Spiritual

Self, Selfish, and Selfless

Ron Johnson appreciation, emotional maturity, Feelings, mindfulness, Self-Awareness, social esteem, Spiritual

There is much talk in the psychological community about “self,” and rightly so because the idea of self is central to understanding the very basis of psychology. Unfortunately, “self” is not defined, nor should it be, because it is one of those concepts that is so important that it can’t be defined. You might recall that I have written (as have many others) that the most important concepts in psychology are undefined, like feelings, love, wisdom, and perhaps other ones as well. Additionally, the three basic ingredients of the known universe are all undefined: distance, mass, and time. All other physics concepts are based on these three undefined concepts. We can measure time, distance, and mass, and we can combine them, like distance/time = velocity, but we don’t define them. Neither do we define “self.”

Not all psychologists use the term “self,” preferring “core self,” “soul,” “spirit,” “inner self,” and other such concepts that all refer to this essence of being human that is not only undefinable, but also fraught with implications according to how people use such terms. I will not debate the values and dangers of these terms but simply state that my preference is “core self” for the most part, but for this blog I will be using “self.”

What is self?

When you have an important concept like self, or time, distance, and love for that matter, you can understand the concept not by a definition but by three ways: (1) observing the absence of the concept, (2) observing more complex concepts that are comprised of self in combination with self, and (3) observing the effects of the concept. Note that the operative word is observing. Let’s look at these three ways of observing self.

The absence of self

We can understand self to some degree when we see what we call an “absence of self.” This terminology is not the best, I grant you, but it does communicate something of what apparently happens with some people: they have failed to develop a clear concept of who they are, that they are important in some way, or even that they exist. A related phenomenon exists with some severely impaired autistic people, or perhaps more accurately, they don’t have a concept of their actual existence.

But this is not what we are talking about with people who have an absence of self, or more accurately don’t have a good sense of self. The primary symptom of such people is an undue attachment to something other than oneself. There is some truth to the theory that people who become addicted to something, whether person, property, substance, or behavior, might not have a good sense of self. So they find a kind of attachment to one of these things (or behavior), which then gives them a sense of existence. This is tantamount to a person feeling such an attachment to, for instance, gambling, that s/he feels a real sense of self when s/he gambles. More often, however, the attachment is less to a behavior, person, property or whatever, as it is to the endorphins that are churned up when the individual is attached to this thing. It is like the person feels, “I feel real when I…(gamble, drink, or fuse with someone else, etc.).”

Most people have at least some sense of self, and hence “absence of self” is not quite right, but when someone has failed to develop a sense of his basic existence apart from anything, we do have this lack of a good sense of self.

Self combined with other elements

People who fuse with something so much that this thing, whether person, property or whatever, becomes what the person is rather than attached to the thing. There is a much healthier and profitable experience than fusion and consequent lack of identity: attachment. There is a literature on several kinds of attachment, but for our purposes here, we are talking about secure attachment. This is typified by the person who can separate him/herself from the behavior or product but finds that the use of something makes him/her a better person. Thus, a person who has a good senses of self can develop a passion for swimming and see swimming as a reflection of one’s self rather than swimming being the essence of oneself. In fact, the best competitors, whether in swimming or playing chess, are people who can attach to the sport and then detach from it without discomfort. To some degree, you can observe a person with a good sense of self engaged in some activity, do well with it at one time, do poorly with it at another time, and have other activities that assist the person to display his/her “self” in the activity. People who have to win at everything do not have a good sense of self, neither do people who simply do not try or give up too easily.

Aside from attaching and detaching from a sport, people with a secure sense of self can truly enjoy something like reading, writing poetry, painting, working, playing, singing, and many other elements of life. Common among people with a good sense of self is their being able to attach and detach from several things, which also suggests that the individual is able to love more broadly, say love swimming, love being alone, love being with people, love playing checkers, and love reading.

The effects of having a good sense of self

In all of these ways of attaching and dethatching to things, the person with a good sense of self is appreciative of the many aspects of life. The primary effect of having a good sense of self is that the individual appreciates life and has a sense of gratitude for living. People with less of a good sense of self do not feel such gratitude. Rather, sadly, they feel that they have not had enough and need more. This effect of having a good sense of self yields a deeper and deeper appreciation for what the world provides them, sometimes as simple as air to breathe and water to drink, but also property, people, and position in life.

In addition to feeling a sense of gratitude the second effect of someone with a good sense of self is that s/he has a passion to do something for humanity. You don’t have to be a philanthropist or a tree hugger to do something for humanity. You can be that cheery cashier or the honest attorney who both feel a passion to do something good for other people. When these things happen, namely feeling grateful and feeling a passion to give to the world, an interesting thing happens: you forget about yourself.

Forgetting about yourself

Now this must seem quite contradictory to what I originally wrote, namely that ideally a person has a good sense of self. So what do I mean suggesting that one “forget about him/herself?” I mean that when one’s sense of self is truly solid, s/he doesn’t worry, doesn’t fear, rarely gets angry, and spends a great deal of time thinking of how to serve the world. Such people are not defensive because they know their limits and their flaws. They are not critical because they know that everyone is doing their best to survive in life. They do not worry what other people think of them because they know that most people don’t care about them whatsoever, while there are probably an equal number of people who do like them and don’t like them. In their doing, they make mistakes and quickly come out with a “my bad” expression. They listen to criticism, whether right or wrong; they know they are hurt, but they don’t let their hurt lead them into anger or fear. Most importantly, they are more interested in other people than they are in themselves. They don’t live through other people, but rather have a life orientation of service. You can’t serve, give, and sacrifice if you are constantly thinking of what you want, which is so common among people with an inadequate sense of self.

Be yourself. It is the best thing you have. When you really know that, you will be able to “forget about yourself” without losing yourself. It is like having such a good foundation that the upper stories can collapse but never damage the foundation.

The Joy/Sadness Dyad of Love

Ron Johnson appreciation, emotional maturity, Feelings, grief, happiness, mindfulness, Spiritual

Do you ever feel “emotional”? Yes, just “emotional” without any real kind of definition to what this means. The symptoms of being emotional are often a tearing up in some way. You might feel something physically in another part of your body, probably depending on your personality type and temperament. You might have an immediate thought or take some course of action, but there is a predominance of emotion. I have come to think that this feeling “emotional” is a very important experience, one that needs to be noticed, allowed, understood, and possibly expressed because I’m quite sure that this experience has love written all over it.

Previously, I have written about how sadness is “a love problem,” which means exactly this: when I am sad, I am in a state of grief for having lost something that I love. This “thing” that I have lost usually will be a person, a piece of property, or an idea. There are other losses that lead to sadness, like loss of opportunity, loss of a game, loss of some physical ability, and perhaps other forms of losses, but the primary losses that stir our emotions are people, property, and ideas. Deb and I wrote extensively about losses and the centrality of sadness in any kind of loss in our The Positive Power of Sadness book published a couple years ago, yet we continue to find new and important things related to this whole sadness matter. In this blog would like to take apart this “love problem” thing that includes sadness but also includes joy because I think there are many times, often when we feel “emotional” that we feel both joy and sadness simultaneously.

As often happens in therapy, I often feel “emotional,” i.e. tearful when I am working with a patient. I have found that if I can carefully speak of my feeling emotional or tearful, the man in front of me says something like, “Yes, I feel the same thing.” People familiar with psychoanalysis will note that this kind of encounter has to do with transference and countertransference that are both frequent and probably essential ingredients of any good psychotherapy. Simply put, transference is the feeling the patient has for the therapist, while countertransference is the feeling the therapist has for the patient. These feelings can often turn into emotion (note the distinction, by the way between “feelings” and emotion, with emotion a subset of feelings). The emotion can be any of the four basic emotions of joy, sadness, anger, or fear, and these emotions, often triggered by physical sensations, can lead to some kind of thought or action. (Forgive the complexity of this matter as this sentence is a summary of two chapters in our forthcoming book, I Need to Tell You How I Feel.) There are many times of everyday life that are like this, namely when a person has an emotional moment (erupting out of one’s feelings, of course). Before we look at some examples of these important times of emotional experience, allow me to set the stage with a bit of theory.

The experience of love always has both joy and sorrow in it

Well, probably not always…but I could make a case for “usually.” My point is this: when I feel this emotional moment, I feel some kind of true love, be it person, property, or idea. Very often, this love is for a person, and perhaps people bring these emotional moments more than property or things. My point is that when I feel this emotion that brings tears, this experience is so basically loving that it is simultaneously joy and sadness. When people try to explain what they feel at these moments, they usually use the term emotional, or perhaps sadness, but rarely do they see that joy is equally a part of the experience. I have come to see that these emotional moments are quite important in life and need to be recognized and treasured. They may also need to be expressed, but any expression of the emotion (and the feeling under the emotion) might actually take away from the feeling because we are inclined to explain why we feel something more than just feeling it.

Just feeling something can be done quite easily once one realizes that an emotional moment is really a love moment. If you can do that, you will be able to tear up, cry, or perhaps even sob as you allow yourself these moments to be a part of you. Extraverts will be inclined to want to share these moments, while introverts will want to keep them private. Nothing wrong with either pose, but it is important for extraverts to know that there not everyone wants or needs to hear their feelings all the time, and it is equally important for introverts to know that they can too easily hide their feelings for fear of being misunderstood. My main point is: feel it first; value the feeling second, and then decide whether it is valuable for you and your audience to express this feeling.

 

Examples of feeling emotional

I am not an animal person as compared to almost everyone else in my family. You will never see me cuddle up to some dog or cat that happens to be in the vicinity, nor do I take any kind of great joy in seeing deer cross the road or geese flying overhead. My grandson sees all of God’s creatures, large and small; my sister has always had at least one dog, and for a time had a room full of birds…jut normal birds that somehow ended up in the house; my daughter, Krissie, loved dogs. Animal people can easily have an “emotional moment” when they see some animal. I watch as these folks seem to necessarily touch their chests while simultaneously coming out with a verbal or nonverbal expression of joy. Good for them. They are experiencing love, usually the joy side of love, but I have also seen the sadness side of love when they see an animal is in distress.

I see many examples of this sadness/joy experience with clients. Recently, I was with a man who is quite a “caretaker” by temperament and also a thinking-based person (INTJ for those of you who know the Myers-Briggs). Jim has been working diligently to suffer through and get through a serious depression, which he is doing marvelously, almost entirely by recognizing what he feels, predominantly the feeling of emotion. When was with him the other day while hearing his thoughts and surmising his feelings, I felt somewhat “emotional,” and after a moment, I told him so. This led to more than 30 minutes of his simply feeling “emotional” replete with a few teardrops. Throughout this period of time the mainstay of his experience was, in his words, “God’s comfort.” This led him to conclude that he needed to trust God more, and along the way, trust people more. Thus, Jim noticed what he felt physically, stayed with what he felt emotionally, thought what he felt cognitively, and then felt led to do something about this feeling. Thus, it was the emotion that was so important for him that led him into thinking and doing.

I have had many such times, often daily, where I feel this amorphous joy/sadness experience, sometimes alone, more often with someone, rarely with nature. Nature people, often simultaneously animal people, feel this joy/sadness/love experience quite frequently, whether sunset, sunrise, full moon (last night by the way), or even rough weather. I had a friend years ago who was hunter and a real naturalist who just loved it when his hunting weather (usually fowl) was “nasty” as he said it. It just moved him to tears.

While not a naturalist by any means, I can read about nature, or history, or theology, or psychology, and become quite moved, not always, but sometimes to tears. I just love to learn something in one of these genres. Making sense of some piece of history, theology, or psychology is truly a love moment for me. I never could see how kids thought history was boring. Why would a person, like me for instance, come to tears with some new insight about psychology, history, or theology? I doubt that I am the only one.

By far the most predominant emotional moments occur with other people. Not long ago when writing about the loss of our dear daughter, Krissie, now nearly nine months ago, I noted how the sharing of her loss in some circumstance led to various people coming to tears. What were these tears about, especially with most of these people had never met us before, much less Krissie? They were tears of love replete with both the emotions of joy and sorrow. There was the woman at the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the woman in the shoe repair shop who had lost her boss, the woman at the headwaters of the Mississippi, and more than a half dozen people at various Starbucks’ counters where Deb prefers to get espresso. Note, all women, but it doesn’t end there. I had an encounter with a man in my office during my very first Intake Assessment with him where we were talking about feelings in the larger sense, and emotion in the smaller sense. I mentioned the loss I had had with Krissie as a point of reference to emotion, and this guy was fraught with uncertainty as to how to handle his emotion. I had to help him allow himself to cry because, as ye said afterward, he “didn’t want to appear emotional.” In fact, his felt emotion was an act of love: both joy and sorrow. What was the joy? He loved Krissie, and at that moment he loved me although he is not emotionally mature enough to feel the “L” word, much less allow himself to express it

I encourage you to notice these “emotional moments”, allow for one or two tears, or more if necessary, and then note the love you have just experienced shown in this odd admixture of joy and sorrow.

Helpless

Ron Johnson emotional maturity, Feelings, grief, mindfulness, Self-Awareness, Spiritual

Helpless is a feeling. That having been said, it is a subset of “feelings” that I have written about (and that Deb and I have written a book about incorporating all of my feeling blogs). Describing helpless as a feeling is the best way I can define helpless, just as all words representing deep feelings are undefinable. While you can’t define such feelings, you can see the effects of these feelings, and the outgrowth of these feelings in some kind of expression. Expressions of feelings are always physical, emotional, cognitive, or active. I want to discuss the nature of this very important feeling, which means primarily the effects true helpless has on an individual or a group of people. I will also touch on other topics that relate to helplessness, which are genuine depression, feigned helplessness, the value of genuine helplessness, and how to handle helplessness. But first a couple of stories.

Stories of helplessness

This past week I have had no less than three men speak of feeling helpless. One man, a Catholic priest, chose to seek my counsel regarding the effects of the current pandemic had on him and on his parishioners. He reported that he had two issues: the feeling of loss and the fear of the unknown effects of the virus. Then he told me first of the worries he had about catching the coronavirus, or perhaps his sister catching the virus together with the effect that such a thing would have on her family given that she is a single parent. While painful, he could see himself coping with dying, or tragic as it might be, he could cope with his sister dying because he could see himself through these possibilities. However, what was most challenging for him was to think of how he might be called upon to serve his congregation. He noted, for instance, that many of his parishioners were seniors who could be most susceptible to becoming ill. If that were to happen, he thought, what would he do to serve them: stay at home and talk to them on the phone; visit one of them or a group of them at their homes or in the hospital, visit their relatives, or what? Secondly, he noted the concern for the forthcoming Holy Week, namely the week leading up to Easter, which is the most significant week of the church year. He wondered how he might handle Easter? As he spoke of these concerns, particularly those related to his congregation, I asked him how he felt. Helpless, he said. Then all changed in the conversation. Somehow, oddly, he felt better. We discussed, back and forth, certain theological and biblical matters related to fear, love, trust, and faith, but the lasting feeling he came to was helplessness. We discussed, for instance, how God is yet in command of the universe, and that we are but His servants in some way. But aside from the theological part of our discussion, he continued to feel “better” having admitted to feeling helpless. Just admit to feeling helpless. This priest’s helpless is essentially spiritual, i.e. seeing how God is in command, not he.

I saw Jack this week and heard the “H” word from him but in regards to a very different situation. Jack is married and desperately wants to stay married after seemingly been happily married for 30-some years. However, his wife is planning to leave him, apparently as a kind of separation, sometime soon. This I’d devastating to Jack. First, he is an evangelical Christian, and feels that such things are just wrong, but equally important he doesn’t know what he has done wrong, much less what he could do now to forestall such a drastic action as being separated. Jack is a very outgoing guy, a person who has been quite successful in his working years even though at the present he is working at a job that does not suit him. Jack has been successful in ministry, sales, and general management over these years and has generally been highly regarded. He has no particular addictions save one, which might call a food addiction. He is bereft of any understanding of why his wife is leaving him and has worked to hear what she has said about what she thinks he has done wrong. Yet nothing really makes sense to him even as he tries desperately to figure out what is going on with his wife. Our recent discussions have centered around the fact that he is a “we” person and then a “you” person despite his extraverted ways. (You might profit by reading my blog on “We, You, I people”). This means that he looks for connection, and when he can’t find it, looks to what is going on with his wife, always coming up with zero understanding of why she should be doing what she is doing. He feels helpless. Jack’s helplessness seems rooted in the fact that he has a deuce of a time coming out of his “we” and “you” orientation towards an “I” orientation, meaning who he is, how he feels, what he does, and what he says. Jack’s helplessness is his difficulty, almost impossibility, of looking at himself rather than his wife and their relationship.

The third man I saw this week speaking of helplessness is a person who, indeed, is suffering from a Major Depressive Disorder (MDD). You must know by now that I use this diagnostic label, or any diagnosis for instance, very rarely and with great caution. People use the term “depression” so freely, as with all other popular diagnoses, that the word is meaningless for the most part. The symptoms of MDD are disturbances in three areas of life: sleeping, eating, and energy. True MDD sufferers may suffer from all three or just one, but the primary symptom of MDD is energy, usually low energy. We call this condition anhedonia, which means lack of energy, fatigue, or lack of interest and drive. Such is the case for Bruce. More specifically, when we were working together, we addressed an early family situation that was less than functional, and so I asked him how he felt when he was a child in this situation. “Helpless,” he said. This is a guy who survived and thrived in life somewhat based on a life of “just doing what is needed to be done,” and how has collapsed. Why? He ran out of energy. Anhedonia. His brain is saying something like, “It’s time for you to take a time out and rest until you can finish all these feelings that you have necessarily repressed for decades.”

These three stories just this week, and many more in previous weeks. I did my best to help these guys feel helpless. Help them feel helpless, you say? Why? More later. Now, to discuss some helplessness that is really not helpless.

False Helplessness

This is a delicate discussion. Delicate because I am loathe to use words such as “false,” much less lazy, avoiding, addicting, lying, and such that are derogatory with no real value. Such words only serve the speaker, not the individual. This having been said, many people have fallen into a genuine feeling of helplessness because they have not grown up. Not grown up; what does that mean? It means that some element of emotional/social maturity has eluded them for some good reason. The two origins of failing to grow up (emotionally and socially) is deprivation or indulgence. Plus, both of them always lead to shame. The deprived child puts up a big fuss because she is not receiving what she needs, and then she is shamed for wanting what he actually needs. The indulged child puts a bit fuss because he thinks he should have everything that he wants, and then is shamed for wanting more than he should have. Whether from deprivation or indulgence, a child comes to view him/herself as helpless in life: helpless to get what he wants or needs. We can call the indulged child spoiled or the deprived demanding, but both of these children are just wanting to get from the world what they actually need. The deprived child needs to have nurturance and guidance; the indulged child needs to be limited. However, when one has had either of these unfortunate circumstances (and some children actually receive both, oddly), it is rare that they ever find a way to get away from feeling helpless because they continue to think/feel that the outside world should provide to them what they want. There is little distinction between wants and needs in such children, nor in the adults they become. Even though we who have received a modicum of limitation and encouragement might think otherwise, people in this feeling of helplessness truly feel and think that they are not able to do something. At this point people in this emotional/social immature condition find some kind of reasoning or addictive behavior that keeps them helpless.

Of the many people I know who truly feel this false helplessness I know of a woman who feels completely at the mercy of one or more physical ailments she has, a man who “can’t” find a way to get a job, a young girl wo at 14 really “needs” someone to help her remember to flush the toilet, a boy of 7 who thinks that he should win every game and it is “unfair” when someone else wins, a person in poverty thinking that rich people should give him money, and a wealthy woman who thinks that she has to protect her millions from the dangers of such people.

It is a challenge to feel any kind of helpless, but when a person has had a life of feeling helpless, it is extremely hard. And it is hard to befriend such a person, and harder yet to deal with such a person in your family.

A personal story

So do ever feel helpless? Not much, not often, and not for long, that is until recently. I am not at liberty to discuss the exact nature of my feeling helpless except to note that it has to do with what I should do and should not do in dealing with a particularly challenging family member. (By the way, this is not Deb, as she also feels some of the helplessness in this situation.) Given that my value system is “God first, work second, wife third, friends fourth, and family fifth,” I have found that I have needed to examine how I need/should deal with this family situation. It has been much like that I heard of from my priest patient, and it has brought me to my knees more than once. I feel a certain common feeling with him as I traverse these murky waters. So this brings me to the “so what” and “what can we do” part of this blog.

What can we do about feeling helpless, and perhaps get over it?

  1. Absolutely #1: accept that you feel helpless. If you don’t do this, you will not be able to manage it, find ways to survive, ultimately find ways to thrive, and ultimately find a place for normal helplessness in your life. This goes for the short-term helplessness of the coronavirus, the intermediate term helpless of serious depression, or the lifelong feeling of helpless due to indulgence or deprivation
  2. Come to grips with the fact that you, along with every other person in the world, feel helpless from time to time. It is the way of the world. How many people have you heard on the street who have said in regards to the current epidemic, “You have to accept what you have and get through it.”
  3. Avoid a tendency to try to fix helplessness. Helplessness can’t be fixed. It has to be faced, felt, and finished, just like every other difficult feeling. Face it; feel it; finish it. You don’t fix it.
  4. Share your feeling of helplessness with just one trusted friend, hopefully someone who will not think that s/he has to fix you, but can share with you this feeling, just as we need people to share our loves and our losses.
  5. Find a way to accept this helplessness as part of the way the universe unfolds. For me as a theist, I find that it is profitable for me to remind myself that “God is yet in control the last time I checked,” noting that I certainly don’t like all that God does, nor should. For people who are nontheistic it is equally possible to find a way to see that, as Einstein said, “The universe is friendly”…eventually.
  6. Note that your feeling of helpless decreases when you begin to accept, talk to someone, allow it to run a course, and find a real solace in God or the universe at large.