other people can help us change our defaults

becoming less neurotic, part 374

Alexander Goudie, Morning Visit

When I’m out with my dog, Akko, I’ll sometimes leave him tied up for a brief period of time while I complete a task. Ordering a latte, for instance, or ducking into the grocery store. Each time, Akko forlornly stares in the direction he saw me heading until the moment I return. He cannot relax when I’m gone. I don’t know exactly what he’s feeling, but I would guess that it’s probably a fear of abandonment. Of course, Akko has never actually been abandoned; I always return promptly within 10 minutes.

Akko’s anxiety seems silly to me because of course I always come back. I wish he could just trust that and relax. But it seems less silly when I think about the times I act like Akko.

If I had to describe how I’d like to feel all the time, it would be something like what Sasha’s saying here: open and relaxed, letting things flow through me without contracting. I want to be equanimous on a chill morning when nothing’s happening, but equally equanimous during a difficult conversation or a disagreement with a friend or when the Uber is stuck in traffic and I’m already late for a flight or when I’ve misplaced my headphones and can’t for the life of me figure out where they are.

If we map out the last five years of my life, I would say that the first big obstacle towards that was believing it was possible. That was enabled by taking psilocybin—understanding what it felt like to be open instead clinging and contracted all the time. It’s really hard to work towards something you don’t believe exists. The second thing that’s been a big obstacle is seeing the ways in which I’m contracted.

Sometimes it’s pretty easy to notice, like when I’m freaking out while waiting for a reply to an email or something—I’m aware that I’m activated, and I can manage it by breathing deeply or something. But often we’re blind to the ways in which we self-constrain.

Therapy has taught me this, because I notice that many of the things my therapist says are initially confusing to me. They feel like truisms:

“You make yourself small.”
“You’re controlled by shame.”
“If someone can’t give you what you want, it’s about them and not about you.”

When she makes these observations, I’m often don’t connect to them in the moment. First of all, they seem so vague that they could literally be about anybody. Are they really about me? My instinctive response might be something like: Sure, of course I feel shame, but it’s not obvious that I feel more shame than the average person. Does this really have anything to do with the problem I’m describing to you?

However, I think my therapist is extremely perceptive, so I generally file everything she says into the back of my mind and subconsciously chew on it. And the thing that keeps happening is that one day three months later I’ll suddenly understand what she’s talking about!