A third example of the sanity and logic that underlies a problem behavior, in this case, worries about an upcoming adventure (and plane flight).
Threads: Getting unstuck, breaking up old patterns
Relevant recent posts: 2/22/2013 When old strategies become problems: Part 2
2/12/2013 When old strategies become problems: Part 1
8/23/2011 Getting unstuck: Part 2
5/13/2011 A frame for how we learn
2/14/2011 Unconscious Learning
But how do you prepare enough for such a thing?
Locked in
When an old strategy is triggered, you more or less lock into the set of responses and options dictated by the associated old learnings. For instance, in Part 1, snakes triggered paralyzing fear; in Part 2, waking up in the morning triggered the feeling that it was safer to stay in bed.
No replacements, just room for something new
Therapy is most often not a case of learning a new behavior to replace an old one. Rather it involves becoming free of the constraints of the old pattern in a way that one’s natural, unfettered intelligence emerges to meet the circumstances in this moment now, not as they were then.
Example 3
In this example, drawn from work with a client and used with permission (see “Footnote: About this example,” below), an ostensible fear of flying turns out to be rooted in an old learning about the dangers of going on an adventure. The therapeutic work consists of the client becoming aware of the functioning of her old patterned response in a way that she can gently interrupt it. Here’s a shortened and simplified telling of our interaction.
The problem: Anxiously thinking about what might go wrong
A client I’ll call Bett, a resourceful woman in her fifties, wanted my help to “overcome irrational, silly fears…” including the fear of flying. Up to this point, she had avoided flying; now she wanted to go on a vacation that required plane travel and had booked it, non-refundable. She couldn’t stop anxiously thinking about what might go wrong.
Where did you learn to do that?
I asked where she learned to think so hard about what might go wrong. She said her father was a worrier. She vividly remembered when going outdoors on some adventure he would call after her, “You’re going to get hurt; be careful not to break your neck.”
This was Dad’s earnest attempt to make sure his little girl would take care of herself. Bett took it to heart.
The old strategy is an attempt to accomplish something good
When she went outside on an adventure she certainly didn’t want to get hurt or break her neck. What preparation and amount of vigilance go into being careful enough? She didn’t know.
It became clear: In a well-meaning effort to take care of herself Bett had learned to think and think about what could go wrong… without ever arriving at the sense that she had thought and prepared carefully enough to avoid something bad happening.
A new adventure triggers the old strategy
Now, with respect to the old learning, Bett’s booked plane travel qualified as an adventure… triggering this old strategy.
Learning to recognize the old pattern
Bett recounted a number of past instances of being anxious and thinking about what might go wrong in anticipation of an adventure. We both could appreciate this old behavior, although ineffective, was an effort to accomplish something good.
Gently interrupting the old pattern
We explored the possibility of Bett comfortably preparing for and going on an adventure. She said she’d like that. I suggested, “Although this old strategy of worrying means well, it may be time to refine it. Perhaps whenever it starts up—and you find yourself endlessly thinking about what might go wrong, see how it feels to say something like:
“Thank you for being so persistent in trying to take care of me. I have thought about how to take care of myself on this adventure, and I think I’m okay. If there’s something specific I missed, let me know.”
A new learning: Knowing when you’ve done enough
She liked how it felt, and said she would do it. We did a few minutes of hypnosis to support the interruption and refinement of this old learning in a way that would allow Bett to more comfortably and adequately plan for her upcoming travel. Suggestions included the following metaphor:
"And when everything that can be done that should be done has been done… then there can be a natural settling. Just like breathing: The diaphragm engages and inhalation comes to you… and when enough has been taken in… then there is a natural settling into the exhalation that happens of its own accord."
At the end of the session I asked if there was more work for us to do with this. Her response both answered my question and broke with the old pattern: “I think that’s enough. I feel ready to go.”
About these examples
In this and the previous two posts, thanking old and obsolete habitual behaviors “…for being so persistent in trying to protect me…” could seem a bit cookie-cutter-ish. There is more to it.
First, there is therapy that precedes and then follows the work portrayed in these vignettes. A lot of the old behavior is already dismantled by the time someone can recognize its functioning clearly enough to be able to talk about it (rather than be blindly in the thrall of it). Also, there may be follow-on work in support of the client accomplishing a sustainable and satisfying outcome.
Second, out of session, 1) doing the work of recognizing when you’re in the middle of enacting the problem behavior, 2) understanding that it is old and obsolete, and thinking to thank it… all contribute to the pattern losing traction.
And third, there are many kinds of old and obsolete behaviors and equally many ways to therapeutically address them. I chose these three vignettes because they share an underlying template: An old behavior, learned at a young age as a protective strategy, continues to function even though it has become outmoded. After reading about it in three different settings, it may be easier for you to become aware of old obsolete habits functioning in your own life—that may mean well but that you no longer need.
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Your comments are welcomed.
Footnote: About this example
Stories
and therapy vignettes that are inspired by my clients’ coming to change
are used with permission, are always altered to protect client
anonymity, are not intended to accurately portray therapy, and are often
fictionalized syntheses written to make clear some point.
All
are offered with gratitude to my clients—all of whom teach me that our
capacity for intelligent and life-affirming responsivity and change
exceeds conscious imagining. And all are offered in support of people
making enlivening change in their own lives and in support of those of
us who, in turn, support others opening to more options for being alive
and vital.
What good is trying to be accomplished? A second example of the sanity and logic that underlie problem behavior, in this case, wanting to stay in bed in the morning.
Threads: Getting unstuck, breaking up old patterns
Relevant recent posts: 2/12/2013 When old strategies become problems: Part 1
8/23/2011 Getting unstuck: Part 2
5/13/2011 A frame for how we learn
2/14/2011 Unconscious Learning
It’s easy to support a curious, interested child learning something new.
How will you be as generous with yourself as you solve this problem?
-to a client, frustrated with their own behavior
A new client often arrives with a problem behavior they hate. No matter how crazy, weird, counterproductive, or self-sabotaging the behavior seems, I have learned there is likely some past circumstance in which the behavior was learned and adopted to accomplish something good. Although the behavior persists in its attempt to accomplish something good, it may no longer fit the current circumstances—it is now a problem.
What’s the behavior trying to accomplish that’s good?
When a client can see and appreciate the problem behavior as an old strategy on behalf of their well-being that can be refined and updated, it often helps change the behavior. Because of this, I immediately become curious: What’s the behavior trying to accomplish that’s so important that it has resisted the client’s every effort to change it?
Example 2
I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning
A client I’ll call Matt, in his thirties, is competent and resourceful. His parents recently moved from across the country into the town where he and his family live. Their proximity has triggered some of Matt’s old childhood feelings and prompted him to seek therapy. The following vignette, drawn from work with Matt and used with permission (see “Footnote: About this example,” below), exposes the sanity which can underlie a problem behavior.
During our work to change the nature of his responses around his mother, Matt said he often didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning. I asked, “How does it go? What do you think or feel that is a part of not wanting to get out of bed?”
He said, “It’s easier to stay in bed if there’s nothing pulling me out of bed.”
Me: “Where do you imagine you learned this? What circumstance have you been in where it really was easier to stay in bed if there’s nothing pulling you out of bed?”
Matt: "Growing up around my mother. It felt like anything I’d do would set her off. Then she’d yell at me and be mean. I could never tell what I’d done wrong, so I didn’t know what to do differently.”
Me: “So, if nothing was pulling you out of bed, like having to go to school, it was easier to stay in bed.”
Matt: “Yeah, so I won’t do something wrong around Mom.”
Me: “Ah, makes good sense.”
Matt: “Yeah.”
Me: “That’s a pretty good strategy, staying in bed, to avoid the risk of setting her off.”
Matt: “Yeah, I never thought about it that way.”
Me: “Where you live now, with your wife and son, do you feel at risk of doing something wrong and setting either of them off?...”
Matt: [laughs, shakes head ‘no’].
Me: “So, you believe now it might actually be okay to get out of bed in the morning…?
Matt: [nodding ‘yes’]
Me: “This strategy of staying in bed to protect you from upsetting your Mom has been persistent for decades, so it’s probably not going to drop away just because we’re talking about it. But we can add something to it. Would that be okay?
Matt: “Yes.”
Me: “So, on those mornings when you wake up and it still might happen that you have that experience of it being easier to stay in bed… see how it feels to say, ‘Thank you for being so persistent in trying to protect and take care of me. I know it’s okay now for me to get out of bed. Thank you.’”
Matt: “Huh. Yeah. [pause] I can do that.”
Me: “Only if you really know it is okay for you to get out of bed, that it is different now than it was growing up around your Mom.”
Matt. “Yeah, I know that, it is different. I can say that.”
There was more
Matt went home and the next morning, when he felt it was easier to stay in bed than to get up, he said, “Thank you for being so persistent in trying to protect and take care of me. I know it’s okay now for me to get out of bed.” Then he got out of bed and began doing his morning things. In a few minutes he started feeling anxious—tight chest and stomach. By mid-morning he realized he was feeling like he used to as a little boy when he got out of bed. By ignoring the old strategy of staying under Mom’s radar, and instead, getting out of bed, Matt triggered the old feelings he would have had as a child when getting out of bed: Anxiousness and at risk of setting Mom off.
He was able to realize this while it was happening. He stayed with his experience throughout the day and his anxiousness gradually lessened.
I understand this as a work in progress: As Matt continues to refine and update old learnings he acquires more options for how he responds now than were available to him as a child. He grows.
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Your comments are welcomed.
Footnote: About this example
Stories and therapy vignettes that are inspired by my clients’ coming to change are used with permission, are always altered to protect client anonymity, are not intended to accurately portray therapy, and are often fictionalized syntheses written to make clear some point.
All are offered with gratitude to my clients—all of whom teach me that our capacity for intelligent and life-affirming responsivity and change exceeds conscious imagining. And all are offered in support of people making enlivening change in their own lives and in support of those of us who, in turn, support others opening to more options for being alive and vital.
The underlying logic and sanity of problem behavior rooted in old learning.
Threads: Getting unstuck, breaking up old patterns
Relevant recent posts: 2/14/2011 Unconscious Learning
5/13/2011 A frame for how we learn
8/23/2011 Getting unstuck: Part 2
“I’d like to take it out behind the barn and shoot it!”
client, referring to their fear of flying
In this and the next two post we explore the logic that underlies three different problem behaviors involving snakes, getting out of bed in the morning, and vacation adventures.
Example 1
The old learning: All snakes are dangerous and to be feared
For years I understood my reaction to snakes was phobic: Snakes seen close up or at a distance, garter snakes, teeny six-inch baby snakes, dead road-kill snakes—all triggered a strong startle response and paralyzing fear.
Identifying my response as phobic, while descriptive, obscured more than it revealed. As a child I loved spending time with my Grandmother. I remember being in the backyard with her when she saw a garter snake. She rushed to get her garden shovel and with a look of horror and repugnance, chopped the snake into pieces!
Given the wisdom and knowledge of The World that I granted to Grandma, from that time on, I intuitively understood snakes were to be feared and destroyed. It is no surprise that my mother also had learned to fear snakes; growing up, I had no adult to show me a different way to relate to snakes. Although the fear part persisted, I never felt compelled to harm them.
The old learning becomes a problem
Throughout my adult life I have liked to hike, particularly in the deserts of the Southwest and have had plenty of encounters with these creatures. My old learned response was not fun; whenever I saw a snake on a hike, it was an unpleasant act of will to keep going.
Seeing a problem behavior differently
I learned much from working with my clients as they made changes in their old patterned reactions—and it gradually became clear to me: My own habitual and strong response to snakes could be understood as an attempt to protect me from danger. I never consciously decided to have this protective response. It’s as if the part of me that learned and subsequently managed this response was entrusted with protecting me and, for decades, it earnestly persisted in its efforts—despite my conscious attempts to overpower or otherwise defuse it.
Responding to my own behavior differently
My attitude shifted: When I felt the familiar startle of spotting a snake (or a snake-like twig in the path, which would do it too), I said, as if talking to my unconscious: “Thank you for being so persistent in trying to protect me. I’m okay.”
The old response began to shift
I did this over and over and became aware of how many times the old circuitry triggered while on a hike. I thanked it every time. Gradually it triggered less and less and the startle and fear lessened. One way to frame this change: The old childhood learning was being refined and updated.
Making sustainable change often involves a number of shifts
Seeing an old behavior as an outmoded attempt to accomplish something good is often supportive of change… and likely only part of a larger body of entwined old learnings that need be addressed and untangled as part of the process of making sustainable change.
For example, I suffered a number of frightening traumas as a child. For me, snakes became a trigger not only for the fear associated with seeing my Grandmother kill one, but also for the fear associated with other frightening childhood events. I had to address those first before having a clearing in which to begin to change my response to snakes.
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Unconscious learning
We learn many things—walking, talking, attitudes, how to respond in various situations, what to avoid, or what a snake is and how to respond to it—without knowing we have learned them. I call this unconscious learning (see post Unconscious learning). What is learned reflects both the circumstances in which we learn it and our understandings and resources available at the time.
In other words, in the past, what we learned about how to be and behave, how to act, how to think, how to respond—was the best learning we could do at the time. In my case above, given my circumstances, learning to strongly fear snakes can be seen as a sane and self-protective response.
The old learning can become outmoded
When we learn something unconsciously—like our attitudes and strategies towards adventures, snakes, or getting out of bed in the morning—it functions on autopilot (see post A frame for how we learning). The upside: We can function based on that old learning without having to consciously think about it. The downside: As we change, or as our circumstances change, our functioning doesn’t change to reflect the new conditions… which may be okay… or it may generate a problem.
The old learning can be refined
In other words: As we change and as our circumstances change, an old learning may no longer fit our circumstance and, as a consequence, can become a problem. In my case, as an outdoor-loving adult, I was able to refine my old learning about snakes in a way that now allows me more ease and comfort while still taking adequate care of myself.
In my story, above, and in the subsequent examples in the next two posts, hypnosis was used as support for refining the old, constraining learning.
More in the next two posts.
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Your comments are welcomed.
Footnote
Humans may be born with a self-protective fear of snakes. David Haskell describes this in his book “The Forest Unseen”:
“My fear of predators was likely imprinted on my psyche by millions of years of natural selection…. Like all other living creatures, I am the descendant of survivors, so the fear in my head is the voice of my ancestors whispering their accumulated wisdom”
Refining and updating my response to snakes likely involves striking a balance between an old childhood learning of intense fear and dysfunctional paralysis and an even older wisdom of self-protection.
The quote is from David George Haskell (2012). “The Forest Unseen: A Year’s Watch in Nature.” Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014, p137.
