More On Power (The Taking-It-Back Version)

So that big, mean therapy phase of my life reached its natural, or rather unnatural, denouement. As it receded in time I realized I had a story I wanted to tell. Which I then wrote. An agent submitted the book to publishers, and we kept hitting a wall.

Now what? Commercial publishing is an institution with an evolving set of rules and strategies. As was therapy. I had learned the hard way that institutions, believe in them as we may, are not infallible. From keeping up on publishing news I saw that while money was being invested and decisions were being made, no one really knew what people wanted to read or what books would sell. It seemed that nobody was happy—bookstores, authors, publishers, or, for that matter, readers. So the question for me became: why should I allow my literary fate be determined by what seemed increasingly a dysfunctional system?

This made sense, but acting on this also meant reclaiming the power I had, in my own mind, granted the publishing-literary-critical establishment. It was comforting to believe that there was this distinct entity called “a good book” that a writer aspired to and that an editor would recognize and embrace. But I could no longer believe this. So, tentative about this though I was, I chose to take back that power and avail myself of new publishing vehicles to bring the book out myself. Every once in a while I slip and find myself apologizing about its being self-published, but it turns out readers are not as hung up on those publishing brands as I thought. The same with writers (though every once in a while I sense that someone sees self-publishing as a disease they might catch—but this could be my own projection.) Not that I’m against conventional publishing; I have a novel making the rounds (I’ll write about this another time). It’s just that, same as with therapy, you’ve got to know when it’s working for you and when it’s time to go your own way.

In honor of the 20th anniversary of Nelson Mandela's release from prison--and the notion of taking back power, generally--here's the necklace that Beverley Price, a friend and South African artist, made as a contemporary interpretation of the Xhosa neckpiece Mandela wore to his sentencing. Beverley had the chance to present it personally at an exhibition on the occasion of Mandela's 90th birthday.Anyone who knows me has probably seen me wear this necklace, depicting Drum magazine, which my late father-in-law, Cecil, at one point edited.

Thoughts On Power

I’m thinking about a line in the One True Thing blog that ran two posts ago. Blogger Jen Haupt asked me what I had to give up in order to get better, and I responded: the willingness to give complete power to another person. I’m realizing that this was crucial not only in affording me the courage to step aside from therapy, but in other aspects of my life as well.

It is extremely difficult to disagree with someone in whom you have invested power—either because of an inherent power differential (a boss, teacher, editor, etc.) or the particular dynamic (spouse, lover, friend). When you’re dependent on someone, you fear what you might lose (love, support, a job). Sometimes you merely hold back from voicing your dissent; sometimes you stop yourself from even acknowledging disagreement in your own mind.

At different points in my life I did risk standing up to authority. Years back I told a literary agent that I believed in a book I was working on and stayed with it rather than taking the secure-but-dull projects she recommended. I gave up a lucrative freelance gig because I felt the company wanted me to downplay a problem in a way I felt was dishonest.

The big one, however, was therapy. I regarded a therapist as a lifeline, a link to the world outside myself that often felt out of reach, so I bought everything he/she said. Truth was, I didn’t know what it was to feel okay. The therapists I saw seemed to have a purchase on okay-ness, so I deferred to their judgment (as in, I needed to endure a lot of psychic pain to get better). The worse I felt, the more willingly I gave power to others. I felt that I was gaining something—attention and support—and didn’t see what I had given up, ultimately my own best interests. It wasn’t until it became clear that continuing therapy was untenable that I began to question the framework for healing that I had accepted on faith. Which made for a painful withdrawal rather than a gradual transition.

I believe the courage not to give power to others is important in other ways, including our role as citizens in the larger world. Can our economic “experts” always tell us how to find prosperity? Today, I don’t think so. Check out my recent article on Time.com.Here are lions gathering courage in the Kruger Park.

Notes From My “Ideal Reader” (Or, at Least One of Them)

A therapist friend said my book should be required reading for clinicians in training. I’ve yet to grapple with how to get the book to budding clinicians so I was thrilled when, via Twitter, I made connection with Sharon Sanquist who is studying for a Masters in Social Work—and has read the book.

What spoke to her was that I conveyed the process of therapy from the perspective of either sides of the couch. Indeed, every therapy session is really two distinct but interconnected narratives—that of the clinician as well as the client. Sharon says that, like me, during a session she often takes an imaginative leap to try to consider what the client is experiencing, and was glad to see how this proved productive in treatment.

She also related to literary descriptions of experiences usually only described in clinical terms. One example was how my then therapist and I worked in Self Psychology mode, building a core from the ground up, attempting a psychological revision of my life story. These sections articulated “how empathy can be meaningful in building up a person’s sense of self,” she said, which is important as many seeking therapy have “lost their sense of self”.

Finally, she reflected on the complexities of medication and how clinicians can drop the ball on it: “Some say that medication is stuffed down people’s throats. But sometimes those who truly need it are the ones who aren’t getting it—often those who have developed effective coping mechanisms but are really struggling. Such people may see taking medication as a weakness and need to have it suggested by someone else.” In many cases, she says, considering medication earlier in treatment can spare someone months or years of suffering. (Don’t I know it!)

Sharon also started in a different profession: banking. While one wouldn’t think of banking as preparation for clinical work, she said she often found herself doing a lot of handholding and helping to reduce the anxiety inherent in the getting-a-mortgage process. I guess many roads lead to therapy!Sharon is a dynamo in keeping up with trends and ideas in psychology and social work. Her Twitter link is: http://twitter.com/ssanquist

Holding On Too Long (Therapy Version)

One of the great things about publishing a book is that you get to find out what stories you're telling--the ones lurking beneath the narrative you intended to write. A theme several readers have responded to is the danger of sticking to one approach or strategy well past the point that it's helpful. This brief Q & A is adapted from a post on Jen Haupt's Psychology Today blog One True Thing. I thought this was a good begin-the-year message (as in, New Years Resolution: if it's going nowhere, ditch it.)

Do most people realize when they're hanging onto strategies in their lives that aren't working?

Often no, because we find virtue in the act of holding to whatever course we’ve decided upon. We may end up putting more emphasis on the strategy—whether it’s using a particular health modality, following a diet, or a sure-fire way to succeed at work—than on the results. And when we check on our “progress”, that too can be deceptive. That’s what happened to me with psychotherapy. If I felt bad, I could say, “This must be the pain I need to experience in order to be okay.”

What's the pay-off in staying in a bad relationship?

I co-authored a book on honesty and deceptive in marriage (Tell Me No Lies) and this was a revelation: people lie to each other in order to keep things the same. Basically, people bond in a way that feels good, and then do anything they can—lie, tolerate abuse, abandon dreams—in order to maintain that feeling. So the payoff is having access to that good feeling, or at least the illusion of getting there again. There may be a point when that payoff isn’t enough, and that’s when you do something. But it is amazing what people will live with.

What life strategy did you have to give up in order to get better?

The main one was the willingness to give complete power to another person, in my case a therapist. The other was the quest for “answers”—some kind of epiphany or catharsis that would free me up. But letting go of that quest ultimately proved more liberating.

What's the first step people can take in giving up strategies, relationships and habits that are destructive?

A willingness to question whether things are working. It sounds simple, but we’re often fearful of losing our nerve—or even losing our identity, which can become bound up in a given way of doing things. It’s also good to have reality checks in your life—and to listen to them.Here's Thembi enjoying a relaxing read in a sunnier season.

Poem For the End of the Year

The days are now as short as they're going to get. Here in Vermont, where we're still looking at months of snow, ice, school cancellations and whatnot, knowing that from here on in we're getting more sun offers some consolation. I thought I'd share one of my favorite Uncle Jim's poems, one that lives in its frame on the wall in front of my desk and speaks particularly to this season.

POEM FOR THE END OF THE YEAR

Even the weather
wearies of it and
slips south. This place is
exhausted. Coming

and going in the
emptiness, the sun
exaggerates me.
I fill it all with

the nothing of me
as once I filled my
mother will myself.
She has gone north with

my father. I am
left alone to watch
the sun describe an
arc barely bent, then

bent barer. I bend
under. It is time
to tire. Look how all
day long the sun sets.

COPYRIGHT 1982 BY JAMES L. WEILHere's our western view as the year's longest night descends. Have a beautiful end of the decade.

A Review, Two Posts and a PSA

A round-up:

The Therapist's New Clothes just received a nice, thoughtful review on Carla Cantor's Small Steps blog on Psychology Today. Carla, who I met through the American Society of Journalists and Authors, my professional home, is the author of Phantom Illness: Shattering the Myth of Hypochondria. I'm looking forward to whatever she writes next!

On the Espresso Book Machine front, I did a guest post for West Coast EBM pioneer Village Books in Bellingham, WA. And here's a piece in the ASJA newsletter on EBM publishing. With publishing (not to mention journalism and communication in general) in such a limbo-ish state, I'm happy to bring my bit of experience into the ongoing discussion about the future of books. (I'll be taking part in the O'Reilly Tools of Change for Publishing 2010 Conference in February. More on that later.)

Now for the PSA: For anyone within a jaunt's drive of Southwestern Vermont, the cross-country ski season at Prospect Mountain is underway! I skied a bit as a kid, and still have beautiful vintage Norwegian wooden skis to show for it. But I'm not very good, or at least not fast; I'm one of those who has to step aside when the little old ladies zoom by. Actually, my specialty is uphill skiing. Which I suppose as much as anything describes my approach to life.

Here's a glimpse of our deck after the latest snow.

Reflections on Meaning

This Monday my work was featured on Therese Borchard's wonderful blog Beyond Blue. I had a feeling Therese would respond to my book. But one of the things that makes writing endlessly interesting is that you never know what a reader will connect with most. In her Mindful Monday post, she quoted from the end of the book. Here's a bit:

"Before medication my life's project was to understand my pain. I was ill and in my illness made the mistake of treating my symptoms as metaphors. I tried to ascribe meaning to them. And I understand the impulse behind that quest. Pain that is part of a coherent story is tolerable. Pain without meaning is unbearable. But this proved a dangerous exercise. The pain had no meaning beyond the brute fact of it."

My initial reaction was, wait -- how could this have any resonance for someone without knowing all that I went through: the illusions I clung to; the signs I ignored; the clinicians who colluded with me in denying my depression? But then I read it again and saw the universality of the predicament. When someone holds out the possibility that your suffering has meaning, it's hard not to grab at it. Letting go of the belief that there was an order to my anguish was one of the hardest things I ever did, and one of the most liberating. Several people have bought the book after seeing Therese's excerpt. I'm glad she gave me the chance to reach those readers.

Since few characters embody inner torment like King Lear, I thought I'd offer up this close-up of my son as Lear in the throes of Shakespearean agony -- a kind of grand finale of his many years at Hiland Hall School.Can the kid act, or what?