Nov 1

Why You Get Upset (and What You Can Do About It)

Posted in Techniques

I know I said in my last post that I was going to talk this time about undoing the past, but that post isn’t ready in my head yet. (I really need to stop predicting the future, even the bits that I have some control over. It so seldom works out.)

Instead, I’m going to talk about why you get upset, why that’s completely understandable, and what you might do about it if it distresses you. It’s a direct follow-on from How to Hold Your Outcomes Lightly.

Over on my other blog, How to Be Amazing, I wrote recently about what to do when you offend someone. It wasn’t just a random choice of topic. I’d offended some people – not deliberately – with a guest post I wrote on another blog. One of the people I’d offended later came to my “what to do when you offend” post and left a lovely comment, and that got me thinking about why people get upset, as she had originally done.

Why you get upset

You get upset – angry, sad and/or afraid – when you feel threatened. That’s probably not a big revelation, but let’s think about it for a minute and unpack some of the implications.

Any time I’m feeling these strong emotions, it’s because I believe something has threatened my wellbeing. I talked about this last time in The Real Secret.

I have some belief that things “should” or “must” be otherwise than they in fact are, and that because they are not that way my identity, my existence, my wellbeing or the things I value are under threat of destruction.

And the reason that I believe this is that the situation reminds me, in some way, of a situation in which I felt that way before.

Often, what’s going on is what the Transactional Analysis folks call “hooking the not-OK child”. All of a sudden I’m a helpless little kid again, one who’s in a bad situation that he doesn’t know how to deal with. I feel intensely unresourceful in that moment, and so instead of using my many years of experience of solving problems rationally and effectively, I strike out, run away, or turtle up and stop interacting.

When I wrote a post that used stuttering as an analogy for procrastination, I hooked a number of not-OK children who had been teased and bullied for stuttering. I don’t stutter, but I’ve been teased and bullied, and it’s painful. Naturally, in many cases, their first reaction was to strike out. (The non-striking-out ones didn’t leave comments, but I’m sure there were some people in that category too.)

Getting upset is perfectly understandable

Crying
Creative Commons License photo credit: rabble

Getting upset when you feel threatened is understandable. It’s natural. It’s usual. It’s human nature. Everybody does it.

It’s not necessarily desirable.

Crapping in your pants is also natural, also part of human nature, but we teach our children not to do it.

As children, we also get taught not to express our upset, or at least not to express it in particular ways that are unacceptable to our particular parents or their culture. That doesn’t mean, of course, that we don’t get upset, just that we get better at hiding it, and/or express it in ways that were rewarded (or at least ways that escaped the degree of punishment that would have caused us to change our behaviour).

What we seldom get taught is how not to get upset in the first place. The parallel with defecation only goes so far. We have to relieve ourselves regularly, but we don’t have a biological need to regularly get upset.

If we know how not to get triggered, or how to deal with the feelings if they do get triggered, there’s no reason we can’t deal maturely with all of our challenges, without falling into the unresourceful not-OK child mode at all.

Anger, fear and sadness are often distressing, not only to you but to people around you. They don’t usually help to resolve the situation. They are completely understandable, and no blame attaches to you for feeling them (you feel what you feel, and nobody can tell you not to). But it’s often more adaptive and more helpful to give those feelings less control of the situation rather than more.

What happens when you don’t act out of upset

I’m not going to claim any kind of flawless victory in the Incident of the Ill-chosen Metaphor. When I first started to see the comments piling up on my guest post, I was, yes, upset. I had several reactions:

  • Anger at being misinterpreted
  • Defensiveness at being criticized
  • Sadness because I’d hurt other people
  • Fear for my reputation

All of those were natural and understandable.

The thing that I did right, though, was that I didn’t respond immediately and primarily out of those upset feelings. Instead, I:

  • recognised that the upset feelings of the people leaving comments were natural and understandable – I adopted some of their viewpoint.
  • realised that some of their upset came not from what I had said but from what it reminded them of.
  • accepted responsibility for my own role in the situation.
  • apologised.

This had two good outcomes, from my perspective, in that two of the strongest critics calmed down and became much more positive. To use the language of transactional analysis again, by speaking from my Adult I had engaged their Adults and brought them out of the not-OK child. One of them has actually become a subscriber, which is a result well beyond what I expected.

So there are the benefits of not reacting out of upset - but how do you get to do that?

How not to get upset

If you’ve read the Emotional Hamster Wheel ebook that’s part of my free Simple Stress Management Techniques course, you’ll know the answer already.

The key is to start paying attention to your upset reaction so that you can start to slowly, slowly insert wedges between the stimulus (the event that reminds you, rightly or wrongly, of a threat) and the response, and widen the gap.

You can work backwards from the reaction to the irrational beliefs that trigger it off. You can work forwards from it, and put longer and longer pauses in before you react, to give your brain chemistry a chance to normalise and your rational brain to come back online.

And you can use self-calming techniques (such as the ones in the other ebook in Simple Stress Management Techniques) to reduce the intensity of your feelings in the moment and let you see above the emotional alligators.

With time and practice, you’ll be able to do it without as much concentration.

It’ll become natural and usual. Like second nature.

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Oct 13

How (and Why) to Let Go of Emotions

Posted in Techniques

“Don’t choke don’t choke don’t choke…”

As we all know, thoughts like that lead inevitably to choking. Why?

Because trying to suppress a thought gives it power. It’s like pushing against a spring. The harder you push, the more force it pushes back with.

I was reminded of this recently by a post on PsyBlog: 8 Ironic Effects of Thought Suppression. It’s not just thoughts of failure this happens with. Whether you’re trying not to be attracted to someone or not to mention a secret, trying not to be depressed or trying to fall asleep, the harder you try, the more you fail.

Psychocybernetics

Back in the 1960s, Maxwell Maltz had an explanation for this. His book Psychocybernetics (which is excellent, by the way) talks about your mind as a guided missile, heading for the goals you present to it most vividly.

So when you’re trying to think unsexy thoughts, guess what happens?

Your mind heads straight for what you are so vividly imagining.

Suppressing thoughts takes effort

Of course, we can suppress thoughts to a certain degree. But it does take effort. A study in Biological Psychology led by Philippe R. Goldin used brain scans to investigate the difference between two strategies for dealing with distressing thoughts: expressive repression (that is, keeping a “stiff upper lip” and not showing your distress), and cognitive reappraisal (changing the way you think about the distressing situation). Expressive repression was less effective – and took more mental effort.

And this is why it’s harder to suppress thoughts when we’re tired. A pattern I’ve noticed with the people who come to me for help in changing the way they eat goes like this: In the early part of the day, even up to the afternoon, they eat healthily. But when they get home from work, they head for the junk food and undo all their good work.

One likely reason is that they’re tired, and the thoughts they’ve been suppressing all day about how good some chocolate would taste have become stronger than their ability to control them.

How not to be a (thought-suppression) hero

I wanna be just like Spiderman!
Creative Commons License photo credit: The World According To Marty

So, if the battle against thoughts we don’t want to think is doomed to failure, what can we do instead?

We can think the thoughts and then let them go.

Both parts are equally important. Thinking the thoughts (which you’ve actually been doing anyway while you were trying to suppress them) brings them out into the clear light of day and gives our rationality time to kick in. Particularly for thoughts that hold a strong emotional charge, we respond emotionally before we respond rationally, and if we instantly react by pushing the thoughts down again, all we’re doing is winding ourselves up emotionally. We’re never thinking about the thoughts.

Often, when you think about a thought, it becomes obvious that it’s a stupid thought and you don’t really want to act on it. How often have you done something stupid and said, “I didn’t think that all the way through?”

Think your thoughts all the way through. Say you’re attracted to someone inappropriate, for example. Let yourself think about that. Your mind will come up with all the reasons that the attraction is inappropriate and the relationship couldn’t work.

The feeling, of course, will very likely still be there. And this is where the letting go comes in.

Letting thoughts and feelings go

If you’ve been reading my stuff for any length of time you probably know what’s coming next. Yes, it’s the Welcoming Practice. It’s such a good one that I keep teaching it at every opportunity.

First, notice how the feeling is in your body. Where is it located? What is it like? Is it warm, cool, tight, loose? Become aware of it as a body sensation. This simultaneously connects you to it and distances you from it – it’s like letting the thought come into consciousness. It stops the suppression and your attempts to ignore it, but it also gives you enough space to look at it from the outside instead of being carried along in it.

Second, name and acknowledge the feeling. Naming it sets up a circuit between the “feeling” and “rational” parts of your brain and starts to siphon off the activation of the “feeling” part. In the classic Welcoming Practice, you actually say “Welcome, [name of feeling]“, hence the name of the practice. You’re acknowledging the feeling as a part of yourself, as a genuine reaction. You’re not trying to push it away any more. (You’re not, of course, welcoming the situation that led to the feeling, which may be quite harmful and wrong.)

Take your time over each step. When you’re ready, the third step is to gently let the feeling go. Allow its activation to subside, without having led to any action. You might even make a mental or physical gesture of letting something go from your hand. I usually take a deep breath and let it slowly out as I let go of the feeling.

Now you can move on with your life.

Practicing the Welcoming Practice

You may have to keep letting the thoughts and feelings go for a while before they stop bothering you. That’s OK. It’s no more effort than you were spending suppressing them, after all, and that wasn’t working, whereas letting them go will.

So take a moment right now to set yourself a mental alarm. Take a few deep breaths, relax in your chair, close your eyes and tell yourself, “When I’m suppressing a thought or feeling, I notice and remember what to do. I think the thought and let the feeling go.”

For extra effectiveness, write that down and put it somewhere you’re going to see it frequently.

I think you’ll be surprised by the results.

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Sep 6

How Not to Change Your Life: Try For Too Much Too Soon

Posted in Techniques

This is the last post in the epic How Not to Change Your Life series. Next week, I’ll let you know more details about the upcoming book based on the series, and what’s going to happen next on the blog.

Today, though, I want to talk about trying for too much too soon, because it’s one of the classics of not changing your life.

Whether you’re trying to lose weight, get fit or build a skill, aiming too high to start with will reliably result in failure – and not always the good kind of failure, either. (The good kind of failure is the kind that you learn from and treat as education, feedback or a course correction.)

Thing is, when you have a great goal, when you’ve pictured it in your mind, when you’ve maybe imagined yourself in the future situation – which is a good motivational technique, done right – it seems closer than it really is. And therein lies the trap.

The sticky middle

Beginnings are fun. They’re fresh and exciting.

Endings are fun. They bring a sense of completion and achievement.

Middles? Middles are not so much fun. But if you’re going to do anything worthwhile, the middle is going to be the biggest part.

I have a fitness challenge. I’m in the middle of it. I started seriously in March, I think it was, and really seriously in May, and now it’s September and I’m still not there. I got the persistent cold that’s been going round this year, and it set me back from “almost at my first goal” to “not anywhere close”. I’m frustrated.

I have to work with that. I have to work with the fitness that I have and build on it as much as I’m able to – but no more, because that way lies injury and further months of being in the middle. I went for a run the other day, with the Couch to 5k iPhone app, which coaches you through a sequence of running and walking. (Over the several weeks it’s supposed to take, you gradually run more and walk less, until you’re running all the time.) I skipped the last run segment, because I could feel my body starting to protest seriously at the strain of its first run in a couple of weeks.

I wasn’t going to leave myself in pain for three days just to finish the day’s programme. There’s a time to persevere, and a time to stop.

Achieving anything worthwhile takes time

Look at advertisements for weight loss. I saw a billboard the other day advertising a six-week weight-loss programme (by the title, it also involved exercise). It put the words “six weeks” next to the illustration of a body that I am morally certain could not be achieved in six weeks by the average person, by any known means.

Why do people run these advertisements? Because they work. The products don’t work, but the advertisements work. Everyone wants a body like that in six weeks. Never mind that it actually takes at least six months if you also have, you know, a life (and if everything goes smoothly, and you don’t give up because you’re discouraged at your slow progress).

And that’s the real problem. Having created a false expectation, the programme or product fails to deliver the achievement you were after, and even though it’s delivering progress, you give up because it’s not what you expected.

Head in Hands
Creative Commons License photo credit: Alex E. Proimos

A crowded life is hard to change

The other pitfall in trying for too much too soon – apart from the inevitable disappointment – is that if you’re a serious-minded person, you’ll probably put in a lot of work trying to achieve the impossible. You’ll devote a lot of time and attention to it. You’ll leave yourself very little time for rest and restoration, or simple human being.

And simple human being is essential if you’re going to change your life in any positive way. (I’ll go into that in more depth in the book.)

Thing is, if you’re scheduling yourself solid and never leaving time to think, reflect and unwind, you may achieve external success, but your inner life, which is in many ways your true life, will remain profoundly unchanged – or even change for the worse.

It takes a lifetime to learn to live

I’m in a study group where we’re going through some booklets based on the teachings of Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk, mystic and poet. There are questions for reflection after the readings, and the other night, one of the questions was something like, “What would you tell a young person about learning to live more joyfully?”

We’re all similar in that we’re slowly overcoming a tendency to take ourselves too seriously, so we came to an easy consensus. We’d tell young people (like our younger selves) not to worry so much, that it was all going to come out basically OK in the end, and to do their best to enjoy the ride.

We’re mostly in our 40s. I don’t know what an older group would say, but that’s what we’ve learned so far about changing our lives. Treating everything as urgent and serious is a recipe for anxiety, but it doesn’t get you to a helpful place any quicker.

Striking the balance

You won’t change your life if you do nothing. But you won’t change it if you take on too much and fail, either. Somewhere in the middle (there’s that word again) is the Goldilocks spot, where you’re making consistent effort, doing consistent and regular practice, within your capabilities, in a way that grows those capabilities to where you want to be.

That place of balance isn’t a cruisy place. It’s challenging – but it’s not desperate. It’s near, on or maybe just slightly beyond the outer edge of your comfort zone. It’s stretching, but not agonising.

I recently joined Toastmasters, and because this is the time of year that competitions are held, before I’ve even scheduled my first speech, I’m in a speech competition. I had two choices: the humourous speech contest, or the Table Topics contest (where you speak for one to two minutes on a topic that you don’t know about in advance).

I was going to enter the humourous contest, but I changed my mind. From the meetings I’ve attended so far, I’ve discovered that I’m good at Table Topics (as I ought to be, having done a 10-week improv course and been a client-centred hypnotherapist for several years). I felt I had a reasonable chance of even winning that contest, whereas doing a humourous speech as my “Icebreaker”, the first-ever Toastmasters speech, was probably too ambitious.

I went for the more achievable option, because it was still challenging enough to be a growth opportunity, but one I was likely to do well in. Result? I won. I’m in the area competition next week. The club I’m part of is located in the central city, which means I’m likely to have some serious opposition – top corporate people with a lot more experience. And my feeling is, bring it on!

That’s striking the balance. Every so often, sure, it’s worth trying something that you know you might fail spectacularly at, just to have the experience. But you need to go into that with your eyes open to the likelihood of failure, and be prepared to go on anyway, whatever the result.

Don’t set yourself up for failure by trying for too much, too soon.

Well, that concludes our series on How Not to Change Your Life. Tune in next week to hear more about how it’s going to become a book, and what’s next for the Living Skillfully blog.

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