cognitive reframing – Lion's Whiskers

Running Plan B

admin — Sun, 25 Nov 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Three weeks ago I was packing my bag and planning to head to New York City to run the ING NYC 2012 marathon. That is until Hurricane Sandy came to town and wreaked havoc on too many lives to count. I was one of 47,000 runners from around the world registered to run 26.2 miles through what is now considered one of the worst environmental disasters to hit the East Coast.

Unlike many residents along the marathon route and beyond, I didn’t lose power, access to clean drinking water, my home, family members, or my livelihood. When my friends starting texting and calling me a few hours before my departure, to notify me of the race cancellation, they were all sympathetic and guessed I would be disappointed. All I could think was that Mayor Bloomberg had made a difficult, but necessary, decision to channel much-needed supplies and human resources designated for the race to those who truly needed them.

One of my former coworkers has a beloved coffee mug that reads: “Life is all about how you handle Plan B.” Before starting this blog about how to nurture courage in our children and ourselves as parents, I had honestly never thought about how important it is to frame some of life’s unexpected and challenging circumstances as “Plan B” to help boost our capacity for the six types of courage. It now strikes me that much of human courage, and a truer measure of our success in life, has to do with how we handle adapting, often in a singular moment, to the unexpected and challenging circumstances of our individual lives. In terms of parenting, since my kids were young I have had lots of conversations with them about differentiating life’s “big stuff” (i.e. life-threatening illness) from the “small stuff” (i.e. not getting to push the elevator button). When my son was about five years old, after one such conversation when he was upset about a playdate cancellation, he proclaimed: “You know Mommy, if you reeeeaaaalllly think about it the big stuff can just be smashed apart to make smaller stuff. It’s all just small stuff!!” (You can read about Jennifer’s perspective on “Plan B” by clicking here. You can also read more about cognitive reframing in one of my former posts A Hurricane is Coming.)

Well, it didn’t take long for me to decide that I would lace up my sneakers and still run the marathon as scheduled–it would just have to be around my hometown instead. I figured I had done all my training and had collected some $3,000 in charitable donations for the Alzheimer’s Association in honor of my mother and uncle. I had all my gear ready. I was good to go!

Next, I cancelled my hotel reservation and diverted the refund to the Red Cross Relief fund for Hurricane Sandy. I wrote an email to all my sponsors who had so generously donated funds notifying them that I keep good on my promises. Not one of them asked for a refund! Instead, I received a flurry of supportive emails that strengthened my resolve to run. My husband and I then planned and drove a few possible 26.2 miler routes starting from our house. Some more hilly than others, through battlefields my ancestors had once fought on. I’m a little superstitious and also a big believer that everything happens for a reason; I figured running close to home on the same day, starting at the same time, from my own front porch instead of from the Hudson River’s edge on Staten Island, was what was meant to be. It always feels right and good when I’m living in the flow.

When I called my uncle to inform him that I was still going ahead with my run on my own, to honor his courage in facing down Alzheimer’s, his response: “Well, how like you. This means you’ll win the race, of course!”

Starting out!

I started out at 10:30 a.m., with a hug from my daughter and a dear colleague. Halfway down the block I was surprised to find another dear friend outfitted to join me on my first six miles. My husband and son planned to be my loyal pit crew at various stops along the way.

I carried all the names of the family members my sponsors had honored through their donations. I read it out to myself and sent prayers for each of them at 13.1 miles and again towards the end of my run–when I really needed their strength and inspiration. I thought of the families struggling to recover and repair their lives after Hurricane Sandy, especially the mom from Staten Island whose two young children were torn from her arms by a giant wave and both of whom tragically died. A loss which I can only imagine must take the most courage any of us as parents can muster.

I reflected on how truly grateful I am to be healthy enough to run on behalf of such important causes. I also thought, “Girl, if you can give birth twice, you can do this!”

Around mile 16, I felt the presence of other runners coming up behind me. Being Canadian, I promptly apologized for hogging the narrow slip of road we were needing to share along my route, only to turn around and find two twin guardian angels—my son’s ex-girlfriend and her twin. They told me not to talk, good advice, and to just keep running. Not long after my mind went to an altered state and I just kept saying to myself “Just keep running, just keep running.” No deep insights. But maybe that’s enough: just to keep moving, putting one foot in front of the other, staying VERY present, especially when you have to dig deep during tough times.

I had always minimized the legendary “Wall” that every marathoner talks about, around miles 20-24. That is until “The Wall” found me at mile 22. It became too much to take a drink, stomach any energy “goo,” and it became very evident that I was going to have to draw on something much stronger than myself to finish this particular race. Most marathoners would agree that at this stage of a 26.2 miler, the balance tips in favor or mind over matter. I kept counting down the blocks and kept with my plan to run and not stop—no matter what! At that point, if I had stopped I figured I would lose all momentum and fall face-first onto the pavement. I was really concerned about honoring my commitment to my sponsors. Everything became very simple. Just breath, just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and push just that little bit further than I think I can: the essence of physical courage. The type of courage that Jennifer’s friend Jane, a former professional ballerina, talks about in this post: Dancing Through Pain.

Almost across the finish line

A few blocks from home, I could hear a chorus of girls singing “She’ll be coming around the block, when she comes…” Total relief! One final hill and I’d be home. I did my best, hunched over at this point, to challenge that hill, and was met at the top by my daughter and a group of her good friends. One of whom I overheard saying, “Your mom seriously looks like she’s going to die.” Then followed a series of inspirational chalk sayings along our block, with my husband and son holding a make-shift finish line, fashioned from some spare rope from our garage, for me to cross some 4 hrs. and 25 mins. later—first, of course, as predicted! My twin angels clearly gracious enough to let me win this one!

My learning? In a nutshell:

• Disappointment gets in the way of decoding Plan B.

• Grace is accepting what happens as meant to be.

• Never underestimate good running shoes, hydrating, and regular re-fueling.

• Don’t believe every thought that pops into your head—especially those at mile 22 that start “I can’t…”

• Everyone needs a loyal pit crew. Treat them well! Give thanks!

• Stretching and being flexible can’t be underestimated, especially after 40.
• What we think is the big stuff can actually be broken into smaller, more manageable, stuff—especially when we focus on what’s truly important in life. Which, in my opinion, is to love and be loved. It takes all six types of courage to live this value!

Across the finish line with my twin guardian angels!

Care to share one of your “Plan B” stories?

I’m Not Scared, I’m EXCITED!

admin — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Like many of you reading Lion’s Whiskers, both my kids started new schools this week. At my house, surprisingly little drama occurred in the days prior to the first day of school. Unlike years previous, we had actually completed all the school shopping, the kids had cleaned their rooms, and I knew the exact bus schedule. I’m wise enough now as a parent, however, to not assume anything about how my kids might react the night before school starts. The same goes for the night before Halloween and all the costume changes that entails. The countdown began.

By mid-afternoon, my daughter started to hyperventilate about starting middle school. I immediately started taking the kind of deep breaths I’d needed to when birthing her. I did my best to calm my own anxiety about my girl entering the potential minefield that middle school can sometimes be for girls. I’ve counseled enough girls previously who’ve been bullied to know about those often angst-filled years when identity, cliques, and class structure collide. Middle school for me was all about being in the “Top Three Girls” club. I kid you not. It was pretty much all about making friends with either Anne or Trina, they were consistently #1 and #2 most popular. One fine spring day, I finally clawed my way to #3, as was decreed on a crumpled note passed around the entire 6th grade classroom. I thought “Wow, I’ve finally made it!” I didn’t know then how precarious such social games can be, and how fragile one’s self-esteem when you roll the dice and decide to play. I’ve also learned as a parent/therapist of adolescent children to not make assumptions about what my kids’ experience is or will be. And to ask if they want my advice before offering it—which has taken some serious restraint on my part! So, I asked my daughter, “Do you want my advice about how to think about tomorrow?” “No, thanks!” was her polite response.

At dinner, exhausted and at a loss, I decided to delegate the parenting to my husband. He’s way less high strung and was never a preteen girl. “You’ll be fine,” was his advice to our daughter. I next turned to our son, who had most recently navigated the same middle school hallways and social scene. His advice was brilliant. Much better than anything I could have come up with, short of reminding her to reframe her worry as excitement about what lay ahead. (You may want to read my last post A Hurricane is Coming! about cognitive reframing to understand what I mean.) He said, “You shouldn’t hold your books too tight to your body. The kids who are relaxed do better in middle school. Try holding them at your side loosely. Like you look like you know what you’re doing and where you’re going. Life’s a lot better when you’re relaxed.” Without the benefit of a doctorate in psychology, he knows through life experience that when we relax our bodies, our minds often follow (and vice versa). He also added, “You are going to meet a lot of nice people. The hall monitors, especially, are always really kind and willing to redirect you in the direction you need to go.” He’s learned that what you expect, you get. Fortunately, he believes that the world is still a friendly place. He isn’t expecting people to be mean. I watched my daughter relax her shoulders, smile, and finally take the deep breath I’d advised her to take earlier in the day (when I hadn’t asked if she wanted my advice). It may have been less in what he said than in how he approached her. He wasn’t worried for her. He told her “Expect it will take about two weeks until you feel comfortable. It will probably be less than that even. Just enjoy it.” He didn’t have any story about mean girls, rejection, peer pressure, or bullying. He expects that she will be okay. Coming from her big brother, his advice was much more potent than any therapeutic intervention I could offer.

Sitting together before heading to bed, my girl poured out a few last-minute worries. I decided to push aside my own worry and practice the first rule of thumb for any good therapist: join with the person you’re listening to. Don’t try to make them feel or think anything that they aren’t in that moment. Just hear where they are at, without judgment or agenda. It’s part of building trust and rapport. Joining can also allow feelings to transform in healthy, sometimes unexpected, ways. So, I said simply “You know, it’s okay to be scared when starting something new.” After a few moments, with her permission to offer a bit of advice, I reiterated what I’ve taught both my kids: “Being scared and being excited can feel the same. Both are meant to help you be alert, pay attention, do your best, and not get lost in the hallways on your first day. Before going to bed, focus on just one thing about tomorrow that you are most excited about. Paint a picture in your mind of what you are looking forward to about tomorrow, like seeing a good friend in the hallway between classess or inviting you to sit together at lunch. The more details you can imagine, the better. Like what you are wearing, how good and relaxed you feel wearing your favorite new clothes, etc.” Then, I just held her and adopted my son’s belief: all will be well.

The next morning, I got up and made crepes for breakfast. This, too, is highly uncharacteristic of me to do given that I’m not much of a morning person. While mixing together the crepes, I heard my daughter ask her brother: “Are you excited about today? ‘Cause I am!” I felt immediate relief. The same kind of relief, followed by a deep belly sigh, that I felt the day she was born and she was handed to me in one perfect pink bundle. I knew in that moment: she’s going to be okay.

On their way out the door that morning, I asked my kids “Do you guys want me to walk with you to the bus stop given it’s your first day?” “No! We’re fine!” was their mutually adamant response. Turns out it’s me who now needs the courage to let go, to trust in their resilience and the kindness of others, and do some cognitive reframing myself: “It’s not scary, it’s exciting that my kids are growing up!”

A Hurricane is Coming!

admin — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Hurricane Irene headed my family’s way recently. Were we scared? No. Did we decide to cut short our RV vacation by one night in order to avoid being pushed around by Irene on the I-87 battling her high winds and rain? Yes. Were my children anxious about the storm brewing down south heading our direction? No. Why not? Well, as a family we decided to opt for courage instead of fear in this case. We made sure to get all the information first, and then we made a couple sound decisions. We checked we had a flashlight or two, some water and extra provisions, and we charged our cellular phones. We also decided to still use our tickets for a five-minute hot air balloon ride we’d purchased before we hit the road home, before the winds started to blow. Granted, we were not in the eye of the storm and many folks on the East Coast needed to be much braver than us. That said, I decided to reframe this whole experience as an adventure. Having kids in your life will help you develop this healthy habit!

Driving home last evening from our foreshortened family vacation, we all sang at the top of our lungs delighting in the sunset. During a pause in the radio’s intoxicating Top 40 repertoire, my kids commented “Isn’t it amazing how calm it is tonight? You would never know that tomorrow there will be a storm. Can we stay up all night to wait for the storm to hit? This is going to be SO MUCH FUN! We can watch movies all day together.” Kids are amazing! They help us all find the “magical” and accept the “meant to be” in life. They are so focused on the present moment. They don’t worry until we teach them how to do so. My kids didn’t voice any concern until they looked at our faces as we mulled over whether or not to leave our riverside campsite and drive home early in our tin can-like motorhome. We explained the facts as we understood them and showed leadership in making a prudent decision to drive ahead of the storm. I must add that such rational thought is unlike me, being a more spontaneous person and someone who NEVER watches the weather channel. However, having a couple of other lives to consider requires more thoughtfulness. All my daughter wanted to know after we’d delivered our brief informational seminar about hurricanes: “Are the shingles going to fly off the roof?” More importantly, both kids wanted to know if we had enough of their all-time favorite snacks on hand. Click here for my Ten Tips for Talking About Tough Stuff with Kids.

By now, most of you reading this post will know that the hurricane expected turned out to be a tropical storm of much less magnitude than expected. There are few such anticipated changes, disasters, and/or tough times that we can actually try and predict other than the weather these days. And even the weather, despite all our modern technology, continues to be increasingly unpredictable! The truth is that we can predict very little in life. Saving our energy for rainy days, like those of us on the East Coast are enduring, is a much better use our courage resources than worrying about imagined futures that may never come to pass. For an illustrative example of the dangers of worry and the importance of getting all the information first before responding, read Jennifer’s previous post: The Sky is Falling? Really?

Framing life’s challenges and unexpected storms as yet another adventure in life is not always possible. However, it is helpful to know that the biochemistry associated with fear/anxiety mimics that of excitement. Biochemically, these experiences are very similar in the body. Reframe any potentially frightening event as exciting and watch how your perspective changes. Find the humor or something to be grateful for during any storm, and you will be better prepared for the next gale force wind coming your way. Jennifer has always said that helping her to help her daughter, the Lovely K., reframe some of her fears associated with moving countries, making new friendships, or trying something new as “exciting,” is one of the most useful things I’ve shared with them. Cognitive reframing, or restructuring, is a technique I learned in my training in cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT). It involves thinking about a specific problem, for example, and seeing if you can view it as an opportunity instead of something to worry about or fear. Or to think of a weakness and reframe it as something that may actually be a strength. Motivation and behavior can change as we shift our thinking. We are meaning-making beings and our beliefs and values shape the stories we tell about our lives. We have the cognitive capacity to ascribe the meaning we want to the events of our lives. This can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how we use this gift of cognition. Catastrophizing, overgeneralizing, mistaking feelings for facts, personalizing, and other shoulda’/woulda’/coulda’ thoughts can be our own personal storm clouds! It takes emotional and intellectual courage to push aside those clouds and allow resourcefulness, hope, and happiness back into your perspective (click on these links to revisit what we mean by “emotional courage” and “intellectual courage“).

It would be nice if we could predict, chart, and know the outcome of every storm we will weather in life. The only thing any of us knows for sure is that there will be storms. Sometimes we will be better prepared than others. We can, however, always choose how we cognitively frame the experience. We can be afraid and freeze, or we can be in action. My husband often says to me, especially on days when I’m anxious and want to shrink from life’s demands, “90% of life is just showing up.” I hate to admit it, but he’s right. We all have the capacity to choose courage, and even to reframe our fear-based fight, flight, or freeze response as “excitement.” Either way, our biochemistry and our thinking will be a match. I remind myself that there is little I can control in life, despite my best white-knuckled efforts to the contrary. Like many other East Coasters who choose not to live in fear, and who have tucked their children and pets safely inside to shelter them from the storm, I hope to have more energy and resources to deal with what may come. It is humbling to be human, and yet always possible to be brave!

May the sun continue to shine through the storm clouds in your family’s life!