Why nagging doesn't work: the over-functioning/under-functioning model

Hands up who has repeatedly complained about the same thing to their partner/children?
Potentially over many years?

Yes, my hand is up too. I think we've all tried to change others by complaining which eventually turns into nagging (nagging is complaining even though you already know that it is pointless).

One reason we continue nagging is because we (mistakenly) think it gives us the moral high ground "I'm the good guy, you're the bad guy who still doesn't... never does... always does..." (fill in the blanks).

What it really does is making us unbearable.

So what can we do to change a recurrent situation? A lot actually. And it is linked to the "over-functioning / under-functioning model".

In all family systems, there are areas in which we over-function and others where we under-function. To a point, it is sensible division of labour, everyone does what they're best at. Until of course that sharing of the tasks is considered inequitable by one or both parties. We then tend to think that the situation will improve, if only the under-functioning person were to step up - cue to nagging them.

Now here comes the great revelation: the situation will actually only change if the over-functioning one steps down!
Yes, as long as you do it all - and so very well - and just complain about it, nothing will change.

In effect, you need to stop doing everything so perfectly, in order to give the other the opportunity to step up to the plate. It might feel counter-intuitive, but it works.

In my case, my partner has vastly higher expectations in the tidiness department. As long as he keeps it up, I don't see any opportunity to tidy up - everything is already very neat. Now if he were to let a slide for a bit, in effect if he stopped over-functioning, then I might see some mess, which would bother me after a while, and I would clean it up. I mean I do wash up what's in the sink, but sometimes it needs to be there for a day (or two) - something that never happens if he is around.

The same applies to children: if you keep telling them to clean their rooms, but then you tidy them yourself, guess why the nagging doesn't work...

Maybe that will be my new year's resolution: to stop nagging, to step down where I want help, to leave space for the other to step up. In return, if my partner reads my post (he doesn't always, I wonder why lol), I may just be given the opportunity to clean my act up - literally :)

So what is it that you always complain about to your partner?
Could you possibly be over-functioning? Might you possibly be setting the bar impossibly high?
How does "doing less" sound as a new year's resolution - less over-functioning, and hence less nagging?

Change what you can change: yourself

When I suggest to a client that they may want to change something about themselves in order to change their situation, it sometimes gets misunderstood as "I need to change because I'm not ok".

Far from it, as I do think my clients are ok. And I often do think that their environment is not. 

So why do I insist change has to start with them?

Why would I suggest an abused spouse leave rather than try and change their partner?

Why would I suggest that an unhappy spouse work on him/herself?

Simply because we cannot change others. Believe me, my clients have tried, often for many years. They have tried everything to change someone else: nagging, begging, sometimes even violence. Nothing works, because somehow their relationship has reached an equilibrium in its dysfunction.

BUT, and this is the good news, when we do change our own input into a relationship, family system or workplace, the output will change too. 

Look at it as win-win: you change the bits that don't work for you, and in exchange your relationship either improves or you make space for a new, better relationship, with the new you. 

So it's not as much changing who you are, but changing what doesn't work for you.

You have nothing to lose. 

Are you game to try? 

Say for one week? 

To change one little behaviour that you think may be undermining your happiness?

I'd love to hear how you go...

Botox and repression of emotions "work" in the same way

Here, I'll admit to it, I had Botox injections. And at the beginning I was thrilled: that deep furrow between my brows, that made me look worried/angry all the time, was gone! No more "resting bitch face" for me, thank you very much.

Then I thought, those little lines that bunch together every time I squint, maybe I could get rid of them too? "Oh yes", said the lovely doctor whose whole face did not move at all, "that's easy and requires very little, and the results are always excellent". Of course that's all that was needed to convince me.

After the treatment, I started noticing that those little lines at the inside corner of my eyes had indeed disappeared; but instead, little lines at the outside of my eyes had appeared! Basically, my eyes still wanted to squint, and they just found other - non-immobilised - muscles to do it, leaving me with wrinkles elsewhere.

Repression or denial of emotions works exactly the same way. You can make them go away for a short time. You can chase/drink/fuck/gamble away those messy feelings or memories.

But before you know it, they pop up elsewhere; they may have changed shape - from fear to anxiety to panic - or changed their expression. But in the same way as putting a blanket over a sleeping dog does not make the dog disappear, repressing or denying your feelings won't make their cause disappear.

Sometimes you have to accept that there is a mess, be it emotional or facial, and use the awareness to gently introduce change. In my Botox case, the change will be to aim for graceful ageing rather than fake youth.

What are you trying so hard to hide that it has no choice than to pop up elsewhere?

What if you took it out, and looked at it just for a brief moment?

Maybe you'll find out that whatever you are repressing is actually less scary in the daylight of your awareness than in the darkness of your subconscious...


If you liked this article, you may also like this one on why we need to feel our emotions, even or especially the "negative" ones.

Happiness or meaningfulness - the choice is yours

Today's world bombards you with the message that you have the right to be happy, or worse, that you "have to be" happy. Because if you aren't, clearly you are doing something wrong.

The advertising industry then very helpfully proceeds to tell you what exactly you need to be happy.

Want a holiday? Fly off to Fiji and relax on the beach - boom, you're happy.
Want the latest gadget? Queue up at the (Apple) store, get your hands on the oh-so desired object - and feel the warm glow of satisfaction.

Or, if you have less consumerist aspirations, want a cold beer whilst sitting somewhere with a view? Here it is - enjoy it (responsibly)!

Now what is this elusive happiness, that we're all chasing? One definition - the one used by our consumerist society - is that happiness is the satisfaction of our wants. And who hasn't thought "as soon as I get this (insert as needed: holiday, house, girlfriend, gadget, break, sleep) I'll be happy"?
So happiness seems to be all about "getting something".

What happens though, the moment we get used to the new designer couch, boyfriend, gadget? Or when we have to come home from the holiday, go back to work after the weekend? Our happiness plummets again, and we start chasing or waiting for the next "thing".

Happiness is a fickle mistress, always needing to be entertained with more exotic trinkets...

And the reality is that life also comes with suffering, grief, death. Happiness can't help us deal with those. We cannot "shop away" pain. And drinking it away isn't a solution either.

So what else is there?
In some ways, meaningfulness is the opposite of happiness. The meaningful things in our life mostly imply working our butt off, sleepless nights, heartache, suffering...

The few people I know personally who are truly living meaningful lives (and who I would think of as happy people, in the non-advertising definition of happiness) all have one thing in common:
their boundless love, their limitless giving of what they have.

It is when we give to others that we find meaning.

Here is a little list of some of the "things" that give my life meaning (in no particular order):

My work. I get rather less of the normal perks of work (like money), yet by being there for others, by listening to their stories, by holding them in their pain, my life serves a purpose.

My partner and my friends.

My children. They definitely don't make my life "happy" in the above sense (only on the odd occasion) as so many of my wants had to take the backseat (peace and quiet, to name just two). It's a hard job to transform two egocentric little puppies into altruistic human beings. But loving them, as unconditionally as I am capable of, gives my life meaning. 

Looking after my father. Although I can only do that a few weeks here and there (my mother is the main carer and I am immensely grateful to her), and as hard and heart-breaking as it is, it allows me to reflect on all he has done for me, selflessly, all the love he gave me, all the time, all the wisdom he passed on. And it makes his life meaningful as well, for him to see in me the fruit of his hard work.

Some charities I support, where I can see firsthand the difference they make to people, animals or the environment (my favourite ones being the Fred Hollows Foundation, which works all around the world to restore sight to the blind, and the Hamlin Fistula Ethiopia Hospital, which operates on women maimed by childbirth, to give them back a normal life instead of one of immense suffering and shame. Both are gifts that keep on giving, the sufferer can lead a normal life, which in turn frees up his or her carer, and both can then contribute to their communities).

Meaning is about leaving the world a better place after your passage on earth. So we don't just live and die, like a blip on the radar. It is about legacy, about being remembered, not necessarily by name, but for what we have done.

To me it is about alleviating suffering, and when that is not possible, just being with the person in their pain, so they are not alone.

I sometimes joke that my work motto is "I'm changing the world, one person at a time"; yet deep down, that is what I hope - that I will leave the world a better place, through the love and time I give to others.

This post has been inspired by this article in The Atlantic about Victor Frankl, my psychotherapist hero.

The price we pay for wearing a mask

We all wear masks. We all have ways to present a face to the world - a brave face, a pretty face - that we think is an improvement on our real face.

If we pretend we're more fierce than we really are, it may convince other people to not even try to attack us.

If we pretend we're meek and mild, and hide the lion inside us, people may not feel threatened by us and will leave us alone.

If we pretend to be happy and easy-going, maybe no-one will see the pain we're hiding, and so people won't trample our vulnerabilities.

Can you see a pattern? We put on a mask to keep safe.

What are the consequences though? The unintended ones?
Well, we may get so used to our mask that we don't take it off anymore. We face all the people in our lives, friend and foe, with that same mask.

It will keep people at arm's length. No threatening enemies. But also no-one getting really close.

If safety is the pay-off we get for wearing a mask, intimacy is the price we pay. Because if we don't show our vulnerable side to those we love, we don't allow them to get close.

By pretending that all is always "fine", we don't let anyone into our real world - a world in which sadness may be a visitor, just like joy, happiness or worry.

Want to do something different? Try taking it off, starting with the people who make you feel good about yourself.

The subtle balance of our needs

According to some smart thinkers, our psychological needs are threefold: we want security, identity and stimulation. And in many ways, it is difficult to get all three right at the same time in our primary relationships (a little bit like the tenet that goods can indeed be produced cheaply, quickly and well - but only ever two of those at the same time).

Security: it's the most self-explanatory one.
We need to feel secure in our relationships. We want to know our partner really well. We want their love to be ever-present, we want them to always be there for us and to be "in our corner" if we fight with others. It definitely also means to be physically safe when we are with them.

Identity: for this one, different concepts come together.
Our identity is how we think about ourselves. It can refer to our family status (daughter, mother, wife, sister), our professional status (what we do), our origins, and religion etc. We do all have a need to be recognised for our self and to be satisfied with that.
In my case, the descriptor "suburban wife & mother of 2" is true, yet I don't feel it represents me in a meaningful way. I prefer to think of myself as "intellectual book and cat-loving psychotherapist, married with 2 children".
You have perhaps noticed that my chosen descriptor shows my identity more according to my taste and less to who I am relative to other people. I just happen to have a strongish sense of individuality*. I understand that for some others, the descriptor "wife and mother" could be those most wished for. I see that as a choice everyone gets to make according to their own desires in terms of identity.

Stimulation: that may well be the tricky one, as it often comes at the expense of security.
We as the human race do not like boredom. We invented games, and entertainment, because repetitiveness eventually becomes tedious. If you got served your absolute favourite food every day, you would eventually crave something - anything! - different.
It was probably hard-wired into us as a mechanism for survival - those who continuously learnt new things had more chances to survive in the wild.

So how do we balance those three things? How do we make sure that our need for security does not mean we lead an unstimulated life? Or that our need for excitement doesn't jeopardise our safety? How do we lead a fulfilled life, where we know who we are, and yet remain open to change?

Maybe there is no answer, no perfect balance.
Maybe the best outcome we can hope for is one where we know about our needs for identity, security and stimulation and we simply decide to not neglect any of them. Like a three-legged race - you can only run if you find a way to move forward in unison.

My suggestion for reflection is to ask yourself: "which one of those needs is so important to me that I am willing to compromise the others? Is is lacking in my life? Or have I been conditioned to seek for it at the expense of the others?"


* (there will be a blogpost eventually about our opposing needs for fusion and individuality that battle it out in all of us)

Depression - a view from the inside

There is an insidiousness about depression.
Like a fog that slowly, discretely descends unto a city, imperceptible at first, slowly thickening, until it's so opaque it has blanketed everything and visibility is reduced to zero.

It often starts off with shapeless feelings of being inadequate, sometimes triggered by the outside - rejection, loneliness, grief, failure, powerlessness - and sometimes bubbling up from the inside.
By the time those feelings take form, they have become words - a stream of words saying "I'm not good enough".

This is the moment when people who do not suffer from depression would reach out to their friends, their family, to reassure themselves about their lovability, their worthiness, and to feel less alone.

But that's where depression is a bitch. It saps all self-esteem. All feelings of self-worth. Depression whispers to us "Your friends are happy, they don't care. No-one wants to listen to a sad person"; so we don't reach out.

Non-depressed people would console themselves with nice food, or a beautiful sunset. Depression instead cuts our appetite, makes everything taste bland, the same. The sunset? how can we care about the sunset when all we feel inside is one big emptiness...

Life is grey, shapeless, loveless, worthless. That's what it looks like to someone who suffers from depression. To tell them "just snap out of it" is like telling someone who has lost a limb to "just grow it back". When we are inside, we cannot even SEE the outside, let alone try to reach it.

So what can you do when you know someone struggles with depression?
Well, first of all they need your love. They need to be told that you are there for them, in words but also in deeds.

A hug - proper human contact - is a great place to start. A phone call, an email, to show them they are not forgotten, not lost, and that the outside not only exists but reaches for them.

Make time for them. Sure, they may not be the best company right now, but someone to hold their hand, to offer a shoulder to cry on could be a life-saver.

They may benefit from medication. A friendly GP goes a long way. If you know a good one, offer to take them there.

For some people suffering from depression, when they start making their way out of it, therapy can be helpful, to explore where those thoughts and feelings of worthlessness come from, and to analyse them rationally and to dispute them as they mostly are not based on reality. And to work on small steps to reintroduce joy into their life.

For those of us who are suffering right now, all I can say is please hang on.
You are loved. You are needed. You are not alone.
Your life will be worth living again.
Please reach out.

charlotte.stapf@yahoo.com
www.blackdoginstitute.org.au
www.beyondblue.org.au

Staying with the pain of grief and loss - the other side of love.

Pain is what brings people to me.

Sometimes it's straight-forward pain, seeking help on how to deal with grief, loss or trauma; sometimes it's hidden pain, pain that has been pushed under for a very long time, and is resurfacing under the guise of anxiety or addiction.

Emotional pain can be so unbearable that we look for ways to dull it. As always, there are healthy and unhealthy ways to do that. But it seems that avoiding the pain altogether is not a good idea.

When we use the pain to connect to other people, when we create something out of it, we are more likely to come out of it at the other end relatively unharmed.

But what I really want to talk about today, is how feeling the pain is actually part of the recovery process from whatever it is that hurt us.

In the case of pain because of abuse or violence, its purpose is to tell us to "get out", to avoid those situations, and to become aware of patterns that harm us.

In the case of grief, having lost someone, the pain reminds us of the love we shared, of the things we did together, of the conversations we've had. It is a reminder of all the good, all the beautiful; and yes, it hurts terribly not to have them anymore, but see - how lucky are we to feel that, to have loved and been loved so well that we have something so big to miss!

So part of my work with clients around the issues of grief and loss are about trying to make sense, to see the meaning of those relationships, good or bad, and how they can grow from them.

It is about seeing that despite the fact that they may have missed out on their childhood because of violence or abuse, they not only survived, but became strong because of it.

Or how, when we lose a loved one, it can be an opportunity to reflect on how well we were loved.

And maybe, just maybe, it can also be an opportunity to reflect on how we can love more widely, better, how we can add to the lives of others, in a pure and selfless way, so we leave a faint trace after us, that continues to glow, long after we are gone.

Personal responsibility - it's all about our choices

My mantra has been "personal responsibility" for a while now, and I find myself trying to explain it on a regular basis. It comes hand in hand with the idea that we all have choices.

First of all, let me get one thing out of the way: when I say we all have choices, I don't mean that we have ALL the choices. We don't all have the choice to become neurosurgeons, or opera divas. We still differ in abilities, place where we're born, family background etc.

And, contrary to what "the Secret" has been telling you, it is not about choosing to be rich or famous.

But every situation in which we find ourselves has choices. And every choice we make, has a price. Let me give some concrete examples.

• You have suffered abuse in your childhood. You can choose to see yourself as a victim, who has no luck in life and is meant to always suffer: the price tag is probably further abuse unfortunately. Or you can choose to seek help, build up your confidence again until you realise you are a survivor, stronger for the ordeal you have been through; the price tag is confronting your past instead of avoiding it.
• Your parents are very unwell. You cannot change that. But you can choose to stop rushing and instead to take the two hours that seem necessary to do anything with them, you can choose to look after them to the best of your abilities, you can choose to be thankful for the time you still have together instead of lamenting what you have lost.
• Your husband - or your wife - mistreats you, on a regular basis. You could choose to stay and endure, which comes with the price tag of your self-esteem, and your personal safety, being eroded. Or you could choose to seek help, calling up a domestic violence help-line, speaking to lawyers, your friends, family, a counsellor until you feel strong enough to leave the abuse situation. Price tag: possibly financial, definitely an upheaval. 
• Let's be a bit more extreme. Through no fault of your own, you're condemned to 30 years in prison. What choices do you have left? Well, you can either consider your life is over, or work bloody hard to make sure that when you're released, you will change the system that saw you imprisoned. Impossible? Think Nelson Mandela...

But without considering life-threatening situations, we can use our personal responsibility in day-to-day situations.
Don't like meat and three veg every night? Choose to learn how to cook. Price tag? Not much really.
Hate your body? Choose to start exercising. Price tag? Temporary physical discomfort.
Don't like the way your kids talk to you? Choose to draw firmer boundaries. Price tag? It's easier to give in, so expect an uncomfortable transition.

Can you see a pattern here? You cannot choose to change others, but you can choose to change yourself or the way you handle others or see things. And personal responsibility means to stop using others as an excuse for your unhappiness or unhealthiness or insecurity or whatever it is that you think is holding you back.

I'd like to finish this post with a few words about Victor Frankl, an Austrian doctor who spent years in concentration camps in Germany during WWII, where successively his mother, his father, his wife and his brother were murdered. I honestly cannot imagine a bleaker situation than his.
Yet he strove successfully to find meaning, that even though the Nazis could take everything from him, they could not take away his choice of how to think about his situation.
He survived, having made a difference to many of his fellow inmates, and continued after the war to work as a doctor and psychiatrist. He remarried, and had a child.

Every time I think of him, I am reminded that my own choices are manifold.

How can we care - really care - in our modern world?

For the last few days I have cared full-time for my dad. And it's like the world has slowed down...

First I tried to impose my rhythm on my dad. Of course, I failed miserably. Even if he wanted to (which I doubt), he can no longer move at my pace. And as my frustration grew, I realised I had to slow down to match his "speed".

So I made the conscious decision to adapt to him, instead of expecting him to adapt to me.
And suddenly, as I slowed down, time slowed down too. No longer was I chasing time, whipping the horse, struggling; as I slowed down, I realised caring could only ever happen on his schedule.
How could I properly care if I spent my time trying to "achieve" something?

On the contrary, caring is all about being at the other's disposal, listening to their needs and forgetting for a brief moment our own...

And then I saw a parallel to my role as a parent: only too often have I tried achieving something and given my children neither the time nor the space to unfold themselves.

By following my thoughts, my agenda, on what my father or my children "need", I forgot to listen, really listen, and tried (mostly unsuccessfully, thank god) to bully them into following my schedule.
Of course I meant well, but as always, good intentions are paving the way to hell - in this case making everything so much harder.

So now I am trying my best to follow the natural rhythm, which happens to be very, very slow, and am starting to really enjoy our interactions as I'm giving myself the time to actually appreciate them.

And every little moment when I am truly there for my dad, when I am "in the moment", I realise how lucky I am to still be able to enjoy his company.

Culture and identity, and migration

The other day I had a chat with one my friends about culture and identity, trying to come to some agreement on definitions.

We both thought that culture and identity are overlapping completely when people come from one cultural background AND grow up in it, i.e. "I'm French as I was born in France and I've always lived there".

The situation is more complicated once we take into account migration, so prevalent for Australians. For people who migrated in their early adulthood to Australia, their culture will be the one of their country of origin. Their identity - well, that depends on how much they feel at home here I guess... For some that makes them Australians, for others not.

Where it gets a bit more tricky, is when you've been born here, but with both parents from the same overseas country. Odds are that you grew up with the original culture of your parents, yet you will probably identify as Australian.

And then there are people like some of my friends and me, who have 3 or more different cultural backgrounds (Swedish, German, Iranian for me), then grew up and lived for a long time in another country (France), only to settle in Australia at age 28. When asked the question "where are you from?" I usually answer "how much time do you have"... which of course is just a cop-out.

The reality is, I am not sure "what" I am. Mainly because I am simply not just one thing. My bloodline is as mentioned above, yet culturally I am mainly French, German, Iranian.

My identity? I identify as German, as French and now also as Australian. It probably is not a coincidence that I also lived the majority of my life in those 3 countries. Which makes me wonder whether being culturally so diverse hasn't given me an incentive? a motivation? an easiness? to actually make myself fit into whatever culture I was born/parachuted/migrated into.

My personal experience?
If you want people to embrace your culture, make sure your food is really nice :)
If you want people to identify with your country, make sure you welcome them, and give them the possibility to become part of it.

As much as I miss certain aspects of Europe - my friends, the bakery around the corner from my flat in Paris, the way people dress - I found that being welcomed here, making my own friends, the great diversity of fabulous food, my children who are Australian, and my house that is my home all make up for it.

But I realise I am one of the very lucky ones: I came here by choice, speaking fluent English, to follow my love. I came with 14 boxes of books - i.e. my prized possessions. I didn't have to give up my whole life. I could transplant some of it, and also keep alive the rest of it.

So why is it that those like me who have so much, are welcomed so well, and those who have so little, are not? Shouldn't it be the opposite?

And before I hear your outcry that giving migrants "things" is to set them up to be helpless, or to have expectations of being looked after - what I actually would like everyone to get, is a true welcome.

For us to "love our neighbour" - particularly if that neighbour does not look like us.

Because every human being is valuable, has a story to tell, and deserves love, safety and to be welcomed.

Male survivors of childhood sexual abuse

I first met male survivors of childhood sexual abuse in my work for the St Vincent de Paul Society where I volunteered for a few years straight after graduating. I'm not sure I was well prepared for they told me, as nothing can prepare you for true stories of evil, but I knew enough to be able to listen to them in a way that showed them I truly heard them.

Not surprisingly alas, a large number of them came to counselling only indirectly because of what had happened to them in their childhood, even though it clearly had repercussions into their adulthood, but rather because they were struggling with addictions, usually to "substances", and for some of them that came hand-in-hand with stints in prison, either for crimes linked to substance-abuse, or for violence.

A few years later I read a wonderful and heart-breaking book by Stephen Grumman-Black called "Broken Boys/Mending Men". Himself a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, he recounts both his story and that of other survivors, covering key aspects of shame, confusion, betrayal, hope and healing. Both the extent and the variety of abuse, as well as the feelings of guilt that those innocent boys felt despite clearly being the victims, did still somehow surprise me.

By then my work had mostly moved to private practice, and more of my clients were seeking me out for addiction problems, and the majority of those were also telling me about the sexual abuse they suffered in their childhood. The link between trying to cope with the unbearable and eventually becoming addicted to the means of self-medication became quite clear to me.

Victims of childhood sexual abuse suffer complex trauma: it is repeated harm that was inflicted on them as children, mostly by a person they trusted, often someone very close. The trauma effects run deep: post-traumatic stress disorder, complete with flash-backs and nightmares, difficulties to trust anyone and long-term health issues are the norm.

I guess I am painting a bleak picture of what the lives of childhood sexual abuse survivors look like. Thank god, or rather thanks to the untiring work of some of them, help is at hand. Obviously therapy can be one of the ways to come to terms with it, and to help becoming a survivor rather than a victim.

But as importantly, if not more, there are people out there, like Craig Hughes-Cashmore and Shane McNamara from the Survivors And Mates Support Network ( www.samsn.org.au ) who are helping male survivors realise that they are not alone, and through group work and peer support offer a way out of the isolation, silence and shame. SAMSN also offers practical help and advice, and both Craig and Shane being abuse survivors themselves, means they truly understand and empathise.

If you have been sexually abused in your childhood, please do reach out. Nothing can change your past, but some support may just be all you need to make your present and future your own.

SAMSN in Sydney: 02 8355 3711

Dementia and anticipatory grief

Today's post is about dementia, and more precisely about the loss that is felt even though the person is still physically there with you - anticipatory grief.

There are few things as devastating as watching a loved one sink into dementia. What starts off as age-related memory loss that can be glossed over eventually becomes something that cannot be ignored anymore.

Often the realisation only starts when something happens that takes the dementia-sufferer out of their normal environment: in older people, that may be a fall, or a severe illness, or the death of someone close. Suddenly the person who has coped really well in appearance finds their landmarks have been shifted dramatically, and they now struggle to find their bearings.

They may find themselves at hospital, and there everything is different - the way to the bathroom, the way the phone looks, the food, the people looking after them. Confusion settles in and the fragile equilibrium that they have managed so far abandons them.

For the carer, this is the moment when it hits home: their loved-one is not "quite right" anymore. Their mental faculties seem halved and their bodily functions that have always been taken for granted take a hit too. There is still hope at that moment, that things will go back to normal.

But the reality is that things haven't been normal for quite some time - human beings are just very good at pretending that change is not happening. Then it starts sinking in: this is the new normal. OK, we think, we can do this, and we take it into our stride.

Until the next thing. It's a bit like watching the wheels of a car fall off in slow-motion - it still runs quite well on 3 wheels, but on 2 the crash is coming dangerously close.

And one day, you realise that the person you love, the smart, argumentative, in-charge adult you have known all your life is not really there anymore. Overnight (over a year or two) they have been replaced with someone looking like them, but not really them anymore. Think invasion of the body-snatchers.

If you are lucky, they have been replaced by a mild older version of themselves. If you are not, you get a more aggressive version. Neither seem to be them though.

And so you start your process of grief and loss: they're very much alive, but lost to you and their environment, existing only in a very reduced version of themselves. They need looking after, often 24 hours a day. From parent, lover, spouse, they have become children again, with all the needs that implies.

And the grief takes over the relationship, because you know that it is only a matter of time until all they have been is gone, and you're only left with the shell of who they were.

But somehow, that is also the moment when you can look after them, make sure they are comfortable, and give them what one gives a baby - unconditional love, despite broken nights and nappies and no conversation...

You can make it bearable for them, so that by the time they die, you have said good-bye in a meaningful way: by loving them to the end.

The cycle of domestic violence - an addiction to abuse?

The cycle of domestic violence starts off like this:

1. Everything is going ok at the beginning - you're in love, and the relationship is good.

2. Tension grows, from the outside (for example work) or the inside (disagreements in the couple).

3. Domestic abuse happens (in one or several of its many forms).

4. Afterwards the perpetrator apologises profusely, promises it will never happen again, is particularly attentive & nice to the victim, "makes up for it" - the so-called "honeymoon-phase" of domestic violence.

5. And back to number one.

It makes me think of a roller-coaster ride, hence why a comparison to the cycle of addiction is not far off: from the heights of the high, to the lows of withdrawal... and back up (though not nearly as high, because the fear of the lows is creeping in).

In my private practice, I have seen quite a few women in domestic abuse situations, one of whom described it in a particularly striking way: when the tension was very high, she would wish for her partner to hit her, to get it over, so she would get to the honeymoon phase sooner.

It cannot be a coincidence that very many of the victims of domestic abuse I know, both through my work and within my friends, also struggle with addictions... My theory is that it is just as easy to be addicted to an abusive partner, who treats us in turns appallingly and wonderfully as it is to be to any substance, which gets us high and then crushes us.

And the road to recovery is a long one, and starts with the awareness of how we may stay in the cycle, for example by deceiving ourselves because that seems easier to do (in the current moment) than to accept that "cold turkey" is the way to go...

Self-harm - a normal response to unbearable emotions?

Imagine you are feeling worthless.
That your whole life is falling apart.
And now imagine that you can't for the life of you find a way out.
And that then things even get worse.

There is extreme anguish in this. Anxiety. Panic. Sadness. Despair.

How can you possibly cope with those emotions?

Most of us will try to out-run them.
We'll suppress the emotions through alcohol, drugs, sex, endorphins, gambling ... (fill in the blanks) ... whatever we know.

Some of us will deaden the emotional hurt through self-harm. We will cut ourmselves, beat ourselves up, hurt ourselves to a point where the physical pain will drown out our emotional pain.

Physical pain acts like a reset button. We are conditioned to take body pain more "seriously" than mental anguish. For a brief instant, all we feel is the actual physical pain. The emotional pain moves into the background.

Viewed through that angle, self-harm suddenly makes perfect sense, hence my suggestion it may be a "normal" response.

Now before you start thinking that I'm advocating physical harm to help with psychological issues, let me clarify this:

Yes, it might be a normal or natural response, but that doesn't make it a good or a sustainable one. In the same way we can't drown our sorrows in the long term, we cannot self-harm our way out of mental anguish. Eventually, even our physical pain receptors will dull (that is our body protecting us from too much pain), and we would need to "up the dose" - of pain, of alcohol or whatever we use.

What I am advocating, is to look for:
1. healthy ways of dealing with emotional pain - crying, confiding in friends, writing about it, meditating etc. (each person will have their own combination that works for them)
2. different ways to lead your life, to remove sources of anguish (leaving the job where we are bullied, spending less time with the over-critical parent, not putting up with being put down by our partner etc.)
3. when 2. is not possible (for example in the case of grief over a beloved's death), working on ways to accept the new reality.

In other words, dealing with the emotions - not suppressing them.

My role as a therapist is to offer a safe space to do so, to explore the pain, and offer a reminder that you are not alone.

Of the importance of leaving an abusive relationship - and a very short review of "Big Little Lies" by Liane Moriarty

Yes, it may seem like a no-brainer to leave an abusive relationship, but for those who are in it, and have systematically been made to feel small, stupid, ugly or incompetent, some more reasons than just being told "everyone deserves to be treated well" may come in handy.

In the following, I am imagining a situation where there is a male abuser, and a female victim; but of course the opposite happens as well (just less often).

1. If you don't leave, you are putting yourself at a real risk of being maimed or killed by your partner.

2. I you don't leave, you're sending a message to your abuser that his behaviour is acceptable (as you are tacitly accepting the abuse by staying).

3. If you don't leave, your abuser is not given the opportunity to mend his ways - now that is a controversial one, and I would not recommend to offer a second chance in situations of physical abuse; but for most people, change will only occur when there are no more other options - and if he does love you, it may make them realise the necessity of changing (as you send a clear message by leaving that you do not put up with the abuse).

4. If you have children, staying in an abusive relationship is showing them the worst example: your sons will think that abusing women is normal, and your daughters will see that putting up with abuse is the normal thing to do. You're dramatically increasing the odds of your children to become part of abusive relationships themselves - either as abusers or victims.

Often people think domestic violence is about physical violence - but in reality abuse comes in many shapes and forms: http://www.domesticviolence.nsw.gov.au/what_is_domestic_and_family_violence describes how it can be physical, verbal, psychological, financial, social, sexual... The website also offers great information on your rights and where to find help (in Australia).

Liane Moriarty describes all those dynamics beautifully in "Little Big Lies" and still manages to make it a rollicking good read. It's a bit of a "chick-lit" novel, but it covers the subject of domestic violence and its toxic trickle-down effects extremely convincingly. At the same time, the book is a withering caricature of primary-school mums in all their variety and glory, and it had me laughing out loud in many places. 

The Peanut Theory

I was told "the Peanut Theory" a few years ago, but unfortunately I don't remember by whom, so can't give credit. The theory says that there is a little part of the brain, the size and the shape of a peanut, which we use to imagine what someone else is thinking.

Now whether that is a metaphor or a reality isn't the point here - what does matter is that we (humans) spend an inordinate amount of time imagining the things we don't know.

As so often, there is an evolutionary reason of that: those of our ancestors who spent time trying to predict outcomes were more likely to survive and reproduce than those who just "went for it".

The biggest change that has occurred though since the Stone Age is that our world has increased thousandfold in complexity. The amount of information that we have to try and juggle, in order to make good, rational decisions, is near unfathomable.

So we just supplement whatever information we are missing with some good guesses. No issue about that, except that our guesses are of course a projection of our own brain.

What happens in relationships? We will input the way we see ourselves to explain others' behaviours. A few examples, before it gets too dry and boring:

• Your best friend hasn't returned your texts or calls for the last 3 days; you immediately start racking your brain on how you might have offended her. Your peanut is talking. Rational thinking is discarded in favour of emotional thinking (an oxymoron if there ever was one). Other explanations, like the one that she may simply be really busy, don't even make it to the surface.

• You have suffered abandonment in your childhood, and have developed an over sensitive radar for anything that could be construed as such. Whenever you don't have all the information, you're likely to supplement it with theories that centre around abandonment. Your partner being short with you (due to stress at his/her work for example) will likely be construed as him/her having enough of you. 

• You're waiting to hear back from a job interview - if you have experienced a lot of rejections, you will imagine that you have been unsuccessful. If you had mostly positive experiences, you will imagine that you haven't heard back because they're putting together a job offer for you.

So how can the Peanut Theory help us better understand the world around us?
By reminding us to check our assumptions about what other people are thinking, and becoming aware that they are only that: assumptions.

A good question to ask yourself is "do I know this? Or do I imagine I know this?".

How well developed is your peanut?
Are you aware of it when your peanut is getting a work-out?

Procrastination and its hidden usefulness

I am a world-champion procrastinator. Anything that has a deadline will be started only at the shortest possible time before it's due and when a half-way decent job is still achievable.

I have beaten myself up over it, and surprise surprise, so have my friends, family, and anyone who had to live through a few hours of me frantically trying to finish the job/assignment/whatever on time.

Oh, and I'm 43 - an old hand really. You'd think that by now I'd "have grown up" and picked up good habits etc.

Well here comes the crunch: I'm actually convinced that procrastination serves a purpose. Otherwise those with the gene (it MUST be genetic - at least that's my excuse) would have died out - "oh, I'll feed my baby later, once I've finished thinking about how I might hunt down that mammoth".

The thing is, when I do procrastinate, I will think about what I have to do. In detail. Mapping it out. The problem will be thought through and the different options explored, down to what could go wrong and what are the alternatives.

So whilst I'm seen to do nothing about the job at hand, my mind is actually processing it in the background. Quite efficiently it seems.

Because by time the deadline looms, and I have to sit down to actually do the job, I somehow know exactly what needs to be done, in what order, where to look for research, and what words to use if the job is about writing.

So maybe procrastination is not laziness, or lack of willpower. Maybe it's just a different form of preparation.


P.S. Unfortunately none of this applies to procrastinating about going to sleep.
Hello insomnia!

Sex addiction - reality or convenient fiction?

Who hasn't wondered whether sex addiction is even "a thing" when we hear about yet another celebrity couple breaking up due to "his/her sex addiction"? Who hasn't thought that it might have been more a choice of unfaithfulness?

My practice has taught me differently. Yes, it is possible that sex addiction is invoked to cover your garden-variety infidelity, but that doesn't mean it can't be a real addiction.

If addiction is about repressing unpleasant emotions, distracting us, then sex is a prime candidate for that. Whilst we line up the next "hit" - in this case the next sexual partner - our brain is kept very busy, as sex (as in reproduction) has been hard-wired into us for the survival of our species.

Then there is the multitude of feel-good chemicals released by our brains during sex. What is there not to get addicted to?

Once again, when confronted by a scenario of a client having repeatedly sex with near-strangers, I apply my litmus test: what is the motivation? What is he trying to get away from? Is it about fun, or is it compulsive to the point of risking health, relationships and job? When does it happen? What is the link with stress and anxiety?

Answers to all those questions will give me a good indication whether we are looking at an addiction problem.

Now I'm well aware that I'm indicating that sex-addicts are male. Sex-addiction happens to women too, but it is not diagnosed quite as often for them. In my private practice, which is of course not a representative sample, I have definitely seen more men with that problem.

How can you "cure" it?
Like with every other addiction, it starts with awareness. When does it happen, why does it happen, what does it cover up? What emotions are being avoided?

The next stage is about breaking the habit - avoiding the places that trigger the behaviour (and those can be on the internet, in bars, red light districts, "massage" parlours... the list is very long, and will vary for each individual).

The last stage is about letting those emotions out into the open, slowly and carefully examining them, and finding healthier ways to cope with them.

I hear you ask: why cure such a "fun" addiction?

Because the sex in sex addiction is at the opposite end of the spectrum of intimacy. There is no "closeness" created by it. In the short to medium term, the more we bodily interact, the more deserted our emotional landscape becomes.

Because in the end, we are all herd-animals. We have an innate need to belong. And sex for its own sake does not offer us that.


Enjoyed this article? You may like this one on infidelity.

Madame Bovary - a social commentary on infidelity

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert is one of those much-cited, seldom-read novels.
I did read it. About 25 years ago.

It's the quintessential story of a woman who gets married, is dissatisfied with her life, takes one lover then another, convinced they can offer her a better life, and when cast away by them, commits suicide. Her husband dies of grief, and their daughter ends up in poverty.

Put like this, one wonders why it should be read, and why so much has been made of this novel...
Well, for one, it is superbly written. Its style is realism - the opposite of a romantic novel - and that makes it so modern, even today.

Then there is a brilliant social commentary to be found in it: how Emma Bovary's unfulfilled social aspirations ultimately cause her downfall. A theme that is still very topical today. And something that I often hear from my clients.

The bigger the discrepancy between our desires and our life, the less satisfied we are with the latter. In today's world, we are told that we should expect happiness, desire, possessions, that we are entitled to them. Today the entertainment industry (movies, songs, the internet, and to a lesser extent books) shows us what "real life" should be like. Back in Flaubert's time, novels, preferably romantic ones, taught the middle classes what to desire...

Esther Perel puts it nicely, when she says that affairs are less about the person we cheat with, and more about our self as we see it reflected in their eyes. For Emma Bovary, it's about who she is with her lover, the potential she sees of her own life; but of course her life comes down crashing when she is rejected - being not worthy in her lovers' eyes means to her that she is not worthy full stop.

That is always the problem, not only about unfaithfulness: when our value depends on outside appraisals, that value is the opposite of "self-esteem".

Now imagine if you could see yourself as a lover would, without having to resort to an affair; if you could love yourself with the same passion and generosity. In some ways, that is also what therapy is about: to teach you how loveable you are, and that you deserve to be treated well by others - and first and foremost by yourself.

Child abuse and "stranger danger"

As parents, we spend our time teaching our kids to be wary of strangers. Yet I think we are ignoring the forest for all the trees, because most child abuse (over 80%) isn't inflicted by strangers, but by people the children already know.

In my private practice I see adults who have survived sexual abuse as a child. And for none of them the abuser was a stranger. Instead it was the uncle, the tennis coach, the son of the cleaner, the baby-sitter, the father, the neighbour, the teacher, the brother - all had one thing in common: the child trusted them.

Now I don't think that the answer to this is to demonise all men, as we have seen when airlines don't let single men (stranger danger anyone?) sit next to children on a plane.

But rather, one of the things we can do is to raise awareness, both in children and in adults. It is about teaching children what adults are allowed or not allowed to do, and that the child is entitled to say "NO".

My friends often look at me in disbelief when I say I don't let my daughter go on sleep-overs. I in turn look at them in disbelief when they let their child go and sleep at a stranger's house just because the children happen to be friends and it's their birthday. I am quite sure that none of my friends are child-molesters. But is "quite sure" good enough when it comes to my children's safety? Not for me.

So I often am the one who raises the uncomfortable topic. As I am doing today.

One in three girls and one in six boys will be sexually abused in some way before the age of 18 years according to a study by Australian Institute of Criminology from 1993 as cited here.

By all means, do tell your children not to follow any adults they don't know. But also let them know that it is not ok for anyone to touch them inappropriately (I know, not a great chat to have), even when it is someone they like. And that if it does happen, that it is not ever their fault, and that they are safe to tell you, even when made to promise not to.

Another article specifically about male adults survivors of childhood sexual abuse can be found here.

Emotions: why bother with them?

Often my clients who are struggling with emotions of anger, fear or sadness, and who in the course of that struggle have self-medicated with alcohol, drugs, sex or gambling, will ask me:
"What is the point of having emotions?"

When your emotional life mainly presents as suffering, that question is a very appropriate one. Why do we need those pesky emotions which "make us feel bad"?

The answer is very simple: emotions are nature's feedback system (honed over many millennia) for what is happening to us.
Good stuff? positive emotions tell us to get more of those experiences.
Bad stuff? the negative emotions tell us to avoid and stay away.

When we allow ourselves to feel the emotions, we get valuable info on what we need to do.
And when we are brushing them under the carpet with a flick of our mind, or through alcohol, drugs, or whatever we use to self-medicate, we make a situation bearable that is not meant to be bearable.

If we are exposed to trauma and violence, the fear or anger will guide us to fight or flight. When we ignore those emotions, we remain in a situation that is detrimental to us.

Emotions that are not acknowledged do not disappear - they only fester. The fear and anger about having been abused as a child for example might morph as an adult into extreme anxiety for their safety and into panic attacks.

Part of my work with clients who have self-medicated for a very long time is to slowly let them experience those emotions in a safe and contained environment, in our sessions. That allows them to find out what changes they want to make to their lives.

For those suffering from post-traumatic stress or from the long-term effects of having been abused as children, they can start looking at the trauma, and allow themselves to grieve for their losses - of innocence, of safety, of wholeness. Then the next step of the therapy begins: finding a way to make sense and to create a new narrative of their life as survivors, not victims.

A different take on the causes of addiction

Here on Huffington Post is an excellent article suggesting that addiction occurs much less frequently for people who take mind-altering substances and have a life with sufficient quality human connection. It seems to underpin my theory that recreational or "festive" use does not have the same addictive effect than using/drinking to forget.

I don't quite agree with the article's theory that it is not the "chemical hook" that creates addiction, but I too have the sneaking suspicion that the chemical hook is not the only culprit. There are many behaviours which don't involve taking substances (think gambling, sex, running) yet involve a "rush" (usually a release of adrenaline) which can lead to addiction. The chemical hook is still there, but produced by our own brain.

So maybe we should worry less about keeping away from drugs and alcohol and more about having a preventative attitude regarding mental health.

Maybe the point is to protect children (and not just our own, but as a society in general) from abuse and trauma, to allow them to grow into emotionally functioning adults, who will be capable of looking after their needs without self-medicating...

My definition of addiction

Very often my clients and complete strangers (when they hear about my work) ask me whether they "are addicted".

My simple answer is: it is an addiction if you have either lost your health, a relationship, a job, or the roof over your head because of it.

An addiction is actually any behaviour that we do more of than we want, and that we use to mask unpleasant emotions (anger, boredom, sadness...). If you have ever thought you ought to spend less time on Facebook, and not put that into practice, then you have an addiction to Facebook. Personally, I am addicted to reading books.

What my rather flippant answer does, is to point out that there has to be a harmful element to "qualify" a habit as an addiction.

Because let's face it: most of us are addicted to coffee for example. We could not face starting a day without it, even though we hate spending literally thousands of dollars every year on it. Yet no-one seeks professional help for that.

So I suggest we sort our addictions into harmful and harmless ones. And very often my work involves helping my clients to find harmless addictions to replace more harmful ones. Running for example - the endorphins that it releases is addictive - yet you're unlikely to lose your relationships, jobs or house for it. Surfing is another one.

Another way of answering the question "am I addicted?" is to ask yourself what is the price you pay for continuing your behaviour - and whether you can afford to pay it long-term.

And if you can't, then it's time to seek help, before you lose one or all of the essentials: your relationships, your health, your job, your home.

"Festive alcohol" - or when consumption is less likely to lead to addiction

I have a theory (well, more than one, but this is the one for today):

When we drink because we are happy, to celebrate, with friends, what I call "festive alcohol", we drink to enhance a positive state of mind. Alcohol lubricates, disinhibits, but isn't the actual point of the occasion - the celebration is.

When we drink to forget, to numb our pain, or to deaden what we think are otherwise unbearable emotions, that's when alcohol leads to addiction. Because the more we avoid those "bad" emotions (read sadness, grief, anger etc.), and the earlier we start doing that, the less we learn how to deal with them, to process them, and ultimately to accept them. The result? we reach for the glass or the bottle as our first and soon only line of defence. And as soon as the effects wear off, we want to top them up, because the emotions are only pushed under for as long as alcohol's influence hasn't worn off.

Of course, feel free to replace the word "alcohol" with drugs, sex, gambling, or any other addictive behaviour you can think of. They can all be used in the same way - to either enhance what we feel, or to numb ourselves.

I have yet to meet in my private practice a client who says: "I love to party, I'm a happy person, but I have a real addiction problem now". For all of the clients I have ever seen, their addiction stemmed from trying to cope with trauma as well as they could, with the means they had at hand at the time.

So, if you like going to the pub, or drink moderately (whatever that means...) every day and are wondering whether you're an alcoholic - the answer is no, unless you're drinking to drown your sorrows. Same quantity - different purpose - different outcome.

Why I became a therapist

I have always been interested in people: their stories, their emotions, their thinking.
In some ways, just as there are natural story-tellers, I believe I am a natural listener.
I enjoy it. Always have.

Well,  nearly always. When I was a child, I was as egocentric as the next one - happy to prattle on about myself and my world to anyone who cared to listen (or didn't walk away fast enough).
As an adult though, I discovered that everyone had an interesting story to tell, and if I just listened carefully enough, I would find out what makes them tick.

My love of books is a parallel: good writers create "real" people and their stories, protagonists that ring true, not just hastily cobbled together in two dimensions. So reading a great book is like meeting new people in all their complexity.

When I first finished my law studies (a "family curse"), I wanted to work as a headhunter - to find the right people for jobs at the pointy end (executives and/or specialists). And I did, listening to their always interesting, often fascinating lives. The perfect job for someone collecting people's stories.

After a while though, I wanted to know more than just their employment background, or how they got to where they were. I yearned for more depth. So when I took a break to have my first child, it seemed like the perfect time to go back to university for a postgraduate degree in counselling and psychotherapy. I haven't looked back since.

Now I am in the privileged position to listen to my clients' innermost stories, doubts, struggles, to offer them support, and (mostly) to have the wonderful chance to see them come out the other side of the depression, addiction, conflict or abuse they were facing, able to lead a life of their own choosing, instead of a "life-sentence" imposed by their childhood or later traumas.

To say that I enjoy my work as a therapist is an understatement: I actually love it. I often joked that I would do it for free; and the reality is that I have worked pro bono for close to 5 years for the St Vincent de Paul Society (which operates a free counselling service in Redfern).

So I guess this is a perfect example of what Freud called "a conflict of ambivalence": I need to choose between fulfilling my vocation - improving the world, one person at a time - and making a living... And I choose to offer reduced rates to clients with financial difficulties, ensuring thus that therapy is accessible to everyone. Because at the end of the day, what satisfies me most is to see the change I have facilitated.

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