Confronting Unpleasant Reality

For a month’s worth of posts, I (Scott) am critiquing my own past blog posts. I’m viewing this as an experiment in being willing to admit when I’m wrong, change my mind, and to do so publicly.

An outburst is a sign that we need help, but people generally don't experience outbursts that way.  It tends to be that people on the receiving end of an outburst see the person who "outbursted" as a person to avoid.  

In other words, living unconsciously sets us up for rather severe consequences.  We blow up as an unconscious reaction to unpleasant realities and these tantrums create the opportunity for isolation.

It is never easy to confront an unpleasant reality, and that is why we develop extensive defense mechanisms that protect us from its effects.  We may need that for a time, but if we refuse to confront whatever the difficult circumstance is forever then we continue to perpetuate a cycle of harm done from unconscious living.  

But, perhaps more importantly, we will not know ourselves and others will not have the opportunity to know us or walk alongside us in the midst of difficult times.  If we're content to react to whatever is beneath our surface unconsciously then we miss the opportunity to listen to ourselves, deal with pain, share the pain, and find community.

New me vs. Old me:

I don’t really disagree with this post- though I would highlight in a more obvious way a really complicated push-pull dynamic in life when it comes to trying to manage our own reactivity. Yes, on the one hand, it’s important to find ways to regulate ourselves so that people enjoy being around us (or have the potential to). On the other hand, wouldn’t it be nice if we could all be gracious with and to one another when we’re struggling? 

We need both.

Empathy for Outbursts

For a month’s worth of posts, I (Scott) am critiquing my own past blog posts. I’m viewing this as an experiment in being willing to admit when I’m wrong, change my mind, and to do so publicly.

Our unhealthy reactions (or outbursts) to deeper problems that hide beneath the surface represent our body's attempt to distance itself from something unpleasant.  I've used grief as an example this month as grief is what hides beneath the surface for me at the moment.  Other unpleasant things our bodies avoid include: trauma, stress, anxiety, fear, betrayal, threats, the future, the past, the present, the unknown, and so on and so forth.  Each individual person maintains triggers that are particular to him or her and those are simply some of the options.  

The bottom line is, regardless of what triggers us, our reaction to the trigger, when we're unaware of what lies beneath, is unlikely to result in others extending empathy towards us.  This is because our reactions appear so unrelated to the reality of what lies that beneath that the people that are caught up in our outbursts cannot help but feel anything other than confused, annoyed, angry, resentful, etc.  An outburst does not provide the people around us the information they need in our bear a burden alongside us.  

An outburst is a sign that we need help, but people generally don't experience outbursts that way.  It tends to be that people on the receiving end of an outburst see the person who "outbursted" as a person to avoid.  

Scott on Scott:

I actually kind of like this post. It’s important to take time to reflect on how other people are experiencing us. It’s also important to take time to reflect on how we are actually doing. It is, then, important to be able to voice how we are doing to others and to, potentially, ask for what we need (if we need something). This way people can respond to us based on what’s going on with us and what we need rather than just our reactions to things. 

Also, if you want to receive empathy, it’s a good idea to offer as much of it to others as you can (as well as grace).

An Unnecessary Display of Force

For a month’s worth of posts, I (Scott) am critiquing my own past blog posts. I’m viewing this as an experiment in being willing to admit when I’m wrong, change my mind, and to do so publicly.

When we feel most out of control we are, at the same time, most likely to exert control in some other area through an unnecessary display of force.  

When we throw a tantrum over something unrelated to the core issue we rarely use the appropriate amount of force.  Houses should be cleaned periodically in order to maintain a healthy level of mental and emotional balance (the level of cleanliness needed is negotiated between the people who live in the house).  But, we don't address a lack of cleanliness with a tantrum or outburst when our core issue is cleanliness.  We simply have a respectful, adult conversation about cleanliness.  When the core issue is something else (such as grief), we unleash an ungodly amount of frustration over cleanliness simply because our body needs to unleash SOMETHING.  It'll take anything at all.  

This is what I mean by, "...an unnecessary display of force." 

Self-critique session:

I think, again, I was overcomplicating things (and still sounding like a jerk). I believe the essence of this post is: We should build some “mindfulness” time into our lives that forces us to assess what is really going on. When we do this, we can not only choose when to have crucial conversations but we can appropriately match the level of intensity to the type of conversation we’re having. If all we’re upset about is cleaning, then that should be a low intensity conversation even if we’re quite frustrated. The reason being, it’s just not a life or death issue.

If, however, we need to talk about something quite serious, we treat it seriously. We plan a time to sit down where both parties can be prepared and free of distractions. We increase the intensity- but we don’t yell to increase the intensity, we focus.

Picking the right moment to have a hard talk, and striving for the right “tone” goes a long way.

Are You Living Like the Person You Want to Be?

For a month’s worth of posts, I (Scott) am critiquing my own past blog posts. I’m viewing this as an experiment in being willing to admit when I’m wrong, change my mind, and to do so publicly.

Accidental releases of tension provide a few minutes of relief, but they never satisfy us in the long run.

Our unconscious, external reaction to inner turmoil represents an accidental release of tension.  When we aren't aware of what lies beneath the surface, and when what lies beneath the surface is deeply uncomfortable, we need some release from our discomfort.  All too often that release takes the form of an unhealthy (and unhelpful) outburst over something totally unrelated to the inner turmoil beneath the surface.  

Yesterday we gave the example of fighting over the cleanliness of the house when dealing with the grief of loss.  Grief (the response to an encounter with absolute powerlessness) lies beneath the surface, but it manifests itself as an out-of-the-blue fight over something relatively meaningless and completely unrelated to the core issue.  

Why do I mention this in the context of a conversation on control?  

The accidental release of tension serves as an unconscious effort to gain control while we battle absolute powerlessness beneath the surface of things.

When we feel most out of control we are, at the same time, most likely to exert control in some other area through an unnecessary display of force.  

Scott’s Scott Critique:

Again, I don’t necessarily disagree with what I wrote above, but I would rephrase it if writing it again today (which I am, and will). I didn’t need to talk about control here in order to make my point: it’s important to confront the difficult emotions we have as a result of whatever life throws at us. When we don’t do this, yes, there are unintended consequences. But, in this case, I think it’s okay to say the problem was lingering grief that needed more attention (as opposed to control issues). 

The biggest question, in my mind, when assessing ourselves, is: Am I living like the person I want to be? In the above example, I was referring to my frustration that often comes out over cleanliness. Regardless of whether we clean house how I’d like, or if I have dealt with my grief or not, I don’t want to be a person who takes his frustration out on his wife or his kitchen (or, now, my child). So, if I’m not acting like who I want to be…what do I want to do differently? 

Or, for you, if you’re not acting like who you want to be…what do you want to do differently? 

Can you see anything you’d like to change?

From Powerlessness to Acceptance

For a month’s worth of posts, I (Scott) am critiquing my own past blog posts. I’m viewing this as an experiment in being willing to admit when I’m wrong, change my mind, and to do so publicly.

When we protect ourselves from uncomfortable truths we simultaneously prevent ourselves from discovering the appropriate response to our circumstances because we are not aware of even the need to respond.  Instead we live in reactivity, which is to say, we live un-consciously, allowing our response to the experience to remain hidden from view while our reactions wreak havoc in other unrelated areas.  

For example, we may argue with a partner over the house being dirty to release uncomfortable emotions hidden beneath the surface.  In reality, the only way to release (or let go of) the grief (or whatever uncomfortable thing you're coping with) beneath the surface is to acknowledge and sit with the grief.  When we aren't aware of how powerless we are, or when we fight our encounter with powerlessness, we commit ourselves to the ongoing insanity of letting out the tension beneath the surface only accidentally (as in the dirty house example).  

Accidental releases of tension provide a few minutes of relief, but they never satisfy us in the long run.

2021 Scott thoughts on Scott:

My biggest thought as I continue to read these is how mean I sound in print. Someone should have told me! (Just kidding. No blame shifting here.)

These days I really prefer the term acceptance to powerlessness. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the term powerlessness, of course, it’s just a word. And it happens to be a word with a long and fruitful history in recovery circles. 

I still struggle with reactivity- just as I did when I originally wrote this post. I am improving in the acceptance department though- and this really helps. 

Let’s be honest- a bulk of my conflict (and therefore reactivity) happens in marriage because it’s my “biggest” relationship. One of the other things I see happening over time is that I feel safer as time goes on. I learn that disagreements get resolved, I learn that Brittany and I can work to prioritize each other’s needs, and so on. It can’t be overstated how important a sense of “life safety” is- a sense that you’re seen, understood, and cared for, in managing stress, anxiety, reactivity, and so on. 

So rather than putting all the responsibility on ourselves to be less reactive, perhaps we should also consider prioritizing safe relationships.