Force of Habit

A friend of mine recently asked the following question on his Facebook page: “Would you consider hypnosis to eliminate a bad habit?” That question got me thinking about how enduring habits can be and how hard to break.

Routines are important to human existence. Imagine if every day, you had to think about each and every action you needed to take. Such tasks as getting dressed, brushing teeth, putting on the coffee, and driving one’s known route to work are all made easier when we don’t really need to think about them. And they become so ingrained that when circumstances change, we still accidentally do some things on a sort of auto pilot. Who among has never followed a familiar route while driving and then realized we were actually supposed to be going a different way?

Habits are a bit more idiosyncratic. We develop them for a myriad of reasons. Many bad habits started in childhood when we attempted to soothe ourselves in times of distress. Thumb sucking, nail biting, and knuckle cracking (my personal bugaboo) are a few of these habits that become so ingrained in a child, it’s hard to break them of it. I remember my cousin telling me that she used to have to wear gloves to bed to break her habit of sucking on her fingers. And to this day, when I am feeling stressed, I start cracking my knuckles, a habit that has not been kind to the looks of my fingers.

People also develop habits around eating, drinking, and other substance use. The nature of many things we ingest makes them addictive or habit-forming. Smoking in particular is a damaging addiction that people spend years and serious money on eliminating. For these people, hypnosis might be just the ticket to helping them rid themselves of the destructive habit. My eating habits are the area in which I struggle. The temptation to eat sweets is something I have had all my life, and my sweet tooth just doesn’t want to give up.

I’ve read that it can take months or even a year to eliminate a bad habit. The best way to get rid of one seems to be to develop a new habit to replace it. This is easier said than done, though. Accountability to someone else helps. This is why organizations such as Weight Watchers have regular meetings for members to share their progress and struggles.

COVID-19 has forced many of us to confront our habits, good and bad, as our world has shrunk considerably. At the beginning of the shutdown, I saw a video that depicted a young man, alone and depressed in his apartment. He looked slovenly, and his coffee table was strewn with junk food wrappers and other trash. He slumped on his couch, dejectedly watching television. Then on the TV appeared Gen. William McRaven giving his famous speech about starting to change our lives by making our beds each morning. The young man took McRaven’s advice, and slowly he got himself up and out of his funk by gaining control over his space and his physical body.

Good habits are life-affirming and healthy, particularly when many externally created structures have been eliminated in our lives. We feel better, are more productive, and usually mentally more stable when we develop these life-enhancing routines. It will be my goal in the months ahead to create many more healthy habits and thus eliminate the not so healthy ones. Who’s with me?

An Open Heart

“Approach today with gratitude, understanding, and openness, knowing it offers potential and possibilities.”

This was the mantra in yesterday’s virtual yoga class. And as often happens, it was exactly the message I needed.

Since becoming an empty nester, I have been grappling with my purpose. Years of habit and necessity have caused me to develop routines that no longer suit my life. But looking out into the vastness of possibility can be scary.

For so long I have identified with my primary roles as wife and mother. The myriad tasks and responsibilities associated with these roles have made it easy to forget about some of the aspirations I had when I was younger. Perhaps it is time to dust off those dreams and see if they still fit the woman I have become.

I have also lived in the same home for almost 20 years, a home that served my growing family well. It may be time to open my mind toward new places and living situations. For years my husband has longed to live in a warmer climate, and I have resisted the notion. But I think it is time to open myself to his long-held wish.

Our relationship also needs to move into a new phase, one in which the day-to-day needs of our children are not paramount. We now have the freedom to redesign our marriage, so to speak.

All of these changes require an open heart. Thanks to yoga, I have begun to practice that openness more consciously and intentionally. So I begin today – and the next phase of my life – “with gratitude, understanding and openness, knowing it offers potential and possibilities.”

TMI

Living in the information age is not all it’s cracked up to be. We are constantly bombarded with stories, but I fear we are not always being fed the truth.

Recent events have highlighted the ways in which our media bubbles reinforce our world views. Take the coronavirus. Since news of the pandemic broke and the world began to grapple with its realities, there have been conflicting reports on its severity, the mortality rates, and most importantly, how best to combat the virus. On the one hand, we had disastrous reports from places like Italy and New York, urging the rest of the world to take heed of their overburdened health care systems and shut down. On the other hand, we had leaders downplaying the severity of the outbreak and insisting COVID-19 isn’t much worse than the seasonal flu.

Our latest info wars about coronavirus have involved whether to open schools in the fall for in-person learning. No matter what your position, you can find experts and studies to back up your opinions. The outcry from desperate parents on the one hand is met with resistance from the frightened teaching community on the other. Searching for answers involves wading through a morass of conflicting theories. We are flying blind, yet many of us are certain we know what the best course of action is.

Even with so-called news – that is, factual reporting of real events – we can find stories tailor made for our political and social stances. The unrest in Portland, Oregon, and other big cities is a perfect example. Conservative media outlets portray the protests as lawless nightmares of left-wing anarchists bent on destroying the American way. Left-leaning media depict outrageous militaristic and abusive behavior on the part of police and federal agents against unarmed and defenseless protesters. We can’t even trust the images we see with our own eyes because they are selected with a particular bias.

Lately my husband and I have been arguing about voting by mail, him insisting that voter fraud is a huge problem in America while I argue that reports of so-called fraud are exaggerated by Republicans bent on voter suppression. We are, of course, certain we are right and can trot out stories to bolster our claims. It’s just exhausting.

As a responsible citizen and thinking person, I try my best to stay informed. But with so much information out there, it is a constant and thankless task.

 

Name-Calling the Refuge of the Weak

I like Chicago mayor Lori Lightfoot. She is a tough and no nonsense leader, and I think she will be good for Chicago. So I was disappointed to read yesterday that she had called the head of the police union a “clown,” a “fraud,” and. a “liar.” Lightfoot was angry that FOP President John Catanzara supported having federal troops come into the city to help quell unrest. (“Lightfoot defends insulting text messages sent to FOP president: ‘I don’t take back one word that I said,'” Chicago Tribune, Friday, July 24, 2020) Instead of a reasoned and even impassioned disagreement, Lightfoot lashed out with an ad hominem attack.

Such discourse has become all too commonplace in society today. Our current president actually insulted his way right into the Oval Office by coining nasty nicknames for his opponents (Little Marco,” “Lyin’ Ted Cruz,” “Crooked Hillary”). He referred to Mexicans as “criminals and rapists” and protesters as “thugs” and “sons of bitches.” Once in office, Trump has continued to denigrate his political enemies, minorities, and women. For instance, he recently retweeted a post referring to Hillary Clinton as a “skank.” There seems to be no level too low for our Name-Caller-in-Chief.

In the Trump era, we have seen a true degeneration of discourse in the public sphere. This has been aided by social media, where vitriol and insult can explode across the internet universe. But while it may be upsetting to see ordinary Joes on Facebook or Twitter making nasty remarks, it is far more serious to see prominent elected officials resort to name-calling.

Yesterday Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez made an eloquent speech in the House of Representatives after Republican Rep. Ted Yoho verbally assaulted her on the steps of the U.S. Capitol, calling her “disgusting, crazy and dangerous.” Worse, out of earshot from AOC but within hearing of reporters, Yoho called her “a fucking bitch.” The Democratic women who spoke pointed out that this kind of defamatory language is part of a larger culture of “‘violence and violent language against women.'” (“On House floor, Dems call out verbal assaults against women,” Chicago Tribune, Friday, July 24, 2020)

Name-calling is the refuge of the insecure. We wield it when our arguments are shaky or we don’t care to listen to an opposing point of view. It is also a form of bullying, a way to strike fear into our perceived enemies so as to silence them. And it is extremely detrimental to a civil society. As psychiatrist Ronald Pies points out, “When the most powerful man in the world provides an example of bullying by repeatedly deploying offensive nicknames, this ought to concern us all.” (“Trump’s Nicknames and the Psychology of Bullying,” psychcentral.com, July 8, 2018)

We need to demand more of our leaders at every level. They should be our role models. And when they fail to live up to that standard, we should let them know we are not pleased – at the ballot box.

 

Hurt People Hurt People

What does Donald Trump have in common with a group of alleged gangbangers on the West Side of Chicago who shot and killed a seven-year-old girl?

Natalia Wallace was playing outside her grandmother’s house on the Fourth of July when shots rang out and killed her. Police believe the shooting was retaliation for an earlier killing. And so the cycle of violence that has persisted in poor neighborhoods on the South and West sides of Chicago continues.

There is no straight beeline from young boy to hardened killer. Ruthless gang members were once tiny children with the same needs as everyone else. Unfortunately, they were born victims of poverty and systemic racism that made life much harder for them and their parents. Gangs thrive because they give young men (and women) a sense of belonging, a way to make money, and protection in a harsh world. When a person grows up surrounded by violence and indifference, it is not hard to understand why that same person might come to accept such violence as the norm.

Donald Trump grew up a world away from the mean streets of Chicago. A son of privilege, he was given all kinds of material advantages, and he leveraged those advantages into building a business empire. But according to his niece Mary Trump, Donald Trump grew up in an incredibly abusive and dysfunctional family that wreaked havoc with his psychological development. In her new memoir, she details this dysfunction and shows how it has led to a president with no empathy or moral compass.

Our families are microcosms of our world. To the extent that they provide places of safety and love for us, we are able to function in that world with kindness, empathy and regard for others. Our goal as a society should be to strengthen and support families so that they can raise our future leaders and citizens to uplift rather than tear down.

 

Vanity, Farewell

Since Illinois’ stay at home order began in March, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve worn makeup or fussed with my hair. My wardrobe has consisted of the most casual and comfy of clothes. As the weeks and months stretch on and the gray creeps through my hair, I realize I’ve all but lost my sense of vanity.

When I was a little girl, I wanted nothing more than to wear fancy dresses and high-heeled shoes. I’d wobble around my older sisters’ room in their pumps and smear my lips with their lipstick. As I became a teen, I was acutely aware of my plumpness, my unruly curls, and the many imperfections I found on my face when I looked in the mirror.

Dressing for school, and later work, became a lengthy ordeal that included many ablutions, including putting on a face-full of makeup and trying to tame my thick mane. When I became a mother, many of my vanities started to fade in importance. My body became first and foremost a nourishing and protective vessel for my infant daughter. Of course, I still had to appear out in the world, and I struggled with adult acne and the inevitable changes a woman’s body goes through when she gives birth.

Aging has its own way of humbling our vanities. No matter how fit I try to be, my skin is not as elastic as it used to be. My face has thinned and my body thickened. Dark circles shadow my deep-set eyes and show me the ghosts of my paternal aunts in the mirror. I used to think they were so ancient, and now I am they.

But the pandemic has given me at least one little gift. I see almost no one, and when I do go out, I am wearing a mask that covers most of my face. My inability to go to a hairdresser has made it almost inevitable that I would decide no longer to cover my gray. Most importantly, during a scary time when we are reminded of our own mortality, looks have faded in importance – at least in my mind.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to look good. It’s fun to dress up for a night on the town, gratifying to be complimented or called pretty. But losing the anxiety I used to have around my looks has been a liberating thing. I have gotten used to my unadorned face in the mirror – when I bother to look at all. My husband and kids like the mysterious streams of white and gray running through my hair. They love my face because they love me. And that is as good a reason to forgo vanity as any I can think of.

Writing for Your Life

Writing has always been an important part of my life. As a child, it gave me an outlet for my imagination, and I also got favorable attention both at home and in school for  the stories, poems, and essays I would write. In college a creative writing teacher encouraged daily journal writing, and I developed the habit of exploring my life privately in dozens of black and white composition notebooks over the years.

So it has come as no surprise to me that studies have increasingly shown how writing can help people become happier and more productive. A Canadian psychology professor found that when college students wrote a series of personal pieces and goal-setting exercises, they were more likely to achieve and less likely to drop out of school. (Kamenetz, Anya, “The Writing Assignment That Changes Lives,” npr.org, July 10, 2015) Completing Jordan Peterson’s Map of Meaning course also dramatically narrowed achievement gaps based on gender and race. Similar results were found at Duke and Stanford Universities when students were asked to explore their image of themselves and to question the narratives they had always told themselves. (Parker-Pope, Tara, “Writing Your Way to Happiness,” The New York Times, Jan. 19, 2015)

Writing has been used for many years for its therapeutic effects. Patients who practice journaling regularly have been able to reduce depression and even physical symptoms of illness. The ability to reflect on our experiences sometimes gives us greater insight into why we feel anxious, sad, or fearful. Writing can also help us be honest with ourselves. One woman discovered when writing and then editing her thoughts about physical exercise that she was using her responsibilities as a mother as an excuse to avoid an activity she didn’t really enjoy. (NYT) With such awareness, it is easier to make changes and commit to goals in our lives.

Often when I begin writing a blog post, I have one idea in mind. Then by the time I have wound through my associated thoughts and ideas on the subject, I discover a new and illuminating point, one that brings me to a greater understanding of the issue than when I began.

When I was a high school English teacher, I began each class period with a few minutes of free writing. Students had journals, and I would check them periodically, reading and commenting, but mostly just making sure they were taking the time to get words on paper. I assigned the journaling primarily to encourage writing fluency.  But I noticed that many students enjoyed having the time to express themselves and write about their lives. It’s gratifying to know that this writing time may have helped them in more ways than I knew.

Writing has always been an important ingredient in my life. I highly recommend it as a way to create, explore, and process the emotions and thoughts in our complex human minds.

 

Sweet Melancholy

Last night I was reading some essays on life, death, and old age. The stories made me think of my dad, who passed away over two decades ago, as well as my elderly mom who is alone in her apartment and trapped by the coronavirus. I even contemplated my own mortality and the fact that in the not too distant future, my own children may need to help me with the most mundane day-to-day tasks.

All these musings may seem depressing, yet they were not. Sometimes there is a beauty and even pleasure in sadness.

How many of us enjoy a good tearjerker of a movie? Such films as Terms of Endearment, Ordinary People, and even Disney’s The Lion King have moved me to tears and given me a satisfying catharsis for many pent-up emotions. The stories are universal ones of love and loss, life and death. As such, they draw out our common humanity and make us feel deeply connected to others.

Music can also be a source of sweet melancholy. The strains of a plaintive aria, the mournful sounds of the cello, the contemplative notes of a piano sonata: all these sounds circumvent the mind and go straight to the heart. There is a reason that Leonard Cohen’s song Hallelujah is such a universal favorite. Cohen’s lyrics speak to the brokenness in each of us, and it is comforting knowing that someone somewhere out there feels that brokenness too.

We live in a feel good society. Avoid pain. Pop a pill. Turn on mindless reality TV and escape from our worries. But sometimes it is a good and holy thing to sit with our sadness, to let the tears swell and spill. Grieving our losses, missing our grownup children, contemplating our aging bodies: we are acknowledging our imperfections and the fact that life is finite. Things will never be the same tomorrow as they are right now. We are stepping in that proverbial river for the last time.

After enjoying last night’s wistfulness, I went to bed and a nearly dreamless sleep. I awoke still in a contemplative mood and sat down to write this. I will reluctantly join the living and rise to meet a new day. I feel full, not of food, but of emotion and awareness. I hope it brings me through this day with grace and appreciation. That is one of the benefits of sweet melancholy.

Measuring Happiness

A recent Gallup Poll indicated that Americans are reporting less worry and more happiness than two months ago. The change has coincided with more states reopening, so it may be because more people are able to resume work and other normal activities. Social distancing has also helped prevent hospitals from becoming overwhelmed, so the dire situation we saw in Italy has not come to pass for the most part.

Yet there were some demographic disparities in the levels of happiness reported by Gallup that I find disturbing, if not surprising. The most significant one is that higher income individuals were more likely to report greater levels of happiness and less anxiety than lower income ones. Of course, this makes sense. Losing employment income is both more likely at the lower socioeconomic end of the scale and more devastating to one’s living situation. Wealthier people can weather the setback of the stay-at-home orders because they are more likely to have savings and other assets as a buffer. They are also more likely to work in office situations that can go to a work-from-home mode than can blue collar workers.

The sky high numbers of unemployment claims and the increased demand at food pantries across the country speak to the fact that many people are living one paycheck away from insolvency. Despite the historically high levels of employment and the financial markets preceding the pandemic, many Americans are stuck in low wage jobs that preclude them from saving for a rainy day. The coronavirus pandemic has exposed the disparity between rich and poor. The virus has disproportionately hit low income Americans, especially blacks, because they have been forced to continue going to work while many of us are able to stay home and protect ourselves. Between the stress of working under these conditions and the loss of income many have faced due to businesses shutting down, it’s no wonder that the poor feel more worry and less happiness.

A prominent study a few years back showed that an income of $75,000 a year would make people happier. Beyond that level, there seems to be no significant increase in a person’s level of happiness.  The study formed the basis for an increasingly popular political idea: the universal basic income. With a fundamental sense of financial security, it is easier to practice that goal enshrined in the Declaration of Independence: the pursuit of happiness.

There are, of course, many other factors that relate to happiness. The Gallup Poll also exposed the fact that single people reported less happiness than did married people. (Megan Brenan, “U.S. Adults Report Less Worry, More Happiness,” news.gallup.com, May 18, 2020) Being alone during this ordeal must be lonely and stressful for many of us. I know I would find it difficult to pass my days without my family nearby. Yet there are so many Americans, particularly the elderly, that were living lonely and invisible lives before the pandemic.

Perhaps the greatest benefit of living through this ordeal is the perspective it can give us as individuals and as a society. Maybe if we can take the lessons we’ve learned here and try to find ways to help others, whether materially or emotionally, our nation can emerge from the pandemic stronger – and happier.

Who’s Zooming Who?

Say what you will about the evils of technology, access to a computer or smartphone during this crisis has been a godsend. I have become particularly fond of all the teleconferencing options that are available to regular people: Google Meet, Zoom, House Party, to name a few. What I love about these formats is that you can see and speak with a large group of people all at once.

The widespread access of these virtual meeting platforms has made it possible for large numbers of people to continue working from home while sheltering in place during the coronavirus pandemic. My three older kids are all still busy and gainfully employed thanks to the wonders of technology.

But what I love most is that I can see my entire family all at once even though we cannot be together. We have started holding nightly Zoom meetings to catch up and get a glimpse of each other’s beloved faces. It’s reassuring to see face to face that they are doing okay. In fact, I have spent more time talking to my adult children since the crisis started than I had when things were “normal.”

On Easter, my sister-in-law hosted a Zoom meeting for the extended family. I thought it would be pure chaos, but it was a lot of fun. We got to see our nephew’s children enjoy their Easter baskets. The kids were underwhelmed by the fact that they could see a bunch of aunts and uncles, not to mention their grandparents, on their home computer. This is the generation that will truly take technology for granted. It was also good to connect with each other and be able to express some of our fears and anxieties about the road ahead. If there is strength in numbers, then Zoom and its counterparts allow us to draw strength from each other.

People have creatively taken off on the ubiquity of this new way of connecting. A friend of mine posted a shot of the grid of boxes in which family member’s faces appeared with the quip, “We’re like the Brady Bunch!,” referencing the opening credits of that popular Seventies show. And last night I watched the season finale of a new show called Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. During commercial breaks, some of the show’s stars appeared in a virtual meeting format to discuss the season ending and tout the Good Girls episode to follow.

Having technology may not completely combat the isolation and stress people are feeling as they remain at home alone. Still, it is nice to know that reaching out to those we love is only a couple of clicks away.