Getting defensive

Life is painful.

This would be apparent to anyone who witnessed your emergence into the world. Healthy newborns clench their fists, curl their toes, and scream in shock and agony. Life is a gift, the receipt of which none of us is consulted about in advance.

We each find our own individual ways of managing the pain of being alive. As we grow, and the circumstances of our life change, our methods of coping are continually challenged. Sometimes, we encounter a situation for which we have no established coping strategy. This may happen within minutes of being born, or not until much, much later.

To begin with, newborns have no way of coping with even the most basic challenges of being alive; They are not able to eat, talk, move independently, or even make sense of the signals their eyes, ears, nose, mouth and other body parts send to their brain. They must therefore rely on a parent to cope for them, to make sense of life on their behalf, to digest it and filter it, in order that they might be able to at least take some small parts of it in.

When you were in the womb, your mother breathed the air, ate the food, expelled waste and moved about in the world, filtering what she took in and providing sustenance to you via the umbilical, whilst human-shielding you from the outside world. Once you left the womb, much of this parental 'filtering' continued; your mother continued to provide food for you; changed full nappies for clean ones, and so on.

As well as managing bodily functions, the mother also manages sensations for the baby. If the baby is hungry, or tired, or cold, or something else, she will simply cry out; The mother must make sense of this discomfort and attend to the baby's emotional need. If there is no mother, for any reason, even for a brief period, then the baby is left exposed to the reality of life, 'unfiltered'. If the baby is confused, there is no-one to make sense of things for it. If the baby is hungry, no-one to feed it. If the baby is tired, she must somehow find sleep herself.

Of course, the parent cannot be there all the time. There will inevitably be at least a brief period in which the baby must experience life 'unfiltered'. What, then, does an infant do at these times? The answer is that they erect some sort of shield, or 'defence' to the onslaught of reality. The simplest form of defence might be to simply deny what their senses are telling them. The hunger pain they feel is ignored, and thereby, no longer painful. This works for a while, but cannot work forever. Some defences are more helpful than others. As the child grows, new, more complex forms of defence become possible.

As childhood progresses, children are forced to cope with more and more of life's painful realities; they must manage their own bowel movements, for example. As the tasks of living life become more complex, so too do the defences to life that must sometimes be erected in order to manage the pain of it. A pre-schooler, faced with a room full of unfamiliar faces, may retreat into the comfort of his own intellect, looking away from the curious eyes, downward instead in intense concentration on a lego tower. A toddler, struggling to manage overwhelming and confusing feelings triggered by an absent mother, may become frantically busy, rushing from one activity to another, never allowing the external world to settle, keeping her attention ever-moving, and thereby forever postponing the moment when those dreadful internal feelings must be somehow felt.

When an adult is presented with an experience that is overwhelming, they may be 'traumatised' by it. It is reasonable to consider that trauma can in fact occur at any age, and in fact someone like an infant, with so few defences of their own, might actually be even more suceptible to trauma than an adult. This is indeed the case, although infants and children, with their remarkable capacity to learn and adapt to new situations, seem to recover better from traumas than older adults do.

What, then, is mental illness?



Mental illness, in all its forms, might occur when one or more of an individual's defences is malfunctioning in some way. It may be that the efforts a person is going to, to cope with the pain of reality, are themselves causing needless pain. For example, a person who repeatedly checks and re-checks all the power switches in his house, is doing this to manage a deeper sense of dread, or some otherwise overwhelming notion about himself, or the world. He is arguably suffering more than necessary from the effort of maintaining this defence - more than he would suffer if he had to confront the deeper dread he is afraid to feel.

Or consider a person who manages the pain of loneliness by overeating; he may only be substituting one pain for another delayed-onset form of suffering. Or a person who finds herself simply overcome with sadness; she may have reached a point where some of her defences have ceased to protect her adequately from one or more of the painful truths of life. A man full of barely-contained rage may become violent when he encounters a situation with which he cannot cope. One way or another, the problem relates to reality, and the way in which the person copes with it.

So the next time you are accused of being 'defensive', take it as a compliment. Imagine where you would be without your defences?
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Getting it wrong

I was lucky enough to be invited to a wedding a couple of weeks ago. As is usually the case, it was a very romantic occasion. There were beautiful people, in a beautiful place, saying beautiful things to one another. I was surprised and moved by the single reading given during the ceremony. I have taken the liberty of reproducing it here:

“We're all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you've been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there's no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn't until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems--the ones that make you truly who you are--that you’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you're looking for. You're looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person--someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, "This is the problem I want to have."

This was written by Andrew Boyd, who, it turns out, has some equally wise things to say about a number of other areas of life as well.

I work with individuals, and with couples. In every case, there is a relationship. One of the most common difficulties people seem to encounter is to do with their expectations - their hopes - for the future of their relationships. What many people do not realize is that a relationship is no different to a person: it is riddled with flaws. As with a person, the trick is not to erase or repair the flaws in a relationship, but simply to know them, and find some ways to live with them. A healthy, strong relationship is one in which problems are well known, and accepted by both parties. You can see why this takes a long time to establish, regardless of how ‘compatible’ the two people might be. This is true not only for marriages, but also for other relationships, such as friendships, business partnerships, or even the relationship between a person and their therapist. The key here is not that everything is known, but that at least all the problems are known and accepted. This acceptance does not need to be gracious; it may suffice that one person feels able to say to the other, “I can’t live with your golf obsession any more,” in order to then be able to keep living with it after all. The key here is not neatness, harmony, or even honesty; it is acceptance.

So if you are questioning a relationship, be it a marriage, a friendship, or something else, ask not what’s going wrong between you and the other person; ask yourself what are going to do with the wrongness that will always be there.

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The Blanket

I’m not going to write about an obesity epidemic. I would, however, like to make a couple of observations about weight loss, based on my experiences working with people who are trying to do it. All of their quotes and comments below have been shared anonymously and with permission.

cautionary note: please do not take the following video seriously...


Fact: Most people who try to lose weight, regardless of the method, are unsuccessful. I once researched the issue as part of a doctoral thesis on people’s unsuccessful attempts to change. It turns out, there is a surprisingly large amount of research data on this topic. If you are interested in the area, and would like to read more, you are welcome to contact me. Basically, it seems that most people around the world who set out to lose weight, or in fact try to change anything about themselves, have very little success. There are many explanations for relapse. But consider this: you are the way you are for good reasons. It’s going to be difficult to change the way you are, without at least an equally good set of reasons.

It is just not realistic to declare that you want to lose weight, and then simply begin a weight loss endeavour on that basis. Do you know why you put the weight on in the first place? Or, to put it another way: Why don’t you want to lose weight?

For some people who are overweight, their body shape and other lifestyle elements (such as overeating or inactivity) seem to provide an important, and much needed, source of comfort. I once heard someone refer to their extra weight as ‘my blanket’. For some people, it seems that their excess weight, and the process of eating, makes it easier to hide from other people. Easier to hide the parts that others might reject, such as anger, or neediness, or vulnerability. It may also enable them to feel more protected from other people’s intrusion, their curiosity, or their judgement. So: In order to successfully lose weight, that individual must first work out how they are going to manage their relationships without the comfort and security of their ‘blanket’.

Of course, for many people who are overweight, their weight itself is no comfort at all; it is a source of real and ongoing anguish. By implying that excess weight allows a person to avoid uncomfortable things, I do not wish to deny the equally uncomfortable aspects of being overweight. I also do not deny that there are important medical and physiological factors leading to obesity. However, I believe that anyone setting out to lose weight weight ignores the psychological aspect of their predicament at their peril. There is an even greater source of anguish than being overweight, and to discover it, you only need to talk to someone who has made a transition from being overweight to being in a lower weight range, for example as a result of bariatric surgery. One individual I spoke to referred to it as going “out of the frying pan and into the fire”. For example, she described how she began to lose her temper more often, and in fact had a permanent falling out with her best friend after their first ever fight, which took place after she had lost 25% of her body weight. Glad of her new body shape though she was, she nevertheless longed for (and eventually had to grieve for) the earlier time, when she was better able to hide her feelings and didn’t have to be “so honest” about them with other people. She felt “mortified” that her thoughts and feelings were “spilling out”. She felt like a burden, and feared that all the people who were closest to her, would now be driven away.

Not losing weight is disappointing. But maybe losing it is even more challenging. I admire anyone who sets out to change something about themself, regardless of their degree of eventual success. If you are thinking about changing something about yourself, make sure that you give some thought to the reasons why the change hasn’t occurred already. If you aren’t sure, than you may find changing harder than you expect. I do wish you the best of luck.
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Four benefits of therapy, before you've even begun

You may have wondered whether therapy is really helpful to those who do it. According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, around 45% of people will experience a mental health disorder at some point in their lifetime. About half of these people will experience a mental illness that lasts for more than 12 months. It appears that around 30% of people with a mental illness seek some form of treatment, usually from their GP (this includes medication). Around ten percent of people go to see a psychologist or other therapist.



So what’s the benefit of doing therapy? Answers to this question are many and varied, as it turns out. While it is easy to establish the benefit of a medication such as an antidepressant, it is much trickier to work out if, and how, therapy helps people to recover from their difficulties. If you’re interested in the research about the effectiveness of therapy, you can check out a good review here. There is an excellent group of researchers who continue to investigate the issue here.

In the meantime I thought I’d list four ways that therapy helps you, before you even attend your first session:

1. The waiting-list effect.
It turns out that just knowing that help is on the way is helpful. The anticipation of therapy can probably improve your symptoms by around 10%, when we average out the different results of research in this area. I did my own research in this area, using people in Sydney who were waiting for group therapy for anxiety, and found that some individuals’ symptoms improved as much as 40% while they were on the program’s waiting list. Just the act of making an appointment can lead to an improvement of your situation.

2. A space is created.
Many people with depression, anxiety, or other psychological difficulties lead cluttered lives, which allow them little time for reflection on how they are feeling. It makes sense to try to avoid focussing on your problems if they seem overwhelming, insurmountable, or just make you feel down or defective. The process of seeking help of some sort for your difficulties forces you to confront the issue. It is only when you do this that you will discover two truths. The first is: most problems are much smaller when you look at them up close. The second is: the person who is in the best position to make changes in your life is you. When you start to tackle your problem front-on, the issue begins to shrink, and you also begin to grapple with the issue yourself (rather than leaving it up to others). By the time therapy starts, this process is well underway.

3. Others get involved.
Therapy is a confidential process, but many people starting out will put the word out somewhere that they are ‘seeking help’ at some point along the way. Often, this involves contacting a close or trusted friend to seek advice or a recommendation. Even if you don’t intend it, this process brings you a little closer to the people around you, and subtly changes the relationships you have, in a healthier direction. The experience of sharing your experience with others, even if it’s just the practice receptionist, is itself therapeutic.

4. Re-evaluation begins.
Therapy takes time, costs money, and is inherently emotionally challenging. In order to begin the process, you have to re-evaluate your priorities, and put your own feelings and needs ahead of other issues that might have otherwise taken precedence. It seems logical that putting your own personal needs first is a healthy thing to do. Getting yourself into a financial and practical position to undertake therapy has the added benefit of getting your own needs higher up on the list of what’s really important.


When it does get underway, good therapy takes some of these initial changes, and expands on them, bringing you more and more into a space where you understand yourself and those around you better, take better care of yourself, and feel more hopeful about the things taking place in your life. This process also continues after therapy sessions have finished. It’s important to understand that you are the main mechanism of change in the therapy process. The therapist’s job is to do him or herself out of a job. It’s your life, after all.



ruby_slippers
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The 3BL in relationships

It’s the end of the financial year, so many businesses are checking their financial waistline. With the Global financial crisis, many companies had to tighten their belts to make ends meet financially. Since 2007, larger organizations have been interested in balancing their books in more ways than one. The ‘3BL’ is short for the ‘triple bottom line’. No, it’s not about people with three backsides... You’ll probably know that the financial bottom line is healthy if the company has made more money from its customers than it has had to spend earning their business. The other two bottom lines are ‘people’ and ‘planet’. So: a company watching the 3BL is not just interested in whether it has made a monetary profit, but also whether it has taken care of staff and the people in the local community (people), as well as having a small or neutral impact on the environment (planet).

It’s a nice idea. Companies should be thinking about people and the planet as well as making a profit, evaluating their ‘bottom line’ across three areas, not just one.

The 3BL also happens to be a clever way of thinking about the state of your relationship. You can use three areas to judge whether things are going well between you and the other person. The three areas are:

1. Behaviour. This is a pretty obvious one. Are you being kind, polite and thoughtful enough in your dealings with this other person? Are they behaving to you in a good enough way as well? If you break promises or forget their birthday, this might send your behavioural account with them into the red.

2. Communication. This is also one that most people are mindful of most of the time. Are you keeping in touch enough with the other person? Do you tell them what’s happening? Are you honest enough with each other, or are there too many secrets? If the two of you are communicating well enough with one another, this should keep your interpersonal budget in the black.

3. Emotion. This is the one most people struggle with. The best way to work out how the emotional balance is going in the relationship is: How fully do you share your feelings with the other person? And in return, how confidently can you judge the way the other person is feeling, when you are with them? If the other person feels like a bit of a ‘closed book’ to you, then they may not be sharing their feelings with you for some reason. There are usually two reasons for this: one, because the other person already feels shut out emotionally by you, and so is reluctant to share with you when you don’t share with them (not enough emotion). The other possibility is that they are overwhelmed by the emotion you are sharing with them, and so are turning away from you in order to manage this. Ask yourself: how much of your feelings do you share with your partner?

A healthy relationship, be it a friendship, a marriage, a business partnership, or a parent/child relationship, needs a healthy exchange in all three areas: healthy behaviours, healthy communication, and healthy emotion. As a rule of thumb, there needs to be a good enough quantity of ‘helpful’ behaviour (eg. remembering birthdays); there needs to be a good enough quantity of helpful communication (keeping in touch), and there needs to be a good enough degree of emotional honesty (this is how I feel) in order for a relationship to be a healthy one.

If you are starting to wonder about the quality of your relationship, try checking in each of these three areas. The one that most people have trouble with is the emotional one. Are you sharing how you feel with your partner, and are they doing the same with you? If not, why not?

Often, in arguments, there is confusion of one ‘3BL’ area with another. She says: “You just don’t care about me!” (Emotional bottom line), then he says: “I do! I work a forty-hour week and fold the laundry when I get home!” (Behavioural bottom line). So she responds: “But we never talk these days,” (communication bottom line). He says: “well, when’s the last time we made love?” (Behavioural bottom line). If you are having trouble working things out with your partner, first work out, for each of the three areas in turn (behaviour, communication, emotion), where the problems are. Then make sure you deal with each of them separately. As soon as you start mixing them up, you’re likely to end up in an argument with no resolution.

It’s not fair if one person in the relationship is balancing the books all the time. If you feel this way, maybe you should tell the other person.
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Twitter therapy

Here’s a simple, cost-effective way to improve your mental health: get online. All it takes is an internet-connected computer or phone, and an e-mail account.

There are many, many benefits of social media that outweigh the potential costs and reported risks. In fact there are some myths about sites such as
Twitter and Facebook that deter many people — people who would otherwise greatly benefit from increased social activity. Some of these myths are:

1. The internet is not safe.
Okay, this is not really a myth. Accessing the internet, like, well, just about everything else in life, involves a degree of risk of harm. The point here is: What, exactly, are the risks, and are they a reason to steer clear of the internet? If you’re brave enough to go to the internet for ideas, then you are welcome to see some thoughts about the issues
here and here. My opinion is that the internet is a largely unregulated community. Any such community will
contain dangerous people, as well as helpful people. The challenge for anyone entering that community is simply how to tell the difference. In my personal experience, the best advice on how to spot and avoid danger as a newcomer to any community can best be found from members of that community. So if there’s something about the internet you don’t understand or don’t trust,
do some research.

2. I can’t control my privacy on Facebook.
A lot of work has been done to make it easier to keep your facebook presence private. It is now a lot easier to do this. However the easiest and best way to protect yourself and your online presence is to assume that everything you post online is visible to the entire world. Some other problems people have had with facebook privacy are covered in a humorous way in the youtube video above. As with any new activity, it’s important to learn how it’s done before you launch in. In my view, a little effort is worth it if it means you get to make new social connections safely. Limiting your exposure online also does not limit your ability to benefit from it (see point 4 below).

3. It’s too complicated.
Sorry, but it’s not. In behavioural terms, posting a letter is less complicated than getting on Facebook or Twitter, or even writing a blog. It’s not complicated - it’s just unfamiliar. If you take some time to familiarise yourself with it, you will find it is more straightforward than it looked from the outside.

4. I don’t have anything to put up.

This is probably the single biggest misunderstanding about social media (in fact about any social interaction): you don’t have to contribute in order to participate. Evan Williams, CEO of Twitter, recently tweeted that, “You don’t need to tweet to get value from Twitter any more than you need to make a web page to use the web.” This is another reason why the concerns about privacy are exaggerated, in my view. If you’re concerned about personal information being made available on the web, then don’t put that information there. You can still go online and see what others are doing, and even comment on it if you like (you can comment on this blog too, if you scroll to the bottom of this page).

5. I don’t have the time.
One of the most attractive things about online interaction is how brief it can be. Twitter, which is probably the briefest form of social media, limits all communications or ‘tweets’ to 140 characters. Tweeting a thought can take around ten seconds. How many other things do you do through the day that take less than ten seconds?


Now, some benefits:

1. It broadens and deepens your social sphere.
The whole purpose of social media sites is to facilitate interpersonal communication. Most people who join Facebook find that they resume contact with at least one friend they haven’t seen or spoken to for ages. You may be surprised to find out how many people you know (or knew) are already online, and how willing to be contacted they are.

2. It keeps you humble.
The internet is now interactive; you will find that there are hundreds of places to visit and people to follow. Many people who start exploring the internet discover how many other people there are out there, who are just like them. This can be both reassuring, and challenging; can you put your opinions out there as well?

3. It might actually help you feel better.
In the midst of angst about the ills of new technology, new research is begging to show how social media might just be helping people feel more connected. My experience has been that, rather than internet use causing social withdrawal, it tends to be the other way around; internet chat can be an important first step for people emerging from depression, who are beginning to look for initial way to reach out and make new connections. The internet isn’t a cure for loneliness, but in my opinion it’s a valuable tool for people who are seeking to reduce their sense of isolation.

4. It can help build interpersonal confidence.
Online interactions are far ‘safer’ emotionally than face-to-face meeting. You have far more control over the process; you can end it when you want, you can edit your communications as you go — you can even delete Facebook posts that you have changed your mind about. This is a shy person’s dream: you can chat to your heart’s content without even having to make eye contact! As confidence builds, so too can the depth and breadth of your online presence. This can eventually become a stepping stone to ‘traditional’ social contact, such as meeting face-to-face over a meal, for example. By then, much of the hard work is done...

5. It can assist in a process of personal development.
Socializing online, as with any kind of lasting relationship, is a bit like smoking: the reason you begin is different to the reason you continue. Your first few tweets or blog entries may feel a little like, well, talking to yourself. After all, you’re usually the only one in the room when it’s happening. The thing to remember is, regardless of who reads your posts, writing things down is far from pointless. Fundamentally, personal development is a process of self-reflection. If you ever want to see this process in action, visit a blogging site such as this one and read back through a blogger’s posts. Compare the early posts with the recent ones, and you might begin to get a sense of how that person has used the space to develop their ideas and hone their sense of themself. Early blogs often have a hesitant, brittle quality, while more seasoned blogs seem to issue from a clearer, more integrated voice. Blogging is free and unlimited. Why not try it?

Finally, some tips to get started.

Get a twitter account, and start following people. You don’t need to tweet anything, just see what others are saying. Try
visiting my twitter page and see who I’m following; you might like to follow some of these people too. When you join Twitter you will regularly be given suggestions of people to follow. Who knows, some of them might start to follow you back!
Get on Facebook and have a look at some of the groups you can join, such as
this one. If you want to preserve your anonymity, create a new e-mail account for yourself on gmail.
If you’re feeling confident and want to start getting ideas out there,
start a blog. You can use your gmail account to do it here.
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1 + 1 = 3

This month’s psychoblog comes to you courtesy of the Mums on the Go Guide.

To view the blog,
click here.

Happy mother’s day to you mums!
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Dummy Cravings

Here’s how it works: children are discouraged from being ‘greedy’. Parents are criticized for ‘spoiling’ children. We are all familiar with the idea of ‘guilty pleasure’. Indulging yourself is a ‘treat’. The message here seems to be that the feeling of craving something is somehow shameful. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that there is nothing wrong with wanting. It’s not naughty, or special, or a treat, or secret, or wicked, or any of the other things that wanting is frequently associated with. It’s just a feeling: a feeling that we all have from time to time.

In fact, wanting is actually the early stages of anger. Yes, you read it right. Consider: You have a craving for chocolate, or some other pleasurable thing. You go looking for it, and it’s not there for some unexpected reason. How do you feel? Outraged! Can you recall a moment when you went looking for your keys, and they weren’t there, right where you left them, and moments later you’re stomping around the house, huffing and puffing and furious that things are never where you put them… It’s interesting that such behaviour is sometimes called a ‘dummy-spit’. Dummies, or pacifiers, are a good example of how mouth satisfaction can be used to dampen emotion down from a very early age. So if you are feeling irritable about something then you may find yourself using pleasure to dampen your anger down. Whether it’s food, drink, or masturbation, a pleasurable activity can also be a quick way to deal with feelings of irritability, frustration, or even longing. Try it for yourself: next time you feel like a treat of some sort, set your watch for 10 minutes and wait. See what your anger does.

The main problem with using pleasure to eliminate anger is that
anger is probably the most useful emotion you have. Anger is the driver of most the things you do to take care of yourself in the world, particularly if it involves other people in some way. Think of the anger of Martin Luther King, or of Winston Churchill. Anger is good. Without it, bad things happen. The word we use to describe our own helpful anger-driven behaviour is ‘assertiveness’. So before you reach for the bikkie tin, consider if there’s something you might be irked about: will satisfying yourself in private undermine your ability to be bold in public?
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understanding pleasure

What is the most truly satisfying experience a person can have?
Everyone will answer that question differently, of course, but most will think of their own sources of satisfaction when coming up with an answer. One person’s nectar is another one’s poison, as the saying goes. But when it comes to gratification, nearly all of us can be divided into two categories: The seekers of pleasure, and the seekers of understanding. In your circle of acquaintances, you will know of both types. The pleasure-seeker is typically bold, effective, and appreciates the finer things in life. The understanding-seeker may be more reflective, patient, well-liked, and be the kind of person you’d ring if your dog has just died.
Pleasure-seekers are not selfish people; in fact most pleasure-seekers are keen to share their sources of pleasure around. They enhance their pleasure by seeing other people enjoy what they enjoy. This is an important aspect of satisfaction, whatever the type:
we tend to give to others what we most want for ourselves. This means that pleasure-seekers may give generously to charity, or to friends and family, but will do so in the hope (conscious or unconscious) that what they give will be returned to them in kind. The saying ‘you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’ is the kind of thing you’re likely to hear from a pleasure-seeker. Meanwhile, your kind and caring aunt, the one who seems to shower everyone around her with patience, goodwill and empathy, may be overcome with delight if her compassion is returned. She’s more likely to say “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
There are ideal role-models for each type of person: Three archetypal understanding-seekers are Gandhi, Jesus Christ, and (closer to home) Greens MP Bob Brown. We tend to see these people as giving more than they receive, and as putting compassion above other values. Such people may be loved by some for their humanity, but resented by others (particularly pleasure-seekers) for being unrealistic or having a holier-than-thou selflessness. Meanwhile three standout examples of pleasure-seekers are Richard Branson, The Cat in the Hat, and whoever the winner of the latest reality TV show is. These folks are loved for their ability to have fun and share the fun. We don’t expect them to heal the world, or to cure cancer, as long as they don’t try to take credit for things they didn’t do.
And this is the curious thing about pleasure vs. understanding as a way of finding fulfilment: we don’t seem to be able to combine the two. Can you think of any powerful yet understanding people? Barack Obama seemed to come to power on a wave of understanding, and many are now struggling to reconcile some of the decisions he has made with their idea of him as a person who understands the true problems his constituents face. Meanwhile, the quickest way a pleasure-seeker can fall from grace is to get themselves into a situation where they need understanding - Britney Spears, anyone?
We tend to see people as either compassionate or fun, and struggle to accept people who are both. We prefer to see the inventors of Google, or the head of Greenpeace, or our next door neighbour as
either acting in self-interest, or thinking of others, but not both. We may be cynical about a movie star who travels to a third-world country, or a pillar of the community who is discovered to have particular sexual predilections. In my view, the only way to find happiness is to find room in your life for both yourself and others.
So, are you a pleasure-seeker or a seeker of understanding? The path you take to satisfaction is probably most strongly influenced by the sources of satisfaction you found in childhood: did you get lots of understanding as a kid, or did you have to find your own fun? As an adult, if you can’t get no satisfaction, try living how the other half live: Pleasure-seekers, trade in your fancy car and head down to the local soup kitchen. Compassionate people, why not hire a convertible sportscar for the weekend and drive to an expensive restaurant? You may discover avenues to satisfaction that you though were out of your league.
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Let the longing linger

What does it mean to want something, someone? Ask yourself: What do you want? You may find yourself dreaming of a desired holiday, object, or treat. “What do I want to eat?” might be the sort of question you ask yourself when planning meals for the week. In affluent western society, “want” is synonymous with “anticipate” most of the time. In other words, as soon as we think of something we want, we also think of how we might go about getting it, and usually won’t think about it much more unless it’s to plan or anticipate getting what we want. Depression could therefore be understood as being confronted with one or more powerful desires that cannot be fulfilled. The worst way to be, even worse than not having something, is not having something we want.
“I want to lose weight.”
“I want to quit smoking.”
“I want to be more organised.”
“I want to see more of my family.”
If you have said one or more of these things to yourself or someone else, consider what the
feeling was that went with these statements.
“I want to order pizza tonight.”
“I want another drink.”
“I want to go to bed now.”
How about these? Does the word ‘want’ here refer to a longing or an anticipation?
“I want my money back!”
“I want to go home.”
“I want off this merry-go-’round.”
These, in my view, are the types of statements that reflect
true ‘want’. You can’t ‘want’ something unless (a) you feel a longing for it; (b) you can’t see how to get it, and (c) there’s nothing you can do to change the situation to make the feeling go away. Sometimes, frustratingly, the only way to get what you ‘want’ (lose weight, quit smoking, be more organised), is to allow for the unpleasant ‘wanting’ feeling to linger long enough to do its job. Think about it: if you ‘want’ to lose weight, sooner or later you’ll have to spend some time, simply sitting with a feeling of ‘want’ (in this case, hunger).
If you really ‘want’ to get what you ‘want’, then you have to
let the ‘longing’ linger.
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"I've always sorted out my problems on my own..."

If you've reached a point where you are seriously contemplating getting some counselling or therapy, you may be feeling apprehensive about what you could get yourself into. It's difficult to walk into a strange room, with a complete stranger, and talk to them about things you have barely ever talked about out loud, let alone with someone else there. The anonymity of therapy is an important comfort, but there are still a lot of unknown factors: What hidden parts of me might be uncovered? Will I go mad? Will I spend a whole lot of money with little real result? Is there a better way? Can I trust this person to do the right thing by me? If this is you, I wanted to offer some basic, fairly universal things to consider before you start, and some questions you may want to ask your therapist at your first session. Consider asking yourself:  - If therapy is about change, what parts do I want to remain the same?  - Do I want someone to help me help myself, or do I want someone to tell me what to do?  - How will I know that the therapy is working?  - How long do I want this therapy to last?  - What will I do if I think the therapy isn't helping?  - What sacrifices am I prepared to make in order for the therapy to work? Consider asking your therapist:  - Do you have regular supervision? Would you be talking about me with your supervisor?  - Do you do any other professional development?  - Have you ever had therapy?  - What do you do with your notes?  - Do you use a particular approach, and if so, what is it called?  - Are there any types of client who you usually don't work with, and where do you refer those people on to? You may also want to sit down and come up with some different questions of your own. If you are feeling depressed, for example, you may want to ask for more specific information about depression, or whether your therapist can recommend any good books on the topic. Therapy is difficult, often in ways that you don't expect. It is also very rewarding, when it is working well. If you are just starting therapy, I wish you the very best, and commend your bravery in trying something new.
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Change is the only constant

Here are my 8 principles of change, learned from direct and observed experience: 1. All change comes at a cost. 2. Change is always harder than you expect, in ways you don't expect. 3. You cannot change one thing about your life without changing other things as well. 4. Change always takes longer than you expect. 5. For change to be enduring, it must be repeated many times. 6. For every reason to change, there is an equal and opposite reason not to change.  And vice versa. 7. Change is never finished. 8. You cannot change by yourself; others must and will participate in some way if it is to happen. Consider each of these when you are planning or in the middle of trying to change something in your life.
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Who decides?

Here's a secret: nobody makes decisions on their own. The idea that you weigh up your options, considering the pros and cons, and then pick a course of action to take, is a myth. That may be the way things happen in a commercial or legal or other professional setting, but when it comes to individual people, nobody ever decides to do anything before they do it. The truth is, we only decide after we have acted. We go about our lives, and one day, for whatever reason, our behaviour changes. If we like the change, we maintain it. If we don't like it, we may go back to the way we were. With hindsight, you may look back at your life and wonder about the decisions you have made. From this angle, they look like strong, discrete forks in the road, and you may feel a sense of agency; that you have pro-actively and decisively chosen the path that your life has taken. What happens when you look ahead? Do things look so certain when you look to the future? Why doesn't your life's path seem so well-lit from that angle? And, as if the future didn't look hazy enough, how certain and decisive do things look right now? Perhaps you are currently wrestling with a big decision. Maybe you are thinking about making a significant purchase, leaving or starting a relationship, or changing the way you behave in some other way. Do you feel like you are at a clear fork in the road? When will you make your "decision"? When will you act on that decision? Do you feel sure of what you will decide, or do you feel more like you are trying to guess at where things will be in a years' time? There is a phenomenon Psychololgists refer to as "cognitive dissonance". It goes something like this. Let's say you apply for two jobs, and are accepted for both. Which one do you choose? You like both, otherwise you wouldn't have applied for them both. There are relative advantages and disadvantages to each. Perhaps one has longer hours, but is also better paid. Perhaps one is closer to home, but the other has a bit more prestige. You think about it, and talk to people about it, and eventually accept one of the jobs, and reject the other . This is where the cognitive dissonance kicks in: You soon feel very relieved with the choice you made, and the advantages of the job you now have seem to far outweigh the disadvantages of the other job, which, now that you look at it, "really wasn't for you." You may struggle in the new position, but are likely to ultimately feel that, all things considered, you were luck to have made the right decision. But did you really make a decision? To what degree was the decision made for you? Who and what influenced you, and how predictable were those influences? How helpful were they? How much freedom to decide did you have? When you look at it, decisions are much more automatic, or involuntary, than we care to admit. If you leave this site and spend time "surfing the 'net", you'll be getting a taste of the way that decisions are made most of the time. The truth is, you never really know where you'll end up, so you may as well enjoy the process, and expect the unexpected.
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It takes two to tango.

When Jo and Sam first met, they had little in common. Sam, being a generation older than Jo,  seemed to know all about life, while Jo felt there was still so much to learn. They soon discovered a shared passion: dancing.  At every opportunity, Jo could be seen dancing "like no-one is watching", as the saying goes, while Sam was an avid Tango dancer. Watching Sam Tango, Jo felt that no other dance could offer such perfection, such subtlety. Jo was in love. Sam sensed Jo's awe and longing, and graciously offered to teach Jo how to Tango. Of course, the burgeoning relationship offered rewards to both of them, in the beginning. Jo's beauty and lust for life made Sam feel new excitement about the dance, while Sam came to be Jo's 'rock', opening new possibilities for mastery of a world-renowned dance form. Mutual friends were happy for them both, and soon held Sam and Jo out as a model dance couple - "they've got this great connection... some people are just made for each other." For Jo, dancing with Sam was like a dream; the safe hands, the sure feet, the feeling of security all brought Jo the confidence to go beyond the free-form flailing that had come before. Meanwhile, Sam found that Jo breathed new life into the tango, and with that new life came new joy. Both Sam and Jo felt immense happiness about their partnership, and each came to look forward to dancing happily ever after. There were the occasional and inevitable conflicts, and early on the rocky moments were dealth with quickly and without lasting resentment. Both Sam and Jo knew that all good relationships have their rough edges. Sometimes Sam would get frustrated with Jo's impulsiveness, undermining the discipline that good Tango requires. At times, Jo found Sam's rigid adherence to the rules infuriating. But Sam knew that Tango is a timeless dance and, with patience, Jo could become a truly perfect Tango dancer. As time went by, Jo became more and more aware of the limitations of the timeless dance. True, there were opportunities for the free expression Jo was used to, and increasingly longed for, but even when these openings came, Jo felt eclipsed by Sam. Sam was disquieted by Jo's growing restlessness, and tried to help. Sam demonstrated the moves with increasing insistence, and tried to revel in the opportunities for creative expression when they came. Eventually, Jo and Sam reached a crisis. Much as Jo loved the Tango, it had come to represent a way of dancing that offered no freedom. Jo felt unable to breathe, unable to move without restriction. In secret, Jo began to indulge in the flailing style of dancing that used to be so much fun, but it had a sense of urgent furtiveness that hadn't been there before. To Jo, the Tango felt more and more like a prison dance, but the alternative felt like no dance at all. Sam sensed Jo's unhappiness, but could only look to the time-honoured form and function of the Tango for solutions. Sam sought to reassure Jo, talking of the awe and perfection that Jo had witnessed in the early days... perfection that was still within their grasp. Jo saw the logic of Sam's reassurance, but was torn. There was just no more room for Jo to be Jo any more. Beautiful as the Tango is, it had come to feel lifeless for Jo. To Sam's despair, Jo drifted away. Sam continued to dance the Tango, but it had lost the wild joy that Jo had brought. Sam found new dance partners, many of whom had more discipline than Jo, more precise adherence to the form, but Sam found that somehow this precision still had an emptiness to it. Sam's new-found refinement brought the accolades of friends and admirers, but for Sam, the dance had lost its vitality.
And the music kept playing.
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Dead languages, dead relationships

Latin is sometimes referred to as a 'dead' language (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Language_death). This refers to the fact that Latin is not really spoken by anyone as their first language, and there are no large communities that routinely communicate in Latin. The result is that latin words retain the same meaning over time, and no new words are created. By comparison, English is routinely spoken and new words are being created all the time (is there a latin word for 'blog'?). In English, existing words also change their meaning (how gay are you feeling today?). To get a feel for how alive and dynamic the English language is, try reading Chaucer, and see how the form and function of English words is different to today. in 200 years' time, Latin will still be Latin, while English will look and sound noticeably different to how it does today. The idea of a 'dead' language is also useful as a way of understanding how relationships can become stale or otherwise difficult. Relationships need to be 'alive', flexible, able to incorporate new ideas and 'grammar', new styles of interacting. 'Alive' relationships continually change to reflect the living, changing beings that inhabit ('speak') them. Established terms may be re-written; old, irrelevant or unhelpful terms may be discarded, while new terms may emerge to reflect new circumstances. If the relationship does not change, then it becomes progressively more difficult for the people in it to interact effectively or in a satisfactory way. When this happens, one or both people in the relationship may become frustrated or dis-engaged. How do I bring my new ideas to the relationship if it doesn't make room for them? Change is the only constant, as the saying goes. This is as true for relationships (and languages) as it is for people. Sometimes relationships become 'frozen' because people in it are afraid that bringing new things into the relationship will somehow undermine it. People complain when new 'Americanisms' enter Australian parlance ("turn out the light" is apparently now replacing "turn off the light", for example). Don Watson, Paul Keating's speechwriter, even wrote a book titled "Death Sentence" about the importance of keeping our language alive and untainted by 'weasel words'. In a similar way, you might fear that if you allow new behaviour or new ideas into a relationship, it may be the 'death' of the relationship. A new job, a new friend, a new pursuit (do you know any golf widows?) or a new toy can strike fear in one or both people that the relationship will be eclipsed or changed beyond recognition. In fact, the opposite is the case. There will always be new things entering the relationship, and to remain alive, the relationship must adapt and change to accomodate them. If the relationship is kept rigid, static, and inflexible, it is in danger of becoming as obsolete as, say, the slide rule, or the horse and carriage, or Latin. These are sometimes still used for the novelty value, but, overall, life has moved on - as it should.
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Why "Why change"?

This phrase reflects the central philosophy of my practice: people don’t need to know how to change; they just need to know why they haven't. Sometimes, people don’t really need to change at all - they just need to know why things are the way they are. Many schools of clinical psychology, such as cognitive therapy, solution-focussed therapy, schema-focussed therapy, or narrative therapy, are designed to provide you with a system to bring about change. What these models don’t really offer is a rationale for why that change should occur in the first place. The most widely used reference among Clinical Psychologists is the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, currently in its 4th edition. It is typically referred to as the DSM-IV. The DSM-IV lists every mental illness, and describes each one in detail. This is an important guide, because it sets out universal definitions for illnesses such as depression, schizophrenia, and autism, so that psychologists in Sydney, London, or Mongolia can identify it using the same criteria. One of the main criticisms of the DSM-IV is that it is “atheoretical”. This means that it describes the illness, but does not provide any information about why has occurred. For example, the DSM-IV lists detailed criteria for the diagnosis of depression, describing symptoms such as depressed mood, sleep difficulty, and loss of interest in pleasurable activities. Yet no information is provided about why the person may be experiencing these symptoms. By comparison, other medical texts will describe not only the symptoms of the illness (say, coughing, runny nose, headache for the common cold), but also the cause of these symptoms (viral infection). Most people know what they want to be different in their lives. Depressed people want to be happier. Anxious people want to be calmer. How does it help a sad person to be told that they need to be happy? A person who wants to quit smoking doesn't need to know how to quit; they already know: just stop smoking! What they need to know is WHY they find it so hard to stop. Once they know that, they will be able to find a way to quit on their own. It’s not the therapist's job to decide for them what needs to change, or even how they can go about making that change: the therapist's job is to do what the DSM-IV doesn’t: to help you understand WHY you feel the way they do, and help you answer the most difficult question: why change?
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A lightbulb moment

Q: "How many Psychologists does it take to change a lightbulb?" A: "Only one, but the lightbulb has to want to change". Do you know anyone who needs to see a Psychologist? I sometimes get phone calls from concerned friends and relatives asking me to work with someone they know "...who really needs to talk to someone". The first question I ask is how the friend feels about it: do they agree that there is a problem, and do they agree that talking to a Psychologist will help? Often, the motivation to change actually sits outside the person who has the 'problem'. 
Doctors do not have this problem to the same degree, because most medical treatment is done 'to' or 'on' their patient. Your surgeon does not need you to help him make the incision!  But for psychologists, the patient must be an active partner in the treatment process; rather than me doing it 'to' you, we must do it together. This subtle difference actually has huge implications for the whole process. When you go to the GP, how often are asked about your motivation to attend? When was the last time your doctor invited you to comment on your diagnosis? For psychologists, your active involvement, through contributing your own ideas and efforts, is essential for changes to occur, and is the only way ensure they last. 
So, if you have a friend in need, who is a friend indeed, then you may simply have to wait and watch while they work out what 
they want to do about their difficulties. If you want someone to change, first consider if they want the change as much as you do. 
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A resolution

"This year, my only resolution is to stop making new year's resolutions," a friend declared recently. She said that she was sick and tired of making promises to herself that she couldn't keep. It turns out she's not alone: according to many psychology researchers, you are more likely than not to fail if you attempt to change an aspect of your behaviour, such as smoking, or exercise, or brishing your teeth. Soberingly (or not), researchers in areas ranging from dieting to depression to drinking now ackknowledge relapse as the norm. Five years ago this led American researchers Janet Polivy and Peter Herman to coin the rather disheartning term 'False Hope Syndrome' to explain our tendency to repeatedly fail in our attempts to change. According to Polivy and Herman, you approach the change you want to make to your lifestyle in completely the wrong way. You start by picking something really hard to change, like smoking, or eating, or gambling: something that has been a satisfying part of your life for many years. You then give little or no thought to exactly how you will fill the void that is left gaping once you have somehow miraculously shed all the ritual behaviours involved in your chosen vice (try going to your favourite pub and NOT drinking allong with your friends). You start off with the best will in the world - full of motivation, optimism, and great expectations - and then reality strikes.  It becomes too hard, and, like 95% of new year's resolutions, is abandoned by the end of January... until the end of the year when you go and make the same resolution to change all over again. "I was so close this time, next year it’ll be easier..."
According to Polivy and Herman, we tend to interpret such failures "in such a way that that failure is seen as far from inevitable". In other words, when our hopes for change are dashed to oblivion on the rocks of reality, we comfort ourselves by saying that "it was only a small snag, it will be much easier next time".  We keep on keeping-on, dismissing each repeated failure as just another worthwhile step towards living happily ever after as a size eight.
Five years ago, my friend decided to quit smoking. She now says that the hardest part, and the part she never expected, was the impact that not going out to the front of the building for a ciggie would have on her work relationships. She went from knowing all the office gossip, to knowing none of it. This, in turn, presented renewed temptation, as she had lost something important along the road to maintaining her resolution. To her credit, she has now all but quit, but maintains that making the change was not what she thought it was going to be. 
In 2008, I encourage you to make only one New Year's Resolution: Be more realistic about change. But how? And what does real change, successful, 'pick-and-stick' change involve? How do you insure yourself against the dreaded false hope, and the smug “I-told-you-so” of friends, family and Polivy and Herman? First, you need to be realistic about what you want to change. There's no such thing as a free lunch, particularly if your resolution is to lose weight. Change specialists (often referred to as 'Psychologists'), know that in reality, change is a slow process – or at least slower than you expect. If you use something as general as what you eat from day to day, as a way to change something as specific as your body weight, you probably won't get immediate results. It won’t happen overnight, in fact, it probably won’t happen over several weeks… but it will happen. Hang in there. As well as being slower than you anticipate, it is also harder than you think. You can’t just change one part of your life without dragging other elements of your life along with it. Change your diet and next time you go out to dinner your friends may notice, and mention it. Some might even try to sabotage your efforts (“go on...you can make an exception just this once for us, can’t you?”), placing an unexpected new pressure on your worthy ambition. In case you thought this wasn’t demoralising enough, it turns out that we’re also very bad at predicting just how many things will need to change in order for us to get to where we want to be. Ask someone who’s just moved house if they knew in advance all the tasks that would be  involved, and they’ll almost certainly say that they didn’t, “but we got there in the end”.
And this is the final reality check for those of you still sufficiently motivated to make a change: even if you succeed in making the change you want, you won't necessarily live happily ever after because of it. Permanent change requires on-going maintenance. If, after reading this, you are still determined to make a New Year’s resolution, do yourself and your chances of success a favour. Make your goal realistic – for example, try losing only 5kgs instead of 20. Expect the unexpected. Take your time, and don’t give up at the first hurdle. If at first you don’t succeed, change your expectations. It will be worth it in the end.
Ref: Polivy, J., & Herman, C. (2002). If at first you don't succeed: False hopes of self-change. American Psychologist, 57, 677-689.
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