Ecuador 2013: A Chautauqua on Wealth and Happiness

You know how sometimes peak life experiences kind of creep on you when you’re least expecting them? Well, that just happened to me.

For the past week, I’ve been part of the first chautauqua produced by Cheryl Reed of Above the Clouds Retreats. I joined fellow financial bloggers Mr. Money Mustache (a.k.a. Pete) and jlcollinsnh (a.k.a. Jim) to present our philosophies to an enthusiastic group of 22 participants, most of whom were women and most of whom had reached (or were well on their way to) Financial Independence.

Including Cheryl’s husband, Rich, we had 27 in our group. You know how there’s usually one or two bad eggs in any group that size? Well, that didn’t happen to us. In fact, this is probably the best small group I’ve ever had the privilege to be a part of. The participants were universally intelligent and friendly and supportive and fun. “I haven’t laughed so much in years,” one woman said at the end of the week. I haven’t either.

Note: I’ve uploaded the PowerPoint slides for my presentation. I’ll post a written version soon (maybe on Pete’s blog, if he’ll take it). Plus, I plan to share a summary of the various financial advice from the chautauqua at Get Rich Slowly within the next couple of weeks. If you want more info right now, check out Mr. Money Mustache’s summary of the week.

Between me, Rich, and Mr. Money Mustache, we took thousands of photos during the ten days it took to produce and stage this retreat. I’ve culled these to 165 favorites. But since that’s far too many to ask you to view, I’m going to thin that even further. Here are 20 of the photos that I feel best capture our shared experience. (Click a photo to view a larger version.)

Morning at Cheryl’s farm: Cheryl, Pete, J.D., and Jim plan for the week [photo by Rich]

The “profits” from the week will help families like this in Santa Elena [photo by Rich]

Sunset in Santa Elena — Cheryl takes the dogs for a walk [photo by J.D.]

Pete and Amy O. look on raptly as J.D. shares some brilliant insight [photo by Rich]

Pete shares his Mustachian vision for happiness and lifestyle design [photo by J.D.]

Jim and Val prioritize their passions during Cheryl’s presentation [photo by Rich]

Colleen endures smoke and fire (and plenty of spit) during a shamanic cleansing [photo by J.D.]

During a day trip to Otavalo, street performers serenade the group [photo by Rich]

At a local orphanage, kids scramble for candy from a piñata [photo by Pete]

The group watches a folkloric dance group at Hacienda Cusin [photo by J.D.]

Another night of Story Time with Uncle Jesse — “That reminds me of the time…” [photo by J.D.]

Anita and Caitlin enjoy the company of the adorable (and annoying) cat [photo by J.D.]

Pete hosts the first of many enjoyable evenings at the hacienda [photo by ??]

Amy O. and J.D. bust a gut as Colleen slams a Mustachian Rosé [photo by Pete]

The entire group flashes the Mustachian Salute [photo by J.D.]

“La mitad del mundo!” — J.D. at the equator [photo by Amy F.]

Marla, Colleen, and Jason in Quito’s Plaza San Francisco at dusk [photo by J.D.]

J.D., Colleen, Amy O., Marla, and Val toast the end of a wonderful week [photo by Pete]

Shyam and Jesse watch as Carol is serenaded for her birthday [photo by J.D.]

Marla and Val posing with the handsome and dapper doorman [photo by J.D.]

One thousand thanks to Amy, Amy, Amy, and Tom; Menon and Shyam; Nathan and Caitlin; Cathy and John; Jason, Jesse, and Jen; Carol, Karl, and Colleen; Dave and Ann; Lise, Val, Anita, and the every-charming Marla. All y’all made this week amazing. I spent more time with some folks than others — Colleen and Amy O., for instance — but I enjoyed the conversations I had with everyone.

And, of course, thanks to my colleagues. Jim, Rich, Cheryl, and Pete — it was an honor to have been a part of this. Thank you for asking me to share the experience. Let’s do it again next year!

Now, however, I have a brief lull before starting the next leg of my expedition to Ecuador. I’ll spend two more nights at Hotel Ambassador in Quito’s “gringo-landia” — I’m listening to sappy Spanish love songs in the lobby right now — but on Monday, I’ll join a small group headed to the Galapagos Islands. It’s going to be great!

Then, exactly a week from right now, I’ll hop a shuttle the airport to head home. That too will be great. As much as I loved this chautauqua, I love Kim more. I’m eager to return to our home so that we can resume a routine together, and so that we can grow and learn together…

Photos of giant tortoises coming soon! (Plus, underwater snorkeling photos taken with my new waterproof camera.) Stay tuned, my friends.

Expertise and Expectations: Thoughts on Success — and What Comes After

One of my favorite parts about working on the World Domination Summit is getting to know the speakers.

This year, for instance, I fostered friendships with radio journalist Tess Vigeland and blogger/entrepreneur Jia Jiang. Earlier this month, both spoke from the WDS main stage. Tess shared her story of leaping without a safety net; Jia talked about his project to actively seek out (and learn from) rejection. (Update: The video of Jia’s WDS talk is now available!)

Today, I spoke with both Tess and Jia by phone. Jia and I mostly talked about business. And soccer. And collaboration. My conversation with Tess was more personal. She and I have remarkably similar experiences with (and reactions to) success and life. Her counsel this morning was both insightful and helpful.

The Impostor Syndrome

Last week, Tess chatted with Carl Richards (the brains behind Behavior Gap). They discussed how strange it feels to be thought an expert when you only feel like a normal person. Carl told her about the impostor syndrome, the psychological phenomenon in which you’re unable to accept your success and accomplishments. While the rest of the world may tell you how well you’re doing, you don’t think you’ve done anything noteworthy. You feel like a fraud or a phony.

This reaction is surprisingly common among the successful people I’ve spoken with in recent years. The crazy thing is that in every case that somebody has confessed to me that they feel this way, I’ve been able to see that they’re wrong, that they are worthy of the accolades they receive.

Despite this, I still feel like I don’t deserve the recognition that I receive. Just yesterday, I met with a long-time Get Rich Slowly reader. “I want to thank you, J.D.,” this man said to me over hot tea and hummus. “You changed my life. You helped me get out of debt and save money. As a result, I was able to spend a year-and-a-half doing my own thing. Thanks.”

I accepted my companion’s approbation, but the whole time I was thinking, “Dude, it wasn’t me. It was you. You did all of this. I don’t have any special knowledge. I’m no expert.”

And that’s the thing: I’m not an expert. I’m not a financial guru. If I’m an expert at anything, it’s at conveying complex topics in simple terms so that they’re understandable to everyday people. I’m an expert at telling my own story and sharing the lessons I learn from it. But perhaps my greatest skill is self-awareness — and helping others to become self-aware.

Great Expectations

Tess is having a tough time enjoying her success. Right now, she’s terrified. The reaction to her talk at WDS was so overwhelmingly positive, and so many good things came out of it (job offers, a book deal, and so on), that she feels like whatever she does next cannot hope to measure up to what she just accomplished. She feels like nothing will be as successful as that speech. She feels like she’s reached the high point of her career.

Note: There’s no audio or video of Tess’s talk yet — soon! — but you can read a transcript at her website.

I’m in a similar position. I achieved success with Get Rich Slowly. Now, I’m ready to try other things. I have many opportunities. I’m a fortunate man because I can pick and choose what I want to try next. Yet I’m reluctant to commit to anything because I feel like I won’t be able to measure up to what I’ve done before. The perfectionist in me prevents me from being decisive.

“Sometimes I just want to walk up to Starbucks and take a job as a barrista,” I told Tess on our call today.

“Right. I get it,” she said. “Because then nobody will expect anything of you.”

“Exactly!” I said. “I can work a simple job, do it well, and come home at the end of the day with nothing to worry about but making coffee in the morning.”

“But at the same time, you know there’s more you can do, right?”

“Yes,” I said. “I have this desire to do great things, to continue helping people. And I have ideas of how I can do that while making a little money at the same time.”

“It’s that goddamn ambition,” Tess said — and we both laughed because it’s true.

The bottom line: We’re afraid of failing to live up to the expectations of others, but we’re also afraid of failing to live up to our own expectations. That’s quite a trap. How does one escape it?

Self-Respect

Tess and I also talked about those strange situations where you’re able to meet your own expectations but unable to meet the expectations of others. I’m experiencing this in my own life right now, and I don’t like it. It’s new to me. (Usually, if I’m doing a poor job, I know it and so do people around me. If I’m doing well, that’s obvious too. But to be told I’m doing poorly when I think I’m doing well? That’s a new one!)

During her presentation at WDS, Tess talked about being trapped by a good thing. In her case, she was working at her dream job — but her dream job wasn’t as fulfilling as she’d hoped. In fact, in some very real ways, it was bringing her down. After a lot of deliberation, she realized she had to quit.

“It’s time to leave when you have too much self-respect to stay,” Tess said on stage in front of nearly 3000 people. That’s an important message, one that resonates with me right now.

“Sometimes something will slowly chip away at your sense of self-worth,” Tess told me today. “It’ll chip away at your sense of value so much that even you begin to believe it, to accept that you’re not as good as you know you are. But you have to remember that you’re better than that. Life is too short to be treated like shit. Nobody deserves that. Don’t hang out with people who don’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

In the end, Tess told me something I already knew: “Sometimes you have to know when to quit.”

What’s Next?

One reason it’s difficult to quit something (even when that something is a net negative) is that we’re wired to be afraid of uncertainty. We’d rather stick with the devil we know than the devil we don’t. That’s how women get trapped in abusive relationships and workers find themselves stuck in jobs that are unfulfilling or unprofitable.

Like anyone, I’m apprehensive about the unknown. It makes me nervous to leap without a net. But the thing is, I have a net. I’m lucky, and I know it. If needed, I can take a long time to discover what life holds for me. I have the luxury of being selective about which course of action to take.

“You need to listen to your gut,” Tess told me. “Do what it tells you to do.”

She’s right.

After my conversation with Tess was over, I thought about my own talk last year at WDS. In that talk, I shared a lesson I’d learned from Derek Sivers.

Sivers says you should either be so excited by something that it makes you say “HELL YEAH!” — or you should say “no” to it. When you say “no” to the things that don’t excite you, you leave lots of room in your life to passionately pursue the few things that make you go HELL YEAH! If you want to be happy, if you want to become a better person, then focus first on the parts of your life that are most important to you. Make these your priorities. Once you’ve scheduled these things, fit the other, less important things in — if you can.

For the past few months, I’ve been exploring possible courses of action. I’ve been trying to decide what’s next for me. I need to follow my own advice — which is to follow Sivers’ advice. I need to look at all of the possibilities, and then only pursue those that make me say “HELL YEAH!”

Which direction will this take me? I don’t know, but I don’t need to know either. I’m ready to embrace the uncertainty!

How to Live a Life You Love

For a long time, I was unhappy. I was fat, broke, and miserable. Maybe I was depressed, I’m not sure. Whatever the case, I didn’t like my life, and I wanted something better. I waited and waited but nothing ever improved.

Eventually I hit bottom. I wasn’t willing to allow myself to sink any lower, so I decided to make some changes.

I started by taking control of my finances. I began to read about saving and investing. As I read, I put what I learned into practice. It didn’t happen overnight — in fact, it took years — but I paid off my credit cards and put money into savings. Today, I’m debt-free and have a substantial nest egg.

After putting my financial house in order, I decided to take control of my fitness. I began to read about exercise and nutrition. As I read, I put what I learned into practice. Again the changes happened slowly, but they did happen. Within a couple of years, I had lost fifty pounds and put on muscle. More importantly, I’d changed my eating habits and made exercise a part of my daily life.

Fitness is one of my daily priorities.

It’s been said that success breeds success. That was certainly true in my case. Each positive change I made helped me to understand that I could make other positive changes. I realized that nobody cares more about my life than I do. If I want to be happy, I need to be in charge of that happiness. I can’t wait for anyone (or anything) to bring it to me.

I am responsible for my own well-being. And you are responsible for yours.

As children, we’re conditioned that we need permission to do things. You need permission from your parents to leave the dinner table or to go outside and play. You need permission from your teacher to go to the bathroom.

Even as adults, we often feel we need permission. You need permission from your boss to leave work early. You need permission from your spouse to hang out with your friends instead of cleaning the bathroom.

Like many folks, I grew up with an external locus of control. I thought my fate was largely determined by the people and events around me. This wasn’t a conscious belief, but it was always there, underlying everything I felt and did. As a result, I waited for things to happen. I needed permission to take risks or to try new things.

That’s no longer the case.

After you’ve reclaimed your life, help others reclaim theirs…

I’ve spent the past ten years reclaiming my life. I’ve shifted to an internal locus of control. I’ve come to realize that I’m in charge of my own destiny, and that it’s my responsibility to live a life I love. This means that I need to:

Avoid excuses.
Ask for what I want.
Own my decisions.
React constructively to adversity.
Collect (and take advantage of) opportunities.
Let go of the things that no longer work.
Ignore the opinion of others.
Act — even when I’m afraid.

If you’re unhappy, nobody else is going to make things better for you. You have to make things better for yourself. Concentrate on the things you can control, and use that control to fix the other things that are broken. This will grant you even more control over your future well-being.

You live in a world of your own creation. You have the power of choice. You create your own certainty. Live your life as you want to live it, and do so without regret. Give yourself permission to do so.

Caveat: It’s okay to change jobs or to move to San Diego. It’s not okay to steal your neighbor’s television or to drive on the wrong side of the highway. Remember the Golden Rule. Do what you want insofar as you’re not harming others.

Action Kills Fear

Last night, Cody and I watched the Portland Timbers battle to a scoreless draw with the New England Revolution. Really, though, the soccer match was just an excuse for two friends to hang out for a few hours. We had a good time talking about life: about fitness (Cody is my Crossfit trainer), writing, relationships…and fear.

I told Cody how productive I’ve been since I started taking my ADHD meds a week ago. “It’s amazing how much I can get done in a day,” I told him. “I’m able to focus. I have no anxiety. I’m able to get started on stuff without being distracted. I don’t let myself get sidetracked by tiny little fears.”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about fear,” Cody told me. He knows it’s a pet subject of mine. Plus, I’ve been struggling in the gym since I returned from Europe. Lifts that should be easy for me are proving tough. I even dropped the bar last week, and the bar only had 165 pounds on it.

“I’ve noticed something about people who are learning to lift,” Cody said. “When you start lifting and you get near max efforts” — max efforts are lifts where you’re lifting the most you possibly can — “there’s a fear of getting under the bar. You’re afraid that you’ll drop it, or that you’ll hurt yourself.”

I nodded. I experience this all the time. I just experienced it yesterday while attempting the deadlift. My max deadlift is 345 pounds, but yesterday I was struggling at 275. When it came time to lift 315, I couldn’t do it, partially because I was afraid.

“I get afraid too,” Cody said. “Or I used to. When you do a lift, there’s this moment where you just stop thinking. You have to do the lift, and that means taking an action you’re afraid to do. In order to do that, you have to turn your brain off. It’s when beginners turn their brains off that they’re able to overcome their fear of lifting.”

“Well, instead of waiting for the moment when I’m no longer afraid — a moment that might not ever come if I keep thinking about it — I’ve learned to force myself to not think about it. I think this is key. Thought creates fear; action kills it.”

“I love that idea,” I said. “It reminds me of what I had to do when I went skydiving. I hate heights. And jumping out of an airplane scared me shitless. In order to go through with it, I had to turn my brain off.”

“Right,” Cody said. “You leapt without thought. And in weightlifting, you have to get under the bar without thought. When trying new foods, you have to eat without thought. And so on. You have to reach a point where you’re no longer thinking, you’re only acting.”

As I was falling asleep last night, I thought more about this notion: Thought creates fear; action kills it. It’s not a new idea, but it’s an important one. In his classic The Magic of Thinking Big — the book that’s the inspiration for my upcoming talks and ebook on overcoming fear — David J. Schwartz writes:

Action cures fear. Indecision, postponement, on the other hand, fertilize fear…When we face tough problems, we stay mired in the mud until we take action. Hope is a start. But hope needs action to win victories.

Schwartz proposes a two-step plan to cure fear and win confidence:

Isolate your fear. Determine exactly what it is that scares you.
Take action. Figure out what action will counter your fear.

“Hesitation only enlarges, magnifies the fear,” he writes. “Take action promptly. Be decisive.”

Obviously, this is easier said than done. Overcoming fear takes practice. Being decisive takes practice. You need to practice taking action. But from my experience, action is the antidote to fear. If fear is the mind-killer, action is the fear-killer.

What have you been putting off because you’re afraid? What action can you take today to overcome that fear?

ADHD and Me

I have a good life, but in some ways the past couple of years have been a struggle. I’ve gone from being very productive almost every day to being hardly ever productive on any day. I can’t focus. I start one project but quickly lose interest and am distracted by something else that needs to be done. As a result, nothing ever gets finished. I’ve been mired in creative quicksand.

A Problem

Meanwhile, I’ve noticed some other disturbing character quirks. I’ve always had some memory issues. Kris used to call me Mr. Short-Term Memory (after this Saturday Night Live skit with Tom Hanks) because I’d often forget things she had told me. (To my credit, I often remembered things she didn’t.) In the year that we’ve been dating, Kim too has expressed frustration with my memory. Even when I intentionally focus on what she’s telling me, I’ll sometimes forget what she says.

And over the past year, I’ve developed a strange habit: I leave doors and drawers open. This first became apparent when I began spending time at Kim’s house. “Why did you leave the microwave open?” she’d ask. Or, “Did you mean to leave your toothbrush out?” I was mortified when these things happened because I was trying to make a good impression. Then the same thing began to happen at home, in my apartment. I’d come into the kitchen and two cabinet doors would be open. Since I was the only one in the house, I was obviously the one who’d forgotten to close them, and it baffled me.

Plus, of course, there are the constant messes. I’ve always been messy, but the piles seem to have grown out of control over the past couple of years. My desk is constantly cluttered. Right now, I have an entire room in my condo devoted to crap that I need to sort.

Oh, and did I mention I procrastinate constantly? I do.

Lately, things have come to a head. I’m working on some big project, projects in which I’m part of a team. I have a long list of things that need to get done, both for these projects and for my own work. I have a tough time prioritizing. I’m overwhelmed by it all. I pick things from my to-do list at random and get them done, but often the things I choose are chores like “Buy bird feeder” instead of “Reply to WDS speakers”. As a result, the people I’m working with have been very frustrated, and I don’t blame them.

Note: One of my greatest frustrations over the past few years is the fact that I can no longer read. I used to love to sit down with a good book and lose myself in its pages. But for maybe five years now, I haven’t been able to do that. I don’t have the attention span. I try to read, but after a few pages, my mind has wandered, and I’m thinking of something else to do. I miss reading for pleasure, and I miss reading for work.

An Answer

In November, I started seeing a therapist. After only three sessions, she suggested that perhaps I have a mild case of ADHD. A month later, she suggested that I talk to my doctor about ADHD/ADD meds. And three months after that, she changed that from a suggestion to a command.

She spent an entire session giving me tips on how to cope with ADHD, how to be less messy, how to prioritize tasks, how to pay attention. She also told me to go see my primary care physician and request one of three drugs.

I met with my doctor on Tuesday, and he listened to me talk about my therapy sessions. I showed him the notes I’ve taken. (If I didn’t take notes, I’d forget what we talked about…because I’m ADHD.) He listened to me carefully, and then agreed to prescribe a low dose of Vyvanse. “But I don’t like doing this,” he said. “This stuff can be addictive. It’s not as bad as Adderall, but it can still cause problems. There are a lot of side effects. For instance, you’re not going to want to eat. Also, you may not sleep well. Try it as your therapist recommends, but I want you to come see me in a month so we can talk about how it’s affecting you.”

ADHD Tips and Tricks

I filled the prescription, but then had second thoughts. I did some research on the internet about how to cope with ADHD without using drugs. The Vyvanse website itself has a list of 10 tips for adults with ADHD. I also liked this list of tips for managing symptoms and getting focused and, especially, this list of 50 tips on the management of adult attention deficit disorder.

Reading through these articles, I found a number of gems, such as:

Organize at home with a “launch pad” where I can collect keys, glasses, wallets, etc. This is something I’ve had to teach myself to do. When I don’t put my stuff in the “launch pad”, they’re as good as lost.

Practice the 10-minute pickup. Every evening, spend ten minutes quickly tidying the house. I don’t do this, but I should. I want to make it a routine before bed.

Kill clutter. Clutter is the enemy of the ADHD mind. When my desk is cluttered, I feel overwhelmed. Each piece of paper represents an incomplete action, something that I need to get done. If I can keep the clutter and disorganization to a minimum (by using a physical inbox, for instance), I can feel less overwhelmed and stay on task better.

Exercise, eat right, and get plenty of sleep. When I posted about my ADHD on Facebook, I received 41 response from folks sharing their tips for dealing with ADHD. The top recommendation was to adhere to smart physical fitness. For the most part, I do this already, but I could be better.

Impose external structure on my life. One of the best ways for ADHD people to get control of their lives is to create some sort of formal structure. Make schedules. Make lists. Develop rituals. Keep file folders. Etcetera.

Carry a notebook. People with ADHD have too many things in their head, so they’re not able to focus on one thing at a time. They get distracted by new thoughts and ideas. By carrying a notebook at all times, I have the chance to do a braindump whenever something new occurs to me. This is a habit I’ve had intermittently for many years, but I need to make it something I do always.

Make lists. In the past, I’ve noticed that I’m much more productive when I have a to-do list. Again, I’ve made these lists intermittently in the past, but I need to make them a part of my regular routine.

Meditate. So many people, from my therapist to my girlfriend to my blog readers, have recommended that I learn to meditate. I’ve tried in the past, but only half-heartedly. I don’t have the patience because — surprise! — meditation is tough for the ADHD mind. Still, it’s an important skill, and I want to learn to do it.

Listen actively and patiently. Repeat information. Perhaps the part of ADHD I hate most is the memory problem. I feel terrible when I forget things Kim tells me. (I used to feel bad when I forgot things Kris told me too.) I want to be a good partner for her, and when she has to repeat requests or retell stories, I feel like a fool. Being a better listener should help with this. (Though, as I’ve said, I already try hard to listen well.)

Create reward systems. This sounds so juvenile, but the experts seem certain that one great way to stay on task is to set up a system of rewards for getting work done. So, for example, I might allow myself to watch an episode of The Big Bang Theory whenever I finish a writing assignment. Or I can give myself permission to walk to lunch at Jade Teahouse if I finish a big project.

Own your behavior. One final important tip: Don’t use ADHD as an excuse for being a flake. When you forget something, own it. When you don’t get work finished, admit it, and do better next time. Don’t use the ADHD as a cop-out. Acknowledge that it’s there, but also realize you’ve got to be a productive member of society and a good partner.

I liked these tips (and more besides), but after reading them, I was still feeling overwhelmed. There’s so much I need to do in order to start being productive again. Where do I begin?

I emailed my therapist. Meanwhile, both Kim and another friend cautioned me against overthinking things. (Another symptom of ADHD!) Miguel and Kim were right: I was overthinking things, as I often do. So, when my therapist told me to take start taking the meds, I complied.

Wow. I’m glad I did.

A Future

I was worried that the Vyvanse would make me edgey and irritable, that I’d feel anxious and nervous. When I take pseudophedrine for allergies, I often…well, I often freak out. It’s like having way too much caffeine, and I feel overwhelmed. Since Vyvanse (and other ADHD meds) are similar, I was afraid I’d suffer from the side effects.

I didn’t.

Instead, I gradually felt calmer. I felt more confident in myself and more in control of my surroundings.

For instance, I took my Vyvanse this morning at 7am and then climbed into the bathtub to read this month’s book group book (The French Lieutenant’s Woman). At first, I was distracted. I couldn’t focus on the page in front of me. I kept reaching for my iPhone to look at email and Facebook. I picked up an issue of Men’s Health. But after about half an hour, my mind had settled. I felt calm, both physically and mentally.

I didn’t want to read, so I got out of the bathtub, shaved, dressed, and got to work. I pulled out a dry erase board and created an “ADHD Command Central” on which I listed all of the things I need to do, broken into three categories based on priority level. Top on the list? “Write for More Than Money”!

Perhaps more to the point, I then sat down and wrote this post from start to finish without a break. I didn’t once flit away to check Facebook or email. I didn’t get up to pour another cup of coffee. I didn’t suddenly remember that I needed to do laundry. I didn’t get distracted by the stack of stuff in my physical inbox. I just wrote. And here I am, more than two thousand words later, almost finished with this article. And it only took me an hour to write.

This is the old J.D. This is the productive J.D. This is the J.D. who gets shit done. I like it.

I’m not excited about the idea of remaining medicated long term, but after a day and a half of using Vyvanse, I’m willing to stick with it for at least a little while. If it helps me be productive, then I’m all for it. And if it helps with my personal relationships, that’s even better.

My Introduction to Therapy

I had lunch with a friend today. Let’s call him Tom. Tom is a colleague. He makes his living from a website. In fact, his site is probably the most financially successful site I know. For years, it’s had an income of hundreds of thousands of dollars.

You might think that with his financial success, Tom would be ecstatic. And there’s no doubt he’s a happy man, grateful for his financial good fortune. All the same, his wealth hasn’t made him happy. In fact, it’s caused him a great deal of stress.

For one thing, he doesn’t feel like he deserves the money. What has he done that others haven’t that he should have such a high income? (Never mind that he gives away tons of money to friends and family — and strangers — every year. Never mind that he employs a small staff of folks when he doesn’t really have to.)

For another, he’s worried that the flow of money will cease. “I have plenty saved,” he told me. “My site has earned me five million dollars since I started it, and I’ve saved about twenty percent of that.” Still, he doesn’t feel like he’s saved enough. Plus, he’s worried about his lifestyle. Is he spending too much? What if the income from the site were to suddenly vanish?

There’s no doubt that Tom has First World problems. He’s the first to admit that it’s crazy to have so much money and still be stressed about his financial situation. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s stressed. (Actually, lots of folks in his position tend to get anxious.)

“It’s gotten so bad that I’m seeking professional help,” Tom told me. “After lunch, I’m going to see a shrink for the first time. Can you believe it?”

“Actually, I can,” I said. “I just came from my own shrink. I’ve been seeing a psychologist for three weeks now.”

Impetus

I have a degree in psychology. For a long time, I thought I was going to be a counselor. That’s what I trained for throughout college. In high school, I played amateur shrink for all of my friends (boys and girls alike), and I thought it made sense to take this “talent” and turn it into a career.

I never did become a psychologist. Instead, I ended up selling boxes for the family business. And, eventually, I became a financial writer (who specializes in the psychology of money). But even today I sometimes dream of returning to grad school and becoming a professional counselor.

Given this, you might think I would have seen a therapist long ago. After all, one of the first rules of therapy is that the therapist herself should also have a therapist.

But no.

Like many people, I’ve always had a stigma against seeing a therapist. I thought it would mean admitting something was wrong with me.

That view began to change about a year ago. When I asked Kris for the divorce, she urged me to see a therapist. I told my friend Michael about this (among other things, Michael is a family counselor), and told him I was reluctant to go.

“You’re looking at it all wrong, J.D.,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’re healthy now, aren’t you?” he asked. “You’re physically fit.”

I nodded.

“Well then why do you still need to go to the gym? Why keep taking Spanish lessons if you know Spanish? Why ever use any sort of coach when you know what you’re supposed to be doing? Well, a therapist is the same thing. Yes, a therapist can help fix things that are broken, but a good one can also keep you functioning at the top of your game. A therapist is like a personal trainer for your mind.”

I heard what Michael was saying, but it wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t ready to talk to a counselor.

Catalyst

About a month ago, I was talking with another friend. Let’s call her Antonia. We were catching up on our lives over dinner when she mentioned that she’d recently started seeing a therapist.

“What for?” I asked, not one to mince words.

“No reason really,” Antonia told me. “I’ve been thinking about some heavy things lately, and I just wanted to bounce them off an objective third party. I tried to see one at my HMO, but they wouldn’t take me on. They said there was nothing wrong with me, and to go away. Fine. I asked a friend, and he recommended his own therapist. So, I’ve been seeing her for a few weeks. It’s interesting.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well, I tell my therapist about the things that are on my mind, and then she gives me homework. It sounds goofy, I know, but it’s really helped me clarify some stuff. It’s helped me let go of some things that I didn’t even know were holding me back.”

As the conversation moved on, I thought about this exchange. At the end of the evening, I asked Antonia for her therapist’s contact information. I set up an appointment for myself. Two weeks ago, I saw the therapist for the first time. I’ve been back twice more.

Therapist

I was half an hour late to my first appointment because I had the wrong address. Plus, I hadn’t filled out any of the paperwork I was supposed to have ready. Every other psych major reading those two sentences sees the same thing I do: My subconscious was doing its best to avoid the appointment. Crazy but true.

During that short first meeting, I gave the therapist some background on my life. I explained that for the past month, I’d been tense. Anxious. Stressed. I told her how much I hated uncertainty.

“Well, J.D.,” she said, “it sounds like you had a life full of certainty and you consciously gave that up. You’ve chosen uncertainty. You like some of what uncertainty brings, but you don’t like other parts. But you know what? You have to be okay with the unknowing. It’s part of the process of change and growth.”

Duh, right? And yet I hadn’t been able to see that. She gave me some breathing exercises and sent me on my way.

I was on time for my second appointment, and I had the paperwork I was meant to bring to the first. Plus, I brought a list of topics to discuss. Once again, we spent some time talking about my past and my present. And once again, my counselor connected the dots for me.

“It sounds like you have a tendency to overcommit,” she told me. “You take on too much. But more than that, you go big fast instead of taking it slow and steady. This can cause problems. It led to debt and being overweight. It can also cause problems in relationships, so be careful.”

“You’re right,” I said. “My attitude has always sort of been that if a little is good then a lot must be better. And it’s been tough for me to defer gratification.”

“Right,” she said. “You need to learn what my grandmother would have called temperance. Moderation. You need to learn finesse. You need to learn the importance of choice, of being selective. And remember: You don’t need to say every single thing you think.”

Duh, right? And yet I hadn’t been able to see these things, and I especially hadn’t tied them all to relationships. She gave me some things to practice during the week and sent me on my way. I spent the next three days deep in internal reflection.

Today, I didn’t need to give any additional background. My counselor asked me about my weekend. I told her about the things Kim and I had done, about how much I’d enjoyed just relaxing with her, being domestic. I also talked about how when I’m with Kim, I’m intentionally technology free. I put away the cell phone and the iPad and the computers, and I’m off-grid for 72 hours. It helps me stay present in the moment.

This led to a fascinating discussion of my memory. Why is it I can remember dates and names and the title of nearly every episode of “Star Trek: The Next Generation” — yet I can’t remember to turn off the bathroom light or shut the shower curtain?

My therapist told me that from what I’ve said and what she’s seen, I might have a mild case of ADHD. (This is no news to me. It’s also no news to you if you’re a long-time reader.) We talked about the other things I do that seem ADHD, and she told me some things I can do to fight them. I’ve noted, for instance, that I get more work done when I work in coffee shops. She said that’s probably because the external stimuli distract the part of my brain that wants to jump all over the place.

Duh, right? And yet I hadn’t been able to see some of this. We talked about some things I might want to work on, and she sent me on my way.

Futurist

My therapy may be short lived and have no huge practical application in my life. Or maybe it will change who I am. I’m not sure yet. And it doesn’t really matter.

I went because something felt wrong, and I wanted to figure out what. I still don’t know exactly what was bothering me. I do know that after just two weeks and three sessions, I’m much more relaxed about everything in my life. I’ve been practicing breathing. I’ve been practicing finesse. Now I’m going to practice being more present in the moment, turning off the ADHD.

I find it interesting that whenever I mention I’ve been seeing a therapist, the person I’m talking with always says something like, “Oh! What’s it like? I’ve been wanting to do that but don’t know where to begin.” Is this one of those things that happens when we turn forty? Is this like needing glasses? I don’t know. But I’m curious to see what other things therapy will teach me about myself.

What is Love? Looking for a Definition of Love

For most of my adult life, I’ve been a pretty rational guy. I’ve prided myself in a scientific mind, one unclouded by spirituality and mysticism. Yet as I’ve experienced profound personal changes over the past few years, I’ve found myself more and more fascinated by abstract (or “spiritual”) questions, the likes of which I haven’t thought about in decades.

One topic I find especially fascinating is love. What is love? What does it mean to be “in love”? What are the different types of love? How can we show others that we love them? And what does it mean to love yourself?

While most of my exploration of love has taken place slowly and internally, I’ve also had some interesting external experiences with the notion of love. First, and most obviously, I chose to end a long-term marriage. That event forced me to dive deep into the nature of love. But there have been other experiences as well:

I have a friend who is conducting what she calls a “love project”. She’s methodically watching every movie she can find about love. She’s also reading books and talking to people. This project has no real purpose other than to help her understand what love is and how it manifests. Her only conclusion after six months of study so far? “Love is messy.”

I have another friend who seems to manifest love in nearly everything she does. It’s a very subtle thing, but if you watch her closely, you can see that in her interactions with strangers, in her relationships with friends, and even in her career choice, she’s motivated by love. A few months ago, I told her what I saw. She was surprised. “It’s true,” she said. “I do act out of love, but nobody’s ever noticed it before.”

As part of my work, I’m involved with a couple of large projects. One of them — which you can probably guess, but which will remain nameless — seeks to edify people, to move them to positive change. I was speaking with the man behind this project last summer, asking him what the project’s true purpose was. “It’s about empowerment,” he told me. “And love. Without using those words.” Suddenly everything made sense. Our work with this project is to spread love.

All this thinking about love has come to the fore recently because I’ve been reading (and enjoying) M. Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled. I’ve mentioned this book before, and I’m sure to mention it again. It’s had a profound effect on me. It articulates much of my personal philosophy in ways that I’ve been unable to do. Plus, it’s pushing my own personal development in new and exciting directions.

The Road Less Traveled

Briefly put, The Road Less Traveled is about love and spiritual growth.

To begin, Peck explores the idea of discipline. “Life is difficult,” he writes, but we gain purpose and meaning in life through meeting and solving life’s problems. Mature adults are disciplined, and this discipline manifests itself in the following abilities:

Deferred gratification, the ability to put up with discomfort in the short-term to obtain a reward in the long-term.
Acceptance of responsibility, the ability to own up to your thoughts and actions instead of blaming others.
Dedication to reality, the ability to deal with the world as it actually is, the ability to be completely honest.
Balancing, the ability to be flexible, to handle conflicting demands and desires.

But why be disciplined? What is the motive to develop self-control? Peck says that the bottom line is love.

What is Love?

The first part of The Road Less Traveled is devoted to discipline. The last part explores the notion of religion (or, more properly, spirituality) and “grace” (or luck or happenstance). But the middle of the book is one long lecture on the nature of love.

According to Peck, Love is not a feeling. It’s an action. It’s an extension of the self, a conscious effort to grow the self — or someone else:

I define love thus: The will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth.

I love this definition because it moves beyond the idea of romantic love (which Peck calls a myth) to something more profound. And because the definition emphasizes the importance of self-love. Peck writes:

We cannot forsake self-discipline and at the same time be disciplined in our care for another. We cannot be a source of strength unless we nurture our own strength.

I’m reminded of something my friend Sally once said to me: “Self-care comes first.”

Peck stresses that love is not dependency. It is not self-sacrifice. Nor is it the same as “being in love” (which he calls cathexis, or a collapse of ego boundaries where you lose your sense of self). Instead, love is a choice. It requires effort. Peck says that love is a form of courage directed to nurture spiritual growth in ourselves and/or another person.

The principal form taken by the work of love is attention. When we love somebody — ourselves or another — we set aside other concerns to devote attention to the object of our affection. When we love our children, we give them attention. When we love our partner, we want to spend time with them. When we love ourselves, we spend time on personal development. The most important way to express love, to give attention, is to listen.

But love involves more than just attention. Love also requires independence. When you love yourself, you develop the courage to leave behind the parts of your life that were broken. It also requires the courage to spend time alone, by yourself, apart from the ones you love. “Genuine love not only respects the individuality of the other but actually seeks to cultivate it, even at the risk of separation or loss,” Peck writes.

It is only when one has take the leap into the unknown of total selfhood, psychological independence, and unique individuality that one is free to proceed along still higher paths of spiritual growth, and free to manifest love in its greatest dimensions.

Commitment is the foundation, the bedrock of any loving relationship. You cannot foster growth in yourself or anyone else if you are not constantly concerned with that growth. This reminds me of Brené Brown’s work on vulnerability and Jonathan Fields’ writing about uncertainty. In order to love, you must be willing to be vulnerable in the face of uncertainty, you must give yourself without the expectation of anything in return.

Peck argues that love also entails the risk of confrontation, of criticism. “Mutual loving confrontation is a significant part of all successful and meaningful human relationships,” he writes. “Without it the relationship is either unsuccessful or shallow.”

He also says that love is disciplined. To love well, you must properly manage your feelings. You cannot love everyone. And, as has been said, you cannot love others if you do not love yourself. When you love, you must “order your behavior” in a way that contributes to your own (or somebody else’s) spiritual growth.

All of this builds toward one interesting argument: Peck believes that psychotherapy — the work of counseling — is love:

For the most part, mental illness is caused by an absence of or defect in the love that a particular child required from its particular parents for successful maturation and spiritual growth. It is obvious, then, that in order to be healed through psychotherapy the patient must receive from the psychotherapist at least a portion of the genuine love of which the patient was deprived.

Love in the Larger World

The Road Less Traveled starts with discipline, moves to love, and ends with religion. Peck writes:

As human beings grow in discipline and love and life experience, their understanding of the world and their place in it naturally grows apace. Conversely, as people fail to grow in discipline, love and life experience, so does their understanding fail to grow.

Peck says that this “understanding” is each person’s religion. You might call it spirituality. Or a blueprint for life. Peck says that our blueprints are constructed primarily from our childhood family life. Our maps of reality are “microcosms of the family”, and they’re useful only insofar as these maps reflect the realities of the world around us. The problem is that often these maps only work for the particular family in which we were raised.

Note: Long-time readers will recognize this as being exactly like the notion of financial blueprints, which I’ve written about for five years now. Our attitudes about money are formed largely by our parents’ attitudes about money. What Peck is saying is that our mental blueprints are about more than money. They’re about all of life.

Ultimately, Peck argues, our aim in life is continued personal development, continued spiritual growth, ongoing self-love. As part of that, “a major and essential task in the process of one’s spiritual development is the continuous work of bringing one’s self-concept into progressively greater congruence with reality.”

Over the past five or six years, I’ve been on a mission to discover who I am. I’ve been learning to love myself. And I’ve been learning how to love other people. It’s been a fantastic experience, and I’m fortunate to have (or, in Peck’s words, “grace has provided”) friends who are in similar journeys and who are willing to share the experience.

This process isn’t over. It never will be. My aim is to continue learning until I die. Next up, I’ll be reading Carl Rogers’ On Becoming a Person and How People Change by Allen Wheelis. When I’m finished with those books, I’ll share what I learn with you. Because I don’t just want to nurture my own spiritual growth — I want to nurture yours too.

In Dreams

Because I have sleep apnea and spend my nights strapped to a C-PAP machine, I don’t dream very often. If I remember to take my melatonin before bed, I’ll sometimes have dreams, but mostly my nights are a blank slate. (I’m sure I’m actually dreaming, of course, but I just don’t remember the dreams upon waking.) A couple of weeks ago, though, I had a fine pair of dreams. Very vivid.

Dream #1

Kris and I were joining Chris and Jolie to see a movie in northwest Portland. For some reason, we were meeting them at the Mini dealership in southwest Portland. When we met, there was an hour before the movie began, so I suggested we walk over to the theater. We did. As we were leaving the dealership, we passed through a coffeeshop attached to it (which doesn’t exist in reality), and I accidentally knocked a newspaper from some lady’s hands. Chris caught it as it fell, and I was all apologetic.

The four of us walked to the (imaginary) theater in northwest Portland, but we were way early (which wouldn’t be true in real life — the walk would have been just the right amount of time). Fortunately, the theater was attached to a large used bookstore (not Powell’s). Also fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), the bookstore contained a huge stash of comics-as-books that I’ve been hunting for. And for cover price (instead of marked up at collectors prices). I was ecstatic, and set aside a stack of them to purchase.

Then I saw that my brother Jeff was there. He and I began to talk. Jolie came to tell me that it was time for the movie to start, so I went to find my stack of books, but they were gone! I was frantic! I didn’t want to let these bargains slip away. I couldn’t find them anywhere. I looked under a bed (why was there a bed in the middle of a bookstore?) but they weren’t there. (There were, however, other comics-as-books that I wanted, so I grabbed them.) Ultimately, I had to leave without my books, and I was very sad. I did not enjoy the movie.

Dream #2

The four of us are coming out of a building (the theater in dream #1?) and we see a puzzling sight. We’re in southeast Portland now, over by Woodstock and 39th. All of the buildings are shifted off their foundations. In fact, most of them are collapsed and demolished. “Was there an earthquake?” we keep asking the people, but they’re wandering around in a daze and not answering us.

Chris and Jolie go their own way while Kris and I ride the bus (?!?!?) home, looking at the devastation as we ride. “I wonder if our house has collapsed,” I say, but we decide that it probably hasn’t because the foundation is embedded deep in the earth (not true). When we get home, the house is fine, but all of the houses around it have collapsed.

She Rules a Crowded Nation

It’s one o’clock when we reach the house. Neither Mom nor I have eaten all day. She took her meds sometime before I picked her up at nine; I ate half a bag of peanut M&Ms on the drive to Salem. When we walk into the kitchen, she sets her purse down and says, “I’m hungry.”

“What would you like to eat?” I ask.

“Peanut butter,” she says.

“Just peanut butter?” I ask.

“And bread,” she says.

“A peanut butter sandwich?” I ask.

She thinks about it. “Yes,” she says. She shuffles her feet and looks down.

“Would you like me to make the sandwich?” I ask, pulling the bread and peanut butter from the fridge.

“No,” she says. “I can make it.” I watch as she slathers the bread with thick gobs of peanut butter. “And milk,” she says. I pour her a glass of milk.

While she works, I prepare a place for her at the kitchen table. “Why don’t you sit down,” I say.

“I’m fine,” she says. She stands at the counter and devours the sandwich in great gulps. She chases it with the milk.

When she’s finished, I show Mom the computer at the kitchen table. She sits down and types in a URL. She clicks the button. She clicks the button. She clicks the button. “It’s not working,” she says. I look. She’s not actually clicking the button.

“You’re pressing the space bar,” I say. “You need to click the button.” She presses the space bar again. And again. She looks at me, and I know that I’m making her uncomfortable, so I leave.

Moments later, she’s up again. I can see her pacing. She’s pacing, as if she can’t make up her mind where to go or what to do. I hear her walk into the next room and begin rummaging on the bookshelf. She comes in to my room. “You said I could borrow books,” she says.

“Yes,” I say. “What would you like to read?”

“How long will I be gone?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “A few days.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Anything.”

I giver her My Antonia by Willa Cather, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith, and a couple of others. She sits down at the kitchen table again, in front of the computer. She opens her e-mail program. I go back to my chair.

Moments later, she’s up again, pacing. “I don’t like it here,” she says. “Can’t we just go someplace and drive around?”

“Yes,” I say. “I have to go upstairs for a minute first.”

“Is the car unlocked?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say. I go up upstairs to send e-mail so the family knows where we are. When I get in the car, Mom is sitting at attention in the passenger seat. She has everything with her: her purse, the pile of books. I start driving.

Tony and Kamie pass us going the other way. They turn their truck around to follow. Tony calls me on my cell phone. “We’re behind you,” he says.

“I’m scared,” Mom says. Her hands are fidgeting uncontrollably. She’s sweating.

“Yes,” I say. “I am too. But it will be okay. It will be fine.” We drive in silence for a few minutes. Mom fidgets.

“Can we go to the hospital now?” she asks at last.

“Yes,” I say. “We’re almost there.”

Too Much Time Away

Strange. I haven’t written anything since last Wednesday or Thursday. Now that it’s time to get some stuff ready for the morning, I find that I don’t have it in me. My writing muscles won’t flex. They’ve atrophied. It’s great to take time off, but I find that this is sometimes the result — I forget how to write.

The solution? I spend an hour or two “freewriting”, simply jotting whatever is on the top of my head. Like this. Most of what I produce during this time will be unusable, but that’s okay. The point is to get the writing muscles working again.

The real trouble tonight, however, is I’d really rather be watching a movie. Turns out we don’t own Raiders of the Lost Ark — which is what I’m craving — so I guess I’ll get back to work instead.