One of the aspects of existential psychotherapy that I most value is the idea of personal responsibility. On one hand, we humans are free to live our lives the way we choose (within reason), while on the other, we are responsible for the choices we make. Freedom and responsibility go hand in hand, whether we like it or not.

Often, clients who enter psychotherapy have complaints about their lives, including their marriages, children, work environments, and many other interpersonal situations. Just as often, the clients are steadily looking outward at other people they deem responsible for the trouble. It is the spouse who is selfish, the children who just won’t listen, the unreasonable boss and the inconsiderate friends who drove the person to seek therapy. It is less often that a client comes in with a strong sense of personal responsibility and willingness to change in the beginning stages of therapy.

That is one of the challenges therapists face: how to help the client assume responsibility for his or her life without shaming or blaming. Without the clients taking on personal responsibility, no change can ever really happen because, as we all know, we can change and improve only ourselves. When faced with this challenge, I like to ask my client, “In all of the bad relationships, failed communications, and frustrating encounters in your life, what is the one common denominator?” That question allows the client to begin focusing on his or her role in whatever situation he or she is facing. Even if his or her role is as little as 1% of the issue, that 1% is where we start working. That 1% is where the change begins, and generally, the acceptance of responsibility of that small amount is what leads the client to being able to recognize other ways of being that may cause problems in his or her life.

The ability to take responsibility for one’s life is one of the greatest gifts we can offer ourselves and our clients. Although the weight of responsibility may seem heavy at times, it carries within in the seeds of freedom. When a person assumes responsibility for himself or herself, the person becomes empowered to be the person he or she chooses to be. Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist Viktor Frankl reminded us that the “last of the great human freedoms is to choose how to behave in any given circumstance.” Indeed, we have complete authorship over our attitudes, interactions, and responses.

Philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre states that to be responsible is to be the “uncontested author of an event or thing” and means that each individual, alone, is responsible for the creation of his or her life, including “self, destiny, life predicaments, feelings, and if such be the case, one’s own suffering” (Yalom, 1980). Becoming the author of one’s own life may start with something as simple as taking ownership for the 1% that is you, but will likely lead to a much deeper sense of ownership and freedom in one’s entire life. Therapy, done well, will assist participants in grasping a greater sense of self by way of freedom and responsibility.

Some people come to therapy full of negativity and anger toward parents whom they hold responsible for the way they feel and the lives they live. For example, they might explain their difficulties in relationships by referring to a parent’s emotional coldness, criticalness, or divorce. Or they will fault a parent’s lack of encouragement and involvement when they were growing up for their failure to do well academically or professionally. Blaming parents for their struggles keeps these people stuck in angry, anxious, and depressed feelings, and interferes with their ability to think about what they could do to make their lives different.

“Gloria” came to her first therapy session with me and immediately began to talk. Sounding irritated, she explained, “I’m here because I can’t take it anymore. I hate my life. I’m either angry or depressed. I’m 29 years old and I haven’t been in a relationship for more than three months. I can’t seem to keep my jobs for much more than a year. For nine months, I’ve been working as an assistant in a recruiting firm where I answer phones and type résumés. I know I’m smarter than that, but I don’t know what else I want to do. I seem to go from one dead-end job to another. I’m such a loser.” Then Gloria sobbed, “I am just so stuck.”

Gloria began therapy. She typically entered my office with heaviness and depression, and talked about how miserable her life was and how hopeless she felt. She believed that nothing could change. When I asked her why, she thought she was stuck in this awful place, her lethargic demeanor changed to anger, and her voice turned strong.

“How could I change?” she said. “It’s all about my childhood. My parents separated when I was 5. My father left the house and I rarely saw him. Sometimes he would take me for a weekend, but I never believed he really wanted to. He met this woman, Fran, and all he ever talked about was her. They got married when I was 7, and then he moved to another state. I would visit them three or four times a year. She had two daughters. I could see how much he loved Fran. He never looked at me like that. He would criticize how I dressed and compare me to my stepsisters. I hated them. I could never get anything right, and they were so pretty and perfect, and I could see they were the children he wanted. When I would go home to my mother and complain, she would hardly listen. She never seemed very interested in me, either. She had a big, important job, and as I grew up, I didn’t see so much of her. She never got very involved in anything I did. She would even get nasty and critical if I told her about something good that happened. I remember when I told her that I had been asked to run for class secretary in middle school. She laughed at me and said, ‘You’ll never get elected, so you shouldn’t run. You’re just not popular enough.’ I believed everything she said about me, so I didn’t run. By middle school she had a serious boyfriend and she was always with him and never had time for me. I never thought I was good enough for much. When I think about it now, I can see my mother was really into herself and I think she was competitive with me. I don’t think she wanted me to succeed or dress well or have boyfriends. I guess she is still getting her way.”

The more I learned about Gloria’s childhood, the more I could understand why it was so difficult for her to have positive feelings about herself and to believe that if she worked at something, she could succeed. She consistently assumed people’s responses toward her would be negative personally and professionally. While her expectations were understandable in light of her childhood experiences, she was able, when pushed, to come up with memories of positive relationships, work experiences, and even good feelings about herself. Nevertheless, these exceptions to what she anticipated did not go very far in allowing her to step back and consider that she was not (in her words) “doomed to fail.”

It became clear to me that Gloria was stuck in blaming her parents for how she saw herself and how her life turned out. What made it so hard for her to move on? Was there some risk in letting go of her anger? Was there a downside to not living up to what she saw as her parents’ view of her? Was there something positive in it for her to blame her parents? These were the questions that occurred to me as I listened to Gloria, who presented herself repeatedly as a victim who would always be at the mercy of the impact of her past treatment by her parents.

I began to raise these questions to Gloria, who became curious about them. She began to consider the risks of letting go of her anger and blame. She talked about worrying that she would be letting her parents “off the hook” if she stopped blaming them or being angry. “They know how I feel and I like to think I make them feel guilty,” she said. “When I was a kid, they never seemed to expect me to amount to much. They’ve gotten what they wanted, but I do think I’ve managed to finally make an impact. I think I’ve succeeded in making them feel guilty. If my life got better, maybe they wouldn’t feel so bad or guilty. I feel bad and I want them to feel bad.”

At first, when Gloria continued to talk about her desire to hurt her parents, she smiled and said, “Now that I understand that this is what I’m doing, I have to say that revenge is sweet.” She would also get angry in our sessions and acknowledge that this new awareness created a real conflict for her. “Rationally, I get that it’s me,” she said. “I can see that I think my parents are responsible for my being a failure. They made me this way, so I’ll be the loser they created. I want to hurt them. I guess I could work on getting the life I’m always moaning that I’ve never had, and I know that would be the best thing for me. But I just don’t want to give them any good stuff.”

As we continue to talk about this conflict, which creates great anguish for Gloria, she has not been able to choose to work on giving up her anger and blame. However, she is considerably less attached to viewing her life through the lens of doom and failure caused by her parents. She has begun to take some steps to get more for herself. She has gotten a promotion to recruiter, and has made a placement that will double her income this year. She has also enrolled in a management class at a local college. We’ve even begun to talk about online dating. As Gloria continues to work in therapy, I believe she will achieve more for herself and gradually be able to see her identity in a new way and identify less and less as a victim. As she allows herself to experience the satisfactions of success, I am hopeful that the pleasure of revenge will be less gratifying.

My work with Gloria is just one illustration of the ways in which blaming your parents can keep you stuck. There is a terrible paradox in these situations: You are angry and blame your parents’ treatment of you growing up for your unhappiness and failures in your adult life. But the wish for revenge and these angry, blaming feelings keep the connection and repeat the relationship between your “bad parents” and you, the unsuccessful, unhappy child. As a result, you are stuck in the position where you cannot become the person you say you wish to be or create the life you say you desire.

“Take a look at the bright side,” we tell our loved ones when they’re feeling down. “See the cup half full, not half empty.” We help lift our friends by saying, “Cheer up! Don’t dwell in the negative. Be grateful. Think about all that you have.” If it seems our friends suffer from low self-esteem, we extol their virtues and exclaim, “People are attracted to positivity in others. Think positive thoughts and good things will happen to you.”

We draw upon a large base of common wisdom in order to combat the slings and arrows of existence. And some of the time, we do all right. When a person carries a cheerful spirit into a room, there is a terrific splendor that is contagious. We support one another. We lend one another positive strength when needed.

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With all its potential for good, positive thinking can at times act as an oppressive tyrant, an enemy of happiness. After all, if the solution were so straightforward, if we could think our way into happiness, then our world wouldn’t be riddled with chronic misery. The mandate to be positive and cheerful in our culture is so pervasive and powerful, even people in psychotherapy feel a tremendous burden in simply communicating uncomfortable feelings to their therapists. Everyday popular treatment of emotions is hardly hearing someone out.

The darker social message of an individual who insists on surrounding himself or herself exclusively with positive energy sounds something like this: “Don’t whine. You sound like a baby. Get over it.” The culture of positivity often forgets the need for the yin and yang, the harmony of opposites. It can squash the voices of hurt, dissent, disagreement, and injustice. Even more oppressive: “You are weak. You’re taking on a victim mentality. Don’t be a victim.” The unwitting oppression marginalizes the voices of victims—victims of trauma, of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse.

The fact is painful experiences can be uncomfortable to listen to. Nobody wants to upset their friends and family with feelings of discomfort. So, people become terrified of identifying as a victim. They deny trauma they have endured in order to spare “burdening” loved ones. They fear being considered weak because they are being asked to do something impossible—to get over it and move on. But in the case of trauma, the attempt to forget about it is the problem. Those who are identified as “victims” in our culture display exceptional bravery, refusing to act as though their hurt has disappeared, succumbing to the majority’s desire for them to get over it. One cannot simply “move on.” To live a fully human life, one must embrace the good and the bad in themselves and others.

It is true that some people dwell in cycles of negativity. But how do we know when we should or shouldn’t attempt to lift them from their sorrows? The key is learning how to listen. At times a person needs to endure a feeling, state, or mood in order to grow. What the person needs is compassion—a trusted other to listen while he or she endures his or her difficulties. Attempts to redirect the other toward positivity may be well intended, but may also lack compassion. Advocating a shift into a positive perspective may be received by the other as dismissive, even uncaring, depending on whether the listener is truly attuned to his or her friend’s needs. After all, how can you truly listen to someone if you’ve already decided what he or she should feel and how he or she should think?

Having compassion means feeling with someone—finding one’s way across the barrier of alienation. Having a need to redirect a friend’s emotions may indicate a difficulty or unwillingness to join him or her in a troubled state. Some may fear being “pulled down” by another’s troubles. Underneath the demand for oneself and others to stay positive is a terror about what lay on the other side of life, the darker side. Under the driven, fiery force of positive thinking lay immense anxiety. Ultimately, that fear inhibits a more fruitful joy—that of authentic connection, an enduring togetherness in the wholeness of life.

At first glance, the injunction to bless and release sounds just beautiful, and so evolved. On reflection, it is missing a crucial component: learning from the experience before you let it go. Jumping right to bless and release without first opening to the lesson is like putting a Band-Aid on a broken leg. You may think you did something helpful, but it’s a superficial solution.

If it were that easy to just bless and release, people would forgive far more readily, and generally move through relationship roadblocks and inner conflicts with ease. As you know, nothing could be further from the truth.

If you take stock of a situation, ask yourself what you could glean from it, and then consciously open your heart, you will be more able to truly bless the people involved and let it go. The psychic lightness you experience as a result comes from true detachment.

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In Buddhism, the concept of detachment is often misunderstood. It does not mean detaching your love and caring from someone; rather, it is detachment from outcome. This requires an understanding of your expectations, even when they are not readily accessible. It’s just another good reason to take time to meditate, as it allows previously buried thoughts and feelings to emerge from your unconscious to your conscious mind.

Once you are aware of your expectations, i.e., your attachment to certain outcomes, you can work to release them. The first step in letting go is acknowledging the hold they have on you. Is there a pattern of thinking, judging, reacting, or expecting that has dogged you in the past? If so, please resist the temptation to blame yourself. Trust that you were doing the best you could, and refuse to enter the cycle of self-criticism, as it will only impede your progress.

Accepting other people’s different ways of being and behaving is a wonderful goal. Like all major cognitive and heart-opening shifts, it does not happen overnight. A good way to start is by being aware of your thought patterns, behaviors, and physical responses to certain people and situations. If you sense a tightness in your chest or abdomen, ask yourself what you might be thinking about someone’s behavior. Are you judging it? Are you being critical of his or her way of handling something? Are you comparing how you would do things differently? Breathe into whatever tightness you feel. Give yourself a cosmic permission slip to have those initial reactions without resorting to self-condemnation. Then ask yourself: “How would I rather think and feel about this person?”Imagine reacting that way. Use all five senses to really feel the difference. Now, notice any changes in your body.

If you like how you think and feel after that exercise, you may be ready to bless. Following the teaching of the Buddha on metta, or loving-kindness meditation, bless yourself first. To Western minds, this may appear selfish, but it sets the stage for opening your heart to others. Once you feel that positive intention toward yourself, you can bless the other person. A classic invocation is: “May you be peaceful, may you be happy, may you be free from suffering.”

If that felt good, let it all go. This is easier said than done, as humans can’t erase memories at will; however, you can let go of any residual negative feelings, such as anger, resentment, or jealousy, especially if you feel yourself joyfully moving forward.

Letting go is powerful psychological medicine when it is done with a truly forgiving heart. Be patient with yourself as you traverse this new territory, and practice self-forgiveness as it paves the way to being more loving and understanding of others.

As discussed in the overview of dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), the first of the four primary DBT modules is core mindfulness. Derived largely from Eastern zen philosophies and Western contemplative practices, mindfulness forms the foundation for the other three DBT modules of interpersonal effectiveness, distress tolerance, and emotion regulation.

Mindfulness is the practice of observing one’s emotions and environment, describing feelings and experiences, and fully participating in the moment. By learning and incorporating mindfulness skills, clients become more aware of their feelings, thoughts, impulses, and behaviors. This awareness empowers the individual to better regulate his or her emotions and choose more appropriate actions.

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Three States of Mind
A central concept of core mindfulness in DBT is that there are three states of mind: the logical mind, the emotional mind, and the wise mind. In Cognitive-Behavioral Treatment of Borderline Personality Disorder, DBT founder Dr. Marsha Linehan explains that mindfulness helps achieve the wise mind state, which is a balance between the logical (or “cool”) state of mind and the emotional (or “hot”) state of mind. In the wise mind, the individual considers things rationally while factoring in his or her feelings. This enables the person to acknowledge intense emotions in a nonjudgmental manner while making healthier behavioral choices.

“What” and “How” Mindfulness Skills
In DBT, the practice of core mindfulness is taught through “what” skills and “how” skills, i.e., what can we do to become mindful and how should we do it? The three “what” skills are observing, describing, and participating. The observing skill refers to observing the current environment and events, as well as the client’s own sensations, thoughts, and feelings—without describing or judging him or her. This process helps prevent impulsive reactions and the triggering of negative emotions and internal dialogues.

The second step is to describe what has been observed and experienced, being careful to express facts rather than interpretations. For example, the client might say, “I am feeling frustrated with the complexity of this project,” rather than, “I am too stupid to complete this project.”

The third “what” skill is participation, wherein the individual is fully engaged in the present moment. The focus is on the discussion one is engaged in, or the event he or she is attending, rather than allowing the mind to wander about past incidents or future possibilities—which generally increases feelings of agitation.

In practicing the “what” skills, it is critical to employ the “how” skills, which explain how to perform the “what” skills: nonjudgmentally, one-mindfully, and effectively. The nonjudgmental skill helps neutralize the common tendency to label experiences and feelings as “good” or “bad.” In applying this skill, the individual describes the key facts of the experience rather than his or her feelings and judgments about it.

The second “how” skill, one-mindfulness, refers to focusing 100% attention on the present situation rather than multitasking—in other words, participating mindfully as opposed to mindlessly. This skill is helpful in breaking the habit of dwelling on negative thought patterns, which tends to prolong and aggravate distressing emotions.

Finally, the effectiveness skill enhances the capability to select behaviors that are consistent with achieving goals rather than deliberating on what is fair or unfair, and how things “should be.” The idea is to take productive and goal-oriented actions instead of being caught up in a cycle of negative thinking and behaviors.

Mindfulness can be a challenging skill for some people to develop. Many of us have become accustomed to focusing on something that has already happened or may occur in the future, rather than what is happening right in front of us. With training and practice, however, core mindfulness enables clients to become more flexible in their thinking and avoid being controlled by their emotions. It can help reduce the tendency to react negatively based on internal triggers, allowing clients to be fully present in the moment and engage in more productive behaviors.

The state of Washington has been working for several years to change the language in its laws to gender-neutral terms. If legislation passes as expected, no longer will there be penmanship, freshmen, and watchmen. Instead, Washington will have handwriting, first-year students, and security guards.

Several other states have followed suit, with about half making moves toward gender-neutral language. Such language is often lampooned as politically correct and excessively burdensome, but research shows that language affects perceptions. Perceptions, in turn, affect behavior, and using gender-neutral language can be a meaningful move toward gender equality.

The Pervasiveness of Gendered Language
Gendered language is so common that it’s difficult for some people to even notice it. From job postings to laws, words such as policeman, councilman, mankind, and fireman abound. This omnipresence of gendered language may be part of the problem. When people stop noticing gendered language, it’s easier to think of male as the default. People who do a double-take when they see words such as policewoman or police officer may be doing so because there’s an incongruence between what their expectation of a police officer is—a male—and the possibility of a woman filling the role. The more frequently gendered language occurs, the more likely it is that people develop male as the prototype for a particular role.

This can affect a wide range of behaviors and lead to subtle biases. A company that posts a job seeking an ombudsman, for example, may envision a male in the role because of the use of gendered language. This can give women a slight disadvantage when they seek out the job because women applicants don’t completely match the hiring manager’s vision for a future employee. The person in charge of hiring may never even be aware of this subtle bias, but this doesn’t mean it’s not there.

Effects on Women
From the time they’re children, women experience an onslaught of gendered language, and this can subtly alter their perceptions of themselves. Even women report that their prototype of police officers and firefighters is male, and this may be due in part to gendered language.

Gender conditioning can affect the choices men and women make, and when women grow up learning that they’re not the ideal image of a particular role, their options are limited.

Male as Default
The use of terms such as mankind is particularly problematic because it treats men as the default. When “man” is used to refer to “all of us,” women are completely excluded, even if the term is intended to be gender-neutral. Thus, men are established as the norm against which everything is judged, and women are treated as deviant from this norm.

Real-life examples of this can be found in the long-time medical practice of using only male research subjects—a practice that has changed over the past few years.

Setting an Example
While gender-neutral language can seem frustrating and cumbersome at first, this is primarily because it’s new, not because there’s anything particularly onerous about its use. When states establish gender-neutral language, they help this language become part of the common lexicon and set an example demonstrating that gender-neutral language is just as easy to use as gendered language.

References:

1. Carmon, I. (n.d.). The effects of gendered language in job ads. Jezebel. Retrieved from http://jezebel.com/5803238/the-effects-of-gendered-language-in-job-ads
2. Lacorte, R. (2013, February 3). State moves toward gender-neutral language. The Seattle Times. Retrieved from http://seattletimes.com/html/localnews/2020282616_genderneutralxml.html
3. Leaper, C., & Bigler, R. S. (2004). Gendered Language and Sexist Thought. Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development, 69(1), 128-142. doi: 10.1111/j.0037-976X.2004.00283.x

It is not unusual for someone who experiences a loss to romanticize the person, identity, or object they are grieving. This can occur even when what is lost was not just imperfect, but harmful. This tendency occurs more often and can be more harmful with folks who experienced depression, anxiety, or other mental health issues prior to the loss.

Myths can be helpful in meeting the obligation of respect and mourning we may feel toward the person. They can push us to broaden our memory of the person who died or the relationship we had beyond just the negative event to more positive or helpful content. They can influence the “story” of what was lost in a way that makes thoughts and emotions associated with the loss more tolerable to access and communicate individually and within our support systems.

It is natural to go back in time and reevaluate our perceptions of events and the decisions made during that time. Those who struggle with depression or anxiety already have a distorted view of reality that usually presents a world that’s unsafe or themselves as incapable. Both of these factors can set the stage for harmful myths.

Beliefs that drive guilt, regret, and failure are usually present and, when applied to the loss of a relationship, can set the stage for a rewrite on reality. These factors can result in a person deriving a meaning or value from what was lost that is heightened and, in his or her mind, exposes an inability and unworthiness in obtaining and holding onto the things people deserve to pursue. Even if the person holds some, or the majority of, responsibility in the loss, what was lost was probably imperfect and the behaviors that led to the loss are changeable. We’re human, and life is usually a trial-and-error thing.

Myths can also amplify the lack of purpose one feels after losing a job, becoming hospitalized, or losing a relationship. This is particularly true if the loss involved something the person felt defined them: “This is who I was, and now that it’s gone, where does that leave me?” Myths can hold us to the belief that purpose is unchangeable and who we were before the loss was the best we could have been.

In reality, there may have been significant problems and costs to the identity that we were not attentive to; these costs may have been a factor in causing the loss. Myths hold us back from an honest analysis of what led us to “the problem,” which in turn, prevents us from changing our behaviors or priorities in a way that works for us now. Myths can make us risk-averse, because if it can’t be the same, what’s the point? The answer is that “it” being different may be what we need, and the loss could be used as a wake-up call. In holding onto myths, we may reenact patterns and behaviors that are maladaptive.

When the loss involves a person who was both a family member and a perpetrator, myths can act as an obstacle to accessing traumatic content. Survivors of childhood abuse utilize several strategies to survive their environments and maintain a positive view of those they love because of the meaning that relationship may have in their minds (“she is my mother; I’m supposed to love her”). From their perspective, pushing for change may have a greater cost than living with it. This capacity or inclination can prevent survivors from feeling as if they have permission to think about the person they lost in a negative light. These are common issues for any trauma survivor, but holding on to the myth after a loss may make the work in acknowledging and processing the trauma that much harder.

Within a familial context, myths can create a perceived demand for adherence to a “story” that may feel objectionable to some within the family. Trauma survivors can feel uncomfortable in processing the loss authentically with those they may feel closest to for fear of making waves or hurting them.

Grounding ourselves in fact can go a long way in helping us cope with a loss. Being factual means focusing on what we know, not what we believe, so that we can derive a reasonable meaning from the loss experience. It allows us to acknowledge and mourn the good while identifying what was harmful so that the work of adaptive grieving and behavior change can move forward.

One important aspect of remaining factual is communicating the emotional and cognitive content we hold to another person we trust. This allows us to expose any distorted beliefs or thinking to another person’s logic and perception. This is important because it creates an external brace against unreasonable thinking. By not allowing exposure, the only thing left to challenge the distorted narrative is the source of it.

Family, friends, and other natural supports (priests, rabbis, the lady who does your nails) are usually the best options if safety is not an issue because they represent long-term, sustainable resources you can access anytime. If safety is an issue or you are experiencing symptoms that go beyond a normal grief reaction, seeking professional help (therapists, psychiatrists, medical doctor) can provide more intensive support and a greater assurance of confidentiality.

Contrary to what we may think, getting older is actually not all that bad. There may be financial and emotional challenges, and health conditions may change the way we live. But according to an abundance of research, older people have lower levels of negative affect, or disposition, than younger people. To better understand why this is, Amanda J. Shallcross of the Department of Psychology at the University of Denver recently led a study that looked at acceptance. She believes that acceptance to negative life events weakens the negative reactions to those events and causes them to impact a person’s affect less. In other words, as we age we are more accepting of things and, ultimately, less unhappy.

Shallcross used the emotional states of anger, anxiety, and sadness to explore her theory. She evaluated 340 participants ranging in age from 21 to 73 years old and subjected them to a stress-inducing experiment designed to cause negative affect. She measured their responses to the induction at the time of the experiment and several more times over the next six months. She found that the older individuals had more acceptance of the stressful condition and responded with less anger and anxiety than the younger participants. However, she did not find lower levels of sadness in the older participants.

These results suggest that as people age they learn to accept conditions in their lives. Perhaps anger and anxiety no longer serve their goals of forming intimate relationships, maintaining family bonds and social networks. They may alter their emotional responses to events in order to secure those relationships. As for sadness, Shallcross believes that older individuals may actually benefit from acceptance there as well. Because they experience more adversity, loss, and life challenges as they age, older individuals should have higher levels of sadness than younger individuals. But in this study, their sadness was equal to the younger participants. Again, Shallcross believes that this was the result of acceptance. “This skill may decrease levels of sadness to remain on par with those of younger individuals,” said Shallcross. “Thereby, net levels of sadness remain constant across age groups.” Overall, these findings demonstrate that acceptance is an important skill for maintaining a positive well-being. And most importantly, people do not have to wait until they are old to acquire that skill. It can be learned at any age.

Reference:
Shallcross, A. J., Ford, B. Q., Floerke, V. A., and Mauss, I. B. (2012). Getting better with age: The relationship between age, acceptance, and negative affect. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. Advance online publication. doi: 10.1037/a0031180

Don’t wait for trouble to set in when it comes to the enriching elements of your life, such as sensuality and sexuality. Often, we are draining ourselves of the essence in our sexual, erotic selves through seemingly small, inconsequential thought and behavioral patterns.

This article addresses some of the most common drains to our sexual energy. I encourage you to use it as an awareness-raising exercise and to begin to investigate your own energy drains. In response to what you learn from your own self-reflection and investigations, you may begin to compile and act on antidotes to your drains.

• The great storyteller: Being in your head too much creates performance anxiety and, sometimes, perfectionism. Telling yourself that your skills aren’t up to par, or wondering if your lover’s last lover was better or more interesting than you in the sex department, will keep you from fully engaging all your senses and fully being your erotic self. If you are telling yourself that sexual engagement with another (or yourself) has to look like candles and a quiet house, you are engaging in a false story and draining your sexual energy. You may have authored a story that is keeping you hostage.
• Swinging for the fences: When we engage in all-or-nothing thinking, we miss out on opportunities to replenish our sexual energy. No time for a long-lasting lovemaking encounter? Do not forgo a wonderful, engaged, 30-second kiss or a good, ol’-fashioned make-out session. The dog needs to be walked, there are bills to be paid, and you have phone calls to return, but give yourself time and space to indulge in some physical contact before tackling the rest of life. Trust me, it is far more enjoyable putting sexual energy replenishment at the top of your to-do list than skipping the kiss because you don’t have time for a full lovemaking session. When we assume sexual engagement must be a “home run” every time, we are draining ourselves and missing the opportunity to replenish our sexual energy.
• Relying on the goodness of others: Relying on your partner(s) to replenish your sexual energy by initiating or expressing interest is enemy No. 1. Your strength and sexual energy, including self-esteem, self-care, self-love, and empowerment, are all too often thought to be somebody else’s job. When we as individuals fulfill our own needs, we embark on a new way of relating to ourselves and others. To feel good about ourselves outside of the bedroom is essential to feeling good in the bedroom.
• Glory days: It’s particularly draining to ourselves, relationships, and sexual energy when we dwell on “better times” in our relationship. Within a longstanding relationship, we tend to think back to when we first met our partner and lament the times we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. One of the greatest gifts we have as humans is relating and relationships. Yes, it tends to be that the closer we get to our intimate partner, the flame can be dampened, however the fuel to that fire is drained only by focusing on “how it used to be.” In Patricia Love’s book, The Truth about Love: The Highs, the Lows, and How You Can Make It Last Forever, she shares with readers the predictable stages of “better times” and a more enriching, emotionally intimate relationship, which is often coupled with less “firework” sex. It is essential to understand the ebb and flow of sexual energy.
• Keeping score: Unresolved resentment and conflict, and not voicing our own needs, drains our sexual energy. Gatekeeping, policing, and “giving to get” drains the sexual energy from us and our relationships. Our sexuality is not a weapon or a reward system. When we engage in this thinking and pattern of interacting with our lovers, we drain the essence of our sexual selves.

So, what stories are you telling yourself? What habits need a little tweaking in order to replenish your sexual energy? I encourage you to monitor your own thinking and behavior patterns, and note what drains you and what replenishes you. Enjoy!

Children learn an enormous amount from their caregivers and parents. They learn through direct contact how to communicate, interact, and perform daily activities. They learn through exposure how to react and emotionally respond to situations. And whether parents are fully aware of this or not, a child’s behavior is in part the result of their parents’ response to it. According to a recent study led by Diana Morelen of the Department of Psychology at the University of Georgia, children and parents have a reciprocal emotional relationship. In other words, the way in which a parent responds to a child’s emotional reaction directly influences the way in which a child emotionally reacts.

The primary aim of Morelen’s study was to determine how reciprocal the child-parent emotional relationship was. Using a sample of 54 participants made up of fathers, mothers, and pre-adolescent children, Morelen examined how supportive emotional parenting (SEP) affected emotion regulation when compared to unsupportive emotional parenting (UEP). Specifically, Morelen wanted to know if SEP increased adaptive emotion regulation (AER) in children and if UEP increased maladaptive emotion regulation (MER). She then wanted to find out if these relationships were bidirectional. Morelen assessed the parents and children as they talked about four different emotions, anxiety, sadness, anger, and happiness.

She discovered that the way in which parents responded to their children’s emotions directly impacted the way in which children emotionally reacted. Morelen’s theory of reciprocity was confirmed when she found that SEP led to AER and AER led to SEP in all four of the discussion conditions. Also, MER predicted more UEP than SEP for fathers and mothers when discussing anger. However, when discussing the more vulnerable emotional states of sadness, mothers responded with SEP more than fathers when children exhibited MER. This finding could be partially explained by the male ideal of power and strength. This, in turn, may lead fathers to identify emotional vulnerability as a weakness. However, Morelen believes this is concerning because there is an abundant amount of research linking UEP to feelings of shame and inadequacy and patterns of emotional suppression, all of which can increase the risk for psychological impairment. Because of this, Morelen hopes interventions aimed at addressing family, child, and parent interactions focus on the emotional response of both mothers and fathers. “Programs could highlight the role that child behavior plays in soliciting parental behavior and coach parents on how to be mindful of the potential (positive or negative) influence of child behavior,” said Morelen.

Reference:
Morelen, Diana, and Cynthia Suveg. A real-time analysis of parent-child emotion discussions: The interaction is reciprocal. Journal of Family Psychology 26.6 (2012): 998-1003. Print.

It is not unusual for people to come to therapy with feelings of confusion about what they want, think, and/or feel. I find that many grew up in families in which one or both parents involved themselves in their children’s lives in ways that interfered with the development of separate, individual thoughts and feelings. Most of these parents were well-intentioned. Their intrusion into their child’s life typically came from a need to protect the child from painful feelings or to assure that the child’s behavior and choices were the “right” ones. As a consequence, these children grew up relying on their parents to define not only what they should feel or how they should behave, but ultimately their identity: who they are as individuals. As adults, these children spend a lot of time in their heads worrying about the choices they make, how they are seen in the world, if they upset their parents by having separate ideas, if they did the right thing, etc. They become confused when the thoughts they have about themselves are different from what they know their parents believe. “What is true and real about me?” becomes the question that these patients bring to therapy.

“Sam” came to see me filled with anxiety. He didn’t know if he should continue in a relationship that was becoming serious. “I think I’m in love with Kara,” he said. “We have a really good time together, and she is very good to me. But then I get confused: Do I really want to spend my life with her? My father thinks she isn’t a good match for me. She’s Italian, and I’m German. I never really thought about things like that, but my father thinks that the cultural differences are too much. He also thinks that Kara’s family is very different than ours and that will be a problem when we have a family.” Sam continued to describe his uncertainty about how he felt and what he should do. I asked him if he thought he would be less unclear about Kara if his father approved. It was striking to me that this question seemed to startle Sam. It hadn’t occurred to him that his father’s opinion about what was good for him had such a profound influence.

Sam agreed to begin therapy, and we began to explore how he thought about himself and how he determined what he wanted and needed. It soon became apparent to both of us that Sam’s father had always played a big role in characterizing who Sam was. Sam recalled that he wanted to take guitar lessons when he was about 10. His parents bought him a guitar, and he liked strumming it and learning to play, but he had trouble with dexterity and was not developing into a very good player. After about six months, his father told him, “You’re not very musical. You should find a different hobby. You should try chess; you would be good at that.” Sam recalled: “Even though I enjoyed playing and fooling around on the guitar, I stopped the lessons. My father started to teach me chess. I did get pretty good at it and joined a chess club in middle school. My father always says with great pride how he knew I would love it because I’m such a rational and logical person, that chess is perfect for me.” Sam paused and thought a minute and said, “It’s funny, I never thought about this before. I think of myself as a logical guy, but then I never know what to make of all the feelings that seem to boil up in me. My parents don’t see me as emotional.” Sam paused again, seemed deep in thought, and then sadly said, “Wow, I guess I hide that part of myself from them. They don’t really like emotions.”

As Sam and I continued to talk, he became increasingly upset as he began to discover that much of what he thought about the kind of person he was mirrored his father’s view of him. He also began to realize that there was a judgmental attitude when his father told him what he thought. For example, his father still believed that Kara was not for him. His father had explained, “You’re not someone who can deal with opinionated people. She is too aggressive for you.” Instead of becoming confused and wondering if his father’s idea was true, Sam began to consider his own experience. He was learning to ask himself what was happening in his internal life and to study what went on externally. He thought about Kara and her opinions and realized that many of her ideas were different from those of his parents. But he also saw that she was flexible and, in fact, he often agreed with her. As he was more able to focus on himself and create some space apart from his father’s influence, he could consider how he felt. He didn’t feel conflict with an opinionated Kara. Rather, he was becoming aware that he disagreed with his father. This was not an awareness that he allowed himself to experience very often. It made him anxious, but now he second-guessed his experience less, and he was beginning to make space for his separate feelings and ideas to emerge.

Sam and I still have work to do. He is working on his relationship with Kara. As he develops the ability to know what he wants and feels, he is more able to express himself to Kara and that relationship is getting stronger. Sam continues to work on individuating from his father. After 30 years of relying on him to define and characterize who Sam is, it takes time to develop confidence in his own thoughts and feelings. There is still anxiety for Sam when he asserts his newly found voice with his father. Sam has recognized that his father’s judgmental tone has made it difficult for him to feel that his own perspectives are valid. His memory of his father telling him, “I’m your father and I know what you like and what is best for you” no longer feels just about his father’s love and concern. Sam is beginning to understand that his father is anxious, too, and that it is his anxiety that drives him to try to control Sam and to believe that he knows what’s right. Hopefully, as Sam’s sense of identity becomes more solid, he will be able to negotiate the relationship with his father so there will be room for multiple thoughts, feelings, and perspectives.

Well-intentioned parents who are critical and controlling may promote their child’s reliance on them to determine and define what is good and acceptable about the child. When a loving parent is so certain that he or she knows what is right for the child and does not consider that the child may have valid, different ideas about what he or she wants, needs, and feels, there is no space and no invitation for the child to develop the ability to express his or her own self with separate ideas, feelings, and needs. Over time, as the child grows to adulthood and is exposed to more ways of thinking about things, there is typically a good deal of confusion about identity, thoughts, and feelings. Unless there is an opportunity to develop a separate sense of self, there will likely be a lot of anxious thinking about what is real but little ability to think for oneself in a self-reflective way.

Housing options for low-income families are limited. Research has shown that disadvantaged communities can contribute to emotional and behavioral challenges for children. But few studies have looked at the quality and kind of housing affects the developmental trajectory of children. Rebekah Levine Coley of the Applied Developmental and Educational Psychology Department at Boston College decided to explore this issue in a recent study. Coley looked at housing contexts including stability, housing quality, renting versus owning, and subsidized housing. She examined how these factors affected well-being in both the children and the parents.

Coley used data from over 2,400 participants ranging in age from 2 to 21 years old. The data was collected over a 6 year period and was used to determine how cognitive, behavioral and emotional well-being was affected by housing. The study revealed that several aspects of housing affected childhood development. Coley said, “Within the four characteristics of housing considered in this research, poor quality housing was the most consistently and strongly predictive of children’s well-being across the span of childhood.” Poor housing quality affected the emotional and behavioral development of the younger participants the most and had a strong negative impact on adolescents’ reading and math skills. Stress from living in poor conditions also contributed to negative outcomes. Coley believes that parental stress from inadequate living resources, as well as stress from neighborhood factors, including crime, violence, and drugs, could culminate to decrease parental emotional availability. Combined with the stress of the child, the result could be decreased coping skills and higher levels of internalizing and externalizing behaviors.

Housing stability was examined and revealed mixed results. For instance, multiple moves led to more externalizing and internalizing. But a move within the prior year led to lower maladaptive coping and better reading skills. This could be the result of moving to a better home or better community. Although Coley didn’t fully examine the details of the stability, these contradictory findings should be explored in future research. Finally, the developmental differences of children who rented versus owned, or who lived in subsidized versus non-subsidized housing, were minimal. The cost to own a home may put a financial burden on families that outweighs the benefits of owning. And aside from the environment in which subsidized housing is located, private versus subsidized renting did not directly affect developmental outcomes. Coley hopes that future research will further examine the impact of the home, in all its contexts, on overall development and well-being in children from all socioeconomic classes.

Reference:
Coley, R. L., Leventhal, T., Lynch, A. D., and Kull, M. (2012). Relations between housing characteristics and the well-being of low-income children and adolescents. Developmental Psychology. Advance online publication. doi: 10.1037/a0031033