To be clear, we understand more about ourselves than we think we do. We know more about us than we believe and, just to add clarity, if we are open to a transformational change, we can learn how to diagram our behaviors to define old symptoms to which, essentially, we can learn from our history and improve our future.
I am a person who rejects the typical mottos and the overcomplicated programs that make life more difficult than it needs to be. I am, however, a fan of the best motto which is keep it simple. This is the easiest way to go.
However, as easy as this is to say, there are times when we need help with both personal and interpersonal navigation. There are systems of thinking and helpful behavioral methods which apply to us as unique individuals yet once we realize what works for us and our best level of understanding, then we can adapt and improve according to a new plan that supports our transformational improvements.
This is basically Self-Help and Self-Care 101.
Take me and my life for example:
Safe to say that it was tough being a kid, at least it was for me.
Whether the toughness was internal or external because of my size or my looks and my body’s frame, which was small, thin and weak, or if my difficulties were in the classroom, which they were, due to learning challenges and special needs; or, whether my difficulties were social, due to an uncomfortable awkwardness that was painfully uncomfortable and seemingly ongoing, or if the challenges were at home and a result of personal and family dysfunctions, my early years have a connection to the thinking errors and the cognitive distortions from my past.
Also, it’s safe to say that my Old Man was strict. This was tough for me. It was tough to gain attention and believe that I was either a priority or important.
The Old Man was tough. Yes, he was.
He was old-school, no-nonsense and rough around the edges.
My Father was older than most of the Fathers with kids my age and his background was different. My Grandparents were European, and yes, my Grandfather whom I never met was strict and tough, just like my Old Man.
The Old Man had his hang-ups which came from his own thinking errors and cognitive distortions. Yet, as we see in our relationships from current to the past, we can trace the lines to connections of people in our life. If we are honest, we can see where the blame directs us to an internal dilemma.
The Old Man saw life very differently than I did. Then again, of course he did. He was my Father and I was his son. He was grown, seasoned and aged.
But me, I was a boy.
I was young as can be and scared too, unsure, and unaware of how to be or act or how to learn in a classroom. I was unable to fit in a crowd or understand how to “be cool” or whatever that means. I was the kid who stuttered in class when reading. While I was trying to read clearly without stuttering, I can remember hearing the other kids laughing and making fun of me.
I can remember this as one of the many introductions to shame and, as well, I can see where this led me to defend myself and to the assumptions if someone was laughing that perhaps they were laughing at me.
Let’s face it – no one wants to be the “stupid” kid.
No one wants to be the kid with special needs.
No one wants to be laughed at, poked at, bullied or made fun of.
These were some of my challenges yet my Old Man had his own list of inventory to deal with. So we both had challenges that made our interactions difficult.
I was young, learning and trying but in the case between me and The Old Man, the jury was tough with these decisions.
Even now, decades after his passing, there are times when it’s a struggle for me to see a photograph of The Old Man.
I can easily connect to the old bouts of shame and displeasure.
I can remember the fights about my bad report cards and the challenges I had, which were both educational and social yet neither The Old Man nor I knew how to communicate with each other about these topics.
I was a dreamer and The Old Man was a doer.
We were different yet he and I were very much the same.
There are certain characteristics which I swore that I would never take on.
I swore that I would never do or say some of the things The Old Man did.
I can remember when the Old Man was going through something humbling. In fact, I remember this well.
I recall when he was going through a moment of his own personal challenges. While I was never too sure what these were about, I knew the The Old Man was going through something because each time he thought or felt old, or each time he was humbled by life around him; or if something was beyond his control or out of his reach, The Old Man would take on a huge project at home. This was tough because God help me if he needed my help. He was brutal at times like this.
I say this with the full understanding of how much growth it takes for a son to admit this about a parent who passed away when I was young.
I say this because, in my youth, I would never dare speak up or out against the memory of my Father. However, I have now reached a point of growth where I recognize this as being honest – and not disloyal, by any means.
Whenever The Old Man started thinking that he was getting old or weak, or if he entered into the beliefs that somehow, he was either inefficient or insufficient; the next morning, my Old Man would do work on the house – and mind you, these were not small or easy tasks. These were brutal, back-breaking, heavy-labored jobs because, to him, someone who was either inefficient or insufficient would not (and could not) take on and complete a job like this.
However, some of these jobs took more away from the Old Man than he expected. He endured and The Old Man put himself through incredible pains just to prove that he was not weak. He did these things to prove to himself that he was not old or fragile and that he was not incapable by any means at all.
Yes, I paid for these bouts in his mind.
I can say this. Yes, I’m sure if The Old Man was alive, he would agree and advise against this method of thinking.
He might not have been able to change the economy and he might not have been able to fix his own problems or the problems with me or the troubles we had in the house, but dammit all, The Old Man would literally put himself through the ringer and bleed and sweat, just to prove to himself that he’s worth something. Although he lacked the ability to say what he thought or felt and believed, at least he wasn’t old and could still endure.
There is something about this that I do agree with.
I do agree with the transfer of energy. I agree that when your thoughts lead you in a poor or unfriendly direction, we should replace them with an opposite and redeeming action.
I say this all the time because movement is the enemy of depression.
I say this because stillness is the breeding ground for thought-bourn illnesses. Since our thinking can become a cesspool of wasted energy, then our actions are the answer to drain these unneeded swamps.
However, thinking back to The Old Man and the unfortunate tasks he took on and the unthinkable challenges he’d put himself through; and while thinking about the mental catastrophes which possibly took place for him, I realize there are times when our actions can also lead us towards future damages.
I can see where our thinking turns inwards and how our actions take on a self-destructive appeal.
So, yes, replacing thoughts with action is a benefit.
But the same as we choose our goals from a realistic, attainable and sustainable action to reach a desirable outcome (R.A.S.O.) we have to make realistic choices and choose not to take on too much; otherwise, the actions we replace our thoughts with can be counterproductive and worse, this can hurt us as well as the people around us.
Trust me on this because (may he rest in peace) if The Old Man was around to attest to this, I’m sure he would say the same thing.
We are out of Phase One and into Phase Two.
Phase Two is about action.
This is about momentum and movement. This is about working smarter and not just harder.
This is about personal efficiency and the reality checks we need to put ourselves through. This is about understanding our movements to perform at our best, even when we might feel at our worst.
I say this with my own experience. Admittedly, I say this as someone who swore that I would never grow old or grumpy. Yet, I admit to yelling at the television.
I admit to shouting at people on the road who undoubtedly never learned how to drive.
I swore that I would never curse at a machine like The Old Man used to do when the lawnmower crapped out or when a job he worked on was going wrong. I saw my Father curse the world. I swore that would never be me.
I swore that I would never lash out on the people around me.
I would never take out my anger on the people I love and care for; yet, I am human. I have inventory. I have challenges and moments of uncomfortable humility.
There are times when I allow my thoughts to get away from me and pridefully, I take on more than I can handle just to prove to myself that I can hack it; just to prove that I can “do it,” and that I am able, capable, efficient and sufficient. I do things to prove my validity when, meanwhile, this is about as useful as yelling at my lawnmower for not starting when I needed it to.
Like my Old Man before me, I sometimes forget that these are predicaments of the mind.
It is hard to be at my best when I am not thinking or feeling my best. However, there is a way to build an internal understanding by diagraming and understanding my personal inventory. I can branch this and, below, I have posted a loosely based example which can be helpful when considering other items in our life.
Here is how I branch my inventory:
Have I taken out my anger on others –
The answer is yes
Why?
Fears of ineptness. Concerns of personal vulnerability which is a connection to my ego and fears that, somehow, this makes me flawed and ineffective.
The answers are connected to thinking errors and cognitive distortions that threw off my senses. As a result, I began to question my worth which turned into a spiral of degrading thoughts that altered my chemistry. Hence, my emotional make-up goes through a reactionary change and I respond to these different stimulants and react according to them.
I tie my symptoms to these memories of shame or past introductions of doubt or to unfavorable experiences, which are packaged and in tiny capsules of memory, each with their own ingredients and each with their own bouts of unfortunate patterns. I keep them in tiny buckets in my mind.
So, in answer to the question as to why I reacted the way I did or spoke the way I spoke, the answer is I was reacting to a slew of old feelings, thoughts, ideas and assumptions that took place at some point in my head. Whether my take on these moments is accurate or if, in fact, memory is a liar, or if my connections with these tiny buckets or compartments of memory and its contents are accurate or not; my choices and responses are based on these inventories. So, now that I can understand my discoveries, I can also enjoy the freedom of making a change.
Why did I react the way I did?
Why did I act or react in ways that I swore I would never do because I hated when someone reacted this way to me?
I can say I reacted in ways that made sense to me at the time. Or, I can say that when my thinking and mood matched my perception of an event in my life, I acted out in a likewise manner.
I reacted to my chemistry and my thinking. In the end, I put distance between myself and the people I love.
Think sane, act sane.
Right?
Think poorly, feel poorly.
Isn’t that correct?
Everything in life is an ongoing lesson.
I’m sure if The Old Man was around, there would be times he would step in to tell me, “Try not to do that, son. I did that to you and it was wrong.”
I know he would say that because I knew there were bouts within The Old Man that he would lose to and though his pride was in the way, I knew he wanted to regain and rebuild our relationship.
I know this.
If Phase Two is about action, then we need to choose our actions properly and carefully. We have to remember that self-care is always our priority. While it’s good to take on a challenge to defy our inaccurate assumptions, it’s not helpful to bite off more than we can chew because in the end, we pay more dearly than anyone else.
Or should I say almost anyone else because in the case of me with the Old Man, the jury is still out when it comes to some of these memories of when the Old Man was raw.
I paid for his discomforts too; therefore, when I allowed myself to react harshly, those around me paid for this too.
I don’t want to repeat this history, at least not anymore.
I don’t want to repeat these characteristics; but instead, there was a loving and charming side of The Old Man. That’s the side I would rather accentuate and perpetuate, so that when I replace troubled thoughts with beneficial actions, I can take on the energy of my Father’s best characteristics and not my worst.
I can say this – you would have loved my Old Man.
He would have loved you too.
He would have made you laugh.
You’d have loved his jokes and his stories,
He’d have loved to make you one of his “kitchen sink” omelets for breakfast.
We called it a “kitchen sink” because there was everything in them except for the kitchen sink . . .
He’d have made this for you.
He’d have sat with you and you’d have eaten with him and he’d have told you stories about his life.
You’d have loved it.
I can promise you this. You’d have felt like family because The Old Man would have treated you like you were one of his own.
I can promise you that.
You’d have loved the omelet, too, and I say this because I was never a fan of the ingredients or the omelet itself yet when The Old Man made these, ah, there was nothing like it –
There was nobody else in the world but us.
In my opinion, this is probably the best way to replace thought with action; through an extension of love, so true and so wholesome.
I wish he was here to show you.
I wish he was here to teach me how to make a kitchen sink.
I wish he could come back so we could have a breakfast like this; to let go of the unnecessary and to once more, have a morning together before the day started –
Know what I mean?
I’m telling you . . .
You’d have loved my Old Man.
And he’d have loved you too.
Trust me on this,
I guarantee it.
The Written Addiction 