Let the Cabbage Fly

Murphy seemed to like to struggle, even though he got so upset with each round of struggle in which he found himself entwined. Today, it was conflict with me in group; yesterday, it was with a therapist over something similar, but different. Murphy's issue was one with which we are all familiar: He didn't like being blamed for anything, even if he did it. Almost any confrontation led to an argument, usually rooted in the fine art of getting the precise wording that reflected a implication of his innocence in the midst of obvious accountability. Here's sort of how the conversation went:
"Murphy, you told us you would be back from your leave by 10:00 and you weren't back untill after 11:15. What's up with that?"
"I signed in at 11:12 and there was a lot of traffic."
"Did you have your cell phone?"
"I was rushing to get back."
"But you were late anyway."
"I was doing the best I could." (This was accompanied with a sharpening of his tone of voice and reddening of his face.)
"So, why did you need to yell at the people in the Nurses Station when they asked you for an explanation?"
"She was shaming me."
" I think she was trying to get information to record in the log."
"That's gonna get me in trouble and it'll all start over again."
"What's that?"
" She talked to me just like my mother. It was like she was pointing her finger at me and telling me how disappointed she was and all that. Just trying to make me feel bad."

We were off and running after that. In reality, I wasn't talking to Murphy as he sat before me. I was talking to a little boy, lost in the woods in the rural West. At the same time, he was not arguing with me, but with his rigid, shaming mother. Regardless of what I said, he heard accusations, blame and punishment. If I said, "You're not hearing." He heard, "You're not listening to me and you're bad."
Before it was all over, we were almost at the point families get when one of the people in the argument storms out of the room. I thought of a BS moment"

"Just Let the Cabbage fly."

Here's what I told Murphy:

You know, when someone throws a big old cabbage at you, you can do what you're doing, which is to do what it takes to catch that cabbage, then chase them down and shove it back down their throats. your other choice is to stand there, let the cabbage smash into you, then either smear it all over yourself or run home, make cole slaw and eat it up -- making it a part of you. OR, you could do what we all have to learn to do. Watch the cabbage get hurled, see where it is going, duck and just let it lie there, commenting, "That's a big cabbage and quite a throw."

I don't think he really appreciated my little story, but the way he slumped into his chair implied that he got it.

When Murphy felt that a point of criticism was thrown at him, he felt like he had to do something with it. Usually, he argued it back down the thrower's throat to prove them wrong. If he didn't do that, he would hear it as shaming and a reflection of his self worth. He would ruminate on it and it would eat at him, much like the indigestion of a bad meal. However, one of his least useful responses was to let the cabbage hit him with its full force, sit there silently and never address the emotional bruises that were left behind.

My Bumper Sticker story was an invitation to look at what he was doing. None of us like to feel criticized (which often feels like rejection and abandonment). We want to be loved and accepted. Often, in growing up we ended up feeling as though, no matter what we did, our parents and caregivers were either unable or unwilling to give us the unconditional acceptance for which we longed. We would run to them, excited about our day, our coloring, or whatever, in hopes of seeing our excitement and joy reflected in their eyes. For whatever reason, we are, as parents, unable to be that kind of mirror. The result is a reflection of parental inadequacies and fears in messages that imply that the "prize" is not good enough. An innocent child walks away smeared with rotten cabbage.
For Murphy, the impact of those moments over years of experience was very deep and clouded his ability to hear any confrontation or feedback that was not wholly accepting. He would hear only negative, hurtful messages and add to them, his own negative thrust and input. It hurt, regardless of how helpful it might be. This had been played out in his relationships to the point that his spouse would not confront him or challenge him,. Instead, the result was sneaking behind him and hurling divorce papers, complete with restraining orders at him. His experience was that these came out of the blue, as did most direct confrontation.

One of the most difficult aspects of "Growing UP" is to learn to hear confrontation and criticism, filter out our own resistances and distortions, then take what is true and accurate into consideration. Many times, the criticism has nothing to offer us and is just part of an argument. We can choose to let the cabbage just lie there. Sometimes, when we let the feedback land, it opens up into a useful and beneficial gift. We can pick it up, take what fits and leave the rest as the fallout. In reality, we are not getting out of the way of "the Cabbage." We are removing our own filters and our own fears and judgments to be able to see what is there. When we rush to "catch the Cabbage" and quickly do something with it, we are wearing the gloves of our distortion and, usually, responding to old historical battles that we carry around, unresolved.

Our goal needs to be to learn to ground ourselves precisely where we need to be in order to get out of the way and just let the "Cabbage" fly by us. When people take the time to give us feedback or criticism, it is rarely because they are completely wrong. Most of the time, they give a care and believe they are trying to help. (Not always a useful thing, but something we humans seem driven to do. So, when all that negative feeling stuff is hurled your way,


"Just Let the Cabbage Fly"

Enough IS Enough

Ronald is a very talented man. He has had a line-up of careers that many would envy (and from which some would run like the wind). He first came to see me at a turning point in his career -- he had no reason not to be successful, but seemed to be perched on the brink of doom at any moment in time. Being rather bright, the "therapy" part of his treatment become quick work. Over the months and years, despite seeming to continue to stumble and "splat" over success, he managed to nurture his romance into one most would admire and even express jealousy over. He joined a company that was hurting and helped it heal and become successful. His free time was filled with travel and writing and all sorts of fun things. After that, his visits were rapid updates that led to the "issue" or "problem" for which an "answer" was sought. It always seemed as if he handed me some phrase or concept that I could "tweak" just a tiny bit and hand back to him and which would become "THE ANSWER."

So what was so wrong this time? When Ronald came in for his "15,000 mile checkup" as he called our 3 or 4 times a year sessions, he told me he was looking to see if anything was really wrong. As he described the the wonderful trip to another continent which he had taken with family (complete with pictures that were perfect), he beamed with glee. As he talked about the time he spent roaming the streets of a foreign land meeting new-found old friends, he became more and more ebullient. Almost out of the blue, his lilting joy came to an abrupt halt as he said, "I'm scratching things off the list as fast as I can."

I paused to let the moment settle into the quiet, half out of not quite knowing what to say and one-quarter out of fearing he was feeling some sort of terminal sense. I finally broke the silence by asking him if that was such a bad thing. He seemed truly puzzled as though he had no idea. We continued to discuss his experiences and he felt as though he was filling with a sense of peace. Each of the things he had wiped from his list were things he swore he would do one day. He had done each of them and had done some for more than one day. Between what he had done and what he had on order to learn, he would have very full hobby time for many months to come. This, for Ronald, was not a bad thing. In fact, it was a source of ecstasy! Out of the blue, came the BS for the moment:

"Enough IS Enough!"

For Ronald, at that moment, not only was HE enough, but each item on his list was Enough. For many of us and for so much of our lives, we save our time, our money, our energy, our "stuff" and everything else for those special things on our "Bucket List" (The things we want to do before we "kick the bucket.") Far too many times, we either do them in a rush, unprepared emotionally or mentally and lament how we need to do them again and do them right. Or, even worse, we put them off until either they are no longer an option (How many of us never stood on the observation decks of the Twin Towers in New York City?) or WE are no longer an option. (My knees won't ever climb Mt. Everest!) Ronald had stared a journey from a very stagnant place in his life where nothing was ever good enough because he found himself to never be good enough. As he wrestled with those demons, he learned to accept himself and to accept his strengths and his flaws. When he last sat across from me, he seemed to really see that HE WAS ENOUGH.

As a result, he ate healthy meals -- which were enough, but not excessive. He traveled and saw sights he dreamed of seeing and soaked up every morsel of every sense of every stop he made. When he moved on, despite wanting to return, his trip was Enough. While he dreamed of going back to these places, what he dreamed was another, new trip, not the one he had already taken-- THAT one was Enough. His time with his closest ones was (most of the time) just enough, leaving room for finding time for more, yet always being a satiating experience. If he was still learning a new musical instrument and needed more practice, the rough tune he could squeeze out was, in itself, Enough. As this realization permeated his being, I had to ask the obvious: "Can you add more to the list?"

The wide-eyed answer joyfully erupted, "YES!" His hopes, his future and his joy seemed to soar.

Enough IS enough!