop to enjoy them). Spending time allowing ourselves to do things we love doing and to absorb the pleasure of this, whether a wonderful view, writing, getting muddy, the delight of music or birdsong, encourages ourselves. It is nurturing and permission-giving to listen to the parts that tell us what really matters to us.

Let yourself play . It can be hard to find opportunities to play as adults; and some of us may not have done much as children either. This is one reason why I have boxes of stuff in my consulting room: animals, stones, lego, fairy story characters, cars…. For one client, who we can call John, getting down on the floor with the cars was a turning point. Can I tip them all out? He asks before delightedly doing so and lovingly lining them all up, appreciating their individual foibles, creating life in them that has been hidden in my cupboard and his soul.

You don't need to be in therapy to play, but you may need to give yourself permission to do so, even better if you can find someone to play with, to loosen up, have fun and escape from the tyranny of your own rules.

These rules were probably created by you a long time ago. They may have been instilled in you by your parents and grandparents, they may have been a childhood response to making sense of the world. Schools do their best to educate the play out of us, with a few honourable exceptions, so by the time we have succeeded in navigating those hoops, found a job, found a way of living an “acceptable” adult life, it may be hard to retrieve that freedom and joy.

In conclusion

When you feel you want to try something, do something new, and you meet the little voice suggesting it might be a waste of time, by all means stop to greet it. You might challenge its arrogance in believing it can possibly know what is going to work out best. But however you interact, walk on recognising that it just wants to protect you. It’s a blunt instrument this protection, it doesn’t have to control you, and you may not need it any more.

Because there is so much life out there to try out. Having a go at something new may involve change, it may involve risk. As the saying goes, you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs. Whatever you have a go at may involve making a total mess of things, but you won’t know until you have tried it.

Exploring and navigating Fear: an essential element of our spiritual journey (a long read!)

Sun, 19 Feb 2023 16:12:22 GMT

“Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed.” Shakespeare (Henry VI, part 1, Act V, Scene II) Published in hard copy by Friends Quarterly January 2023.

Last year I enrolled on a course about Contemplation, ^[1] and initially found it totally confusing. Asking a Friend who had completed the same course what it was all about, his answer was simple: “It’s about moving from a position of fear, to one of love”. Yes. That made sense. A lot of sense. Fear seems always with me, restricting my decisions, mak ing me defensive, jumping to cut off potential criticism. Not only do I feel the fear, but I then get frustrated with my fear, feeling annoyed with myself and self-critical, wanting to push this fear away, out of my life. It’s a double whammy!

But how to change this? How do I move from fear to love? When I feel fear, I often want to push it down and avoid it, or just ignore the difficult feeling and go and do something nice instead. But I know the answer is to go towards the fear, to explore my fear, to seek to understand it. Some of us live lives that are very fear-free. But many of us are influenced and limited by our own fears and the fears of those around us. To live life to the full, to be free of manipulation, requires understanding our own relationship to fear. It is our relationship to fear as much as fear itself that is the key.

But how do you move towards love when fear seems everywhere? Throughout 2022 Russia shocked the world with its decimation of Mariupol and other Ukrainian cities, and the horrific treatment of civilians in occupied towns. It is hard not to identify with the families, the old people on their own, huddled in shelters that then themselves become targets; attempting an evacuation, only to be shelled again. It is awful, dreadful stuff that challenges our faith in everything; whether human nature, God or hope itself. It is hard not to let our fears escalate to further horrors of what might happen. And in that escalation we include ourselves, that we will be affected, not just by rising prices, but by the possibility that we might become targets as well.

And before this war there was COVID. Through COVID we learnt that we should avoid each other, fear contact, give each other a wide berth, stay in, don’t hug or shake hands, and look disapprovingly at anyone who appeared to be blissfully enjoying themselves with others. With relief we are now learning again to be close to others, to resonate with other human bodies, to gain that reassurance, enjoyment and sense of humanity. But it is noticeable that our fearful habits, once learnt, can be hard to shake off. It is as if the level of “normal” fear has been adjusted up a notch or two.

There may be an age dynamic in relation to our fears. My 88 year-old father does not feel fear in the same way as I do. He has seen and survived more, he can see his own death on the near horizon, and he is much more likely to respond with disbelief or anger, though fear may still be buried down there. Maybe he is further on his spiritual journey than I am.

We all have different fears, and some of us have more than others. The task we face as we mature is to identify our fears and to know ourselves, so that we can see the impact these fears have on our thoughts, behaviours and choices. Hidden (and not so hidden) fear restricts our lives, makes us defensive, mistrustful, and is damaging to ourselves and others. Our challenge then is to recognise our fears, acknowledge them, and understand them, so that we can live alongside but not be controlled by them – so that we can live fully.

What is fear?

“Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.” Shakespeare (Hamlet, Act I, Scene III)

Fear could be defined as our core technique for staying alive in the face of threat. We are designed, like all living organisms, to protect ourselves from predators. It is a very natural feeling. I see three broad, interrelated types of fear:

● The fear of an immediate threat, whether real or imagined, when our survival is at stake.

● Anticipatory fear, as when our stomach sinks in dread at the prospect of public speaking, leaping off a diving board, or meeting someone. I think this can be split into two parts:

Our internal fear-based belief systems from early childhood that link our actions to feared consequences: e.g. ‘if I complain I will be rejected’, ‘if I speak up I will be isolated and abandoned’.

The fear of ageing and death, of losing control and competence.

Fear as a response to a threat is a visceral feeling, triggered by the amygdala at the base of our skull; the start of a rapid response system that tells our body that we are under threat, and releases adrenaline to fire up our sympathetic nervous system. The blood rushes to action stations and, in an instant, we become super alert, ready to fight back or to run as fast as we can away from the problem. If the fear is overwhelming and we can neither fight nor flee we will move into a freeze state or collapse. It is all part of our hard wiring to survive.

Speeding back 30 years: newly arrived in Ethiopia, keen to see the country, I had a car and guidebook, but no one to explore with. Undeterred, I set off on my own, choosing Debre Zeit (now Bishoftu), a nearby town with a crater lake, for my first adventure. I didn't know what I was supposed to take, so, as well as my beloved Olympus OM1 camera, I packed money and my passport. As I parked at the lakeside, children materialised from nowhere, clamouring to look after the car. I passed by them and headed off for the lake, rucksack on my back and camera slung round my neck. I was instantly entranced by the beauty of the place: the lake sparkling blue in the sunshine, nestling in its wooded crater. Partly enjoying how lovely it was, partly wondering if I was wise to be out by myself, I set off round the path. My discomfort increased when two men appeared and started talking to me. They pointed to my camera. I shook my head. I was trying to convince myself that I didn't know what they wanted; I hoped they would go away. Another young man appeared, and got the other men to leave. He spoke some English and told me that they were very bad men, ex-soldiers. They were no good, but he would be my friend and guide. I didn’t trust him one bit. He chatted away and I realised that he was encouraging me to walk too far from the town. The path was getting darker and more overgrown, and I didn't feel comfortable. Resolutely, I turned around. He protested, telling me how beautiful it would be round the corner. I was determined to get back, and I started walking; I was putting a brave face on it, but I was feeling more and more uncomfortable. I was definitely afraid. He suggested he take a picture of me – I refused – and we kept on walking. Another man joined us. I walked faster. We were nearly at the car park. “It’s ok,” he said, “we are nearly back. You are safe now”. He stepped back to let me continue.

Suddenly I was on the ground, he was on my back, hands around my neck, squeezing out my breath. As time stopped I had just two thoughts: one, that his intention wasn’t to kill me, he just wants the camera, so if he did kill me, it would be a mistake. But not a good mistake. The second is that I needed to get the camera over to him as quickly as I could. My instincts kicked in. I didn't panic: the camera was somehow over my head and into his possession in seconds, and a few minutes later I was collapsing by my car in a shaking, sobbing heap. I knew what I needed to do to survive. Fear was helpful here, making sure that every part of me was working together. Most of the time, however, we don't need this alertness. Our fear response system is designed to help us escape sabre tooth tigers: it’s a bit like relying on a Ferrari to do your weekly shopping. This response system gives us a negativity bias, i.e. negative things, emotions and experiences can have a much greater impact on us than positive ones. We remember negative experiences more, and when we want to make a decision, we can value the negative aspects of an event more heavily than the positive aspects. My negative experience acted as a powerful stimulus to learn Amharic, as I believed this would make a material difference to my safety. And I believe much of my progress through life has been driven by fear: the fear of failure, of not being good enough, of not meeting expectations.

Childhood fears and fear-based beliefs

Fear has many names and takes many shapes. Some people are afraid of spiders, or cows, others of crossing bridges. Our deepest fears are instilled in us from infancy, and in the womb. At my core, I fear abandonment and rejection, and I am starting to realise how much I fear ageing, and the associated loss of choice, health, friends, family, and mobility. Other people may have a core fear of humiliation, of being annihilated, of death. Some fear being forgotten, being lonely, losing their power, their identity; some their livelihoods. There seem to be an infinite number of fears lurking around. These fears are essentially protective: they were established when we were little as a code for keeping ourselves safe, and they may have worked well at that point. Some may have been created by a traumatic event, such as being attacked by a dog, or a car accident. Other fears, such as of snakes, may be hard-wired into us from generations of learning that these animals can be dangerous. These are the fears that therapy, or other ways of learning about ourselves, helpus to surface. Often hidden, they form limiting beliefs that restrict the risks we are prepared to take, in what we do, our relationships, and how we use time. These fears keep us small, and, as such, safe, but they stop us being anywhere near our fullest selves.

Anticipatory fear

All fears are protective, arising from the inbuilt response system to predators we have carried in our bodies for some 315 million years. But some fears aren't about the present at all, they are about the future, an anticipation of fear. My fear of ageing, of my death, of the loss of my family and other people I love: none of these have happened yet. But they can grip me nonetheless . Sometimes anticipatory fear is the fear of a repeat of something that has happened in the past, possibly a traumatic experience, leading to the sensation of dread, that cold feeling at the pit of our stomachs.

I notice that sometimes my daydreams turn to imagining extremely distressing situations. Why do I do this? I wonder if I am rehearsing, practising experiencing this dreadful situation that I fear happening, to make it seem less bad. But when I see my clients turning over their fears in their minds, unable to sleep, unable to escape from the possibility of what might happen, it is hard to see what positive purpose this might serve.

Our fears protect us, but they can also cost us too much. Sadiq ^[2] was in his 50s, an Iraqi refugee here in the UK with his wife and younger daughter. His elder daughter was 20, too old to be classed as a dependent, so could not leave with him. Massively guilty that he had left her and desperately worried about her, he explained that, though technically an adult, and safe with his brother, she was his responsibility until she was married. As a result of all this worry and fear his health and his relationship with his wife were suffering; but most of all, his relationship with his daughter was really difficult, because each time he talked to her, he would be overwhelmed by his fears and have to end the call. He was getting to the point where he couldn’t talk to her at all, or even think about her.

Feeling great compassion for him, I could see what an enormous block his fears were creating between him and the people he loved so much. Something needed to change. We had stones and shells in the therapy room and one day I invited him to choose stones to represent himself and each family member, and lay them out in relation to each other. Watching him carefully, I could feel his worries. I chose a large shell and covered his stone with it, sharing with him how I felt his worries were blocking him off from everyone, how they made things for his daughter worse by shutting off the connection she needed with him. Silence fell. For some moments he was still, emotion tingling between us, looking at the stones and the shell. “You are right,” he said. “Can I move the shell?” As I watched, he gently pushed the shell back to make an opening towards his daughter. The connection with his daughter burst back into the room. We stopped to take in this feeling. More confidently, he moved the shell further back. Now it no longer blocked his connection with his wife. He sat back, and started to smile. “Whether I am worrying or not doesn’t make any difference does it?” The situation was still very difficult and required patience, but if he was available to support his daughter and his wife, he could manage it.

Can we live without fear? I don't believe that this is quite the right question, even though it seems so desirable. It’s a bit like hoping we might live without sadness, without grief, without anger, without shame. It is all part of the human condition. The real question is whether we can live without being controlled by fear.

Fear can open our eyes to life. As we have seen, some fear can be motivating, energising, exciting, whether it is immediate or anticipatory fear. When I feel overwhelmed by a fear of ageing, losing control, or dying and having to say goodbye to all those I love, it can inspire me to think more about how I am living my life now. Am I living and loving as fully as I might be?

The Tibetan Book of the Dead advises us to be ready for our death at any point. Fear of dying is a natural part of being human, and when we can embrace this fear we are more available to be alive. Yalom ^[3] (2008) suggests we can manage this fear by thinking actively about our life and recognising the impacts we can have, even if not directly, but as the ripples spreading out over a pond. In Ethiopia I learnt that nothing was wholly good, or wholly bad – everything had a flip side, that, in the bright African sun, seemed either wonderful or terrible, and sometimes both at the same time. There were many difficult things, and many scary, uncomfortable experiences, but I felt incredibly alive, possibly in the way that we can do when death is close by and fully visible, rather than pushed away and avoided.

Changing our relationship to fear

If fear is ever present, and not always in our awareness, what can we do about it? For a long time I had the sense of standing by a threshold in relation to my faith, able to peek through and see the light, but being unwilling to step fully or permanently through. Actively stepping towards love, to recognising trust and safety, feels like stepping through that threshold.

I urge you, as a first step, to look at fear, and to value it for the protection it offers you. The next step is to learn to manage it. When a radio is playing uncomfortably loudly we have a choice: we can pick it up and throw it out of the window, or we can fumble around for the volume control and turn it down. Finding ways to turn down the ‘fear control’ takes time, and we each have our own ways of doing it. I have needed to recognise the impact my fears have on me, develop self-compassion, and become more accepting of my own vulnerability. However we seek to manage fear, there are three elements to it: a psychological element, in how we manage our thoughts and feelings ; a physical element, in how we calm ourselves, learn to relax, meditate and be in the moment; and a relational element, from the support and companionship we have around us.

Perspective can bring a choice. I sing in a small choir, too small to hide any deficiencies in practising, and we of course rely on our reputation and publicity to sell tickets. We had a Christmas concert coming up, and I found myself approaching it with dread: I didn't feel we knew the music, and the concert clashed with another event in the same small Dales village, it was all going to be awful. I didn't want to go to the final rehearsal. Then I joined a contemplation session online. The theme was Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem, and we were invited to imagine what it might have been like for them, how they might have felt, how they managed to keep going. And whilst I engaged in this imaginative process, putting aside whether I believed in it or not, envisaging what Mary might have felt like, heavily pregnant, incredibly uncomfortable, wondering whether she would find somewhere safe to give birth, I found my perspective changing. As light dawned, I saw how my feelings about the choir were driven by fear, and I suddenly had the sense of a choice. A choice to view and experience the world through a ‘fear lens’, or through a ‘love lens’ characterised by love, trust and compassion. It was as if my fear had been swept away. The rehearsal was great. The concert was well-attended, and that was great. The whole thing was a wonderful, joyous experience. My catastrophising beforehand had been of little gain to anyone, least of all me. The imaginative exercise had enabled me to see things differently and given me a fresh perspective. I was surprised that such a well-worn story could have such an impact on me.

Standing back, feeling compassion, reframing: these all give us choices. There are many ways to manage fear, through reassuring ourselves, practising breathing exercises, and talking to our friends. I practiseactively welcoming feelings of love and trust, learning the practice of contemplation, bringing my difficult feelings to God, saying “Here I am, and here are my feelings”. Whether in Meeting, in the woods or mountains, in my spare bedroom, I can offer myself as I am, and imagine God’s love and light around me.Over the last year I have had very powerful, visceral experiences of God and this makes it easier to step into that threshold, to accept, and let be, the fear that has held me back, and walk, just as I am, through and out the other side.

Possibly the most powerful support on my journey has come from the two clearness committees or deep listening circles that I am part of. Both take place via Zoom, both meet monthly, both are inspired by contemplative practice and teachings. This deeply compassionate practice has created spaces of safety and trust, within me and around me. And this in turn has enabled me to be more honest and connected within my own Meeting.

Ultimately, fear helps us survive, protects us when needed, and, at times, helps us to learn and focus on what is most important. It keeps us alive; and at the same time it encircles us in a blanket of protection that limits our capacity for life and love. As we get older, shedding fears of failure and imperfections, we can find safety, and greater tolerance of our own failings and those of others. Coming alongside our fears, we reduce the impact they have on us; walking with them gives us the space to transform our perspective, and to be open to the passion, joy and love that life offers us. Engaging with Contemplation and my fellow travellers has shown me that I can find safety in the most surprising places, and that love, trust and courage are just there, waiting to be discovered.

[1] The Kentigern School, Sacred Space Foundation

[2] All names and details changed

[3] Yalom, I, Staring at the Sun (Piatkus, 2008).

What has psychotherapy got to do with leadership?

kate@helpfultherapy.co.uk (Kate Graham) — Mon, 12 Sep 2022 12:04:39 GMT

The inner journey of leadership.

A client said to me as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “ You know, leadership is about being, not doing. And I am good at doing. I was a very good manager, but I am not sure what sort of leader I am . ”

. She is probably a very good leader, but she exemplifies the dilemma faced by many people as they move into leadership positions. They know what they are good at doing, but they are less sure who they need to be in order to be a “good leader”.

Part of this is down to the images of leaders we hold inside us. I notice the images that come to mind for me first are predominantly male (followed at a distance by Margaret Thatcher), people who are out there, leading from the front, big, strong, getting things done, telling people what to do. Then I think of the truly inspirational leaders, such as Martin Luther King, the Pankhursts or Greta Thunberg, and many people who have changed the way we think, such as Einstein, Jung, Freud or Newton.

They are all very big, very “out there”, larger than life, and so rather on a pedestal, and that’s where we can get caught. Leadership can feel like stepping into very big shoes, which can be a challenge, but it isn’t about stepping on to a pedestal. Pedestals are for statues, not real people. Real people step into shoes, and the challenge is in growing to fit those shoes, and adjusting the shoes to fit.

Starting with what the shoes themselves look like, what is leadership?

There are an infinite number of answers to that question!

“ Leadership is the art of getting someone else to do something you want done because he wants to do it." – Dwight D. Eisenhower

“ Leaders are people who do the right thing; managers are people who do things right . " – Professor Warren G. Bennis

Or more prosaically:

“Leadership is the ability of an individual or a group of individuals to influence and guide followers or other members of an organization . "

(Mary Prat, https://searchcio.techtarget.com/definition/leadership)

Leadership involves a wide range of skills and qualities, such as strategic leadership skills, relational and communication qualities, an ability to make decisions, to learn quickly, to manage and organise others and having personal qualities such as integrity, self -awareness, self-confidence, humility, tenacity, determination, energy and enthusiasm. (Margie Buchanan Smith, 2016, ALNAP) . It involves getting the right people around you.

Leadership is a relational practice, and one that involves an inner strength, that comes from a real connection with yourself, with who you are. I also believe it is a practice that benefits from a deep compassion, for oneself and others. And that is where psychotherapy can help. A therapist won’t teach you how to manage and organise people, but they can help you explore who you really are and to find compassion in this.

So when we look at how step into these big shoes, a psychotherapist may be able to help. The question “what does psychotherapy actually do? “ is rather similar to the question “what do leaders do?”. It can be described as some activities and the application of some skills, in particular deep listening, awareness, and a commitment to being present, being authentic. But otherwise it can seem a bit hard to pin down.

In attachment terms a therapist is helping to provide a sense of a secure attachment, a safe container, in which the parts of us that got stuck at different developmental ages can be free to express themselves and to grow. After all, we wouldn’t expect a two year old, or seven year old to be leading a group of adults (even if they have an innate sense of how to control them).

Some of the growing to fit the shoes may involve an exploration of the different parts of you, and where you may have younger versions of you being triggered, or taking charge at inopportune moments. It also involves meeting that critical voice, the one that has probably driven you to succeed in the first place, but which now takes you away from moments of confidence and trust. The one that says “helpful” things like :

“ I 'm not worthy

“ you aren’t really a leadership type

“You aren't good enough

“You aren't qualified enough

“You just aren't enough ……(add your own particular limitation!)

Much leadership (and sports) coaching is about helping you to get out of your own way, to let your real self shine through, with whatever talent you have.

But as well as growing to fit these shoes, t o you need to design the shoes to fit . There isn’t a fixed model of leadership – there are leaders everywhere, in our families, in our communities, in small ways, in big ways. Some leading very visibly from the front, some less visibly inspiring people to act from within the group, providing support and challenge, enabling people to move forward to achieve both their organisational goals and their own potential. The Greenleaf Center calls this servant leadership and describes this approach as:

“ A servant-leader focuses primarily on the growth and well-being of people and the communities to which they belong. While traditional leadership generally involves the accumulation and exercise of power by one at the “top of the pyramid,” servant leadership is different. The servant-leader shares power, puts the needs of others first and helps people develop and perform as highly as possible.”

Laloux in “Reinventing Organisations” takes this a stage further describing an organisational structure that he terms “Teal organisations [1] ” where the structure itself involves leadership at every level, through self managing teams, a commitment to wholeness and sense of deep listening to the context and evolving in response. Getting the structure right still requires leadership, but in a very different way to the leadership model practiced by most big corporate organisations. It’s a very different style of shoe to step in to.

Working out what leadership is for you, what the shoes are that you wish to walk in, requires time and space, time to really be present with yourself. Psychotherapy (or coaching) offers a relational space in which to find more parts of yourself and to release the creativity that may be locked away with childhood parts that are still following strict rules to stay safe. It gives you a space to strip off the you that you were expected to be, and to explore who you might be if you were free of the expectations of others. It gives you a space to test out your own authenticity, to explore where you are most congruent, to establish your integrity, revel in your wisdom and gain a clarity. Most importantly, perhaps, it helps you to trust yourself.

Is it therapy or coaching? Nick Totton [2] takes the view that it doesn’t matter what you call it: it is the same process of being fully present with yourself. Therapy happens weekly and Coaching tends to be monthly, and rather more expensive. I moved from coaching to studying psychotherapy and becoming a psychotherapist because I could see many of my clients needed some reparative work, to help them break free of old beliefs and fears that were keeping them stuck, and sometimes this needed a deeper attention than coaching and NLP offered. Therapy goes deeper, and is potentially more challenging, and both are excellent supports on your leadership journey.

Kate Graham

September 2022.

[1] The colour teal comes from Ken Wilbers colour scheme for different levels of consciousness.

[2] Personal communication

How reviewing your regrets can transform your life

kate@helpfultherapy.co.uk (Kate Graham) — Mon, 12 Sep 2022 11:38:12 GMT

A few years ago Bronnie Ware, a palliative nurse summarised in a very successful blog [i] , the top five regrets she heard from people dying:

“ I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me. ...

“I wish I hadn't worked so hard. ...

“I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings. ...

“I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends. ...

“I wish that I had let myself be happier.

There are other similar blogs around, with slightly different lists, but all written from the perspective of older people, people near the end of their life, looking back. But why wait until it’s too late?

I have recently turned 60 and that, for many people, is a time of great change and transformation. Between the ages of 55 and 65 people are changing working patterns, adjusting to children growing up, some having grandchildren, women are coming out of the menopause, health issues may be starting to appear, for yourself or others close to you. And mortality, our own, that of our parents, and that of our friends and family appears on the horizon, and often comes close in a way that may not have happened before. And whilst it is normal to fear death at various points in our lives, Yalom [ii] suggests that this anxiety is enhanced when we have a sense that we may not have lived our life fully. Death anxiety can be compounded by a fear of meeting the regrets we have about our lives when it feels too late to do anything about them.

All this means that we are in transition, and in any transition it makes sense to look back and take stock, before we build forward into the adventure of the rest of our life that remains to us. The reality is that at the age of 55 or more, we are likely to have lived more of our life than we still have left to live. Conventional jobs and employment tend to be coming to an end, even if retirement ages are increasing. We have lived a lot of our life, so there is plenty to look back on.

I should be clear here that I am not advocating brooding over what might have been, or beating ourselves up for the mistakes we have made. That wouldn’t be helpful, and the purpose of this article is to help us approach this review rather differently, in a constructive way. And taking stock isn’t just about the things that we regret, it is very much about the decisions we have made that we are pleased about, and all the things we like about our lives. However, regrets can have a niggling, even corrosive effect and there is a real opportunity in looking at them, to find a greater acceptance of ourselves, and thus greater peace and happiness.

I categorise regrets into three broad types, each needing a slightly different approach. They are

1. Other possible lives: all the way through our lives we have made choices, an infinite number of small and large choices that have created the life that we have lived so far. The big choices such as where we lived, whether or what we studied, what jobs we worked in, who we loved, who we lived with, and an infinite number of smaller choices that we are less aware of that will have shaped our lives.

We could have lived any number of different lives, but somehow we ended up with the one we have lived. But that wondering “what if….” may remain. This form of regret challenges to us to accept the choices we have made.

2. Mistakes we made that hurt ourselves or others: however hard we try not to hurt others, it is inevitable that we will make decisions or take actions along the way that upset or hurt others, whether we do this intentionally or by accident. One such instance is the decision I made, a few days after my mothers’ death, not to attend a very close friend’s wedding. I know this hurt her deeply, and I also know that at that time I was utterly wiped out by the loss of my mother and the stress of the period leading up to her death. Looking back, and having experienced the impact of that decision on our friendship, If I could live that moment again I hope I would muster the strength to go, and just take large amounts of tissues with me, and get through it, for them.

But at the time, I made a difficult decision in the best way that I could. Mental distress is much harder for people to understand than a physical problem. This form of regret requires perspective, and compassion to ourselves, and for the situation, so that we are able to move towards forgiving ourselves and as appropriate, other people.

3. Patterns of beliefs and behaviours that have shaped our relationships : This is possibly the most powerful of the three, the beliefs that control the choices we see as available to us, and the many micro decisions and choices we make every day. These are patterns of belief, such as “I don't really count, it wont matter if I'm there or not” that hide behind others more palatable beliefs, such as “I'm grieving, I need to look after myself”, in the example above.

We have a choice about these patterns, even if they are deeply entrenched: we don't have to wait until we are dying to wish that we might have expressed our feelings more honestly. We can change these beliefs, if we want to, and we find the right support to do so. Tackling these regrets means looking at what we can really do, that is, finding our power, our agency.

How do we look at these regrets without getting bogged down in self-recrimination?

This is a three-stage process, requiring acceptance – this is what is, this is me, compassion – what was going on for me at the time? What choices did I feel I have? And agency: so what am I going to do about it? Can I do anything?

The Midnight Library (Haig 2020) is a wonderful example of acceptance, after a painful exploration of all the possible lives the protagonist might have lived, she is able to see her actual life for what it is, and I would recommend it to anyone struggling with self acceptance. I believe acceptance is something we have to practice. It’s not the same as denial, or rejection, where we act as if it never happened and push this aspect of ourselves, or a situation away. When we are accepting ourselves, an event, a situation, it isn’t about letting it go, but more about letting it be.

Compassion is about bringing kindness to ourselves, which is something that many of us struggle greatly with (see “Why is it so hard to be kind to ourselves” Graham 2021 [iii] . Practising self compassion is like imagining that you are telling your story to the kindest person you know, someone who just wants to listen to you, someone who believes in you. If you have an actual person you can bring to mind so much the better, otherwise you can imagine a character from a book or film, or from your imagination. Or even better, talk these instances through with a real person, a friend who you can trust to really listen, or a therapist.

Compassion, and another person to hear us and respond to us is important because often these experiences, the regrets that are still with us, that have “bite” are sticking around because there is some shame attached. So when I think about the example above I notice a rather icky feeling that somehow I was a wimp, that I was weak, that I was selfish, that I didn't care enough about my friend, that I betrayed her. These feelings hung between us, my assumption being that this was what she thought of me, which may be all or partly true. The point was, as I found in the years that followed, that it was unforgiveable, a feeling that is deeply shameful.

Shame is created in relationship – and dissolved in relationship, which is why talking about these things really helps. When we look back, and acknowledge what we did, and what we didn't do, a number of things happen. The process of review helps us to see events in a wider context, to see other perspectives. Looking back I can see that in this case my friend might have recognised my mental distress (so much harder to understand than a broken leg), expressed her hurt and eventually decided to forgive me, recognising that my relationship with my mother was very different from hers.

As we look back we can also start to see the patterns of beliefs that may have shaped our lives. If I had fully appreciated how much I really did matter to my friend, might I have behaved differently? Quite possibly, and that underlying belief that I don't really matter that much to other people has been around all my life, and has become one of those protective films that shade some of the light that might otherwise shine around me. It like many other limiting beliefs are a defence, a protection, something that kept us safe when we were little, but are less needed now.

And we can then start to find our agency. As we identify some of the beliefs that have controlled our lives we can ask whether we want them to continue having such power over us. We can explore whether we need them any more, or whether we need them to the same extent. This is challenging work, and best done with a companion, whether a friend wishing to travel a similar journey, or a professional counsellor or therapist.

This is just half the process of taking stock. As we look over our lives, noticing the choices and decisions we made, it isn’t just the regrets we notice but the good things as well. Reviewing our regrets gives them space for expression, which can weaken their power and need for space. This process not only allows space for all the things that we are pleased about ourselves, but through the acceptance and compassion, our memories and life story becomes less polarised, less good or bad, more complex and nuanced. More unique, which is as it should be, and a great starting point for living the rest of your life, and living fully in however that means for you.

©Kate Graham September 2022

[i] https://bronnieware.com/blog/regrets-of-the-dying/

[ii] Yalom I (2008) Staring at the Sun Jossey bass (US) Piatkus (UK)

[iii] https://www.ilkleypsychotherapy.co.uk/why-is-it-so-hard-to-be-kind-to-yourself

Why is it so hard to be kind to yourself?

kate@helpfultherapy.co.uk (Kate Graham) — Mon, 12 Jul 2021 10:10:13 GMT

Why is it so hard to be kind to yourself?

First one, then another, then a third client asked me this over the last week. Accompanied with “ and how do you even do it ?” They got me thinking.

It can seem hard to be kind to yourself. Even counter intuitive at times, and certainly a bit different to the ways many of us have been brought up. It can sound a bit woolly and wet. And what does being kind to yourself really mean? How do you know when you are doing it?

Why does being kind to ourselves matter?

Learning to care and nurture ourselves, to have compassion for ourselves is one of the key journeys in psychotherapy. So often, we damage ourselves by our reaction to what we are feeling, rather than by the feeling itself. So we get anxious about something, and then we feel anxious about being anxious, a double whammy that ramps up the impact. When we can feel compassion for ourselves, be kind to ourselves, we just have to cope with the emotion that is being felt, which is easier.

When we are kind to ourselves it is easier to be truly kind to others, and to accept others’ kindness and love. Put simply though, its not much fun living with someone who is mean to you – and that’s what many of us do to ourselves. Being kind to ourselves, and to others, is a recipe for happiness.

What does being kind to ourselves mean?

It can be pretty easy to know when you aren't being kind to yourself, when you are beating yourself up, when you compare yourself to others, set impossibly high standards for yourself, talk to yourself harshly and judge yourself critically. So if it is the absence of these things, what is there instead?

When we are kind to other people , we pay them attention, we offer warmth, affection, generosity, without judging whether the circumstances necessarily merit it. Kindness isn’t a reward for good behaviour, or because we want something. We are considerate. We think of actions that the other person will appreciate, and we give without expecting anything back. We are open to celebrating their success without feeling that it takes something away from us. Being kind is an action of abundance, not rationed or scarce.

Why is it difficult to apply this to ourselves?

It can be really hard. It takes precious time. If we try to pay ourselves attention, feel generous towards ourselves, look at ourselves with affection and compassion, a whole bunch of blocking beliefs may get activated, such as:

• I don't deserve kindness

• I did something really stupid and I don't want to do it again

• I'm lazy, I need to push myself and keep nagging at myself

• If I'm kind to myself there wont be any left over for being kind to other people

Each of us has a set of old beliefs that we have established over our lives, usually from childhood, beliefs that seemed helpful then, to make sense of the world around us, and protect ourselves. Sometimes we can be angry with the whole idea:

• Yes but- I want someone else to look after me and care for me!

There is a yearning in many of us to be nurtured and looked after, often with its roots in our very early childhood. The reality of doing this for ourselves is one of the challenges of growing up. And whilst we hope others will look after us and nurture us, our capacity to love others, and to accept their love for us is enhanced by our capacity to be kind to ourselves.

How do I change these old beliefs?

Sometimes just recognising them for what they are is enough. Sometimes we need to recognise how they have helped us over the years, helped us to succeed, or protected us. We can then look at whether they are still valid, necessary and useful to us now, in part or wholly. You may find you need to do a complete audit and spring-clean of the rules that governed your upbringing!

Encourage yourself : It is likely that you are good at some aspects of self kindness, and not so good at others. So you might be good at noticing when you need to go to bed early and actually do this, or treat yourself to a comforting bath, but still be a sucker for comparisons, getting wound up by a friend cycling up the hill way faster than you, or be highly self critical.

Do notice what you are doing well and celebrate this! We all respond well to encouragement, and just because you can do something well isn’t a reason for not celebrating it, more a reason for understanding how you do it.

A route map starts with paying attention to yourself.

1. Stop, take a few breaths and pay attention to your thoughts, your feelings, any sensations in your body.

2. Notice if your position is kinder or less kind to yourself , e.g. “ I'm really doing the best I can here, or I'm wrong, I'm embarrassing myself again…

3. Breathe - try 5: 5 : 5 breathing, where you breath in for 5, hold for 5 and out for 5, several times. Notice as you become calmer

4. Question your position : is it useful, relevant, helpful to this situation?

5. Congratulate or offer– well done! Or might an alternative view be more helpful?

If you do this with a therapist they will help you listen to different parts of yourself, and what they have to say. So when an angry part of you protests that “this is so indulgent” we can hear that part together, and be curious about what it is really protesting about. And at the same time, we can notice how you are being increasingly kind to yourself, and feeling happier as a result.

My violin teacher was very helpful. When I was struggling to learn a particular sequence of notes and starting to feel a bit stupid, and that it might all be too difficult, she said “make these notes special, play each one as if it is really special.“ And to my surprise this transformed these notes, and they became the most interesting part of the tune, the bit that really brought it all to life. It is the parts of ourselves that we struggle with, that are often where our deepest strengths and resources lie. Just waiting for us to be kinder to them and let them grow.

Good luck!

(c) Kate Graham February 2021 First published in Counselling Directory https://www.counselling-directory.org.uk/memberarticles/why-is-it-so-hard-to-be-kind-to-ourselves

Coming out of Lockdown - freedom or fear?

kate@helpfultherapy.co.uk (Kate Graham) — Fri, 12 Mar 2021 11:31:58 GMT

Coming out of Lockdown - freedom or fear?

Monday morning and we are off! Free to travel where we want, and free to meet with a few friends in our back gardens. It feels like an exhilarating rush of freedom, and I am enjoying imagining where I might go and people I would like to see.

Soon we will be able to travel, stay away from home (if we can find somewhere still available), go to the seaside, climb mountains. In about six weeks we will be able stay over with our friends and family, and life will really seem to be returning to normal.

But do I want it to return to “normal”? Like many people I have enjoyed the relative tranquillity of working from home, of a limited social life, the greater abundance of time. If “normal” means rushing around, spending hours in trains and in the car, out every night at various activities and worrying about whether I do actually have a social life, then maybe I'm not quite so sure.

And also, its not going to be normal though is it? The pandemic hasn’t ended, no vaccination is 100% effective, there are new variants circulating and the third wave is already looming in Europe. So it doesn’t feel brilliantly safe to through all caution to the winds quite yet.

One of the challenges that we face in rebuilding a fuller life is how to cope with this uncertainty: how to decide what we feel is a reasonable risk, and how we build our confidence to go out into the world again. In some ways it’s as if we have become institutionalised, living a safe but restricted life.

So some of the guidance for people taking their firsts steps in normal life after being in an institution might be worth considering. In a review of the effects of prison sentences on people’s personalities, Christian Jarrett of the BBC found that:

“ The personality change that most dominated their accounts was an inability to trust others – a kind of perpetual paranoia”. The study found prisoners talking about feeling distanced from people, and finding it hard to trust other people.

Over the last year we have developed habits of avoiding other people, even stepping into the traffic rather than sharing a pavement, and managing the all-pervasive social distancing requirements. We have suppressed our natural desire to hug and be close to those we love, with corresponding damage to our mental health. We may have enjoyed solitude and order, and a lack of social demands. For a new normal rebuilding trust so that we can connect with each other in the many different ways that we need is essential, and will take time.

Some people have had jobs that have pretty much stayed the same – but for those of us who have been furloughed or have worked from home for the last year, these pointers may be helpful:

1. Take it slowly : it will take some time to readjust and it doesn’t all have to happen overnight. Be patient with yourself. 2. Hold on to what works : Keep doing the things you find supportive to yourself. So if you like calm and silence and not going out quite as much as you did, its ok to make sure you still get plenty of calm times. In fact its something we all need.

3. Be open minded : Don’t expect things to be like they were before – things have changed. Be curious as to what new opportunities and ways of doing things may be appearing.

4. Awareness: Notice how you are reacting to people, and check in with yourself as to whether that is how you want to respond.

5. Compassion for others : Recognise that we are all going to reintegrate at different speeds – be patient with others, and there is the challenge of recognising that we have all made different decisions about our response to this pandemic, and the lockdown rules.

6. Build community : find practical things that you can do to support your local community, and that you enjoy, whether it is litter picking, helping to plant trees, playing music outside retirement homes….. The next few months are going to be a strange time – a mix of exhilaration, fun, connection, hope and quite probably disappointment and setbacks as well, as we work out what our new world looks like. We will need each other more than ever before, so looking after ourselves is a vital part of this.

Let us hope that we can build back better, and enjoy living together in this wonderful planet of ours.

An Altar in the World: Book Review

kate@helpfultherapy.co.uk (Kate Graham) — Mon, 11 Jan 2021 11:46:05 GMT

A practical guide to finding meaning and connection in life by Barbara Brown Taylor

“I'm not religious but I am spiritual.”

I have certainly said this many times – and maybe you have too?

This is something the author; Barbara Brown Taylor, priest, best selling writer, and professor of religion, has heard more times than she cares to remember. She suggests we are clear about what we don't like about religion: the wars, the dogmas, creeds, but much less certain about the spirituality bit. Many of us do have a sense of something greater than ourselves, something mysterious, awesome, but alongside this there is a deep yearning, a searching, a longing for connection to this “more”. And indeed many church goers may also share this longing.

“No one longs for what he or she already has, and yet the accumulated insight of those wise about spiritual life suggests is the reason so many of us cannot see the red X that marks the spot is because we are standing on it”

All we need is our consent to be where we are, to imagine that we already have whatever we need. And in this book she sets out a series of practices to help us be just where we are. To get our feet down on the ground, and connect with who we are. Each of them is a practice in being fully human: that is where the spiritual treasure is to be found.

“My life depends on engaging the most ordinary physical activities with the most exquisite attention I can give them”

Each of the 12 chapters helps us focus on one aspect of doing just that, such as the practice of paying attention, the practice of walking on the earth, the practice of encountering others, the practice of living with purpose, and one that is particularly relevant to many in the helping professions, the practice of saying no.

I enjoyed this book, I enjoyed its humour, her stories, the sense that she absolutely follows her own good advice that appears on these pages. She writes fluently, and her story telling is friendly and vivid, with her warm compassion flowing through it all, making the book a nice place to return to. I read it right through from start to finish: now I need to go back and read some chapters again.

It is designed as a workbook, to be dipped into and used in practice, and can be read in any order. Some chapters have stayed with me, such as the one where she extolls the virtues of cleaning the house and scrubbing the floors. I sort of know that this is a good idea, but I may need to read this chapter again….

Her chapter on prayer touched me deeply. She starts by describing her difficulties with conventional prayer and praying, despite all her efforts over the years, being a “failure” in the praying department. She wonders how we make sense of all those unanswered prayers. She then discovers Brother David Steindl-Rast who says prayer is:

“ Waking up to the presence of God no matter where I am or what I am doing, when I am electrically aware of the tremendous gift of being alive; when am able to give myself wholly to the moment I am in, then I am in prayer. Prayer is happening and it is not necessarily something that I am doing. God is happening.”

This makes sense to me. As a psychotherapist I am aware of those moments of being wholly present, moments of meeting, where there is often a sense of something more happening and two human beings become fully present with each other. I hadn’t thought of it as prayer, but I do know that these are the moments I treasure, and that make me profoundly grateful that I am now doing this work.

Her final chapter is about blessings, and how we can all give these to ourselves and others. There are no rules saying who can or cannot give blessings and what they should be for. Sometimes it may be all that we can do, and the gift of blessing may be more than we realise.

Happy reading! There is a link to the independent network of bookshops here .

Am I a Highly Sensitive Person?

kate@helpfultherapy.co.uk (Kate Graham) — Thu, 08 Oct 2020 10:28:08 GMT

Six ways to make the most of it

Do you feel that you are “sensitive”? Do you sometimes struggle with criticism, need time to think things over and absorb information? Maybe you don't like loud noises or bright lights, or startle easily, and are very sensitive to the feelings of those around you. You may also be highly empathetic, creative, insightful and think deeply about the meaning of life. As a child, I couldn’t bear woollen jumpers or the feel of saltwater drying on my skin. I was very sensitive to the feelings of those around me, and particularly when I started working as a coach, and then as a therapist, I became very aware that I was struggling to distinguish my insights and my sense of the other person from my own experiences. This led me to some careful study of how to develop these boundaries, which I have described elsewhere.

For me then, it was a relief to read about the concept of the ‘Highly Sensitive Person’ (HSP for short) and to recognise myself in this. It was also good to see that I wasn’t alone: this is quite a common trait (15- 20% of the population), a percentage that is, I imagine, a lot higher amongst therapists and other caring professions. As a therapist, I would guess that many of my clients also fall into this group.

The term HSP is becoming more widely shared and there are some excellent and informative websites on the subject. The description 'Highly Sensitive Person' was first used by Aron, when she defined this trait and suggested that some of us really are particularly sensitive, and not just “oversensitive”, “wet”, “irritating”, “can’t take criticism”, and, importantly, that this trait can bring some very important advantages and benefits.

How do I know if I am highly sensitive?

Jenn Granneman and Andre Sólo [1] define a highly sensitive person as;

“s omeone who experiences acute physical, mental, or emotional responses to stimuli. These can include external stimuli, like their surroundings and the people they are with, or internal stimuli, like their own thoughts and emotion.”

Aron [2] cites some of the defining HSP characteristics as:

being easily overwhelmed by such things as bright lights, strong smells, coarse fabrics, and loud noises
getting easily stressed if you have to do a lot in a short time
avoiding violent or scary movies and TV shows, and potentially upsetting situations
needing to retreat to a quiet space such as a darkened room to get some relief from the world from time to time
thinking deeply and having a rich and complex inner life
being seen (as a child) as sensitive or shy

Other aspects include a sensitivity to caffeine, and finding decision making difficult. We don't want to get it wrong, and we need to process all the options coming towards us. Then there is the double whammy of feeling stupid as we struggle to make what seems to others like a totally straightforward choice!

Interestingly, there isn’t a direct link to being introvert or extravert: whilst the majority of HSPs are introvert, about 30% are extravert.

If any of this is resonating with you, what should you do, if anything? You can try testing yourself at https://hsperson.com/test/highly-sensitive-test

If you think you are an HSP (or have an HSP child) what might you do?

1. Acknowledge your strengths

The first thing is to acknowledge that this sensitivity comes with some major strengths, as well as the difficulties that it is so easy to focus on. In fact, Aron sees the qualities that HSPs have, in particular, empathy, deep thinking and a search for meaning as key to our species survival! It is important for us to recognise these strengths so that we can play to them and make the most of them.

2. Get the basics right

Getting the basics right means getting enough sleep and eating food that nourishes you, and eating regularly. If you can manage without caffeine this is likely to help. These basic things are likely to really matter to you.

3. Down-time

Work out what you need to recover from the busyness and over-stimulation of everyday life and give yourself permission to retreat for a while. It’s not a cop-out or giving up, it’s about taking yourself to a place where you can recharge and be even more useful afterwards. So if that’s 10 minutes under the duvet or a short walk, or just sitting quietly in a darkened room, find what works for you and allow yourself to do it when (or before) you need it.

4. Build resilience

Develop some strategies for responding to criticism, so that you can function happily with others. I have found that slowing down my reaction time is key. I react fastest when I read something on my phone, and rather more slowly on a widescreen PC. So with written messages, I need to give myself time, breath and read them again more carefully (and on a larger screen) to see if I am jumping to unjustified conclusions. When someone is critical verbally, again, stopping, breathing, and possibly clarifying what they mean exactly. Slowing down the reaction helps your thinking brain to come in, and reduces the emotional response. Mindfulness and meditation help, as does building self-esteem.

5. Develop boundaries

At a deep level, this is about learning who you are, where you finish and others begin. At a more everyday level it comes down to being able to say no, to remove yourself for a break when you need to, and scheduling in both your commitments and these breaks, so that you can avoid being stressed and overwhelmed.

6. Enjoy who you are!

Find ways to enjoy and harness your strengths. Sensitivity is a wonderful gift, but it takes managing. It needs feeding and nurturing, protecting and supporting. Give yourself space to be creative, to be in nature, to feel grounded in yourself, so that you can enjoy your work and relationships.

If having read all this, you wonder if there might be more going on underneath some of this sensitivity, or you need some help with exploring your strengths and needs, or feel that your experiences are just too intense to cope with right now, it might help to talk to a therapist. It is important to recognise that people with neurodiverse conditions such as autism spectrum disorder (ASD) or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) are also often highly sensitive, and old trauma can also have this effect. So do make contact with a therapist if you are curious, concerned or just want to talk to someone to explore who you are.

References

1. www.highlysensitiverefuge.com

2. hsperson.com

First published at https://www.counselling-directory.org.uk/memberarticles/am-i-a-highly-sensitive-person-six-ways-to-make-the-most-of-it

Looking after yourself in a time of Covid

kate@helpfultherapy.co.uk (Kate Graham) — Sun, 23 Aug 2020 19:35:26 GMT

As post lockdown brings uncertainty and confusion, how can we keep ourselves sane and grounded?

The lockdown was a very different experience for many people, but despite growing inequalities, it did feel for a time, as if we were all in it together.

This post lockdown, not quite lockdown, not quite clear stage is very different. The fear is still there, for some people expressed either as a rigid sticking to rules, or total denial, and we are all responding in different ways. We have survived, but now the trauma is kicking in. Covid hasn’t gone away. It keeps reappearing, and there is frequently a sense of despair in the air – when will things go back to normal? Will there ever be a normal again? And more individually, when will I start feeling more like myself again?

Covid, and the resulting uncertainty about the immediate and longer-term future has brought our fears and anxieties to the fore. It has revealed a sense of powerlessness and frustration, which when unchannelled leads to despair and depression. Some people are experiencing post traumatic stress, from the trauma of either being hospitalised, or having a loved one hospitalised. It’s not just our own mortality and fragility that is brought into sharp focus, but the absence of the healing power of connection. We are mammals, we need physical connection, hugs, the warmth of each others’ bodies, and we need the attention and connection with others.

So how can we look after ourselves in this difficult, uncertain, often lonely time? The answers will be different for different people, but here are some suggestions. They all focus around finding your agency, identifying what you can do that makes you feel better.

1 . Acknowledge how you are feeling . This can be easier said than done, as our thoughts tend to whizz around and prevent us from feeling. Try stopping, and breathing. Take some breaths into your stomach, breath in through your nose, and then out through your mouth, letting the out breath take longer than the in breath. Just notice how you feel. And if all you can feel is a series of worried thoughts, just notice this, and accept that this is what is happening right now. Notice your sleeping patterns, and what you are eating and drinking, and what these tell you about how you might be feeling. Ask yourself “what do I need right now?” Write down what comes up.

2. Do something you enjoy . Spend some time doing something you enjoy every day – it won’t make you a self indulgent person to do this! When you are feeling in a good space, take the time to write out all the things you like doing – small things that may take 5 minutes as well bigger things. When you are feeling down and bored it is really hard to think of things to do, so a list can really help.

3. Reflect on the positives, however small, at the end of the day, and notice anything you feel gratitude for. Write this down, or if you can share feelings with gratitude with another person, even better.

4. Notice who or what nurtures you and what drains you . Some people, some activities, some experiences leave us feeling stronger, happier, nurtured. And others really don't. Take the time to notice how what you do and who you are with, and how this affects you. This can be especially important for introverts. Introverts need time on their own to recharge, and our current societal norms do not really recognise this as “normal”, but in fact most of us have an introverted part that needs some downtime – and an extroverted part that needs other people around them to recharge. Once you have a sense of what nurtures and what drains you, make sure your days have a balance.

5. Connect with other people and smile . Introvert or not, we all need connection, whether online or where it is allowed, with other people. Choose people who listen as well as talk, and notice when you are enjoying yourself, and smiling. Smiling and laughing is a great release of tension. Find someone who you can share a sense of mutual support with, whether a weekly chat, or as one colleague does, a daily walk before breakfast to put the world to rights before starting the day….

6. Take time out in nature, and make time to exercise. No list of this nature could leave this out for the simple reason that it works. Green spaces, sunshine, gardens, flowers, trees, birds, all help to ground us and calm our systems. If you enjoy (or can bear) running this is a great way of releasing feel-good endorphins. If getting out of the house is difficult dancing to your favourite music is a great way to feel better. Sun isn’t essential – on a clear night looking up at the stars can help to bring some perspective, as well as a sense of awe.

7. Take some action. What do you care about most passionately? It may be concern for other people struggling locally, climate change, litter in the park, (to name some of mine). Find people who are involved with this and join them on Facebook, write to your MP, talk to your friends. With the easing of lockdown many more activities are possible. This is a tough time that we are all going through, and keeping focused on the hope for the future is important. I like https://www.buildbackbetteruk.org for inspiration, and Mark Williams for short guided mindfulness meditations such as this one https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUeEnkjKyDs . This time will pass, as all time passes.

If none of these seem to be helping, and you don't feel you can bother your friends any more, then it may be worth considering talking to a therapist.

How would talking to a therapist help?

Firstly we are trained to listen, putting our own agendas to one side, even though, in this situation, we are all in it together.

Secondly, I have noticed that for many people Covid has brought up old, long term anxieties and fears, or old trauma, and it is this old stuff that is making the current situation unbearable. So talking about your feelings now, and exploring how these link back to your earlier experiences and your family history may well bring a sense of clarity and release, and allow you to access more resources to cope with the very real challenges of the present day.

If you would like to arrange an initial session with me, please text or call 07866323291, or email kate@ilkleypsychotherapy.co.uk.

8 ways to cope with Eco Anxiety

kate@helpfultherapy.co.uk (Kate Graham) — Tue, 09 Jun 2020 21:19:59 GMT

“I just feel overwhelmed by the enormity of it all – and by the feeling that there is nothing I can do to stop it”

Is this how you feel? The American Psychological Association describes Eco Anxiety – as “a chronic fear of environmental doom”. It describes it as a source of stress caused by “watching the slow and seemingly irrevocable impacts of climate change unfold, and worrying about the future for oneself, children, and later generations”. It adds that some people “are deeply affected by feelings of loss, helplessness and frustration due to their inability to feel like they are making a difference in stopping climate change.”

Eco Anxiety has some similarities with other forms of anxiety, in terms of compulsive worrying, feeling powerless, frustrated and depressed. But it is also different. For one thing, Eco Anxiety is a response to a very real and immediate problem, that is affecting us all now, and will affect us and our children even more in the future. Addressing this anxiety therefore needs a different approach, as we cannot work cognitively to reduce existence. As a start though, we can reframe it. Many psychotherapists are increasingly seeing Eco Anxiety as an entirely natural and positive response to the situation – positive because it means that the person has moved from the relative psychological safety of denial in its many forms, to being willing to be in contact with this very difficult reality.

The first time I came across this way of looking at it I felt enormous relief. Some years ago, Joanna Macey, founder of the “work that reconnects” programme (https://www.joannamacy.net/main) taught that despair was an essential stage of the process of reconnecting, a stage that needed to be gone through so that we could find our anger and the motivation to take the actions needed, in our own lives and with others. My sense is that this process is happening on a much more diffuse and less held scale, so we are experiencing it as anxiety. The real challenge for each of us, is to find our power, to find what we can do, because in doing that we will use the energy embedded in our anxiety to make a difference. And individuals really do make a difference. Not just amazing leaders such as Greta Thunberg, but all of us, make a difference through our daily spending decisions, through the conversations we have and the pressure we put on our political leaders.

If you are feeling high levels of anxiety, here are some suggestions that may be helpful in finding your power, and reducing that sense of powerlessness, and to transform your frustration into anger. They may not make it go away – but then the problem hasn’t gone away yet either, but they should help.

1. Acknowledge that it’s ok to feel this way – how can we not be worried given the scale of the problems right now and that lie ahead? We can only find our power if we acknowledge the reality of what is happening, painful as that is.

2. Talk to other people , get together with other people. This isn’t a problem we can sort out on our own, even if it can make us feel like running to a safe dark place….It’s going to affect all of us, so it needs all of us to work together. Talk to friends, talk to a therapist, find people in the community you live in, join online platforms.

3. Take action in some way – which for some people might be to get out and march, others joining a local climate action group, or conservation group and others might feel more comfortable emailing their MP, or sending money to support environmental charities. Email your MP regularly anyway!

4. Review your own carbon footprint in case there is somewhere that you can make some changes and improvements. I last did mine about 10 years ago, so it feels time to do it again. I know there are question marks for me about travel, purchasing decisions, and some of the food we eat.

5. Review your investments (if you have any) and your pension fund. Are you still supporting fossil fuels? There are plenty of ways to invest in renewable energy and other ethical investments. For example, https://www.thriverenewables.co.uk, https://www.triodoscrowdfunding.co.uk, https://www.ethex.org.uk.

6. Get out in nature. It’s still there all around us, even in cities, and research shows that being in nature for two hours or more each week makes us happier (even if it’s raining!). It also helps us value what is there, and to feel gratitude for what we have, and to notice more of what is on our very own doorsteps. South London, for example, has its own re-wilding project: https://www.rewildingbritain.org.uk/rewilding/rewilding-projects/the-river-wandle

7. Make a conscious decision to give a proportion of your time and resources to save life as we know it on this planet. In the old days people had to “tithe” i.e. give 10% of their income to the church. If we were each to give 10% of our time and resources to fighting climate change and the loss of biodiversity - and if every government did the same thing – I believe the results would be amazing. The solutions are all there: they just need the will to use them.

8. Have a break! Everyone needs time to switch off and allow themselves to be distracted, to enjoy their children, watch TV (other than the news), meditate, and have some time when you are not actively thinking about climate change. Let yourself recharge and recover, knowing that your commitment and your friends won’t let you sink back into denial and apathy. Think of it this way. Your anxiety has never been so important. Right now it is the canary that is singing loud and clear, we are still alive, there are solutions, and we do need to start putting them into practice.

Kate Graham UKCP Psychotherapist kate@Ilkleypsychotherapy.co.uk www.ilkleypsychotherapy.co.uk 07866323291