Joe Guse on Chris Farley

Saturday, February 3, 2018

Fixing the broken windows in our lives

I have a little confession.


As a psychologist, I don’t always enjoy reading the work of other psychologists. The standard formula is often taking an idea, outlining it in the first chapter, and then just kind of repeating that idea for the next 400 pages or so. Plus there’s too much jargon. I know the jargon and don’t even use the jargon. Our clients rarely care too much about that stuff.


There have however been some wonderful books written about psychology by journalists that have shed some light on why we do what we do. The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell was one of these books. In this book, he explored a theory of crime and urban decay called “fixing broken windows.’ A summary:


“If a window is broken and left unrepaired, people walking by will conclude that no one cares. Soon, more windows will be broken, and the sense of anarchy will spread from the building to the street, sending a signal that anything goes.”


In other words, when you let the little things go, the bigger things can soon pile up as a result. The creators of the theory demonstrated the idea in a number of cities and found it almost always held up.


Beyond economics and crime, I think there is perhaps also an application for those of us managing the problems in our day to day lives.


When we ignore the little things long enough, they often become big things.

There are many examples of these broken windows in our lives. Maybe we’re feeling disrespected or unappreciated at work and have begun calling in sick more often and slacking off. Perhaps it’s been a few weeks since we’ve been intimate with our partners when we once had a healthy and active sexual life together. Maybe we notice our once happy-go-lucky child is all of a sudden distant and avoidant.


It’s easy to ignore broken windows at first. Maybe we simply tell ourselves things will go back to normal soon enough. Or that it’s just a blip. Or perhaps not worth the trouble of talking about.



But as I’ve learned the hard way in my own life, broken windows become very messy houses if we leave them long enough. Unreturned phone calls become estranged relationships. An irritating work situation becomes full on insubordination. Failing to discuss relationship disagreements becomes going to bed a little later and almost a complete lack of affection.


Broken windows...



We can address these broken windows by learning to embrace assertive communication. As we see from the graphic above, all of the other three primary modes of communication end with someone losing. When we are passive, we sacrifice our own needs. When we are aggressive, we neglect someone else’s needs. And perhaps the most irritating of them all is passive-aggressive communication, where we are clearly bothered by something and punish both ourselves and others rather than actually talking about it.


Assertive behavior is not always easy. When our emotions get involved, it’s really easy to either heat up or shut down. Assertive behavior requires us to manage these emotional surges and ask, “what problem are we actually trying to solve here?” Even the best of us (I’m not one) get it wrong. Get it wrong a lot.


Broken windows also occur all the time with our physical health. Maybe we’re not sleeping nearly as well as we used to, but chalk it up to a bad run rather than exploring the root of the problem. Perhaps we’re experiencing pain somewhere in our bodies but ignore it rather than go to the doctor and potentially hear some bad news (men are notorious for this.)


Both physical and emotional pain usually starts with a broken window. A warning sign. A little red flag letting us know that something is not quite right.

This is, in fact, one of the primary purposes of pain. To open a window and let us know that something needs checking out.


In 2018, I have resolved to start fixing a number of my own broken windows. I emailed someone I was at odds with, made an appointment with a doctor, and took my car into the shop. In all three cases, I actually felt tremendous relief when I got up and fixed those windows.


Give some thought to the broken windows in your life. I bet you can find a few that need a little attention.


We've all got a few.




Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Learning to remove the masks we wear

“We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.” 
― André Berthiaume

“What we share may be a lot like a traffic accident, but we get one another. We are survivors of each other. We have been shark to one another, but also lifeboat. That counts for something.”
Margaret Atwood

I spend a great deal of my time explaining to people what words like depression and anxiety actually mean.

I fail at this quite often.




In thinking about why this might be, I began showing people this illustrated comic instead to gauge their reactions and see if it increased their understanding of mental health.




It did. It does. In almost every case. 


What the comic so succinctly demonstrates, is that living with a mental health condition is often a question of hide and seek. Of showing one thing to the world and then living a completely different reality to yourself. Sometimes this gets confusing. We try to be good actors, but the issues begin to seep out. Irritability, anger, insomnia, missing work. There are all possible signs that something is not quite right with people, and they are evidence that a person's mental health issues are getting harder and harder to hide. 



No matter how good of an actor they might be.


My professional "bread and butter" has been examining how this works in the life of comedians. In many cases, there is a lot of sadness behind the laughter, and comedy is a way of processing and filtering these emotions. 


But this goes way beyond comedy, and I think is probably as prevalent in the lives of almost anyone who has mental health issues they want to keep "secret." If you break your leg, no one quibbles about taking a day off from work. But "mental health days" are still code for an extra day of vacation. And surely some of us have used them like that. But in reality, they can be just as debilitating. Suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death among people 15 to 29, and much of this is also a result of untreated depression. 

There are a number of reasons we strive to keep these feelings secret. In many cases, we don't want to appear weak or vulnerable or perceived as unable to keep up at work or at home. Perhaps we don't want to be a burden to the people we love. Maybe we've tried to talk about it before and been misunderstood.

And so we wear the masks. And they come in many shapes and sizes. That lady furiously typing away with her headphones on is wearing the "busy" mask so she doesn't have to talk to anyone and risk saying the wrong thing. The guy at work who jokes about his drunken escapades every weekend wears the "clown" mask to deflect others away from his addictions and depression. At perhaps most common is the "I'm fine" mask, where people simply change the subject or avoid talking about issues or problems in their lives.

The problem is the acting eventually gets exhausting. We smile through gritted teeth and laugh through internal tears and give people the "I'm fine" routine in the middle of an internal tornado.

So how do we learn to remove the masks?

Mental health stigma has come a long way in the last 20 years, but it still has a long way to go. Some companies have begun investing in mental health programs for their employees and seen their productivity soar. Even "The Improv" which is one of the most famous comedy clubs in the world now employs mental health professionals. People are starting to get the hang of this.

Although talking to professionals is challenging, I think it's even harder to talk to the people we are closest to sometimes. It means stepping out of our comfort zones and showing people something we may not want them to see. Even in relationships, we create impressions. Perhaps even more so than with strangers. We love our "I'm fines" and "It's okay" and "I don't wanna talk about its." They become such a regular part of our conversations that they become clichés.

I've always loved this quote from Tom Robbins about risk.  He writes, “You risked your life, but what else have you ever risked? Have you risked disapproval? Have you ever risked economic security? Have you ever risked a belief? I see nothing particularly courageous about risking one's life. So you lose it, you go to your hero's heaven and everything is milk and honey 'til the end of time. Right? You get your reward and suffer no earthly consequences. That's not courage. Real courage is risking something that might force you to rethink your thoughts and suffer change and stretch consciousness. Real courage is risking one's clichés.”

So perhaps we need to begin to risk our clichés. To take a chance and talk about things before they fester. To catch ourselves in these "I'm fine" moments and take a chance that maybe, just maybe, someone else has also felt the way we have and can offer some understanding. 

Maybe we're walking right by people that have been there and can help.

In closing, I would like to include a poem from Shel Silverstein. He's known as a children's author. You can believe that if you want. It's a great little poem about the things we share and don't summon the courage to talk about.

“She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by-
And never knew.” 
Shel Silverstein, Every Thing on It

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Blue Monday and the 3 Ghosts of the Holiday Season

For those that don't know, Monday, January 15th is "Blue Monday" this year. What is Blue Monday, you may ask? It's supposed to be the most depressing day of the year. There's even a formula for it calculating the weather, debt level (specifically, the difference between debt and our ability to pay), the amount of time since Christmas, time since failing our new year's resolutions, low motivational levels and the feeling of a need to take charge of the situation. Although the origins of Blue Monday are actually quite dubious, there is some truth that January can be kind of a depressing month. 


As someone quite familiar with Seasonal Affective Disorder as both a patient and a doctor, I know this plays a role. After the anticipation of Christmas there's always a bit of a letdown, and in the US at least, the weather often turns truly dreadful. That certainly is a factor.

But I also think there's something about the holiday season that might contribute a little bit. I came to this idea while watching one of those Hallmark Christmas movies with my mother. I watched for a minute and scoffed at the hackneyed formula playing on people's emotions and sentimentality. An hour later I was sitting with a box of tissues rooting for the grizzled town veterinarian to finally find love with the lonely widow. What can I say? Fruitcake makes me emotional.

The first ghost as per the Dickens' legend is the ghost of Christmas past. This is the ghost of regret. For some, it's another year where they haven't met their goals, found love, improved their financial situation, or whatever. For others, being with family after a long layoff stirs up a number of old feelings of not being good enough and letting people down. Others remain estranged from their families, which can be particularly lonely and painful at Christmas time. 

The 2nd ghost is the ghost of Christmas present. This is the ghost of stress. Many of us worry about how we're going to make it all work financially. Others may worry a great deal about how they look, or where they are in their lives, or how they're going to make it through another year without a catastrophe. For parents, there is that pressure to meet expectations and make the holidays special for their children without also going into financial ruin. I remember my own mother working about three different jobs during the month of December so my brothers and I could beat the shit out of each other with our transformers. A lot of parents make that sacrifice. 

The third ghost is the ghost of Christmas future. This is the ghost of anxiety. Anxiety is a future-oriented fear. The unknown. Things hovering in the future that we haven't resolved and spend a lot of time worrying about. Maybe it's our health, or finding love, or passing a test, or paying our bills. All of us have these worries, and they seem to intensify in the middle of January if the Blue Monday equation is to be believed.

So perhaps the most important question is, how do we keep our heads above water during these tough times? That first week back to work? The first big credit card bill that comes? 

In the Hallmark movies, all of that stuff just kind of works itself out, but real life isn't so simple. Many of us have a plan for the new year to do things differently, and perhaps we've already started to slip a little. As gym owners all over the world can tell you, there is a huge difference between motivation and discipline. Motivation is dreaming of looking great and exercising like crazy for a day trying to get there. Discipline is going to the gym with a hangover a week later on a day you really don't feel like wanting to go. Strive for discipline. 

Beyond the usual "goal" stuff, I think we can also do a little better job managing those ghosts. Maybe it's swallowing our pride and making peace with someone from our past (one of my projects this year). Perhaps it's sending someone a short note telling them we're thinking about them in the new year. Or maybe it's even forgiving ourselves for something that is weighing heavily on our minds.


Although January is a time to unbury ourselves from the month before, perhaps it's also an opportunity to erase the etch-a-sketch and start with a clean palette of self-forgiveness and compassion.




And we can also resolve to do a little better with the people in our lives this year. Listen a little better, pay a little closer attention, stay in touch a little more. Be grateful that we all get another spin around the universe this year. Not everyone does.


Let's use our time as kindly as we can this year.



Wednesday, November 8, 2017

In Search of the Poetic Memory

The brain appears to possess a special area which we might call poetic memory and which records everything that charms or touches us, that makes our lives beautiful ... Love begins with a metaphor. Which is to say, love begins at the point when a woman enters her first word into our poetic memory.
Milan Kundera- The Unbearable Lightness of Being 

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.
Roy Batty- Blade Runner (Who just wanted a little more time)



The year was 2008 and my life was stuck in neutral. I was finishing up my doctorate and was a grown-up man with bad furniture and ramen noodles in the cupboard. 



I needed an adventure.



With this in mind, I booked an impromptu trip to Ireland and left on a moment’s notice. Not being a wealthy guy at this juncture of my life, I stayed in a hostel, where I met a nice couple from Australia and a beautiful girl from Spain. 



Later that night, I sat with my new Spanish friend on the bridge at the River Liffey, and she told me about her life in Spain and some things she had been through. She talked about how she was alone in the world and in transition in her life and needing to make a human connection.


And then, our stories just kind of converged in that time and in that moment. It was sweet, romantic, and sadly fleeting. 















That was a poetic memory. 




Milan Kundera writes about this idea so beautifully and describes those little moments in our lives that etch their way into our “forever” memory. These are the things we come back to over and over. For many people, this might be the first time their partner said something that made them seem totally unique. And it doesn’t even have to be romantic stuff either. Maybe it’s something a teacher said we always remembered, or a compliment we received that was so unique it kept us going for years. These are those things that stand out in our minds in the wake of constant new information and experiences. The good stuff. The memory hooks. The mile markers. 



One theory of aging posits that time seems to move a lot faster when we get older because we have less and less of these memory “hooks” as we move into more responsible lives. In our 20’s we take more chances and travel and try on a lot of different places and people. This gets harder as we get older, and the years “fly by.”



As a frequent traveler, I thought about how this idea applied in my life. Often when I travel, I immerse myself in the local scene and try and find the exciting people and the adventure. But a couple of times in a row recently, I found myself staring at my phone more than I did introducing myself to new people. And in thinking about this, I knew that this was exactly how we lose those hooks. 



Staring down at your phone when you’re alone in a strange situation may certainly ease a moment of awkwardness.



 But it may also cost you a potential lifetime of memories. 



I decided to put my theory to the test on a recent trip to Wellington when I left my phone back at the room before I started my day. It was how I had traveled during the best years of my life, and I wanted to see how this might work in these more “modern” times. 



And so I wandered down strange streets with no google maps, no trip advisor, and no Yelp to guide me. I followed my nose down alleys, through laneways, and into some strange and exotic looking neighborhoods. 



I found a lovely little brewery down one of these laneways and immediately felt around in my pocket for my phone. That’s what we do now, right? Check our phones as a reaction to even the slightest moment of awkwardness, boredom, or social discomfort?



But this wasn’t an option, and I immediately struck up a conversation with the bartender, who provided me with a number of great ideas about the city.



But that wasn’t even the end of the story!! 


A lovely Irish lass overheard us talking and laughing and soon went to the back of the establishment and fished out a “beer map” of the city for me. She even accompanied me around to a few of the places on the map and introduced me around. 


This story does not end with a romantic interlude on a bridge. But it was a really amazing day. One I’m sure I’ll remember for a long time.


I’m not sure the day would have ever happened if I had brought my phone.


Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating for some tech-free utopian society. In many ways, our lives are made easier by GPS, Google Maps, and even Tinder. But perhaps there is a cost. Perhaps the “escape” these devices provide, keeps us locked in comfort zones that we may sometimes need to wander out of. This was certainly true for me. 


One thing I learned from my time working in nursing homes was that all of the “stuff” we accumulate will mean very little one day. Even the wealthiest patients I knew essentially ended up surrounded by what could fit into a small room. And the few things they did take with them into these little rooms? They weren’t their nicest things or their most beautiful clothes. They were pictures of their best memories. Times from their youth. Or perhaps something from when their kids were young. Memories. The best memories. The poetic memories. 




We should be making all of them we possibly can. Trust me as someone who spent years working with the elderly and the dying, that one day these memories will be the most valuable currency you have. 



Now go and find some little moments.



And put down your phone once in a while!!

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

An open letter to those in the helping professions about self care




Are you still reading? Good. I couldn’t think of a good title for this essay.


But I do have an important point to make about getting rid of toxic energy. Especially for those of us who spend our time helping and listening to others.



Now then, just imagine.


You begin your career as a nurse, doctor, psychologist, etc. as a brand new untouched sponge. You can absorb a lot. Terrible stories, trauma, uncooperative clients, bureaucracy, problems with insurance companies, etc. The water comes pouring in again and again and again. But you can handle it. You trained for this.



But as the years go by, the water gets a little dirtier and the sponge gets a little heavier. Maybe it doesn’t even clean things as well as it used to after a while.



And you probably see where this is going by now.


The sponge needs to be squeezed out. All that dirty water takes its toll. Sure the sponge gets a little more frayed around the edges, but really, it should be rinsed out every day.



But let me back up for a minute and tell you a story.



The year was 2005, and I was looking for my first job in the realm of psychology. I talked my way into a job as a biofeedback therapist at a prominent headache clinic, and set to work teaching relaxation and coping skills to people with severe headaches. It was interesting work and I learned a lot, but all day long I heard one word. Headache. And I sympathized! I saw the pained look on people’s faces and got very involved in their lives. I listened, learned, and in many cases even helped. But you know what else happened??



I started getting headaches...



I learned I was not the only one. Many of the doctors, nurses, and even receptionists that worked there got headaches as well.



You see, hearing all of those stories about headaches was like water pouring into the sponge. Often times when we sympathize, and in particular when we empathize with people, we help them share their pain.



But we also in many ways absorb it.


Much has been said about the importance of self-care, supervision, and maintaining a level of personal detachment with our patients. It all sounds pretty good. But the fact of the matter is there are often more patients than people to help them, and I have found this to be a universal truth around the world. And often the people that care spend the most amount of time with the people they are caring for, which means less time to do paperwork, more time spent at work, and in many cases even taking work home after we stop giving paid.


I’ve found this to be true in every office, hospital, state, and even country I have ever worked in.


In many cases, this leads to caring professionals feeling completely overwhelmed, Tired. Stressed. Burned out.


We need to remember to squeeze that sponge. To let that toxic energy out. To repair and refresh ourselves.



How do we do this? Sometimes it’s getting help of our own from fellow professionals. After all, who helps the people that help? Maybe it’s something simpler like making time to listen to some of your favorite music every night, or making sure we are prioritizing time with friends and family. It could also mean taking care of our bodies by getting enough sleep and not eating on the run all the time. Maybe it’s turning your phone off when work is done and drawing appropriate boundaries around work time versus personal time. It could be time in nature, or a night out dancing, or playing a stupid video game for a couple of hours. Whatever it is for you, make sure you're making time for it!




I’ve seen many, many good nurses, doctors, cops, psychologists and teachers who had to give up something they were good at because they couldn't separate the personal and the professional. And the world lost something good because of it.


And maybe you aren't "officially" in the helping professions, but simply someone who is a good listener. Perhaps your friends and family sense this and unburden themselves to you all the time without realizing the weight they sometimes leave behind. This applies to you as well.


We can’t set ourselves on fire to keep other people warm all the time.


We need to squeeze that sponge.


So for those of you that do spend your lives helping others, please take this as a gracious thank you for all you do, as well as a bit of advice. Your family, health, and even sanity will all be better for taking some time to prioritize your own self-care.




Now rinse out that dirty water!


Sunday, September 3, 2017

Here Comes the Sun

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right
~George Harrison (The Beatles)


All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.
~Anatole France


If you listen closely enough, you’ll begin to realize that your life has a soundtrack. Think about it. I’ll bet there are certain songs that have kind of followed you around throughout your life.



Here comes the sun is one of the songs on my soundtrack. I often hear this song following a period when life has knocked me down a little bit. And there’s a bit of a literal connotation as well. As a long time sufferer of Seasonal Affective Disorder, I love the message of hope that the song conveys.



Even the worst winters have to end sometime.



Most recently, I heard the song while sitting in a bar on the gorgeous Riverwalk in San Antonio. I was on a great vacation, spending time with my family, and seeing some amazing things.



And yet that particular night I was feeling down. I was thinking of my vacation coming to an end, and thinking how little time I had with my mother now that I lived overseas, and a little tired from a very active vacation.



And then I heard my song! Here comes the sun. It was exactly what I needed in that moment, and I sang along with every word and then gave the singer a big tip. It was the perfect song to return me to the present moment. The only place I needed or wanted to be.


But in working with clients for a decade now, and in battling with my own issues over the years, I’ve learned the hard way that some winters last longer than others. Some of the seasons of our lives can be very stubborn, and we begin to lose hope that anything can ever change. But go back to your hometown some time and take a look around. I’ll bet you everything has changed. That’s the way life is. We never see the changes in a day but are often astounded by the changes over the years.



But in these dark seasons, we can learn to alter our responses. One of the most effective treatments for depression is something called behavioral activation. It sounds like a fancy psychological idea. It’s not. It’s basically a term for “doing stuff.” Even when we don’t feel like it. Join a group. Take a guitar lesson. Get together with some friends once a week for coffee. It’s amazing how even one little circle on a calendar can restore a little hope. For me, I ALWAYS have a trip planned. Even if it’s a little one. It reminds me that better times are ahead and that I have something to look forward to.


Sometimes it’s hard to see things clearly though. You try meds, and therapy, and exercise, and gluten free brownies and just about anything else to try and beat the blues. But it doesn’t work. None of it works. And sometimes this is because the only thing that really alleviates depression is time. The passage of time regulates seasons in the mind much like it regulates the seasons of the earth. Dark moods don’t last forever. Neither do great ones. Such is the transitory nature of time, life, moods, and seasons.




When we can accept and understand this, we can deal with it.




Even in the darkest of seasons.




And meanwhile back in the Southern Hemisphere, the first day of spring has just arrived. It’s been a long, cold, lonely, winter.



But here comes the sun.



And I say.




It’s alright….


Saturday, July 22, 2017

Dance like no one is watching



“We do not have ideology. We do not have theology. We dance.”
Shinto priest to Joseph Campbell


Come dancing,
Come on sister, have yourself a ball.
Don't be afraid to come dancing,
It's only natural.
The Kinks- Come Dancing

And we danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced
We were liars in love and we danced
Swept away for a moment by chance
And we danced and danced and danced.

The Hooters-And we Danced



It’s winter in New Zealand. In July.



I’m used to July being a fun month, it's not here.



So what’s a gal to do? Think outside the box a little. So that's just what I did this weekend. I found a Neil Diamond impersonator who was playing a show way out in the sticks. I was sold!!



But that’s not the most interesting part of the story.



Just after a glorious version of “Coming to America,” a little lady wandered up to the singer and whispered something into his ear. She gestured towards her friend, who was in a wheelchair, and the singer nodded.



I was intrigued.


A moment later the singer belted into “Sweet Caroline” and the little lady pushed her friend onto the dance floor. She loved Neil Diamond and had loved to dance as a healthier woman, and wanted another tour of the dance floor.


And then the nicest thing happened.


The crowd, who hadn’t had quite enough alcohol to dance, all almost simultaneously joined her on the dance floor. Her face lit up into a huge smile and the singer eventually brought her up on the stage with him. Here is a picture of that moment.



It reminded me of what an extraordinary thing it is to dance. When I was younger I was “too cool” to dance and would hover around the back and look on in judgment.



There’s always a guy like that at every party. Don’t be him.



Nowadays, I’m often one of the first people on the dance floor. I don’t care if I look stupid. A part of me even knows I do. But who cares??



The music (and let’s be honest, the beer) moves me to express myself.



Later, I chatted with the woman and she told me all about her nights spent dancing as a young girl. It reminded me of the lovely song, “Come Dancing” by the Kinks quoted at the beginning of this essay. The song switches on my nostalgia button like crazy.  It’s fun. 80’s. Wistful


So later on, I had the privilege of sharing a dance with the lady in question.  It reminded me to dance while I still can. One day my legs won’t work anymore, I’ll grow old, and I’ll have nothing but memories.


So tonight I decided to make another one.



So for everyone out there that’s “too cool,” I urge you to rethink your position. Dance like no one is watching. If you can master that, you’re winning at life, I promise you.



So I will close with a little picture of me in Costa Rica. Me in all my sweaty, non-Spanish speaking glory.



I made a lot of new friends that night.. Despite not knowing the language. Music and dancing are universal languages that break down barriers of culture, class, language, and age.


And if you’re ever in New Zealand in July, give me a ring..




I just might take you on a tour of the dance floor to Sweet Caroline.