Honor the Process

Each year, I ask the Lord to give me a word to bless the new year.  (Yeah, I'm cheezey like that.)  I was reflecting and meditating with a dear friend on New Year ’s Eve, hoping (as always) for a really positive word heralding achievements and abundance.  Alas, this year, I received a challenging phrase:  “honor the process.”

"Dude, that sounds like some sort of hippie dippie mantra" I thought.  "Are you serious?"

I’m pretty sure He’s serious.

I am not really into “honoring the process.”  I like my results to be fast and measurable.  I’m the kind of person who writes things like “brush teeth” and “finish to-do list” onto my to-do list, so I have something to cross off.  

This is going to be rough.

My patients and their families also express frustration when “the process” doesn’t seem to have a steady upward trend.  “I could to this yesterday!  Why can’t I do it today?”  “Why can’t she just learn this?”  “Why is this week worse than last week?”  I can definitely relate to this impatience, although my struggles are very different from their struggles.

A very wise person shared something with me, and I’m going to share it with you:

Progress does NOT look like this:

True progress looks like this: 

We have to get through the “bad” days to move forward. 

What does this look like?  Accepting when our progress looks like the clichéd one step forward, two steps back.  Allowing ourselves (and others) to mess up.  Practicing patience with ourselves, others, and God.  This is easier said than done, especially in a society that is obsessed with productivity and optimization.

This also means we should be kind to ourselves when we aren’t practicing patience.  Learning to “honor the process” is a process.  (oooh, meta)

I’m including a full page printout of the graphs above in the SLP tab.  SLPs and other therapists, I encourage you to give these to your patients.  The wise sage who taught me about what progress looks like gave me permission to put this printout on the website.

Redefining Independence

I frequently tell this parable to my patients.  And honestly, I think I could stand to listen to it myself:

Bob was driving to work when his car stopped.  Bob valued independence above all else, so he decided to fix the problem himself.  He opened the hood of the car and tried to determine what had gone wrong.  It was hard to see through the thick smoke, but Bob kept rummaging through the parts of his car until he found an open flame.  Bob’s hands were badly burned and he fell backward in surprise, injuring himself further.  Bob had to go to the hospital.

Was Bob really independent in this story?  Of course not.  Injuring himself and putting others at risk was not true independence.

Paradoxically, to be independent in this circumstance, Bob would have called the fire department and eventually a mechanic.  To be truly independent, he would have relied on someone else’s help.

Our society seems to think “independence” means doing things on our own.  Anyone who can’t is seen as weak or inadequate.  This attitude is pervasive and has been around for generations—I can even hear it in my geriatric patients’ turns of phrase.  So often, my patients express to me that they feel they are “a burden” to their families for needing so much help.  And I myself fall prey to this lie as well. 

I’ve read enough mommy bloggers to know that a woman is supposed to be able to flip gluten-free pancakes in an immaculately kept kitchen while changing her baby’s diaper with one hand, keeping her toddler out of trouble with another, and helping her first grader with his math homework.  So when my menstrual symptoms affect my balance and I can’t even walk the dog, or I’m overwhelmed with house chores and work, or I need help processing my emotions, or I just can’t seem to do it all on my own, I feel inadequate.  I feel like I've lost my dignity, however briefly.

Maybe we all need to redefine “independence.”

True independence means taking charge of our own safety and using our resources.  Sometimes that means asking a friend or family member for help when we’re overwhelmed.  Sometimes it means making sure someone is with us when we get out of bed so we don’t fall.  Sometimes it means going to a support group or attending therapy.  Sometimes it just means using a walker or safety device.  True independence is different for everyone and changes over time.

I’d like to hear that again, because I’m prone to comparing myself to others.  In fact, I’m going to let Mneme, the Muse of Memory, repeat it for us so we can commit this to memory:

 

Thank you, Mneme.

Once upon a time, when I lived briefly in a barrio in the Caribbean, I encountered a family who seemed to really get it.  In this family, there were several family members with disabilities—some children, some adults.  All the family members helped each other out—nieces and aunties, mothers and daughters all worked together.  Now, that’s not to say there wasn’t suffering, and it’s not to say it wasn’t frustrating.  But as a team, they overcame many more obstacles than any of them could have overcome alone.

We can all learn from this family. 

Many of my patients’ families are similar to the family I just described.  They rely on each other.  I have so much to learn from their bravery, compassion, and healthy interdependence.  I hope to accept help with humility and to stop judging myself for relying on my support network.

I’ll leave you with a quote from the old Claymation Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer:  Let’s be independent together.

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I’ve put a new handout in the SLP freebies section.  It’s a simple text-only motivational poster that’s good for SLPs, patients, and everyone else.  (It’s a little wordy, so probably best for higher level patients, especially those with lack of insight into deficits or who are feeling really discouraged.)  Click here to download the handout.  Feel free to modify however you want.  Please print and distribute freely.

Let's rely on our strengths and resiliencies

As a speech therapist, I am sometimes tempted to focus only on improving my patients’ deficits.  After all, isn’t that what rehabilitation is about?  Fixing “broken” communication, “broken” cognition, a “broken” swallow?

 

This happens with writing too.  Growing up, I always thought that the best way to help a friend to better their story/poem/essay was to bleed red ink all over the page, pointing out what doesn’t work so they can fix it.

 

And don’t we all do this to ourselves sometimes?  Pull out the red pen, evaluate our shortcomings and limitations, focus on the "bad parts of ourselves" so we can become better, kinder, more efficient?

 

What if it’s just as important—maybe even more important sometimes—to acknowledge and nurture our talents and resiliencies?  Of course we must acknowledge our mistakes, shortcomings, and weaknesses.  But what if shift our language—what if we call them "challenges" instead—calls to action instead of traits we're stuck with?  Maybe we have the ability to overcome these challenges—or find a workaround or at least make some progress—by relying heavily on our STRENGTHS.

When I evaluate a patient’s language, thinking, and swallowing skills, I am sure to discuss their troubles with them.  But now I’m making a conscious effort to also tell them and their families about what they do really well too!  Maybe their memory isn’t working the way they want it to (a challenge), but they’re awesome at paying attention, which is going to help them to use their memory strategies.  Maybe they can’t swallow water well right now (a challenge), but they have a strong cough so we can work with that!  Maybe they have trouble focusing (a challenge), but by golly they are motivated and have a positive attitude.  Maybe they have a LOT of challenges, but their support system is working for their good.

 

Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, authors of the Welcome to Night Vale podcast and various spinoff novels and podcasts, emphasized once that in writing, a more motivating and helpful way to critique someone’s work is to point out what is working really well so they can bring out more of those aspects in their work.

 

Maybe this could work on a societal level.  When we encounter a negative societal behavior, like racism or sexism or selfishness or unwilling-to-listen-ness, first we must of course acknowledge the problem.  This takes work.  And obviously, merely acknowledging the problem is not enough—we must face it and work to overcome it.  So what's the next step?  

To face these problems, we can draw on our collective compassion and kindness as a society to work to overcome those obstacles.  By exploring and utilizing our positivities, we can fight our societal problems.  Will we ever truly overcome a societal weakness?  Probably not entirely, but a positive human trait I believe in strongly is perseverance.

This is something that I find so encouraging about the Black Lives Matter movement—I'm hearing a lot of rhetoric that readily acknowledges that we are going to make mistakes.  Everyone does.  It's uncomfortable to learn that we've made mistakes, but the emphasis is on apologizing and learning how to use our humility and kindness to do better.  Learning about our mistakes and weaknesses is not about shaming us—and it never was.  It's about creating positive change.  For a really genuine and heartfelt conversation about this, I recommend listening to Brené Brown's conversation with Austin Channing Brown on the podcast Unlocking Us.

 

I’d like to apply this principle to my own life, and I invite you all to as well.  I make TONS of mistakes—maybe even in this post you have found some mistakes.  It's easy for me to dwell on them without moving forward.

So here is my resolution:  when I recognize or am told that I’m behaving impatient or interrupty or selfish or racist or small minded or making silly mistakes or being ignorant, I’d like to label my predisposition toward a “less than ideal” or even just plain "bad" behavior as a CHALLENGE rather than a failure of character.  This way, I can be motivated to change my behaviors in the future.  If I don’t identify with my undesirable behaviors but instead see them as obstacles to overcome, I give them less power.  I’ll probably never be perfect at facing any obstacle.  But I can keep trying.

And how do I face these challenges?  By using my virtues and resiliencies to face the obstacle.  I strongly believe that all of these strengths come from God.  And He is bigger and stronger than any obstacle or challenge I could ever encounter.

 

 

Helping myself (and my patients) to grow: Treatment vs. Evaluation

I often set expectations for myself and fail to meet them:

~I want to wake up earlier.  But I continue to go to bed late.  

~I want to pray more.  But I fill my life with more and more distractions.

Of course I am not making changes if all I ever do is “check in” with myself, evaluating and re-evaluating without providing solutions.  

This reflection is *not* about self-optimization.  It’s about growth and self-acceptance.  It's difficult to grow as a person without lots of reminders, or a structured organized foundation for change.  If I “fail” to change, there is no need to shame myself—that’s just a sign that something isn’t working yet. 

As usual, I need to learn from my patients.

Being Intentional (with an SLP freebie)

Many patients are surprised that my cognitive therapy sessions don’t involve logic puzzles or crosswords.  With me, cognitive therapy looks a lot more like intentional planning for daily life.  Most of the time, the “strategies” I suggest to my patients are practical habits such as repeating new information to themselves, using reminders in their environment, or making sure to double- and triple-check their work.  “But I already do those things,” they protest.

“Of course,” I reply, “these are normal ways of learning and remembering.  But as your body and your brain are healing, you may find you have to be more intentional about doing things that once came naturally or automatically to you.”

Maybe the same is true for soul-healing.

Liking my patients, my loved ones, and myself

Some days, I just don’t like myself.  From the outside in, I notice plenty of flaws.  I have acne, my hair is a wild mess, my posture is slouchy, my attitude is grouchy, I’m impatient and rude and arrogant—and I make plenty of mistakes. 

So I remind myself that even if I’m not likeable now, I’ve got potential.  I’m just in the caterpillar stage.  Someday, I’ll be a beautiful, virtuous butterfly.  I should like myself for my potential…right?

That’s not what Mr. Rogers says.

What determines your worth?

Society has attempted to answer this question in a variety of ways, defining a person’s worth by wealth, social class, language, skin color, education, intelligence, strength, bravery, wisdom, kindness….

Although such attributes can describe a person’s experience, descriptions do not define worth.

You are much more than your attributes and your experiences.

The Power of Praise: Research-based ways to Encourage and Empower

Sometimes, I fail.  I don't finish my daily to-do list.  I overcook dinner.  My words fall flat, or worse, hurt someone’s feelings.  Too often, my response to myself is harsh:  I’m lazy, I am not a good cook, I’m a bad communicator.  My failures define me.

Conversely, when I succeed, I own a success as if it is a part of me.  I am a great planner, a gourmet cook, the next Madeleine L’Engle.

Praising and criticizing myself for my innate abilities can create the illusion that my successes and my failures define me and determine my worth.  That’s a lot of pressure!  Also, I am reinforcing the idea that my successes and failures are due to innate abilities, which are difficult to change. 

The good news is that our dignity is inherent, no matter how talented we are (or aren’t).  And we do have the power to try again if we want to.  So how can we use our words to remind ourselves—and others—that our successes and failures do not define us?  How can we use our words to encourage each other to keep trying even when things don’t work out the way we hope?