Three Game Changers for the Journey Ahead

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.  Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.

–Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Clean Slate

We are bounding through January.  Despite the wet, grey, whiplashed days January offers on the heels of holiday indulgences, I freaking love this month.  It yields a pristine sense of clarity and hope as well as a big fat slice of heaven for the introverted soul: fireside reading, killer movies to catch up on (La La Land, anyone?), warm beverages galore, and a proverbial blanket of white snow on the ground beckoning the young dreamer in all of us to let loose and explore.

Blue Monday

The third Monday in January is a bit of a bear.   Apparently, it’s the most depressing day of the year as it’s the day everyone ditches their shiny, steep new year’s resolutions, seizes the old sweatpants, and heads straight for that hidden Ben & Jerry’s pint (or pick your poison) in the sky.  It’s the day we cave into the weighty shame of unmet, unrealistic expectations we heaped on ourselves about three weeks ago.  They’re simply too hard.  In fact, it’s such a let down, they’ve actually given this day a name: Blue Monday.  Who knew?

Litmus Test

Monday morning, millions of people woke up, looked themselves in the mirror, and saw the piercing failure of “not enough”.  Once again, they couldn’t quite cut it.  Their litmus test: a number on a scale, an unwritten novel, a half eaten cheesecake purchased the night before, or perhaps a pack of Camels that miraculously appeared in the kitchen desk drawer.  The vicious cycle continues as we beat ourselves into submission with a new, “better” set of rules, checks and balances, what have you.

Hangry

In light of this melancholy kind of blue, I thought it would be a great opportunity to ditch the idea of elimination altogether and give you some killer tools to add to your tool belt instead.  After all, I’ve never understood this logic of giving up something delicious, like truffle fries, only to be met by a thin drip of green juice. It tends to make me really hangry, and backfires altogether.  It’s also really isolating.  I prefer the supplemental route: let’s add in practices, rituals, and tools that gently keep us on track and promote loving relationship with the totality of our beings: physical, emotional, and spiritual, as well as with others.

Tool Belt

Today, I bring you three tools I’ve added to my daily routine (okay, maybe I’ve missed a couple here and there) as consistently as anything I’ve tried.  Why?  Because they’re fun and they work.  Whereas you can find tons of  research backing the validity and effectiveness of each one, I’m simply going to give you a quick layman’s account, focusing on the application and value I’ve seen within the last month.  Each day, I look forward to my encounters with these tools and practices. They’ve been, in fact, game changers for 2017 already.  You ready for this?

Meditation

I know, I know.  I know what you’re thinking.  “I’ve tried that before and it’s too hard.  I just can’t sit still.”  Fair enough.  However, from one who literally doesn’t like to sit much and is in her happy place walking for days down the busy streets of a buzzing big city somewhere, I’ve finally found a practice that works.  Ladies and gents, I give you Headspace.  It’s an app, its ten minutes a day, the first ten days are free to give you a taste of how it works, and then the journey continues with a modest subscription worth every penny.  The helpful thing about this app is the structured, guided aspect. Led by a lovely guy called Andy with a super cute British accent, Headspace gently leads you through a daily practice that’s accessible, not  too woo-woo (not that there’s anything wrong with that), and really effective.

We live far too much of life in our minds, yet we’re not often taught how to live there.  Headspace has freed up so much energy for me that typically gets spent judging and reacting.  Judging everything: my thoughts, my self, my bad hair day, my inadequacies, those I love, and on and on.  I’ve noticed a softer inner dialog, increased energy, a better mood and outlook, among so many other things.  This topic deserves a whole post, and I could go on and on, but do yourself (and your loved ones) a huge favor and start today.

Essential Oils

I’ve heard the buzz for years and have close friends who swear by them.  For some ungodly reason, I’ve just arrived at the party and not a minute too soon.  My friend Mary Hyatt is an inspiration to me on so many levels.  A few months back, she guested on the blog sharing her insight and experience as it pertains to relationship with food.  Well, she recently introduced me to Doterra, a killer, high-quality, line of essential oils.  As a Christmas gift to myself, I ordered an introductory packet chock full of gorgeous oils, a diffuser, and an arsenal of vitamins that are magic and don’t make you feel like you’re going to vomit.

Transport

Now I get it what the hype is all about.  Oils are not only incredible for the mood and senses but medicinal for what ails you.  Smell is the most powerful of all the senses.  Walk in your local bakery and notice where the waft of freshly baked bread transports you.  There’s a mood attached to that smell as well.  I’ve been like a kid in a candy story experimenting with Lavender, bergamot, lemon, peppermint, frankincence, and more.  My often spotty sleep has improved, energy and mood lifted, and muscle tension in my body eased.  I’ve always had a holistic view of wellness and therapy and these oils are seriously icing on that cake.  If you have any questions, please ask.  If I don’t know the answer, I’ll find out.  I’m passionate about sharing this stuff and believe modern medicine will eventually catch on as well.

Passion Planner

Lastly but definitely not least, my third favorite tool, the Passion Planner.  How many times have you bought a beautiful new, leather-bound planner and found it six months later covered in dust under a pile of magazines in your office?  I can honestly say for me, quite often.  The passion planner is different in that it starts with my favorite motivating force: desire.  This planner breaks down goals in a creative, interactive way month to month, week to week, day-to-day.  It asks what’s most important, driving our passion as well as what’s NOT important, standing in as a poser, or mere distractor.

They’re also big believers in writing it all down as opposed to plugging it into a device.  Why?  because the physical act of writing is step one to actualizing that desire, that mind-body connection thing. The passion planner is a road map, not just a calendar.

Wrap-up

I can honestly say 2017 has gotten off to such a great start partially due to these three amazing resources.  So much of this journey is embracing ritual and structure as well as practical tools that enhance our growth and healing.  I sincerely hope you’ll check out each one.  Don’t hesitate to reach out if you have questions and feedback!

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

Obsessed with Gratitude

Wear gratitude like a cloak and it will feed every corner of your life.

-Rumi

Happy Thanksgiving, friends!  This is by far my favorite Thursday of the year as well as one of my absolute favorite holidays.  I savor the vibrant smells and tastes of seasonal comfort foods, the cozy roaring fire that cracks  and burns in the fireplace, and I adore the fact that in this beautiful country of ours, we’ve managed to preserve the fourth Thursday of every November to remember, cherish, and give thanks.

Feast

Many of you are sitting down around a dinner table of some kind with loved ones about to enter into a food coma at it’s finest right about now. Perhaps you’re already there.  I sincerely hope you enjoy every bite and minute of your day.  Some of you are in places of painful or lonely transition and this Thursday looks much different then you’d hoped.  That Norman Rockwell ideal has once again vaporized into a wishful mist.  My heart knows the pain of similar loneliness and I pray you will find some light in the cracks of that thin space today.

Shift

Wherever you are on your journey, I want to give you something to take with you right now, whatever your situation may be.  It can turn the darkest skies a paler grey, shift toxic, negative energy into grounded presence, and it’s available always in every blink, without fail.  It’s completely free of cost.  It is the most powerful force of breakthrough from emotional bleakness into hopeful wonder.  I’m sure you know where I’m going with this—Gratitude.

Why

You’re smart.  I know this because you seek out truth beyond yourself and you invest time and resources into personal development and progress.  Here’s the catch though: smart people ask “why?”  This is not all bad, mind you.  It’s often crucial to know the why’s of our experience.  However, we get stuck when we marinate in our analytical mind, bowing down to the perceived deity of certainty.

Mario Batali

I’m not going to tell you to stop asking “why?”  That’s like asking Mario Batali to retire his orange crocks and go vegan.  Not gonna happen.  Intsead, I’m inviting you to become obsessed with gratitude.  Buy a tiny journal and keep a running list each day of everything you are grateful for from clean water, to another day to explore, to the sound of a child’s innocent laughter off in the distance.  Be specific.  Be relentless.  Be consistent.  Go gangster with it.  Set a timer on your phone several times a day and keep writing them down, the obvious ones and the more obscure ones.  I’m a big fan of the physical act of writing as it sends a message not only to our brains but also our bodies that gratitude is indeed a holy moment, a sacred act of wholehearted living.

Wide open spaces

You are also self aware, thus will soon catch on to the remarkable shift this obsession with gratitude provides, away from the lack of scarcity and into the wide open spaces of graceful possibility.  Your inner dialog will soften, your tired bones relax, and your heart will most definitely open up.

Remember

God did not bring you here to leave you.  Love is much far more clever than that.  God brought you here to lead you steadily, still,  into a powerful redemption story.  This, my lovely friends, is not the end of that story.  Today as we look back and see how far we’ve come, a thankful heart will surely usher us into the forward momentum of that continued provision.

You

So I will start us off right here and now with my deep and stirring gratitude that wells up in my soul and overflows in my heart daily:  I am grateful for you.  I’m grateful for your courage on the journey that’s brought you, in all of your beautiful brokenness, exactly where you are today.   I’m inspired by your uniqueness and blown away that you show up and meet the world’s deep need for gifts and talents that only you can bring.  Thank you for being you, day after day.  Thank you, thank you thank you…

Love,

katie

xoxo

Matthew Perryman Jones: Finding My Voice

My song was my salvation.

-Matthew Perryman Jones

Backstory

I have been a massive MPJ ( Matthew Perryman Jones) fan ever since I heard his unforgettably haunting voice pair with simple guitar chords at a local church in downtown Nashville probably close to fifteen years ago.  I remember thinking to myself, “Now, THAT is how a hymn is supposed to sound.”  It was this stunning mix of clarity and brokenness; youthful, yet carrying the weighty wisdom of an old soul.  I didn’t know who he was, but I hoped I’d always have access to that voice somehow.  Thankfully, his burgeoning career as a singer/songwriter has opened up a whole new world of music and truth for fans and friends, alike.

Co-write

A couple years back, I reached out to Matthew to write. I knew him indirectly through the years thanks to mutual friends, and sensed a real depth and kindness.  Also, I had started a little musical side project and was concurrently binging on his Until the Dawn Appears record nonstop, so why not aim high, right?  He graciously accepted and we sat down to write a couple of times.  Well, truth be told, each time we got a few minutes into an idea, then derailed with unending chatter about the Enneagram, therapy, etc…  I’m pretty sure it was the death of that song.  However, better than a song, a friendship launched andI am beyond grateful to have him share a bit of his story with us today on the blog.  As you will read, he vulnerably bridges that often despairing gap between creativity and the emotional struggles involved along the artistic  journey, namely depression and anxiety.  Matthew is an artist’s artist: a true master of his craft and a transparent source of light and hope for so many, myself most definitely included.  You are in for a treat today, friends…

The Start

Music seems to have always been with me. As far back as I can remember I was drawn to music and performing for people. It is in my blood to some degree. My mom was a singer, mostly performing solos in church. She has a beautiful voice. She also played piano and accordion in our house early on. My father loved music but was more of a listener. He lived mostly on a diet of folk music-Joan Baez, The Kingston Trio and the like. As a kid I gravitated to my dad’s record collection and would spend hours laying on the floor listening to records reading the lyrics and looking at the pictures inside the covers. I was fascinated. 

Heroes

In high school I started a band with a friend. We called the band “This Island Earth”. Bands like U2, R.E.M. and the Smiths informed our musical aspirations. This was the late 80’s and earnest, passionate (perhaps melodramatic at times) music was abundant in the more underground territory of rock-n-roll (U2 and R.E.M. were actually just emerging from the underground then). I looked up to these artists who were in their early to mid twenties as gods among us. They all seemed larger than life. They appealed to that expanding sense of grandiosity that was inside of me. I felt that anything was possible and I wanted to sing my way into transcendence…anything to take me out of the hardships of home life and the growing emotional complexities that seemed to mark my teenage years. 

Feel it all

I grew up being what might be labeled a “Highly Sensitive Person” (HSP). Since I can remember I have always felt things deeply, both personally and empathically. I have that classic story of not ever feeling that I was like the others, or one of the gang. I would observe other people having a kind of ease about their life that I simply never felt; like I didn’t get the memo (for all you psycho-diagnostic nerds, I fall in that low percentile personality type of the population—Myers Briggs: INFP/Enneagram: 4 with a 5 wing). 

Senses

I had friends and was easy to get along with but inwardly I never felt like I actually fit anywhere. I felt things intensely and was hyper-aware of everything around me. I had a kind of inordinate sense of life. Colors, smells, the feel of the air, the taste of food, were all on stun. For the most part I was intoxicated with these things. I had traces of what I would call depression now and again but I was mostly a highly energetic and incurably optimistic person. I always had a sense of possibility moving forward into my life. But there of course was a shadow cast with the light. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. 

Panic

After a couple years of playing and developing as a band, we split due to the other guys graduating high school and heading off to college. However, right around this time is when my world turned upside down. For various reasons I won’t get into here, my life became more inward. I didn’t have that outflow of expression I found playing in a band. I began experiencing high anxiety. It would come out of nowhere, this gnawing sense that something bad was going to happen. It wasn’t tied to anything in particular which made it more concerning. Eventually these became full blown panic attacks. A panic attack for me was this disturbing sense in my gut and body met with my mind going out of control. The sense of doom brought about thoughts of death and mortality. My thoughts were irrational and out of control, but it seemed I could do nothing about it. I began spiraling into a very dark place. 

Torment

At this point I’m 17. Due to the unpredictable and regularly occurring panic attacks I dropped out of high school my senior year. I didn’t feel comfortable driving and eventually became housebound. My parents would take me to psychologists, psychiatrists and nutritionists. My psyche seemed to be erupting with all kinds of neurosis. I became paranoid and wouldn’t eat food thinking it was poisoned and eventually began having obsessive thoughts, mostly in the form of religious blasphemies looping in my head. Growing up in a Christian home, I thought I was possessed or something horrible. I was 125 lbs and would shake and slap my head to rid myself of these tormenting thoughts. And there seemed to be no help. Medications seemed to just make me a zombie but inwardly I was in hell. I can say without melodrama or exaggeration that I was a person in sheer mental torment. 

Prayer Songs

I would wade through these dark waters for the next 5 years. There were small seasons of mild reprieve where I could function to a certain level. I would go to church (the only social interaction I had) but never fully shared what all was going on. I felt crazy. People who sensed something was wrong with me would prescribe more prayer and bible reading. The fact was that I likely read the bible and prayed more than they did. I had a belief in God that became an absolute lifeline. However, God did not feel real or close at all. I felt abandoned both socially and spiritually. I clung desperately to whatever belief I had and walked through some very dark places on an internal and spiritual level. But in that dark and desolate cave I would sing. My song was my salvation. No one heard me. It was in that dark, quiet and lonely place that I would sing. 

As I write this I am overwhelmed with emotion remembering it. Song was how I spoke to God and felt any shred of connection. I cannot adequately describe how alone in the world I felt; how separated from God and people I felt. I was alone and terrified. But I would sing. 

Light through the cracks

I believe it was during this time that I found my voice. Through the aid of therapy and eventually the right medication the dark fog that surrounded me gradually began to clear. I would slowly notice the birds singing and the crisp blue sky begin to open. I was coming back to life. I felt a profound gratitude for life. I got a job at a grocery store and would stock the shelves…and sing. There was always a song on my lips. But it came from a completely different place than it did when I was 16. I had come through the dark forest and had something to say. 

Healer

For a couple years I just lived, healed and assimilated myself back into “normal” life. Eventually, I went through the hoops to get myself into college. One thing I did during those 5 years of exile was read like crazy. It’s all I ever did (I was far from a reader prior to that). So I was ready to go to school and start finding my path. I thought that what I would do was study to become a therapist. I knew at this point in my life that I wanted to be an agent of healing in some form or fashion. Becoming a therapist was the only thing that made sense at that point. But I was living in a new trajectory and I was open for wherever the path would go. 

Confessions and spotlight

To make a long story just a little bit longer, while I was in college I met a guy who invited me to play in his folk band. I will have to skip over some details here, but the short of it is that I started playing music again. I was writing and singing and eventually performing live. As a performer I was painfully shy. I was not interested in the spotlight or having the attention on me. I found it wildly uncomfortable. But after shows people would come up to me and express, sometimes with tears, how much the music connected with them emotionally and how I said things that they thought and experienced but didn’t know how say it. Some people would confess things to me that they had never told their spouse—hidden depression and dark thoughts. I was hearing all kinds of things. But I was learning that a connection was happening and the music seemed to be opening doors in people they had long locked tight. 

Nashville

Music and therapy seemed to be a good couple. So I went in that direction. I started pursuing a life as a therapist disguised as a performing songwriter. Again, I could write a book about how I ended up in Nashville and began my descent into the music business, but I will stick to the heart of things here. I was playing music for people, specifically hurting people. I directed my voice to the lonely, the confused, the abandoned, the heart-broken. I wasn’t looking for a record deal or fame. I wanted my music to find connection in the neglected and forgotten places. I based my songwriting approach from something I read from Henri Nouwen, “Rarely do happy endings truly make us happy. But often one’s careful and honest articulation of the pains and ambiguities in life brings us new hope”. I wasn’t going to write pop songs. I was going to write people songs. 

Save me

Since that time my career has gone through all kinds of seasons. I have found varying degrees of what might be called success. My songs have found their way into TV shows, films, movie trailers and even a few radio stations. I have been wooed and whipped by the music business enterprise. But to this day I still receive emails from people telling me how my music saved their life. I’ve heard stories of how my voice has accompanied someone through the darkest times of their life. Again, this is where tears of immense gratitude come up. It moves me so deeply to think that something I put out in the world could offer some company to a soul that feels alone or broken by life. 

Staying True

Hearing these stories is why I continue to make music because it’s why I started in the first place. I think about throwing in the towel quarterly. I don’t like the enterprise of the music business. But I tell you, almost with precise timing, the moments I have been on the cusp of quitting I will get an email or have someone at a show tell me another story and end that story saying, “please keep making music, it matters”. 

Mystery

Over the last 17 years of pursuing a life in music and storytelling, I have come back into seasons of depression and hardship. It’s an ongoing process. Always. I have found great help with therapists and spiritual directors and friends. Life ebbs and flows. My belief and unbelief in a God, Source, Ground of Being, etc. has gone through many formations. I’m learning to lean into the Mystery a bit more and be ok with it, even enjoy it.  And I will continue to write about it all along the way trusting that it will find its way to other souls who need a little company as they stumble through their own experience. 

Not Alone

If I have something I am hoping to convey in my music it is this: you are not alone. I believe this is the primary value of music within the world. Music lets people know they are not alone in the world; that there is a thread within the collective human experience. We are not alone. I believe the more personal the writing, the more universal. We’re all cut out of the same hunk of cheese.

As a writer, my job is simply to stay true to what is inside me to say, whether it’s sexy or not; whether it will sell records or not. I have to stay true to that voice that emerged many years ago out of a dark place. No one will ever really know what it took to find that voice but me and I will guard it. I hope you reading this will do the same (wherever your voice finds expression). 

You have a voice. Guard the voice that is yours, listen to it, know it and let it be known. It matters.

MPJ

A Date with Procrastination

The more important the activity is to our soul’s evolution, the more resistance you will feel.

-Steven Pressfield

I’d like to introduce you to my new friend, Procrastination.  Well, he’s not really new, quite old come to think of it.  We go way back.  I suppose we’ve rekindled something as of late, something good, different.

Stuck places, friendly faces

Our rendezvous happened this past Tuesday morning as I was about to sit down and write this week’s blog post.  I typically have some foggy idea as to what I’ll write about from week to week which is always nice.  Like many bloggers, my ideas come from a storehouse of life experience, connections made in random and serendipitous ways, books I am reading, and most of all, the resilience stories of heroes I observe around me; friends and peers alike.  Lovely, right?  Well, this past Tuesday it wasn’t working out so well for me.

Wildlife

Earlier that morning, I decided to take a walk in order to clear my head, breathe some crisp fall air, and behold the magical leaves shamelessly showing off in the sun drenched blue sky.  It seems we have been cheering on the fulfillment of fall in Nashville the past several weeks and my, she certainly knows how to make a grand, fashionably late entrance.  Despite my morning jaunt out into her glorious embrace, I still had nothing.  Nada. Zip. Zilch.  I saw a few wild turkeys though.

Clean

When I have a deadline, be it taxes, writing, learning a new song, homework of any kind, (did I say taxes?), I don’t just procrastinate, I clean.  This is hilarious because I hate to clean.  I am not a cleaner.  Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a slob, I just tend to wait until I literally can’t see the bottom of my closet, throw my hands up in the air, and have a full on closet detox, as my brilliant friend Lindsley calls them.  Intentional, “unnecessary” cleaning always happens as a familiar step beforeI actually procrastinate.

Just one more cup

I sat down at my (clean) kitchen table only to decide I needed to make another pot of coffee.  That’s it!  Perhaps have another slice of gluten-free pumpkin bread, too. (Trader Joe’s makes the best mix.  I’m not even gluten sensitive, I suppose I just feel better about eating half the loaf.)  There we were, me, my coffee, my second breakfast, and my devilishly charming friend Procrastination.  “Dear God, I feel like a hobbit,” I thought to myself.  What now?  Pinterest, then a few quick emails, yoga anyone? I had forgotten how entertaining my old friend was.

Steven Pressfield

My absolute favorite book on the topic of the creative pursuit and process is Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art.  I’m a dreadfully slow reader and finished this little number in one afternoon on a park bench somewhere in the West Village while visiting NYC several years ago. No doubt, this was the most inspiring city to read those words in what with the beautifully diverse collection of roughly 1.5 million people tirelessly pushing their dreams forward to the rhythm of steely tenacity, very little sleep, and a whole lot of espresso .  From that day forward, I’ve been an evangelist of this book, giving away countless copies to friends and clients, alike.  He pretty much rocked my world with his jolting if not merciless approach to procrastination.

Here’s what he says:

“The most pernicious aspect of procrastination is that it can become a habit. We don’t just put off our lives today; we put them off till our deathbed.  Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second we can turn the tables on Resistance. This second, we can sit down and do our work.”

Can I get a witness?

Amen, yes?! If you read this post and all you take away is that one quote and a kick in the pants to hop on Amazon immediately and order The War of Art, I have succeeded.  Pressfield introduced me to this curious idea of Resistance, as was mentioned in the quote.  We all know what resistance is: that tight feeling we have in our chest and muscles, the thoughts of unworthiness that pop up like clockwork saying, “I don’t deserve to carve out the next hour and write, I’ve got so much to do!”, the anxiety that seeps in perpetrating those once calm and contented cells in our body.  Pressfield explains, “The more important the activity is to our soul’s evolution, the more resistance you will feel to it-the more fear you will feel.”

The Gift

If resistance resulting in procrastination is actually a sign of our soul’s deepest expression and evolution as Pressfield waxes so poetically, then I am convinced we are in dire need of a sit down “come to Jesus” reckoning with it! My avoidant and dreaded coffee date with Procrastination was in fact, profoundly necessary.  It was my heart’s battle cry against that nasty gremlin, perfectionism.  It was an invitation to show up and reclaim the very act that keeps my soul alive and grounded.  Someone out there may hopefully read the words I write through email or a Facebook feed or something and that is truly an honor. There is a much higher purpose though. The invaluable gift of resistance is the power that flows from our choice to lean in, show up, and give sacred space to our voice when the easy way out is to organize our sock drawer three times instead.  We align with our destiny when we lean into resistance.  This feels really good.

In Repair

As a lifelong perfectionist in a constant, sobering state of recovery, I am learning to become my own sponsor.  This is the credo that keeps me showing up and sitting down with pen and paper in hand: Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.

Anne Lamott spins it this way in her brilliant Bird by Bird (another must read): “Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere. Start by getting something—anything—down on paper. What I’ve learned to do when I sit down to work on a shitty first draft is to quiet the voices in my head.” 

I would extend that to say almost all creative endeavors begin with terrible first efforts!

Say Yes

Procrastination has gotten a bad wrap over time.  I want to help clean up the confusion.  After all, procrastination is merely saying no to something and yes to another, more attractive option, yes?  I say we wise up, stay very present to that knowing, if not uncomfortable nudge called resistance, and have our way with those illusive little pixies, perfectionism and projection.  They have stolen us away from our dreams, one bad, distracting idea at a time, for long enough. Today, let’s begin again.

Love,

katie

xoxo

Strong Series Part III: The Persecutor Plummet

That old saying, how you always hurt the one you love, well it works both ways.

-The Narrator ‘Fight Club’

Here we are, back with our third and final role this week: the persecutor.  Quickly, I want to recap our entire journey through the Victim Triangle with a little visualization exercise.  It’s easy and will put some skin around this big dysfunctional yet powerful dynamic we have examined for the past three weeks. Driving not recommended while doing this exercise.

Visualize

Picture if you will an upside down triangle.  The pointy part is at the bottom bolstering the base at the top.  It’s a big V with a lid on it.  At each corner you see a letter.  The top right corner is P, the top left is R, and the bottom corner is V.  You guessed it: the V stands for victim, the R stands for rescuer, and the P stands for persecutor.  In any relationship, two people are likely to jockey between these three roles. Whatever the variation, there is always a “one up” and “one down” position in the triangle. Remember, these are roles we play, not the people we are.

Rhett & Scarlett

We talked last week about the classic Victim-Rescuer dynamic.  Often times relationships start out in this way.  There is a weaker needy partner who feels overwhelmed and incapable and a stronger “good guy” who swoops in for the rescue as this is typically familiar territory for him. He learned damage control early on by being helpful, heroic.  Think Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’hara in Gone with the Wind.  I mean, that iconic picture of him carrying her through the fiery Civil War-torn Atlanta wreckage dials it right in for us.

The Shift

Fast forward two years for this couple: the good guy is tired of being good and a feeling of grumbling resentment grows inside towards his helpless partner as she has gotten very comfortable in her childlike, messy ways.  After all, the victim has it made, never having to take responsibility for her actions and always having her capable rescuer clean up the aftermath of unruly spending, depressive dips and self harm,  or overall numb and helpless behavior.

Now the roles shift and the rescuer scoots into persecutor corner, top right; victim hunkering down to prepare for the hurricane of rage about to ensue.  The persecutor learned early on to control situations by getting tough.  If fearful situations presented, the persecutor pushed back with strength as vulnerability and need were not allowed.

All the Rage

The persecutor gets angry and reacts out of resentment towards the victim, bursting at the seams over something typically really stupid: a perceived tone of voice, clothes left on the bathroom floor, missing previews at the movies due to traffic (I totally get that one), etc…  The persecutor flies off the handle.  In line with our volatile love story, Gone with the Wind, this would be the infamous scene where Scarlett tumbles down the grand staircase of their antebellum mansion and nearly dies during a fight with Rhett based on longstanding resentment in their marriage.  For any of you millennials out there who missed this piece of iconic film history, do yourself a favor!

The Cycle

You ready for this?   When the angry partner is tweaked and acts out (insert behavior of choice: affair, bender, abuse, new Range Rover) with a brick ton of resulting shame, the victim moves into full on rescuer role to console the guilty partner.  BAM!  Persecutor now sits in a puddle of victimhood, with his dynamic partner ready to do the victim-rescuer dance.  

Am I the only one with light bulbs flashing and a steady stream of ah-ha’s going off inside?  This cyclical game is epidemic in relationship.  There are subtle variances as well. Whereas you may not be in a full on abusive lockdown of victim-persecutor, you might drift into the “bad guy” one-up role or the comfortable if not messy chaos of victim by default.  When I first learned about this dynamic and the unnecessary drama contained in this hot mess of a triangle, it put research and language to so many painful experiences in relationships I had been in.  What was once a futile and defeated prophecy now felt like a science experiment! Well, sort of.

The Payoff

Quite simply, the payoffs for the persecutor are:

• A sense of righteousness as they deem the victim “bad”
• A feeling of “good” or “right”
• Avoid taking responsibility for anger and other actions
• Justify irritability, discontentedness, and resentment

Adulting

Let’s give the triangle a rest and imagine two capital “A’s” side by side with a line drawn between them.   The A stands for adult.  This is the visual to keep in mind as we imagine the way out of all this drama.  We have talked a lot about early childhood experiences and relationships that taught us, play by play, exactly how to embody victim, rescuer, and persecutor roles.  They were survival mechanisms for some, soft nuances for others; and, according to the payoff’s,  they really worked!  Well, until they didn’t anymore.

Level Ground

When we challenge these manipulative roles and step into our adult selves, we become proactive instead of reactive as well as responsible instead of blaming.  There is no “one up” and “one down” anymore; the A’s are side by side.  Whereas the persecutor uses strength to communicate control over the victim, he/she can now simply challenge in a loving and open way.  Adults are responsible for what they say and feel.  If I’m adulting, I will communicate to you if something bothers me; I’ll hopefully own it!  If there is something you can do to help, I’ll ask instead of holding a ridiculous expectation that you can read my mind.  It’s not sexy, but it makes relationships run a hell of a lot smoother.

Oh, Hollywood

Rhett Butler stepped outside the triangle in that last scene.  His adult looked like this: “Frankly, my Dear, I don’t give a damn”.  I’m not saying we take relationship advice from Hollywood, (case and point, Brangelina). I am also not encouraging anyone to up and leave with a toothy grin and a packed suitcase in hand.  That would be a premature train wreck.   I am saying, we must learn to step into our adult selves, take responsibility for our thoughts and feelings, and ask for help often along the way.  There is no virtue in the grin and bear it method, unless you like dramatics I suppose.  Relationships are lifelines; they color days in a gorgeous, vibrant green when the winter of isolation and insecurity becomes too cold.  They strengthen us to live our best days and inspire us to our highest self.

What is your story?

Hopefully, this Strong Series can be a reminder for us to fight for those relationships we hold dear as well as a nudge to let go of the toxic ones that no longer serve us.  I’d love to hear your stories of resilience in relationship: how you are showing up or even struggling in current circumstances.  Email me that feedback if you’d like!  In the meantime, Gone with the Wind is a worthy first step. 

Love,

katie