BREXIT - or what happens when people get emotionally manipulated

"BREXIT" is a great example of what happens when people get emotionally manipulated: they make irrational decisions based on fiction rather than fact.

Numbers have been thrown around by both sides, some of which were made up completely.
And this is how it works, thanks to confirmation bias: we choose and interpret whatever "facts" we're given so they confirm our existing beliefs.

The consequences are rather dire on a political level, as this is basically how propaganda has worked in history; let's repeat falsehoods, aloud, lots of times, with conviction, until they become "true".

The past is full of examples - Hitler's Germany, Stalin's USSR - who relied on only the radio, newspapers and television to indoctrinate.

Today, there are more channels, to which we are exposed for more hours a day. One of the most insidious ways our confirmation bias is reinforced is through Google and Facebook: they study which searches we do, which articles we click on, or like, and the next time the results/newsfeed will offer us more of what they know we like.

And there we go - we do not receive neutral information anymore, we get what Google and Facebook have algorithmically decided we "want" to see.

I feel like I'm living in Orwell's 1984.

How does this relate to my work as a therapist? Well, we all have confirmation bias in our personal lives too. It becomes especially visible when working with addiction or domestic abuse, how the "bad bits" get glossed over, and the rare good thing gets highlighted.

My work involves helping my client see the whole extent of their life - from an outside perspective.

I can hear you ask - but don't my clients get that outside perspective from all the other people in their lives, telling them what is good or bad, or what they should change?

Indeed my clients - everyone actually - do get an enormous amount of outside feedback, well-meaning advice etc.

Which is exactly what I do not do. I will not tell them what is good, or bad, or how they "should" change.

Because giving advice is not my job. My job is to hold up a mirror, in which they can see themselves, from an outside perspective, and to support them while they work out what they want to do differently.

And it is the most difficult bit of my work as a therapist: to not jump in, to not push or pull, to not rescue, but to instead to support my clients so they can find their own truth, their own way, in their own time.

So maybe the British people too would have benefited from more time looking at the reality, and checking facts, rather than letting the media tell them what and how to think...

Monogamy is like chocolate cake - every night.

What is your absolute favourite dessert? The one that makes your mouth water, even if you just ate a 5-course dinner? The one you would gladly get up for in the middle of the night, for one more bite?

Let's say it's chocolate cake - and not just any chocolate cake, but the particular recipe from this one patisserie across town... And one day, you win the lottery, and decide to get it delivered to your house, freshly baked, every night for dessert.

It's simply paradise, the harmony of aromas, the richness of the taste, the complexity of flavours. Oh how much you love it! Night after night, you are looking forward to it, and from the first spoonful it makes you swoon.

After a year or two, you still enjoy it very much. It is not quite as beguiling anymore, not quite as "new", but you're still very happy with the arrangement.

Your friends envy you, seeing you have the best dessert in town, or so it looks. And you are well aware how lucky you are. You never could have dreamed of anything better than that.

Ten years go by, and every night, you've had chocolate cake, the best in town. I bet that by now you may be thinking "yep, I love chocolate cake, it is still my favourite dessert, but oh, what wouldn't I give for a slice of lemon meringue pie..."

Marriage, when it comes with an side-serve of monogamy, is a little bit the same. You chose the best man or woman you could possibly imagine spending your life with, you have the best partner you could ever have wished for, so what could go wrong?

Desire is about seeing the other and being seen. How many of us stop seeing the most beautiful landscape in the world, just because we happen to live there? It is not so much taking it for granted as becoming blind to it.

Our brain is wired to notice changes, not sameness - a simple survival mechanism, using our brainpower where it is most needed. So, eventually, we notice the other less, they don't "stick out" anymore in our field of vision, having become (too) familiar.

So what can we do about this? Are we condemned to choke on our chocolate cake, give up on dessert, or as one of my friends jokingly suggested, marry someone new every 10 years?

I don't think we have to be that drastic. I believe that if we chose our partner wisely, they are still someone we really like, 10 years later. And if so, then it is worth working on our self to keep the romance alive. How?

By remembering what attracted us in the first place.
By becoming aware of their wonderful sides again.

By making an effort to remain attractive (this is not about Botox but rather the sort of effort we put into seducing the other - if tracksuit pants didn't feature prominently during your courtship, why would you think they are ok now?).

And, maybe most importantly, by talking about it.
Our desires, our hopes, our fantasies.
By making them a subject of conversation, like they were at the beginning.


If you enjoyed this post, you may like this one on Madame Bovary and infidelity.

Psychotherapy is like gardening

We all receive a garden when we are born - our mind. How that garden looks depends on what we received to start with, and on our experiences.

Some receive a large park, elegantly planted with tall trees and lovely shrubs, and an immaculate lawn; others receive only a small garden, with lots of rocks, barely any soil, on a sheer cliff-face.

We don't get to choose which one we receive. But we do get to choose what we make of it. Whether we were spoilt or not, it is the amount of time that we spend tending our garden that will make a difference.

For some, basic maintenance will be enough. For others, a lot of hard work will be necessary. All gardens though benefit from time spent tending them.

In my experience as a therapist, some of the most beautiful gardens I was privileged to see materialise over time seemed quite despairing at the beginning. They looked such a mess, so overgrown, with resentment, anger, grief, pain.

But the owners refused to let it lie that way. Every day, they plucked away at it, weeded it. Every week, they got an external gardener in for an hour (me) - not to do the gardening for them, but to help set general directions. It takes time, sometimes multiple seasons, until the garden is looking its best.

And what an achievement when it does take shape. Some rocks have been removed, others carefully integrated into the landscape. Every corner you look at, something grows, flowers, soothes the view.

Personally, I am a fan of Japanese gardens, which take into account the particularity of every rock, crooked tree, shrub, and plan the outline around all the existing. It's a personal preference. I can see the beauty in the garden of the Chateau de Versailles, but it doesn't speak to my heart.

I find beauty in the pain and hurt that has been overcome. To me, it is like a beacon of hope for others, still stumbling in the dark, struggling with life's messes.

Speak out, to others, about your struggles, those that you are still in, and those you have overcome. Show them your garden, imperfect yet beautiful. Share it with them. We will all be richer for it.

The biggest addiction of all - yes, odds are that you have it too

This is the biggest addiction scourge known to the western world - and you probably have it too.
Have you guessed it yet?
Caffeine.

Ever been jittery, or irritable, or downright cranky in the morning before you get your first shot?
Or worse, that pounding headache, or even migraine, if you don't get your first cup early enough?
Yep, those are withdrawal symptoms.

Why not though? Why not get this lovely hit every morning, every afternoon, when it's so cheap?
Now that's a philosophical question that I would like to look at more closely.

What could possibly be wrong with getting your neuronal stimulation through ingesting "uppers"?
Or to phrase it differently, what could you be missing out on by doing that?

Let's look at why and when you use it. The first few times you take it, the hit is almost overwhelming. You have this endless energy, so much so that you even literally shake. Your mind feels clearer, and sharper.

Over time though, like any highly addictive substance you need to take more and more to achieve the same effect, and soon all you're doing is drinking coffee to ward off the withdrawals. The kick doesn't come anymore, unless you multiply the dosage. Hence the offering of your local dealer: double and even triple shots.

Soon if you don't take care, you're drinking 5 cups a day, and barely feeling any effect. That's a few thousand dollars a year that you spend just on avoiding withdrawals.

That's tonnes of landfill of disposable paper cups, plastic lids and metal coffee pods. That's financing the slavery of coffee farmers who get only a pittance for their back-breaking work (unless you systematically buy fair-trade). Or it's financing the indecent profits of Coca-Cola, Pepsi and co.

I wouldn't mind it so much if in the end, we were not just feeding an addiction, avoiding withdrawals, trying to keep ourselves on the normal level, the stimulation effect non-existent by now because we chase a high that's not achievable any more due to addiction (in the same way  heroin-addict will chase the memory of the first "hit" at the beginning, and soon only try to alleviate the withdrawal symptoms).

I wouldn't mind it so much if it didn't make it easier for us to put up with a boring job or not enough sleep, thereby taking away our motivation for finding more interesting work, or more hours to sleep.

My argument is that like any addiction, it is pointless. After the early effect, we only get an imaginary effect from it, namely overcoming symptoms that were created by its ingestion in the first place...

If it's the ritual you crave, by all means, take a break and have a cup of (non-caffeinated) tea - and don't forget the 2-minute mindfulness exercise that goes with it!


***Disclaimer: I have battled my own caffeine addiction for years - mostly being "clean" but relapsing every couple of years...

The Affection Bank

We all have an account at the Affection Bank. It's mainly a deposit account, but from which withdrawals also can be made. Let me explain what I mean.

Our well-being is fuelled in great parts by what our environment gives us or the way it reflects us.
Every time we get a compliment, a pat on the back, a hug, a praise, a tender touch, or simply a look of love or a smile, our account at the Affection Bank gets a deposit.

Eventually we reach a level where we feel good about ourselves, when our account there is full. It's the ideal place where we have plenty to give to others: love, affection, time, patience.

That level differs for everyone - for people with good self-esteem, it takes less time to reach that level, because self-esteem means half the account already filled; for those less fortunate, it takes longer.

Conversely, every time we experience a negative, we draw on the account to make up for it. "Three people think I'm cool, one doesn't like me, I'm still ok".

Everything that shakes our emotional well-being draws on our account. It can be an argument, or a nasty word, a physical blow, or simply the loss of someone dear to us.

Where things get difficult, is when those events multiply, and the account gets close to zero. Then we start feeling anxious. We don't feel good about ourselves anymore, and we frantically look around us to get some positive reinforcement. We may actually become agitated or even unpleasant in the process, as would a very hungry person who can see the food but not reach it.

Whereas depression means that when your account is not quite full, but not necessarily empty, every time you check your balance it tells you "zero".

Why am I talking about this? Because it is important to realise what part positive feedback plays in our lives, how we depend on it; also that we can deposit for others, the ultimate in "paying it forward". This might be take the shape of reaching out, to reassure and get reassured that even though our Affection Bank account might be close to empty, we're still loveable and loved.

Who will you make a deposit for today?
Or even better, for how many people can you make a deposit today?

Parenting - time to ditch the guilt

Today's post may be the most important one I'm writing for parents.

It is a reminder of what our children really need, because the message we hear from everywhere is that we cannot ever rest unless we are perfect parents; yet trying to do just that only sets us up to feel like we're always falling short, constantly failing.

The reality is that children need only 3 things:

• to be loved
• to be fed
• to have the opportunity to learn.

Full stop.

Oh, I can already hear the dissenting voices... what about music? what about sports? what about art?

Sure, if you have time and money to spare, and your kids are keen, there is nothing wrong with extra stuff. But please stop believing those are necessities - they are not. They are luxuries.

As for keeping them safe - which has also become an obsessional undertaking in our society - bear in mind that trial and error is a very important component of learning. Sure, it is a good idea to intervene when they start building home-made pipe rockets, or to keep an eye on them from afar at the playground, so they don't leave on their own. But getting hurt (not killed!) is not a bad thing - it's actually a most efficient learning tool.

Do I sound outrageous? I guess my work has given me a different perspective, hearing stories of unimaginable pain and abuse. When toilet training means chaining a toddler to a toilet for 36 hours. When a 5-year old has to forage in the streets for food. When an 11-year old is hooked on heroin.

So if you are a normal parent, one who loves and feeds your children, and keeps them safe and sends them to school, it's time to ditch the guilt: you are doing an excellent job.

Reaching out - a way to feel good inside again

Like everyone I go through ups and downs in my internal world (my life doesn't actually have that many ups and downs, yet you wouldn't know that looking at the emotional rollercoaster I'm sometimes on).

I have previously written on what it feels like to go through depression (I prefer to think of it as "going through" rather than "living with", as it has a less endless feel to it).

Today I would like to talk about what is helpful for me.
This is not a "pull yourself together and do all the right things" sort of post - this is a post on what does work, if you have the strength to implement it*.

Depression is a quintessentially lonely place. You feel small, vulnerable, sad, abandoned. So much so that it feels counterintuitive to reach out, as the little voice of depression whispers to you that you will be rejected, as you feel so unworthy of love and attention.

Yet, the only way to find out whether that voice is telling the truth, or showing you a mirage, is to reach out and find out for yourself. Screw the little voice. It serves itself only, its purpose is to keep you where it feels safe (and an awful place it is too).

What happens then? You pick up the phone, and talk to someone that in your previous state, the one where you functioned like everyone else, has been your friend. Someone close enough for you to be able to show your vulnerability, someone kind enough to tell the truth to: that you feel like you're dying inside.

The miracle is what happens next: you find out that you are loveable, that you are indeed loved. That you have been missed whilst you were away licking your wounds. That you are worthy of their time, their attention and their love.

You do this once, and you feel a little ray of hope. You do this twice, and you start realising that you have a network of friends, only waiting you offer you support, a helping hand, and most importantly, hope.

Hope that what you are going through does not have to be borne alone. That all this terrible angst, those horrible feelings are only that - feelings, not the reality of your life.

So reach out, if you can*, to those in your life who have been friends before the big fog descended on you. You will find out that even though you couldn't see them through the fog, they are still there, ready to show you the love that you have shown them.


* If you don't have the strength to reach out, you may find that anti-depressants can help you to get back to a place where you can function enough to do so.



To those of you who are lucky not to know what I am talking about, here is what you can do when a friend with depression reaches out to you: just be there for them, hold their hand, physically or metaphorically, because by that simple action you dispel the most awful lie that depression tells: the belief of the sufferer that he is all alone. 

Food: friend or foe? a quick insight into food addiction (and not a diet advice in sight)

I often get asked why it is easier for some people to quit smoking, even though nicotine is one of the most addictive substances on earth, than to stop over-eating.

The answer is relatively straightforward: it is easier to eliminate cigarettes from your day than eating because you simply cannot give up food.

So the reality is that three to five times every day, you have to go back to a substance that got you into trouble in the first place, and you're told in a not really helpful manner that you "just have to control your intake better". It is a hard job to to quit something that you need to survive.

What is the answer then, to overcome a food-addiction, as abstinence is just not possible?

One part is the management of the physical addiction.
The usual strategies apply, with a gradual reduction for example.
Then there needs to be a shift in your relationship with food, to go back to a more natural "food in response to hunger" approach. That also entails re-introducing slow, conscious eating in lieu of fast scoffing down whilst working or watching TV.

Another part is the emotional addiction, when we eat not to satisfy our body's need for fuel, but rather to reward ourselves, or soothe ourselves, or to replace a feeling of emotional emptiness by a feeling of physical fullness.

In the same way as festive alcohol is about sharing a good time, eating good food with good friends is highly unlikely to get you addicted. Think of the difference of having a Nutella Crêpes party with friends as opposed to eating Nutella out of a jar on your own at 1am.

My one tip? If you want to eat something that is supposed to be "bad for you" (though I don't subscribe to that terminology), you might as well enjoy it. Think of all the ways you can describe it, eat it slowly, smell it, taste it, and relish it. Do it sitting down at the table, from a nice plate, with the lights on. Better even, get a friend to share it with you.

Why go through all that trouble? Because the more you deprive yourself, the more you will obsess about it - and that obsession will drive you to over-indulge.

For the emotional eater, it might be useful to take some time to find out what you are trying to replace with food. Love? company? self-esteem?

My role as a therapist is to support you to find other ways, your way, to fill those needs.

How kindness transcends everything: a real-life example.

When I was a young woman, I didn't have my life sorted - surprise, surprise!
I tried as well as I could to make sense of everything, manage meaningful and less meaningful relationships, and failed as often as I succeeded.

During that time, a family that wasn't mine opened their heart and their house to me.
They welcomed me whenever I asked. They lived in a very large, semi-renovated house in Normandy, had 5 children of their own (aged between 1 and 8 when I met them the first time) and were busy people.

Yet, whenever I phoned them to ask "can I come to visit?" the answer was always "yes, of course!". When the guest room that I eventually considered as my own was already occupied, they would make up a bed in the office. Once I slept in one of the kids' rooms, when even the office was already taken.

She would pick me up from the train station (my first experience of people-movers, as the five kids of course had to come along) and take me home.

Often there were other, always interesting people at the dinner or lunch table; sometimes their family, most of the time friends or people in need of connection, like me.

The food would be in the french tradition of entree, main, cheese and dessert. Nothing fancy usually, but healthy. After some months/years, I would feel so much at home that I would often cook - not that I was brilliant at it, but it just wasn't their main talent let's say.

What was their strong point was their unwavering welcome. I wouldn't compare myself to a stray cat (actually cats were not too welcome in their house, their only fault) but if I was not lost, then at least I hadn't found myself yet.

They would love me as I was, opening their house, and their hearts me. Why? Well, because that was the kind of people they were, and possibly also because of their Christian faith.

And that is my point today. They were very catholic. So much so, that they would travel quite a bit every Sunday to go to mass in a church that offered mass in Latin (none of that "new-fangled Vatican II idea" of mass in French for them). I never went with them and they never expected me to.

They had certain views on what was the right thing to do (I'm pretty sure my boyfriend stories were not quite what they were expecting for their children). Some people may have thought of them as "fundamentalist Catholics". Yet always in my often robust discussions with them (I loved playing the devil's advocate even then) they displayed tolerance and love. Their arguments would be well-thought through, never dogmatic, often convincing.

More than that, the life they were leading, the way they lived their faith in a tradition of welcome to anybody who needed their hospitality or their help, told me so much more about them than their preference for mass in Latin.

To me, they embodied the greatest aspect of Christian tradition: loving the other, as different as "the other" may turn out to be. (I have met others, Muslims, who live by the same tenet, but that is a story for another post).

My point is that those people were living in a way that added greatly to the general store of goodness in this world; and as much as their religious convictions were important to them, their lived tolerance was more important than dogma.

I can't say I quite live up to their example. My "do-gooding" always remained small-scale.
But whenever I feel desperate about the state of this world, I remember how one family made a difference in the lives of many, mine amongst others. And it gives me hope about the future.

The secret to happiness

I am often asked about this, so today I will reveal it to you:

The secret to happiness lies in forgetting oneself in the pursuit of something bigger.

There.
Simple, right?
Too simple?

I've spent years observing others, listening to them, analysing and processing - all rather rational pursuits, I don't move very much in the "touchy-feely new-age" kind of world, and I promise I'm not there now either.

Some people will say that happiness is setting up and running little electric trains.
Others that it's about bagging the latest bargain at the sales.
But these are only little things; this happiness is temporary.

I did mention something bigger.

For Bob Brown (the Australian Senator) it is the protection of the environment.
For Mother Theresa it was caring for lepers and orphans.

For some of the nicest, warmest, and happiest people I know personally, it has always been about caring for others (you can read about them here).

For me, it is about meeting the other. It is not always people, but it mainly is (though cats and trees have also their place). It is about being allowed into someone's life, about sharing a moment.

When I do, when I truly listen, when I truly hear the other, my life becomes at the same time unimportant, and valuable.

When I meet "the other", whatever their shape - when I make a difference through the simple act of being present, of witnessing - my life has meaning.

And for that brief and sometimes not so brief moment, I am happy, because I know that I have positively impacted someone else's life.

When I put these moments end to end, multiplying them, that is my way to "be happy".
When I forget about "wanting to be happy", that is when I find it.

For me it takes truly being with others to forget about myself.

What does it take for you?
The answer to that question is your secret for happiness. Happy search!

How your judgement of others tells us more about you than about them...

Have you ever noticed what bothers you about others?
Which bits grate you the most?
Odds are, it is something that is part of your shadow side too...

When we complain about others paying too little tax, we are really saying that we feel we pay too much.

When we condemn a whole people in one sweeping sentence, we show how prejudiced we are.

Each time we criticise someone for how they look or how they speak, we only ever say "this is my judgement, my opinion, my taste and YOU don't match it".

Let me give you some examples:

Your mother tells the 25-year old you that it is unacceptable for you to dress "like this"; is that comment really about caring on how you look, or is she worrying about what the neighbours will think of you, and hence, of her?

Your husband tells you you need to hold your cutlery in a different way, because is not "upper-class" the way you do it; is that really about your manners, or rather on how it reflects upon him?

You find that "Asian people" are buying up property in your suburb, and you say "they didn't even say hello to me, they are so rude". Is that comment about their politeness, or rather possibly about your difficulty to accept a changing neighbourhood?

It even goes further than that. In our relationships, when we complain about the other's faults, it is more likely to be a reflection on our needs, rather than their shortcomings.

It is about what we expect from the other.

When we want to a certain lifestyle, and expect the other to deliver it.
When we want to feel safe, and expect the other to "make us feel safe".
When we want to be happy, and expect the other to "make us happy".

How do we change that though?

As always, it starts with becoming aware that we are doing it.
It is about recognising our needs and wants, and asking whether we're putting the burden of satisfying them on someone else.

It is also about realising that when others criticise us, it is quite likely to be about them, their baggage, their story.

My work as a therapist is to support you becoming aware of such patterns.
To help you see if you're avoiding responsibility, or, on the contrary, if you are taking on responsibility for other people's wants and needs to a degree that doesn't allow you to flourish.

It's only when you become aware of your pattern that you get back the choice to change it...

Home: a place or a feeling?

Home takes on such different forms for everyone: for most, it is made of bricks or wood, for some, it's wherever they pitch their tent.

It is a geographical space, the place we call "home", but not only. It is the familiarity of the streets, the smells of cooking, the smile of the people we love.

We can rebuild homes, re-create homes, find new homes. Or we can be home-less, when we try to put our roots down into a soil that doesn't agree with us or that doesn't want us.

Our western world, and Australia in particular, has created a whole generation of people who migrate, often by choice. What is home then, when our life is about moving to a different country or a different city every few years?

We can hold on to the original home, the one we grew up in, or where we felt "home" for the first time. That feeling of belonging somewhere is precious, yet comes with a heavy price-tag of longing when we are far, longing for that easy familiarity of space and culture and language.

When we know that we won't stay, we often choose not to put down roots, because we remember from the first time we left home how painful it is to cut those in order to be able to leave. So we may decide that our home is wherever we go with our loved ones. Home becomes the small microcosm of whom and what we can take with us.

What if "home" could be instead what we share with others? What if it were not a space, not a smell, not a taste, but a feeling? A feeling of comfort, of being where we want to be?

I imagine that we would end up with many homes over the course of our life instead of just one, all the places where we have lived and truly "met" others. I imagine the richness of our minds, being familiar with more places, more cultures, more people...

What if "being home" were a choice we made, every day anew?

Skype sessions - letting technology be my friend

I used to be reluctant about using Skype in my work, it seemed like an unnecessary gimmick; until I started going overseas every few months for family reasons, and needed to stay in touch with my existing clients.

So I started skyping whilst I was overseas. Then a few clients were referred to me - who happened to live in Europe and Asia. Suddenly I had "Skype-only" clients, which in hindsight fits perfectly with the fact that I offer therapy not only in English, but also in French and German (my cultural background).

These are the things that surprised me:

First, how good the technology has become (provided my and their WiFi are working properly).

Second, that it is truly possible to build rapport, and a therapeutic relationship, without actually meeting in person.

Thirdly, and that one was more unexpected, that there was a real feeling of security for my clients, being able to Skype from their home. The flip-side to this is I can't control their environment like I do in my office, so theoretically, they could be interrupted by people on their end.

The drawback for me? At this stage, there isn't really one. Being able to hear a client, and see their facial expressions in real-time is just about as good as in real life. The only senses that miss out are touch and smell, which are kind of irrelevant in therapy (or so I would hope).

So the old saying is proving true: where there is a will, there is a way. If you want help, and ask for it, it will be available - but perhaps in a slightly different shape than you expect.

Reaching out - and being truly heard and seen - has become possible for anyone connected online.

Maybe the Internet isn't just for watching cat videos and porn after all?

The 2-minute mindfulness recipe

This is the easiest recipe you'll ever follow - and makes a real difference if practised daily:


Take your cup of tea or coffee, whichever you like - at work, at home, it doesn't matter.

Sit down with it.

Feel the heat of the mug.

Smell your brew.

Look at the colour of the mug, of your table, of your drink.

Notice the sounds around you, but don't listen to them.

Now drink it, feel the heat in your mouth, taste the aroma unfolding. Repeat.


What you've just done, in under 2 minutes, is coming fully into the present moment, using your five senses. Doing this, even for such a short time, physically signals your body that you are not in any danger, causing it to slow down and reverse any stress that may be present.

For all those who, like me, can't empty their minds enough to meditate, this is a wonderful little exercise to get all the benefits of mindfulness, without the tediousness/stress of "getting meditation right" or "thinking of nothing".

Do it every time you have tea or coffee during the day - though it works with fizzy drinks too, with the added bonus of listening to the bubbles - and hop, you've done some 10-15 minutes of mindfulness.


No need to thank me :) just forward it on to whoever you think needs it!

Learned helplessness - the dark sister of under-functioning

When I talk about under-functioning, I mean the "normal" doing less of something because the other does more of it, which, to a degree, is perfectly normal in any couple ("couple" meaning any two people functioning together, i.e. at home or in the workplace etc).

Learned helplessness is pushing the concept of under-functioning to its terrifying extreme: when one becomes helpless in certain areas, to the point of disability.

Let me start off with a couple of examples:

A friend found out the hard way that leaving all the financials for her husband to manage meant financial ruin when she discovered that he had gambled away both their fortunes.

Another one: my mother-in-law never learned to drive, as her husband was always driving (and for most of her girlfriends that was the norm too, a generational thing I guess). Then she saw what happened when one of their husbands died: the widow suddenly was more or less stuck at home, depending on her friends and children to go anywhere. But my mother-in-law being the opposite of a helpless lady, she decided at age 50 to learn how to drive, and has been successfully driving for the last 25 years. Yet most of her girlfriends are still trapped, because they chose the "safe" path - sticking to what they knew.

Now, before you think only women suffer from learned helplessness, spare a thought for all those husbands who leave their whole social life to their wives to organise, to the point where they don't have any friends of their own. In case of divorce, they end up terrifyingly alone.

But there is more to learned helplessness than just a lack of independence: it is about creating a belief that you are incapable to do something, when really you would be quite able if you made the effort (like my mother-in-law).

Now why would anyone want to become or stay helpless?
Because there often is an emotional side to the equation: both the over-functioning and the helpless bind themselves closer unto the other, making it a co-dependant relationship, where both can only exist with and through the other.

What can you do to change this dynamic?
Start with becoming aware on the areas in which you may have developed helplessness or taken over in your relationship.
Accept that there might be fear - fear of failure in the new endeavour, or fear of being abandoned if you stopped being either so "necessary" or so helpless.
Talk about it with your partner, in order to separate the emotional undercurrent from the practical issue at hand (by the way, for the practical side of things, outsource them, don't try and teach your partner yourself).

Untangling a co-dependant relationship will take time and effort, and courage.
But the reward is great: a relationship of two strong, independent people who choose to be together rather than stay together because they fear being alone.

Why do people do what they do?

Frequently in my practice the question arises on what other people's motivations are, and my clients often ponder way too much on what "made" their partner, parent, boss, colleague, act the way they did.

That pondering usually involves a vigorous work-out of their peanut.

Yet the answer to the question "why does a person do what they do" in most cases involves that other person's emotional world, and not something you said or did to them.

So the endless questioning of "but why do they do that?" will very often not have an answer that pertains to your behaviour.

An example:
You have a string of great dates with a man, over several weeks/months, and suddenly, out of the blue, he stops returning your calls. Unless you have smacked him in the face, literally or metaphorically, during your last date, it is unlikely that his "ghosting" you has anything to do with you, but rather comes from his getting cold feet, or having met someone else, or whatever his reasons are - "his" in that they pertain to him, and not to you.

Another, more straight-forward one:
Your husband beats you up (physically or emotionally). You keep questioning yourself what you have done wrong, to deserve such a treatment. The answer is nothing. Nothing you can do makes you deserving of domestic abuse.

By all means, do look into your conscience to see if you have done anything wrong; but if you can't find anything, try the explanation that it is their stuff, their baggage, and has not much to do with you. And once you can see what is their stuff, you can let it go, and work on your own.

Now why would I discourage anyone from spending too much questioning another's motives?

Because in a way, as long as you keep wondering, possibly looking for explanations/excuses for the other's behaviour, it prevents you from asking yourself the real question (and to draw conclusions from the answer): "is that behaviour acceptable?" and its corollary "why do I put up with it?".

It may just be more useful to spend time understanding what is said rather than thinking about why it is said.

Anxiety, allergies, asthma - modern world diseases with something in common...

Anxiety is everywhere - children, teenagers, adults, older people, it spares no-one.
At the same time, there is a huge recrudescence of allergies and asthma - who had heard about anaphylaxis in the 60s? And the "kid with asthma" used to be a one-off.

What happened to our world? Are we just more "wimpy" than before?
I don't think so. There really seems to have been an extreme change over the last 100 years.

Here's my theory:

For a very long time we were faced with real physiological threats.
We were confronted with parasites, dirt, bacteria.
Our immune systems were honed over tens of thousands of years to respond to these threats in order to keep us alive.

Over the last 100 years, the standards of hygiene in our societies have been lifted to lofty levels.
First we eliminated dirt, which in turn reduced the parasites we were exposed to (think intestinal worms etc). Then we went "anti-bacterial".

Now our immune system freaks out over anything out of the ordinary - "oh my god, a cat hair!" "yikes, the fungus on a peanut!" - because its role is to keep us safe from the unknown, and not being exposed to any crap early on means pretty much everything is unknown to our bodies.

Countless studies have shown that children are more likely to develop asthma in households where the cleaning standards are extremely high, and where there are no pets, which are just lovely furry collectors of dirt, bacteria and parasites (I'm glad to report that my kids have never been exposed to such a pristine environment lol).

Anxiety follows a similar pattern.

For millennia we were exposed to danger, violence and untimely deaths, starting with the sabre tooth tiger and finishing with human wars...

Our generation (Gen X in my case) has been lucky.
We benefit from a reasonable rule of law, our cities are safe and we haven't known war on our soil.
We are very rarely faced with real threats to our life and limbs.

And hence our psychological threat baseline has become very low. Anxiety, an emotion the purpose of which is to keep us safe from recurrent danger, no longer gets exercised to keep us safe from the risk of getting eaten by animals or killed by humans, but instead gets triggered when we're afraid of not getting the promotion at our job, don't write straight A's at school or when we get an attack of FOMO - the fear of missing out (on fun stuff).

Now, I'm not suggesting we should give up progress, bathe our kids in dirt and have some more wars - that would be throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

But there is nothing wrong with questioning the way we do things.
Antibacterial soap certainly has its place in hospitals etc. where some people have compromised immune systems; but most probably doesn't have its place in normal households.

Extreme cleaning - hard to define, but I reckon if you disinfect your whole house every day you may fall into that category - is not only a waste of time (IMHO), but also likely to lead to immune systems which won't be triggered enough in early childhood and hence be more likely to overreact later on.

Regarding anxiety, the solution may be to put things back into perspective.
Is there real harm we're facing?
Or are we more worried about a loss of face or a possible diminution of our (in historical terms extremely high) quality of life?

Next time you feel anxious, ask yourself: "what am I risking here?" or "what is the threat?".
This simple act of rationalisation will help you defuse most anxious feelings.


Post scriptum: if your anxieties stem from actual trauma, if you suffer from PTSD, please consider asking for help, having therapy, to help you deal with it.

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 person 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.