Resisting the Book of Rules

The world is so full of plots to thwart the good intentioned who are trying to follow the rules.  In a given day, the shear number of plots I encounter to discourage me in this goal is mind blowing.  For most of my life, I had a set of rules to follow.  As I moved to adulthood, I referred to them as the Book of Rules.

Examples:  My toothbrush goes in only one place in the cabinet and no where else.  I sleep in my clothes prepared for anything.  I can’t eat the same thing more than once a day.  In order to make sure I completely clean my plate, I avoid putting too much food on it at one time.  When I am done eating, I am done even if there are only two or three bites left in the container.  (This makes my partner crazy for good reason.  Imagine a refrigerator filled with containers with two bites of food in them.)  I try to eat my food only on my favorite plate color which means I put the plates away so my favorites are on the bottom ready for my use.  I use toilet paper to blow my nose as Kleenex is only for when I’m really sick despite the fact we have Kleenex boxes all around the house.

Living with me has never been easy.  However, living with me when I am determined not to break a rule I hold dear even when I have no idea why a particular rule exists is just plain exasperating.  Over the last few years, I have come to realize, at least theoretically, that my desire to identify and follow rules was how I learned to deal with childhood abuse.  I learned that if I can control not making a mistake or “breaking a rule,” I can hopefully avoid punishment.

More recently, I have been struggling to notice when I am following a rule and ask myself why.  This may sound simple.  In my reality, it is a mammoth struggle.  Each rule was established for a reason even if I have no clue any longer what the reason was.

It’s a bit like our civil laws over the long haul.  There may have been a perfectly good reason why a law was created 100 or 200 years ago.  However over time, the law has become unpractical or ridiculous.  A mark of healthy growth is to recognize when such laws, or as with individuals, behaviors, expectations, or patterns cease to serve us.

When I am doing something that makes no sense, I try to identify the rule I am following.  Once I have that information, I can begin to slowly unwrap my motivations to figure out why the rule exists.  Then, I need to determine if I want to continue to have such a rule.

I grew up in a family where teenagers have bad acne.  My mother waged a holy war against the acne on my face.  The acne was hideous.  There are very few pictures of me from this time.  However in waging this war, my mother was against any type of grease, oil, or cream that might clog pores on my face.  As a result, I hate grease, oil, or cream.  I hate it on my hands and face.  I have trouble rubbing cream on any parts of my body.

I think it’s pretty obvious that my dislike of these products is an overdone strength.  In fact, the rule to never put cream or lotion on my face is just plain stupid.  It gets in the way of sun screen and chapped cheeks.  It gets in the way of addressing any other dry spots.  The rule was drilled into me.  In fact, I remember washing my face with pHisoHex numerous times a day to get the grease off my face at my mother’s instruction.  (Now, we know skin grease is not what causes acne and pHisoHex is now considered toxic.)  

The thing is I know this thinking is unhelpful.  I know my face needs sunscreen.  But, it feels TERRIBLE to me to have greasy or creamy stuff on my face.  It feels wrong, bad, and yes, like I am breaking a rule.  How do I overcome this?

I know now that the most effective way is to make a new memory pathway for my mind.  Put cream on my face once a week for a year?  At some point, maybe it won’t feel so wrong.  On the other hand, how much energy do I want to put into this little project and what’s the downside of not making the effort.  In this case, dry or sunburned skin.  In other cases, it could be something worse.

Wandering around in my native habitat, I am aware of things that are not right and appear to be the result of efforts to keep them from being right.  The word that most often comes to me is that it’s a PLOT.  

Sometimes, a cabinet door isn’t closed completely. The screen door isn’t clicked closed.  A picture is crooked again.  Didn’t I just fix that?!  I look at my parked car.  Does it look crooked?  My inner voice is pleading with me to “Let it go!  Let it go!  It’s not important!”  While my rule voice is saying, “It’s not right!  Fix it. Do whatever it takes.”

What are “They” (the Omnipotent They) going to try on me next?  Signs and coffee tables are crooked.  The rug on the floor isn’t square.  I adjust them but they never seem fixed.  I can’t seem to not correct my grammar or punctuation in a text or email.  Who cares?  Is this part of, “Everything is an interview?”

Rules, compulsions, obsessions.  Life is a bloody mess.  I’m holding on with my hands, fingers, arms, feet, legs, and occasionally my teeth.  I feel pressured to figure this out so all the laid back joys of life will be mine.  I’m afraid time is running out.  “Really, Joceile, a little cream on your face won’t hurt you.”

“Says who?...”

L’Chaim.

Joceile

1.24.18

[Picture:  Sheet of notebook paper that says, “Book of Rules” listing:  Temperature, Trucks/Cars, Food, Hygiene, Pets, General Philosophy, Travel, Clothing, Security, Great Questions of the Ages.]

The Troops

I used to have disturbing characters in my mind.  They were part of an organized dissociative response to extreme childhood trauma.  Fortunately, the story doesn’t end there. Although, it could have and often does for many others. 

After decades of mental health work, I slowly made peace with the most troublesome character, Sasifraz.  He had said many things like, “You’re stupid.  You should be dead.  I’m going to kill you.  The planet would be better without you.”  He was the first line of resistance to my recovery. 

As things resolved with him over a very, very long period, I no longer heard his voice. Instead, there was a collective of scared little children in my head. I call them the Troops. Their needs are different than Sasifraz. They are young and afraid. They are more worried about having enough food to eat and whether there are monsters outside. 

Over the last ten years, I’ve worked to understand their needs in relation to my adult self. Some are similar to Sasifraz when I’m upset. “You’re stupid.”  Others are the plaintive cries of little ones. “We’re hungry.  Is that a monster?  Don’t yell at us.”

I’m writing about this now as I am realizing we all have parts that need to be recognized.  Mine are more distinct which makes them easier to identify.  As I’ve worked with the Troops, I’ve slowly learned to listen to what they are saying and respond better.

“Oh, you’re hungry.  We can eat now.”  “That noise was not a monster.  Look, you can see the shape of a tree.”

It’s been a long, evolving process.  If they say, “We don’t think you can do that.”  I am learning to stop responding with, “Shut up.  You don’t know anything.”  Most recently when a stress reaction caused me to stop eating, I found myself pushing them away when they said, “We’re worried about food.”  I responded, “I don’t want to talk about it,” which didn’t help either of us.

Now when I hear them worry, I try to say, “I get that you’re worried.  It’s a problem.  I’ll get help eating.”  The message from me is, “I’m listening. I’ll  do something about your worry.”  It’s important that I follow up when I say I will do something.  Like children, they notice when I don’t do what I say I’ll do.  I also have to remember to say thank you to them for helping me out.

I know everybody has an internal critical voice.  These voices say things like, “I’m stupid.  I’m ugly.  I’m too old.”  We sometimes buy into that voice failing to hear what we are actually saying to ourselves and considering how destructive that messaging can be.  

Over the last few years, I’ve worked to incorporate the Troops into helping me with my own fears and struggles.  It’s my opportunity to marshal all my parts.  When I’m really scared about something I need to do like make a public presentation, I’ve learned to say, “Okay guys, I really need your help on this.  You are smart and can contribute good things.  Work with me so we can do our best.”  

They are helpful when I do that.  I might be afraid about a potentially volatile interaction.  “I really need your help, guys, to find the right words.  You have skills to add.  Help me find the words I need here.”  (I call them guys but they are many genders.)  I am able to enter these scary interactions or presentations or whatever with more confidence knowing that I am using more of my brain and not just part.

We all have resources we don’t utilize.  Like our computers, we only use 10-20% of our capacity.  We have skills that are unknown or untapped.  When we ignore the critical voice in our head or blindly obey it, we’re not using a resource.  If we don’t show curiosity about, “What is this,” those resources remain dormant.

Sometimes, it’s asking a question like, “What do I really need to do about this,” and listening for the answer.  Occasionally, the answer is something we don’t want to hear. “I need to find a new job.”  “I need to eat more nourishing food.”  “I need to be more patient with my child.”  Often I learn the things I need to do if I just stop, be still, and listen. I don’t always like what I hear. But, it’s information. My job then is to turn that information into something that serves all of me.

My goal is to remember to include the Troops.  My guess is we all have these parts we can invite to help improve our lives. To that end:  What’s the question most pressing in your mind?  What’s the answer no matter how far fetched?  What are you going to do about it?

I tell the people I love and work with:  Take care of yourself.  It’s up to you. Nobody is going to do it for you... unless maybe, you invite the Troops. 

L’Chaim.

Joceile 

1.3.19

[Picture of cartoon drawing of a Troop member discovered called the Little Hoodlum with messages saying he is a smart, strategic thinker who helps me think outside the box. Hence, he helps me solve tough puzzles.]