Getting off of auto-pilot

Natalie Hahn O'Flaherty
DGC Principal

I walked into the ladies' room at work the other day and two distinct thoughts instantly popped into my head: 1) the cleaning crew had just been in and 2) my brother died from cancer.

Weird, right?  That's what I thought.

And I thought about it some more.  It's not the first time that those two thoughts colliding in my brain when I entered the ladies' room - it's happened several times in the past few weeks. But why?  Such an odd combination of thoughts, one just a passing recognition and the other accompanied by an emotional wallop as my brother died less than two years ago.  Once I figured it out, I realized just how "trained" I was, like Pavlov's dogs.  And I wonder where else in my life am I similarly conditioned?

We are reactive beings.  Often without realizing it, we are conditioned to have certain mental and emotional responses.  What kind of patterns are being created in our behavior and in our thought processes, and how do we get a handle on those?  How do we raise our awareness and not simply move through life on auto-pilot, reacting under a set of assumptions, without much critical thought? How do I take steps on my path that are purposeful and thoughtful?

In cognitive psychology, this is referred to as a schema.  A schema is a framework through which we organize and interpret information - and then respond accordingly.  And our internal, emotional schemas are developed over time - patterns we experience throughout our childhood, observing our parents, interacting with our peers: if you're raised in a household where a parent left the family, or where you moved around a great deal, you can have an "abandonment schema" which means you will have a set of reactions to people and situations where you protect yourself from the risk of future abandonment.  If you're raised in a household of trust and abundant love, your schemas may have you desiring and creating open and transparent relationships.  And how others respond to you depends on their own schemas.  So a lot of the time when someone says, "It's not about you," that's often correct.  We have a whole inner network of past experiences and patterns that informs the our reactions to the situation in front of us.  So much of our reactions and behaviors are that "auto pilot" mode, so deeply engrained in us that it's our "natural" reaction.  But it doesn't have to be.

In Buddhism, you spend hours meditating and exploring your schemas.  The goal is to get you off auto-pilot, to identify your patterns and change the ones that don't work for you, that cause wanting and pain.  I would like to say my new found awareness  of my bizarre dual thoughts in the ladies'  room was a Buddhist enlightening, but honestly, I think it was just a flash of self-awareness that something in my brain was just  little bit bizarre.

So, where did my schema come from, where I couldn't enter the ladies room at work without thinking of my brother?  Actually, it's not complicated once I gave it some thought.  Here's how my brain works: When I am at the office, I have a million different priorities competing for my attention.  At my desk, I am either on the phone, responding to email or writing something.  If I get up from my desk, it's usually to get a cup of coffee, and as I walk to the kitchen, I consider who else is in the office, who I need to talk to and is that person available for a quick chat… but, when I'm leaving the office, driving home or running errands, my mind runs free and turns its focus on my other priorities, like what's for dinner, when is my daughter's hair appointment and how much laundry is piling up.  When I'm in the ladies' room, (I know, I know but stay with me), the same thing happens.  I am not thinking about work or my coworkers.  Due to the high ratio of men to women in the office, it's usually empty and quiet.  So, as I take time to run my fingers through my hair or reapply lipstick, my mind relaxes and goes to a very different place.

But why my brother?  And why just recently?

Two years ago, I was working in a different office.  My brother, Tony, was diagnosed with colon cancer.  He was already stage four by the time he was diagnosed and we only had six more months with him.  Those months, and for several months afterwards, were an emotionally intense time for me.  A time when at random, a punch of grief would strike me so suddenly and so brutally that my only escape was the ladies' room: here I could be by myself, push through the pain and wash up before returning to my desk.

I left that office several months ago.  And the ladies' room at my new location was just that… a ladies' room.  But a few weeks ago, I started experiencing these flashes of memory about my brother whenever I went into the ladies room.  I finally realized why: the cleaning crew changed cleaning products, and suddenly that stringent, ammonia smell was back.   As I stood in front of the sink last week, holding on to the edge and wondering why I suddenly felt overwhelmed with sadness, I inhaled deeply… and thought, oh… that is familiar.

I hold close the memories of my brother.  But last week, I was checking out the ladies room in other parts of our buildings to see if I could avoid the smell.  This is where I need to turn off the auto-pilot and take control of my path.  A particular ammonia smell and a poorly lit ladies room is not one of the memories I want associated with Tony.  So I'm going to try retraining my Pavlovian reaction. Now that I am conscious of the pattern, I need to figure out how to redirect my thoughts…

I don't have an answer as to how… I will experiment and see what works to reset my path.  But it would be nice to just think about which lipstick color I want or if it's time to get those gray hairs colored.  Again.

Unmask

“She had blue skin,

And so did he.

He kept it hid

And so did she.

They searched for blue

Their whole life through,

Then passed right by - 

And never knew.”  

― Shel Silverstein, Every Thing on It

Is it possible for us to be ourselves, bare to the world regardless of which situation we find ourselves in?  For example, are you the same person at 6am drinking your first cup of coffee with your dog as you are at 11am in an overly warm conference room with six other harried coworkers?  Or at 7pm when you're settling in for the dinner/homework/house work routine?

Last week, my DGC partner wrote a blog about our internal tension… being who you are when you're relaxed versus feeling the tension when focused on who you think you ought to be.  And I agree with her that tension doesn't have to be a bad thing - it can be a driver and a motivator.

But it led me to wonder two things… at what point is tension destructive and not productive, and why would I want to be anyone but who I am?

Tension and stress might come from situations at work that require careful scrutiny or an unpleasant conversation; it might come from one of my kids coming home with a poor grade or having a fight with  a friend; or it might come from soggy, overcooked pasta or a tough steak.  I am lousy with steak.  Ask anyone.

These are all normal, every day tensions. And they arise from situations around us, from elements in our world that we then must determine how to tackle and solve.  This is the type of stress that motivates action, that requires some thoughtful decision making and rational judgement, and that helps us move forward in our daily lives.

But there's another tension suggested in Shirley's post… the idea that we bring different personas to each situation. And that's the tension that has us at high risk for breakdowns, meltdowns and shutdowns.  When you're always playing a role, you're spending a lot of energy trying to read the situation, trying to anticipate the person you're with and trying to control the situation.  That's exhausting. You're the actor and at the same time trying to be the director, the cinematographer and the script writer.  That's an awful lot of pressure to put on yourself.

And in which of those roles, are you being you?

We feel that we put something at risk when we are wholly just ourselves.  We become vulnerable because there is no mask to hide behind.  This opens us to criticism, to ridicule, to shame… and to true connections with others who share what we think, feel and believe.  So if I tell you that red is my favorite color, you can criticize me.  Or you could also tell me your favorite color and then we share something new about each other.  What is the most vulnerable you can be? Telling someone you love them.  And you may face rejection, discomfort, silence.  Or perhaps, just maybe, that person says they love you, too. The ability to be vulnerable means  your power is in owning your feelings and your self, and not relying on the reactions of others to make it good, bad, right, wrong, or true.

Here's the juxtaposition.  You might argue that in playing all those roles is not just self-protection, but you are able to keep everyone happy and the situation under control; and each one of those roles is just a different part of yourself, because of course, it's *you* playing all those parts.  And that's true.  I'm not sure we can ever fully mask who we really are.

But if that's the case, why not be true to yourself and reduce the stress of playing roles, interpreting scenes and controlling outcomes… and simply let you and all the facets of you been seen, live a real life 'come as you are' party.  Because when you wear a mask, it doesn't mean there is less criticism, ridicule or shame.  It merely means you have placed a layer of synthetic something between you and the world, something to hide behind so that others won't see that you're hurt.  But then, that requires you to continue pretending that you're not hurt. And so the game never ends.  And a game that never ends, a game you can never win, is ultimate a destructive game.  At some point, you're too exhausted to go on.

And when you're at that point, do you even know who you are anymore?

This is where we go through a midlife crisis, a divorce after 20-something years, a meltdown, a breakdown, a shutdown… because we've been hiding for so long behind our various personas that kept the rest of the world happy, that we forgot which one was truly at the core of who we are.

About ten years ago, my husband said to me, "For someone who talks so much and is so great with language, you never really tell me anything about you."  When it's the person closest to you in all the world who says that, you start to pay attention.  So, I sought out a generous old soul I know, and she said, "Why don't you try just saying what you really think and see what happens?"

So I tried it.  And it took practice.  When you're in the habit of wearing a mask, it isn't easy to just put it down cold turkey.  I tested. I observed. I'd hide again for a bit and then come out again.  The idea of saying what I really thought wasn't about being rude or mean, it wasn't about blurting out my innermost secrets.  It was about no longer hiding behind a litany of meaningless words shaped to make other people happy - or at least, not judge me.  It was about slowly, finally, getting to know and get comfortable with me.  Me, in any situation.

So sure… we might approach a particularly prickly personality with care.  But adjusting our approach to a situation is different than playing a role.  I might choose my words with more care but I am not changing my message or creating a new persona.  I am thoughtfully choosing my words - but instead of a litany of meaningless words, they are delivering the message of what I really think.

There is power and strength in being who you are and believing that in any situation, you are enough.

“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.” 
― Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

Relaxation is who you are – Tension is who you think you should be…

I am not sure who said it – who to attribute it to.   It is printed on the wall of my nutritionist’s office and every time I see it, it causes me to pause and ponder.  I actually do understand the ‘who’ we are naturally.  The being that exists as a result of how we are raised, the part of the country we grow up in and our physiology - all rolled into the ‘self’.  I also know about the self we ‘show up as’.  The person that we think that we need to be for other people.  The mom, the dad, the retail manager, the lawyer, the wife, the lover; whoever and whatever the role…

     A level of tension or urgency isn’t a bad thing.  It is what gets us up in the morning, keeps our houses  cleaned and inspires the projects we do at work.  It is where our social norms reside and where we find our ability to play well with others.  How I ‘show up’  for my fellow ‘dirty girl’ is different than who I am for my children – which is different from who I am with my colleagues at work and again different with the man that I love.  We instinctively navigate and control our interactions to be accepted and to elicit the responses that meet our goals or – at the very least – help us feel secure and worthy.

The challenge comes as we become aware of the dance– the role that we play – and the impact it has on our lives.  If we simply mirror the needs of others and don’t attend to our natural self, we run the danger of feeling frustrated, not heard and out of sync with ourselves.  If we focus only on our natural tendencies – our own needs and desires – then we put our own need for acceptance at risk and most likely limit our ability to connect and impact.

At a very basic level we need to decide where we will reside.  Where is the balance between our own natural self and our need for being in relationship – for connectedness? Perhaps we can begin by tapping into how we feel – by stepping outside of ourselves - defining and differentiating between our relaxed selves and where we have a level of tension or urgency in our interactions. Where do we experience our uninhibited deep laughter and joy…and where do we suppress and hold back as we work to interpret the expectations of the people around us?

As I ponder, my mind searches to make meaning.  Relaxation is where my joy and health reside.  Tension and expectation creates connection and makes me productive.  Neither is good or bad – and I understand that I cannot live without one or the other.  My journey is in the navigation – the awareness – the balance…and the possibilities…

Controlling the Urge to Control

We take it. We lose it. We keep it. We seek it. We grab it.

Control.

No matter what path we’re on – our career path, our personal path, a juncture where the two careen together – we are usually trying to manage the next few steps, anticipate the upcoming curves and glibly sidestep any burgeoning roots threatening an imminent face-plant.

And yet it’s a bit like quicksilver, isn’t it?  The more we grasp for control, the more it eludes us.  We might catch it for a minute, manipulate a specific situation or individual, but once you do, it always leads to more… trying to control the next situation, trying to manage an adjacent one.  And then you’re so busy trying to manage everyone else and everything else, when do you actually live – for yourself, for your own moment?

Letting go is hard.  Have you ever tried it – I mean, for more than an hour in a hot yoga class?

I was on a conference call this week, listening to one of my team members present her case to another team, wanting to enlist their help.  I listened. And I cringed. I winced. I sighed. I held my breath. I held down the mute button.  And I held my tongue. 

She needed.  She required. She expected. She was loud.  She interrupted. She repeated her point. Again. She was assertive? Aggressive? She was demanding.  She had lengthy answers to questions no one asked.  She was pushing them to meet her needs.  She was counter-arguing their arguments.

Every time she opened her mouth, I could think of a different way to phrase that… a gentler way to request that… a smoother way to bring the conflict to resolution.  And every time the other people on the call asked a question or pushed back, I worried that it somehow reflected a lack of preparedness or clear communication on our part.  I was biting my lip, ready to jump in if the conversation skid downhill too quickly or escalated to hostility.  I had soothing, ego-smoothing words on the tip of my tongue. 

But still I held my tongue.

Because by the end of the meeting, she got what she needed.  The other team was on board.  They agreed to supply her everything she required.  And they didn’t sound too flustered about it.

So, it wasn’t the way I would have gone about it. But she got the job done.  I reminded myself of two things repeatedly during that seemingly interminable call. 

• Everyone has her own style, her own way of sharing herself with the world.  It doesn’t have to be my way.  In fact, it usually isn’t. 
• The world can tell that person to shut up any time.  I don’t have to control that.  In fact, I can’t.

Sometimes after a call like this, I will make time to offer feedback and coaching to the person.  But sometimes, it’s enough that the job got done. 

Letting go meant letting my teammate be.  It meant letting the situation evolve.  It meant understanding that I didn’t have to pull all the strings for things to turn out “right”.  It meant letting other people do their jobs. 

And it didn’t have to be my way.