Blogging and psychology

My once private thoughts are transferred by my fingertips to my blog. I work stuff out as I write it. My internal observations are transformed into words that somehow manage to convey the jumbled up bits and bytes that pulsated through my head some time ago.

After all this time I still do it. Why?

Well, blogging is airing my psychological laundry in public.

I get a buzz from seeing the metaphorical shirt-tails blowing to and fro on the waves of the web. Whether it is a stormy southwesterly or a cold northern breeze, it feels satisfying to put my thoughts on virtual paper.

Sometimes there is confusion raging in my head and when I talk about it, and sometimes write about it, it gains its own form of clarity and cleanness of being.

I blog because it’s my self-prescribed therapy ... and it’s still working!

What are you saying to me?

Letter to some of my siblings

It must have been (and still seems to be) hard to accept me. I say this knowing our shared history. I feel I should thank you for still talking to me the best way you can. Others (like me) have no family at all anymore.

I have always been me, it’s just that you know more about me now.

Did you know that I know that the best body language readers are those who need to know how others feel about them when there is a verbal communication barrier? I learnt to see what you were thinking even when your mouths were silent. I had to become sensitive to the language of non-verbal communication; it never lied to me.

With the evident discomfort I see you in sometimes I often wonder if being totally separated from your family for good is better or is this facade easier to deal with?

I’m wondering from your point of view because I know it’s not easy to deal with from where I am. Most of the time I feel like an uninvited guest in my own family. It seems you want me to leave, but you know it’s not polite to say so.

My question is when did etiquette ever stop you before? I have heard so many tirades and rants I wonder what’s holding you back now. Not politeness I’m sure.

Then again, I could have all this wrong and you feel no different about me than you ever did. It’s just that the strained silences in the few conversations we now have and the increasing lack of contact seem to indicate otherwise. I only say this because I noticed that when I stopped travelling to see you I never actually got to see you at all. We used to talk so often. I miss those times but I grow tired of initiating contact all the time. Then again, maybe your life is just so busy that you don’t have time to get in touch.

Am I making excuses again?

All I know is that after a while the uninvited guest gets the message and leaves. Is it my time?

Wherever I am and wherever you are I want you to know that I’ll still love you and I do understand. Remember I was there, I shared that upbringing as well. The rest, since we’ve all grown up, is up to us. We can’t blame the past for every decision we make today.

I just wanted you to know that I’ve been thinking about you and I do miss you.

M.

Messages

Thinking about messages.

If your actions are a message, if your life is a message, what message are you sending right now? How do I transform myself into the message of myself?

Is my life message valuable and does it have anything extraordinary to impart to the receivers?

Is there anyone capable of receiving and understanding my message in its current form? Do I need to change my message and its delivery?

What messages am I looking for from the people I meet? Maybe a similar level of exceptional being that they may look for in me?

How nice it is to see in the eyes of another person that the message has been received and understood. How pleasant it is to hear from the lips of another person that all is clearly absorbed.

Message delivery complete.

Some people ...

Once in a while I just want to be alone with my thoughts, to enjoy a quiet walk and to mind my own business. Alas, my face seems to be giving another message to people. They seek me out of a crowd, they smile with me, nod at me and then they have the audacity to engage me in conversation.

Wait a minute, that means that I also talk to them, doesn’t it? OK. So maybe I really do want to spend time with all these random people I meet in my daily journeys, it’s just that I didn’t know it.

Anyway, it appears that one of my morning contacts thinks I’m quite a good laugh and a bright and happy person (no idea where he got that misconception from) because he spied me from a long way off and headed directly for me with a purposeful stride. Then he planted his feet with the air of someone who was making himself comfortable for the duration.

I smiled and settled in to a comfortable stance myself as he told me the stories that had peppered his life since we last met. Phil had been on holiday with his wife, his dog has been in the kennels – but without any ill-effects this time, and he has been flirting his 69 year old self around the hotels of the Devon coast. His cheeky grin accompanied the sparkle in his eyes as he told me of his exploits with a Polish employee and the extra profiteroles he gained just from sharing a smile and a few nice words with her each day.

As a parting salvo he mentioned that most people on the coach tour were a pleasure to be around, but there was this one woman who never had a smile or a nice word to say to anyone.

“Some people,” he said, “they’re just like snow at harvest!”

Speakers' Corner

If I had a message to share where would I go? Maybe I’d head to London ending up in Hyde Park in London which is renowned for its Speakers’ Corner. Many highly regarded (and some not so highly regarded) people have regularly used this location to exercise their right to free speech. It is synonymous with the ‘People's parliament’ and some of the notable speakers using this forum have included Karl Marx, Vladimir Lenin, George Orwell, William Morris, C.L.R. James, Kwame Nkrumah and Marcus Garvey.

What would I say if I were really there? What would you talk about?

Do we have anything to say? Will people listen or just heckle us? Does that even matter?

It’s the right to free speech that is uttermost in my mind at the moment. We are allowed to disagree with each other - that’s only natural - as is holding different beliefs and opinions, because we are unique individuals.

Other British cities and also other countries have instituted their own Speakers’ Corner. I’ve also found one – it’s here, on the internet.

And what I want to say is this...

Elizabeth Taylor – outdone

Rumour has it that Elizabeth Taylor liked to keep people waiting. There was even an edict to make sure that she was late to her own funeral. She was a legend in life and will – I’m sure - be a legend in her death. Although she will long be remembered one incident of outstanding lateness will outshine even Dame Elizabeth Taylor in my mind.

I don’t like being late to events where I’m invited but the traffic diversions and ensuing delays meant I was bound to arrive at a ceremony after it was due to start: I was beginning to feel mortified and called the family with my apologies as the hour was fast approaching.

I need not have worried; they still weren’t dressed and hadn’t left their accommodation yet. We arrived late (by our standards) but later – much later – I realised just how early I really was. After driving around 80 miles we waited in the car. And waited. Then, as a change of activity, we waited some more!

Nearly an hour after we’d arrived I called the hosts again. This time there was no answer. I thought they must be on their way. But this was not the case, after some – waiting, there was a ... no show.

I called again, this time I was told they were just leaving the house (something I’d be told when I was stuck in traffic a good while (and many miles) before.

While I waited I saw a few people arrive at the chosen location – they obviously knew something I did not. There was no sense of urgency about their arrival. Every guest had the same invitation but these people rolled in with a casual air. It was immediately obvious that nothing was going to happen for a long time yet. So I decided to go elsewhere for a while as nothing was happening at the celebration venue. When I returned about 45 minutes later I felt as if I had committed treason or at least some great breach of social etiquette.

But, again I sat and waited for the main celebrants to arrive.

When they did turn up (laden with excuses but not apologies for the delay) it was a full three hours after the party should have started. It was then that I thought that Elizabeth Taylor had been outdone!

Most of the guests turned up after this.

This led me to the conclusion that either I was not part of that social network that knew you had to add three plus hours to the official start time or I existed in a different time zone and held a distinct set of social standards. Incredulity remained with me for the rest of the evening.

So, this is an apology to the memory of Elizabeth Taylor who carefully nurtured her reputation over seventy years – and who even kept visitors to her own house waiting for her to enter a room – sorry, but you have been outdone.

Accessible caring

Caring is usually a close contact occupation. Long distance caring is harder to implement and maintain. But whatever the distance between the cared for and the care giver there has to be a means of access.

I was at a meeting that was important to me and I needed to retain some form of control and focus. I had notes with me and I concentrated hard throughout all the time I was there. When it was over I felt a sense of relief because it all went reasonably well. What I didn’t realise until later was that I was also showing signs of distress that I believed I had hidden well. Leaving the meeting I met up with some people and one of them looked at me – more than a glance – it was someone close to me, and she asked if I had been crying. I had not, but she rightly noticed that my eyes were red and watery (I didn’t know I had even got that emotional but evidently I had been closer to tears than I was willing to consciously acknowledge).

You see, I had allowed this person into my life and she was comfortable enough with our closeness to mention what she noticed and to inquire as to my well being. Without this close proximity it would have been like caring from the end of a pole vault, assisted by binoculars from across a paddy field – not the easiest situation to handle.

When somebody knows you, they recognise shifts in behaviour and can talk to you about them, touch you, comfort you or guide you to a safer place.

When this happened to me the other day I felt a sense of understanding and peace come from the care giver in my life at that moment. It made me reflect that sometimes I must lift up my anchor – that I have used to maroon myself on my private emotional island – and row closer to the bank that the care givers are standing on. It is when I begin to row that I notice that they are also pulling me in using the guide ropes attached to my bow.

I know I must be accessible to receive their care so I keep on moving towards them and we both come into each other’s view.

Rear view mirror

I can’t remember the last time I went to the hairdressers, this is because I do my hair myself. My locks take a lot of time to re-twist but it’s a task I have gotten used to over the years. One of my sisters used to do my hair before I grew my locks – as she is a trained hairdresser, and the only person I felt comfortable with doing my hair. So, I guess I really should say ... I can’t remember the first time I went to the hairdressers, because I have never been to have a stranger do my hair.

The point of all this is that when you are at the hairdressers you spend a lot of time talking to them in mirrors. In the normal interaction between a customer and a hairdresser there is not a lot of face to face contact. As the customer sits facing the mirror the stylist will look at them through their reflection.

Taxi drivers are also adept at carrying on conversations through mirrors. They ask you intimate details about your life, and because you are unlikely to meet them again, the normal personal reserve is abandoned. You spill the most highly guarded facts about yourself as the journey progresses. Then you walk away from the cab without another thought about what the driver thinks about your revelations.

It is the same with the hairdresser or barber – because you are not looking directly at them you feel free to share amazing personal facts. This is how I sometimes feel about blogging: I am neither embarrassed nor inhibited here. I feel that this is my intimate space for myself and I’m willing to share it with ... anybody who glances in and sees what I am currently reflecting about myself and my world.

I guess I am blogging through a rear-view mirror.

Jigsaw

Friends are like jigsaw puzzles – they just fit together, naturally.

Who likes being a sheep?

Who likes being a sheep?

Usually being a sheep is seen as a negative thing. But I think that it can be a good thing once in a while. When I become associated with a group I feel like I have joined a flock. I feel like I belong somewhere again. Sheep have a strong sociable instinct that reminds me why minorities group – be they social, religious or cultural - gather together: it is for preservation – to save themselves from persistent persecution. This natural sheep-like flocking instinct is to ensure their survival.

The way I hear it is that when sheep get separated from their own kind they lose the will to thrive as sheep, they often go off to a desolate place and quietly give up the fight to be a sheep. This isolation can defeat the determination to survive.

Joining an appropriate group of like minded people can be like coming back inside the flock; it is a return from the wilderness. This fellowship imbues each person with the desire to flourish and grow. Sometimes when you feel like society is preying on you, you also feel as if you are in danger of succumbing to the experience of loneliness within the wider community. That’s what being lost in a crowd feels like: it is terrifying. Finding a flock is life affirming and comforting.

Because I have been fortunate enough to find groups that accept me for all I am I have to say how glad I am to join their flock of unique and beautiful sheep.

I am grateful to my fellow sheep for remaining in the flock. I am blessed to have found my way home.

New Year Resolutions – Sshhh!

I guess I’m a bit late in talking about New Year resolutions, but hey! That’s the way it is, I’m getting used to not being a sheep and it feels good. At least I’m getting used to being a sheep that is not in the huge flock that I used to belong to.

Anyway, I was going to talk about making New Year resolutions and the fact that millions of people have made them, and some may already have broken then – and it’s only day two of the New Year – and here I am, having not even made one yet! Well, that may not be strictly true, but before I perjure myself I’ll explain ... I don’t use the New Year as a reason (or excuse) to make a new resolution. Although it’s a significant day in the calendar for many people to me it is simply another glorious day to be alive and to achieve something wonderful – like any other day. Sounding trite? My apologies, but it is true ... each day is a spectacular gift. You have to agree with that I’m sure. We all seem to want more days to enjoy.

I don’t disagree that some dates have a special significance and memory but each present day is always - in my mind - the best day to start something; the present time always has the freshness needed for any task.

I read an article by India Knight that had the best advice about New Year resolutions that I have seen in a long time. It suggested that promising to start or stop something on a particular date seemed to put pressure on the task you have resolved to complete: the date arrives with a bang and you know what has been promised, others also know, all eyes are on you now.

Within a few weeks (days or hours) the resolve can fail or severely weaken and the embarrassment alone prevents you from wanting to do it all over again. So, Indian Knight recommends an alternative way forward:

“... decide what you want to take up / give up, and keep absolutely silent about it. Do it in secret.”

She says resolutions are essentially private things that you are doing for yourself, so it makes sense to keep them to yourself. India Knight contends that this way, you’ll feel fantastic if you succeed, and if you fail, nobody will know that you were even trying in the first place.

If you do fail, because nobody knew anyway, you have the added advantage that you can start again when you like, you don’t have to wait until the next New Year’s Day and a fresh set of new resolutions. With this silent method you really can’t be unsuccessful – you win both ways!

So, my New Year resolutions are ... to keep quiet about my New Year resolutions – Sshhh!

Merry Christmas

Surely it’s a bit early for Christmas wishes? You may well agree.

However, this morning we received our first Christmas card for the year. It was hand delivered and at first I didn’t know it was a Christmas card, I mean it’s the middle of November. Christmas cards are not the first thoughts that spring to mind when picking up anonymous post.

When I went to the front door, there on the mat sat a small white envelope. My initial thought was that it was an invitation for M to attend someone’s birthday party. Bending to pick it up I went through a list of possible senders. It was addressed to me so I opened the small envelope and extracted the card. The query formed on my brow, “who could this be from?” Quickly I flipped open the card and then I smiled.

It was from an elderly neighbour. She lives alone since her husband died about three years ago. Although she has relatives locally the people on the street, including my son and I, often pause by her window to wave as we pass by or knock on her door for a brief chat on our way home. It was not dementia that caused her to send an early Christmas card; it was something quite different.

A few weeks ago we bought some chocolates and decided to give boxes to some of the ‘mothers of the community’ – she was one of them. As we couldn’t get hold of her when we went delivering chocolates we left her box with a neighbour. So this morning she sent a card saying “Season’s Greetings – thank you for the chocolates, what a lovely surprise. Have a great Christmas ...” Mrs C’s expression of gratitude, as well as our gift to her, reminds me that every day is a good season to greet someone and extend a touch of love.