#a nearly 2 decade long compulsion needs professional help. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

essentialise · 4 years ago

Text

How To Focus Your Concentration and Attention to Get Deep Work Done

Here are my musings on how we can focus our concentration and attention to get deep work done and have more time and energy to live a fulfilling life. With extracts from ‘Deep Work’.

“The Deep Work Hypothesis: The ability to perform deep work is becoming increasingly rare at exactly the same time it is becoming increasingly valuable in our economy. As a consequence, the few who cultivate this skill, and then make it the core of their working life, will thrive.

DEEP WORK VS. SHALLOW WORK

“Deep Work: Professional activities performed in a state of distraction-free concentration that push your cognitive capabilities to their limit. These efforts create new value, improve your skill, and are hard to replicate.

Deep work is necessary to wring every last drop of value out of your current intellectual capacity. We now know from decades of research in both psychology and neuroscience that the state of mental strain that accompanies deep work is also necessary to improve your abilities.”

Deep work. Distraction-free concentration. Stretches your cognitive capabilities to their limit. Creates new value. Improves your skill. And the products of this type of work are hard to replicate. Let’s compare it to its opposite:

“Shallow Work: Noncognitively demanding, logistical-style tasks, often performed while distracted. These efforts tend to not create much new value in the world and are easy to replicate.

In an age of network tools, in other words, knowledge workers increasingly replace deep work with the shallow alternative—constantly sending and receiving e-mail messages like human network routers, with frequent breaks for quick hits of distraction.”

How much time are you spending as a human network router—constantly sending emails and otherwise distracting yourself with every new little push notification and text message and attention-paper-cutting distraction imaginable?

DEEP WORK = A WORKOUT FOR YOUR NEURONS

“To understand the role of myelin in improvement, keep in mind that skills, be they intellectual or physical, eventually reduce down to brain circuits. This new science of performance argues that you get better at a skill as you develop more myelin around the relevant neurons, allowing the corresponding circuit to fire more effortlessly and effectively. To be great at something is to be well myelinated.

This understanding is important because it provides a neurological foundation for why deliberate practice works. By focusing intensely on a specific skill, you’re forcing the specific relevant circuit to fire, again and again, in isolation. This repetitive use of a specific circuit triggers cells called oligodendrocytes to begin wrapping layers of myelin around the neurons in the circuits—effectively cementing the skill. The reason, therefore, why it’s important to focus intensely on the task at hand while avoiding distraction is because this is the only way to isolate the relevant neural circuit enough to trigger useful myelination.”

“To be great at something is to be well myelinated.”

Myelin.

This is the secret sauce to greatness you can learn about in Dan Coyle’s Talent Code.

He recalls a story about LeBron James and how he deliberately practised developing his inside game with Hakeem Olajuwon. He slowed everything down, intensely focused on certain moves like he was a 7th grader picking something up for the first time.

It’s IMPOSSIBLE to imagine LeBron kinda sorta showing up, munching on an Oreo while dribbling with the other hand, stopping to respond to his latest text then going back to passively dribbling the ball. He’s INTENSELY FOCUSED.

Likewise, of course, WE are not going to create anything of value when our attention is fragmented by the latest push notification or email or whatever. We. Must. FOCUS!!!

Remember: Deep work = distraction-free concentration that stretches your cognitive capabilities to their limit while improving your skill and creating new value that is hard to replicate.

ATTENTION RESIDUE

“The problem this research identifies with this work strategy is that when you switch from some Task A to another Task B, your attention doesn’t immediately follow—a residue of your attention remains stuck thinking about the original task. … ‘People experiencing attention residue after switching tasks are likely to demonstrate poor performance on that next task,’ and the more intense the residue, the worse the performance.

The concept of attention residue helps explain why the intensity formula is true and therefore explains Grant’s productivity. By working on a single hard task for a long time without switching, Grant minimizes the negative impact of attention residue from his obligations, allowing him to maximize performance on this one task.”

Attention residue. This is a really cool and Big Idea.

So, at this stage, most of us are pretty aware that multi-tasking is simply not possible. Although we can rapidly shift from one thing to another (diminishing our performance in both tasks!), we can’t do two things at once.

Let’s assume we get that and strive to focus on one thing at a time. Research shows that we STILL run into sub-optimal attention issues as we move from one meeting/project to another. A part of our attention is still focused on the last project. There’s a “residue” from it that diminishes our capacity to fully focus.

As Cal Newport’s book advises: “To produce at your peak level you need to work for extended periods with full concentration on a single task free from distraction. Put another way, the type of work that optimizes performance is deep work.”

Here’s to cleaning up the residue on our attention! (One key way? Create time blocks!!)

THE FOUR RULES OF DEEP WORK

“Rule #1: Work Deeply Rule #2: Embrace Boredom Rule #3: Quit Social Media Rule #4: Drain the Shallows”

After establishing the *why* Deep Work is important, it’s important we move into the all-important practical HOW. Here are the four rules.

Rule #1: Work Deeply. It’s not enough to have the intention to work more deeply. We need to systematically install new routines and rituals to create new habits that will lead to more and more deep work. This is a hallmark of great humans.

Rule #2: Embrace Boredom. For some reason these days, the MOMENT we have a lull in our lives—whether that’s a few minutes before a friend arrives for lunch or in line at the grocery store or whatever—most of us immediately grab our smartphone and compulsively check out whatever we think we need to see right.this.second. We have about a hundredth of a second of tolerance for boredom.

If we want to create the capacity for more deep work, then feeding that beast is NOT a good idea.

It is important that rather than immediately flail around in the shallow end of the distraction pool, we need to EMBRACE BOREDOM. Use those moments to think or breathe deeply. Anything other than our habitual, addictive, impulsive, attention paper-cutting behaviors.

Rule #3: Quit Social Media. If there’s a poster child for shallow living, it’s social media. A logical

analysis is the fact that just because there’s a little benefit to things

like social media (e.g., staying connected to old friends, etc.), doesn’t mean it’s actually worth the time we give it.

If we REALLY want to live deeply—working and loving—we can do better than fritter away our time on social media. The bold among us shall quit it! I’ve never really engaged on the personal side of Facebook and, via the exercises in the book, got even more clarity that, if I’m committed to my deep work, it’s time for my social media time to be nearly eliminated. FUN! (You?!)

Rule #4: Drain the Shallows. The Shallows is the name of a book written capturing the essence of superficial living. (Written by a guy in retreat doing deep work, btw.) As we cultivate deep work, we need to systematically drain the shallow from our lives.

One of my big tips here? SCHEDULE EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY. Not to drive yourself crazy, but to bring more mindfulness to your day.

We want to create big old time blocks (remember: The ONE Thing guys call this the #1 power tool of time management). Then, of course, be flexible as things evolve during the day but bring yourself back to your commitment to using your time consciously as you drain the shallows!

8 Steps to Deep Work and Becoming More Productive

ROUTINES TO RITUALIZE DEEP WORK

“That brings me to the motivating idea behind the strategies that follow: The key to developing a deep work habit is to move beyond good intentions and add routines and rituals to your working life designed to minimize the amount of your limited willpower necessary to transition into and maintain a state of unbroken concentration. If you suddenly decide, for example, in the middle of a distracted afternoon spent Web browsing, to switch your attention to a cognitively demanding task, you’ll draw heavily from your finite willpower to wrest your attention away from the online shininess. Such attempts will therefore frequently fail. On the other hand, if you deployed smart routines and rituals—perhaps a set time and quiet location used for your deep tasks each afternoon—you’d require much less willpower to start and keep going. In the long run, you’d, therefore, succeed with these deep efforts far more often.”

This is Rule #1 of how: We need to create routines and rituals to consistently rock it. Cal presents four different “depth philosophies” and gives examples of each—encouraging us to figure out which approach is optimal for us and go out and rock it. Super quick look:

Monastic Philosophy: Think of a monk in a monastery—removed from the little distractions of normal life. You’re essentially unplugged from the matrix and focused. It’s (obviously) not for everybody but an extraordinarily productive approach if you can pull it off. (This is basically me in my hermit-mode.)

Bimodal Philosophy: In this mode, you alternate between a monastic approach and a normally engaged mode. Cal shares the story of Carl Jung who alternated between a very engaged therapy practice/social life in Zurich and a totally removed monk-mode in his retreat house for writing.

Rhythmic Philosophy: The basic idea here is captured in Jerry Seinfeld’s “chain method” habit of writing a joke every day. In this mode, we’re less attached to a particular schedule and committed to having a “rhythm” of consistently creating—were, like, Seinfeld, we don’t want to break the chain of successful showing up and completing our daily deep work.

Journalistic Philosophy: In this mode, like a journalist who’s ready to write on deadline whenever the situation arises, you fit deep work into your schedule whenever you can. This is Cal’s main approach.

Obviously, check out the book for more. For now, know that we need to find our own philosophy.

Monastic/Bimodal/Rhythmic/Journalistic: Which one of those resonates the most for you?

DISCIPLINE #1: FOCUS ON THE WILDLY IMPORTANT

“As the authors of The 4 Disciplines of Execution explain, ‘The more you try to do, the less you actually accomplish.’ They elaborate that execution should be aimed at a small number of ‘wildly important goals.’ This simplicity will help focus an organization’s energy to a sufficient intensity to ignite real results.

For an individual focused on deep work, the implication is that you should identify a small number of ambitious outcomes to pursue with your deep work hours. The general exhortation to ‘spend more time working deeply’ doesn’t spark a lot of enthusiasm. In a 2014 column titled, ‘The Art of Focus,’ David Brooks endorsed this approach of letting ambitious goals drive focused behaviour, explaining: ‘If you want to win the war for attention, don’t try to say ‘no’ to the trivial distractions you find on the information smorgasbord; try to say ‘yes’ to the subject that arouses a terrifying longing, and let the terrifying longing crowd out everything else.’”

Remember: It’s a HECK of a lot easier to say “No!” to shallow distractions when you have a REALLY BIG YES!

So, what WILDLY important thing fires you up?

Seriously. Let’s slow down and capture this.

What’s the #1 (challenging but feasible!) thing you’d most like to achieve over the next 6-12 months that would have a wildly awesome positive impact on your life?

My #1 WILDLY IMPORTANT goal = Write it down!

Fantastic. Here’s to going deep and prioritizing our lives around that #1—crowding out the distractions in the process.

“SHUT-DOWN COMPLETE!”

“At the end of the workday, shut down your consideration of work issues until the next morning —no after-dinner e-mail check, no mental replays of conversations, and no scheming about how you’ll handle an upcoming challenge; shut down work thinking completely. If you need more time, then extend your workday, but once you shut down, your mind must be left free. … Decades of work from multiple different subfields within psychology all point toward the conclusion that regularly resting your brain improves the quality of your deep work. When you work, work hard. When you’re done, be done. Your average e-mail response time might suffer some, but you’ll more than make up for this with the sheer volume of truly important work produced during the day by your refreshed ability to dive deeper than your exhausted peers.” “When you work, work hard. When you’re done, be done.”

As Steven Kotler has said, although being in flow is incredibly rewarding in terms of creativity, productivity, learning and pure enjoyment, it’s also REALLY EXPENSIVE.

Dan Coyle echoed this as well. He retold a story about how he once wrote a piece on the world’s fastest men. He said when these guys weren’t racing they barely moved—they were professional nappers!

It takes a ton of energy to perform at a high level. And that demands a deep level of recovery. One GREAT way to do that is to have a hard stop at the end of every day. Cal makes a strong case for why this is so important and walks us through his personal end of the day ritual in which he basically does one final check of email to make sure he’s handled anything that’s urgent, looks over what was left undone and plans some time the next day to complete it then, as he turns off his computer for the night, he says to himself, “Shut-down complete!”

LOVE that. I do something similar. With my digital sunset, I turn off the computer and return it to its not-gonna-see-you-till-tomorrow home, appreciate all that’s been done, look ahead to the next day, clean up my desk so it’s in a ready-state for tomorrow morning and #done. Time to recover. I may need to add: “Houston. We’re shutting down. 3. 2. 1. Shut-down, complete.”

How about you?

Ready to start shutting down completely and giving that big, awesome brain of yours a chance to rest and recover?

THE DEEP LIFE

“The deep life, of course, is not for everybody. It requires hard work and drastic changes to your habits. For many, there’s a comfort in the artificial busyness of rapid e-mail messaging and social media posturing, while the deep life demands that you leave much of that behind. There’s also an uneasiness that surrounds any effort to produce the best things you’re possible of producing, as this forces you to confront the possibility that your best is not (yet) that good. It’s safer to comment on our culture than to step into the Rooseveltian ring and attempt to wrestle it into something better.”

The deep life.

Are you ready to take the plunge?

Here’s to diving into the deep end as we optimise, actualise and give our greatest gifts in greatest service to the world!

Feeling enlightened? Download my ebook for free, for a limited time only at: 80 Ways To Find Your Purpose

The post How To Focus Your Concentration and Attention to Get Deep Work Done appeared first on Life Coach Preston | Business Coach Preston | Essentialise.

source https://www.essentialise.co.uk/deep-work-focus-productivity/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=deep-work-focus-productivity

0 notes

showingthroughtome · 8 years ago

Text

out of our hands

“a five part study on the effects of eye contact on perceived closeness”

Or the one where Harry is a psychology grad student who is running a study, and Adalyn is the girl who signs up for it.

a one shot i wrote for ash last summer that i didnt post on tumblr for some odd reason

read below

Harry had been in school for a long time. A very long time. Years and years and years, is what he'd say if anyone asked.

He did thirteen years of school before he started college and then six since - four years of undergraduate where he got his bachelor's degree in psychology, and for the last two years he'd been working on his master's degree.

He was supposed to be almost done. He was supposed to have seven more weeks until he was out of the collegiate atmosphere. But the forces of nature, or magnetic energies, or maybe even God himself wasn't ready for that. Because somehow, his final research article had been skewed. So much so, that if he couldn't fix it, have it sent for review, and approved before the deadline, he'd have to stay around another semester and conduct his research study all over again.

One of his peer reviewers, this asshole Brennan, noted on his article that his findings could have been altered due to "unaccounted for manipulation". When the board saw that and questioned Harry, he knew right away Brennan was correct. His results wouldn't be significant enough to grant him a well-written article, and Harry wouldn't get his master’s degree.

Thankfully, he had enough time to conduct his study one last time, on one completely new participant. All he had to do was find someone he had never once met before, someone he had no chance of knowing. He went to a friend and asked them to spread the word. After only three days, he heard back, hearing about some other psych major who was always participating in studies - it was her thing, her love.

So here he was, with six weeks to do an entire study, get together a write up, and send it off. And all he had was a name.

Adalyn.

session one

Adalyn was ecstatic about life as of late. She was halfway through her sixth semester of college - only having seven weeks before summer break and having just turned 21 right before spring break. That meant she didn't have to sneak in bars with a fake ID anymore, or pretend to be sneaking when in reality the people just let her stay because her hair was pink and her eyelashes fluttered. She didn't mind having guys look at her in awe, but it did make her feel dirty, slightly sleazy, for using her looks to get her what she wanted.

Other than legal alcohol consumption, age came with a sense of assuredness for Adalyn. She was finally feeling confident in declaring her major, thinking psychology was the right path for her, especially after volunteering for all those research studies over the last two years - any that she qualified for, she would readily go to. It was probably because her freshman year Research Methods class taught her the value of a good sample size and how helpful it is to the experimenter when people actually participate in their study instead of ignoring it completely. (Life tip #1: always fill out a survey honestly and carefully. People work hard at developing those, and sometimes base their whole career on responses.)

Not only did she find the studies to be fun, but they also looked good for grad school applications. Her grades were looking excellent so far, not getting anything but A's since she took English 300 her sophomore year. (Life tip #2: don't take a 300-level class until junior year - not that it's actually that much harder, but they normally suck horribly, so just save yourself the heartache for one more year.)

That's why when her best friend heard from her friend that his friend was conducting a study that called for a new participant as soon as possible, she jumped on the opportunity, figuring it could only do everyone some good.

She had to be in the research building by 10am, not too early and not too late, but still, she found herself rushing there. Her first class of the day got out at 9:30, and the buildings weren't far from each other, but of course she spilt the last little bit of her coffee on her chest when she went to put her notebook in her backpack. She had to run back to her dorm and change into something else.

Originally she was dressed nice, wearing light-wash jeans, a polka dotted blouse, and her favorite pair of oxfords - classy chic was her goal. With the quick change though, she didn't have enough time to find a non-wrinkly shirt so she picked the first folded t-shirt she had in her dresser - a grungy old Nirvana one her older brother let her have (or she stole, who knows, really?).

To say the least, she was out of breath swinging the door open to room 3068 on the third floor of the psychology department's low-tech research wing. She was shocked to find no one in, first assuming she was early. Looking at her phone, it read 10:04, so nope, it wasn't a miracle, she wasn't early. It just happened the experimenter also had bad time management skills.

All that the room held was a table and two chairs placed on either side of it - reminiscent of interrogation rooms. Adalyn could've sworn she saw an exact replica of the room on one of those A&E shows where they recount the violent crimes of various criminals.

Staring at the empty room, she didn't know what to do with herself. Like any sane person would, she plopped her butt down on one of the cold metal chairs and waited. But not for too long, because after just a few scrolls through Instagram, the door was once again swung open and a man walked through - or more so rushed in.

Adalyn first noticed his height, his tall, lanky legs and arms. Then she noticed his age. He was younger than she expected - most people who ran studies were nearly greying or at least old enough to be rocking a wedding band on their finger. This guy, though, looked to be just a few years older than Adalyn.

“Hi!” She popped out of the chair, going in for a professional, strong handshake. The man reacted accordingly, shaking hers for just a second before going about the room, dropping his books off and picking up a clipboard.

“Running a bit late.” Were the first words he breathed. Turning back to Adalyn, he held out the clipboard to her. “These are the consent forms, pretty standard stuff. Just take a look through and sign please.”

“Of course!” Adalyn responded cheerily, not letting one ounce of her day’s misfortune carry into her interaction with this man. Still, he raked his hand through his hair and turned to gather materials.

She sat down and read over the paper. She could've just skimmed and signed it, but what can she say? She's a nerd for this kind of thing. She thought maybe research procedures and release forms could totally be her future. Or maybe after she spent a decade testing the effects of ambiguity on helping behaviors.

The paper had all kinds of fun information though. Not just procedures but researcher information - hypothesis, thesis, compensation. From it, Ashlyn learned the name of the man in front of her, the one who had taken a seat on the opposite side of the table and began fiddling with a timer: Harry Styles, a graduate student looking to explore eye contact in association with perceived closeness.

She signed the form and slid it to the side, waiting further instruction, but without looking up, Harry reached for another form and slid it across the table.

“This is just a self-report survey about any feelings you may have. Please answer as truthfully as possible. My colleagues will be gathering the data so I won't know who said what.” He still didn't look up, just spoke like a machine.

Adalyn nodded, not that it mattered or anything. It was just – well, she just hadn't felt that unnoticed in a long time. Harry didn't have to bask in all her beauty or anything, but maybe a little bit of acknowledgment would've been nice.

She went along with it anyway, because the guy clearly needed it and she was already this far into it. All of the 10 questions on the survey pertained to either how she felt at the moment or how she felt in accordance to the experimenter. It was on a 5 point Likert Scale. 1 being negatively, 3 being no feelings at all, 5 being positively.

Half were 5’s. Half were 2’s.

By the time she completed the survey, Harry was finally done setting up whatever he was doing.

“Alright, thanks.” He said, adding her survey to the pile of papers. “You're Adalyn, correct?”

She nodded. “Harry?”

“Yes. Nice to meet you.” He gave his first half-assed, tight-lipped smile.

It was better than nothing.

“Okay, well in this study,” Harry began reading from a sheet of paper. It was standard protocol for a research study. The conductor of the experiment would read from a sheet of paper detailing what the participant would be doing in the study. It was a way to account for variables across participants, making sure that outside factors, such as experimenter delivery, didn't have an effect on the outcome. “You, the participant, will hold eye contact to the best of your ability with the experimenter for five minutes over five sessions. After each session, you will fill out a survey containing the same questions as the one you did previously. Changes in answers will show an effect of eye contact, the dependent variable, on perceived closeness, the independent variable.”

Adalyn listened closely to the formality of it all. The obsessive compulsion of studies always delighted her in some strange way.

“You may blink, and if you need to stop at any time, feel free to tell the experimenter. Your participation is greatly appreciated.” Harry finished up the short paragraph, lifting his eyes. “Any questions?”

“Nope. Five minutes of eye contact. Got it.” Adalyn ran through.

“Okay, then we will begin when I start the clock.” Harry grabbed the small stopwatch, set it for five minutes. “Now.” He said, initiating eye contact and laying the small device on the table.

There was no way around it, it was fucking weird. Eye contact for a long period of time was just unnatural, anyone would agree. But she couldn’t really do anything about it, except for stare into the eyes of this man who would barely look at her a few moments before – not even other parts of his face, just his green eyes.

It felt like forever, like time was standing still and all she'd ever be able to see when she looked away was that shade of emerald. Or maybe they were more forest-y? Perhaps jade? Adalyn wasn't sure, though she was sure it had to have been five minutes already. The timer must not have gone off.

Right as she was about to drop her eyes, unable to do it any longer, it kind of got nice. Tension felt to have faded, and the awkwardness that is one human being staring into the eyes of a complete stranger fizzled. But before she could be sure that actually happened and she wasn't just imagining it, the timer did go off and Harry sunk back in his chair.

Quick enough, he handed her the second survey, and with just a short goodbye she was out of the door, blinking repeatedly to try to erase the one color was stuck in her mind.

---

Harry sat back in his chair for a long while after Adalyn had left the room. It was weird doing that again, after so many months of not. But even still, it never quite felt as intense with the past participants. Something about Adalyn, with the pink hair and icy blue eyes, had him shaken. Right from the start, he noted how beautiful she was, how happy she seemed, and the eye contact only added to it.

As he tried to gather himself, he couldn't help think of how Brennan would be kicking his own ass for the conclusive findings Harry was sure to get with this rarity of a girl.

That is, as long as he didn’t let the data skew.

session two

Adalyn saw Harry again after that, in between session one and two, when she was in the cafeteria with a group of her loud, obnoxious, lovable, freaky friends. They were quite an eclectic group, varying in race and status and major. They were breaking the rules of homogony on every front which is probably what thrilled them the most - knowing that just by being friends, they were defying societal pressures.

She was eating with them, or rather stealing celery and apple slices off of her best friend’s plate, and looked around to catch the set of eyes that shouldn’t have been as familiar as they were. She shouldn't have been able to look at a guy she spent maybe ten minutes with in total and know every variation of green his irises shifted from. But she did, so she waved, just like any normal person would, any self-respecting friendly human being would.

Harry seemed to snap out of a trance when Adalyn raised her hand, turning away without an ounce of acknowledgement, nodding to whatever his small group of friends were saying. They all kind of looked alike, but just a tiny bit. All but one had tattoos littering their arms. They all wore skinny jeans and easy smiles and joked with each other. Harry looked the most serious.

It was the cold vegetable hitting Adalyn lightly on the face that snapped her out of her examining of the table across the room. She turned towards the one person she knew as the vegetable thrower, her best friend, and gave her best death stare. As it turned out, Adalyn wasn't good at evil so her friend just ended up laughing.

She sat there for the rest of the meal wondering why the fuck she was so obviously ignored.

That was almost a week ago, and even remembering that couldn't throw her off her mood, because she had just gotten an A on a paper from one of the hardest classes she was taking that semester: Abnormal Psychology in Children. It had her bouncing with every step and cheeks aching from an unrelenting grin when she walked in room 3068.

Harry was already there this time, doing something on his phone, possibly texting those friends of his about how to properly blow off someone.

He didn't look up when Adalyn stepped in the room and the door closed behind her.

A, she thought, I got an A.

“Hello!” She chirped as she pulled her chair out. Even if he completely ignored her again, she wouldn't care, she wouldn't let it bother her. I got an A.

“Hello, are you ready to start?” Harry was nothing but business, hitting the lock button on his phone and throwing it into his open bag he had on the floor.

The thing was, he didn't look like a dick who ignored pretty girls or who never wanted to say hello. His face could be soft, in the second before he put a stern look on. The moment she saw him staring, before he realized it, he looked incredibly soft, like if she were to touch him it would be a euphoric experience. Then the fucker would open his mouth and was robotic.

“Yup!” She smiled. I got an A.

Harry nodded once, maybe let half his lips turn upward just a smidge, and then they were off. Adalyn did her survey – marking nearly all fives on this day – and then Harry got out his stopwatch.

This eye contact was like it was before, kind of awkward, mostly uncomfortable, but then about two minutes in (or what Adalyn guessed was two minutes because again, time was weird when you had no way of marking it) she remembered she was supposed to be in a good mood. She kept her eyes locked with this grumpy man and thought of how she could call her parents later and brag about how well she did, about how grad schools would want her, and those student loans would one day be paid off.

Without even realizing it, she felt her lips turning into a grin, how could they not with such positive vibes running rampant inside. It was awkward to sit in silence, stare at a guy, and smile for no apparent reason. She really tried to contain it, to tuck her lips together and keep them solid like Harry's.

It was an ongoing effort that she was certain would last the whole five minutes when suddenly, out of nowhere, it was like she stepped into an alternate universe where Harry could show emotion. Just barely, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and the green of his irises may have lightened just a little. If she were allowed to look away, Adalyn would’ve checked to see if he were actually smiling and that she wasn't just making assumptions due to her learnings in Social Psych about facial expressions.

It was pretty clear that they both were smiling though, so she didn't try to conceal hers anymore and sat – surely looking ridiculous – until the timer went off. And as soon as it did, Harry slid the second survey in her direction.

She filled it out without a problem. She had to remain objective, had to remember the survey was how she felt about the experimenter and not about life in general. Even then, for every question, the score increased by one point.

Finishing the survey, Adalyn thought what the hell and decided she might as well at least see why Harry totally ignored her the other day.

“So I saw you the other day?” It came out like a question when she could've sworn it was a statement.

Harry didn't show any indication that he actually heard her, not moving his focus from some stack of papers. What did he even have to read right in that moment that couldn't wait?

“Yeah,” she continued. “You completely ignored me even though I know you saw me so I didn't figure you'd say anything today.”

A lot can be said about Adalyn, probably just as much good as bad. But no one could never say that she didn't speak her mind. Adalyn would let people decide if that fell under the good or bad category themselves.

In that moment, it got Harry to look up even if his face was back to its cold, distant normality. She didn't falter under the heavy gaze of someone clearly unamused by her, instead sat like she had the entire time, trying her best at unamused as well.

“Listen, Adalyn,” Harry started, then shook his head back and forth, something about it made her feel like he would rather be a million places other than sitting across from her. And that's fair enough, but she wouldn't just let him make her feel invisible without an explanation. “It's best that we don't talk to each other except for the study.”

“Oh yeah?” She challenged, breathing in.

“Yes. It's best not to skew data. This is a study on human interaction at its very core. If we start chatting it up in the cafeteria, then who's to say why you fill out the surveys the way you do. I need to know it's because of the eye contact.”

“You know that's being fucked right now?”

“Then all I can do is ask you to forget about this and leave. If I see you on campus and don't go out of my way to be friendly, or if I seem cold any other time, please forget about it when you're filling out that survey.” He pointed to the paper Adalyn hadn't yet handed back.

Adalyn got the importance of validity to a research study, she took a whole damn class on the subject, so she couldn't really argue, nor did she want to. Not when Harry seemed like a good guy just trying to publish his findings.

Adalyn nodded her head, grabbed her book bag from the ground and swung it over her shoulder, leaving the survey on the table as she exited the barren study lab.

---

Harry didn't mean to be a dick, not really, not ever. Not to a nice girl he hardly knew.

He just couldn't have the study under question again. If he had to find someone else to fill in for Adalyn, then that was even more time and resources down the drain. All he really wanted was to finish his study, and the many many years he's spent learning the ins and outs of human behavior – at least from the psychological standpoint.

Though, something about Adalyn already had him questioning what was supposed to be - what he had learned years ago in Psych 330: Human and Animal Behavior. People weren't supposed to call you on your shit like she did, so upfront and uncaring. People normally don't go straight for the kill, without even properly knowing each other.

That's why, when Adalyn left session two, he went to his old Social Psychology professor and had a nonspecific talk about confrontation theories. And when his professor laughed at him due to his “clear girl trouble”, Harry snorted and cracked a joke instead.

session three

Harry was different at their third session – less grumpy, more easy going. And it wasn't even like he was smiling or making jokes, it just felt like he was less angry when Adalyn met him in that same room. Which was pretty fucking weird, if she did say so. Out of nowhere, he wasn't ignoring her when she showed up, or when she tripped just a tiny bit while sliding into the metal chair. He even smirked at her clumsiness, raised an eyebrow in question of how she could possibly do what she just had. Adalyn was in such shock at his acknowledgement that she couldn't make a sound.

She filled out the survey and all the while felt his eyes on her. It was beginning to make her feel like she had something on her face, or maybe she had forgotten a few buttons on her blouse, showing off her lace bralette that left little to the imagination. After subtlety feeling around her face and looking down at her own chest, she knew neither of those were the reason why.

“Okay, you ready?” Harry accepted the survey she passed to him, almost sounding happy and excited to be doing this.

The shock wasn't wearing off so a confused Adalyn nodded and pulled her seat closer to the table, getting ready.

She couldn't stop herself from watching every movement Harry made, trying to find the exact difference in him, as if it could be seen on his flesh why he was acting decent. It couldn't really, not by the way he reached over for his stopwatch then ran his hand through his long brown locks, tossing it so it fell just in place. That just seemed kind of… Well… Hot.

It was most likely due to his acknowledgement in addition to his obvious attractiveness that had Adalyn noticing how Harry did everything just slow enough to make it seem like a tease, like he was doing it so people would watch him, wait for him, to keep their attention to see what the end result would be.

“Alright.” He broke her out of her head with the word, bringing her to the task at hand. He moved his head in such a way that she knew he was going to start the timer.

Staring in the eyes of someone who could barely say hi to you was a lot different than someone who might possibly think you're alright, Adalyn learned. Because that time, it didn't take the constant reminder of a good grade, or a stroke of magic to make the situation less awkward. It just was.

The tension was still palpable, the air still thick, but it wasn't the same as before. It was easier. She just sat and stared at that same pair of green eyes - even though they might've seemed more vibrant.

Whatever was different about Harry, whatever was making him laugh at her tripping and smirking a hello, also had him bringing so much intensity into the room. Yeah, it was easy to stare at him when he was that way, and yeah, she liked it better, but also, it made her body feel stiff. Like she had to move just to shake off his gaze or else he'd figure out everything about her – every mannerism and quirk, every secret she had kept and lies she had told.

It was both a good and a bad feeling.

Her body was almost aching to move, when for the third time, she was saved by the bell in the form of four little beeps from a stopwatch.

At the sound, both fell back into their chairs, almost in complete sync with one another. A moment went by when the room stood still, and Adalyn felt like what they had just experienced was a moment, a spark in some weird way.

The sliding of a survey in her direction had her forgetting those thoughts. It was the experiment. Not a moment. Not a spark. Harry wasn't light or happy, he was angry. He was just having an off day. Maybe he had gotten a good grade back too, skewing his usual demeanor.

Adalyn stuck to answering the questions as truthfully as possible, getting out of her head about what it felt like to be looked at by Harry and instead only thinking of how she felt towards the experimenter - the random guy who held eye contact with her.

Each question raised one point.

---

Whatever was up with Adalyn that day wouldn't bother Harry, he wouldn't let it. She barely said anything, just nodded the whole time, and still, he wasn't going to let himself think about it as he put SPSS data into the program. He'd run his t-tests, check the p-value, and decide if the results were significant.

After he found out that he got that job at his Social Psychology professors research lab, the stress slid right off his shoulders, just like the bad mood he had been carrying around for weeks. And he wouldn't let some random participant in his study mess that up. No matter how much he enjoyed her hair that matched the color of her lips, or her eyes that could wear down anyone's resolve. She wouldn't ruin his good day. Not one bit.

session four

The weather outside was hot, people were sweaty, hair was frizzing. In psychology, you learn that crime rates go up during the summer for various reasons, one major reason being the fact that heat makes people angry. Adalyn wasn't one of those people, and apparently neither was Harry.

When Adalyn found him in the lab, he was relaxing in his chair, nearly giggling as he typed out some kind of message on his phone. The sight alone had Adalyn checking the sign outside of the door so she was sure she hadn't walked into the wrong room and found Harry's happy twin brother.

3068 the door read. She was in the right place.

Cautiously, and mainly uncertain, she stepped through the doorway, pulling Harry out of his own little world. Almost immediately she felt under pressure. Not only was it so hot outside that she had to wear a tank top and her favorite pair of jean shorts, but now Harry was gazing off at her like he liked what he saw. She could feel the sweat gather at her hairline.

Harry wasn't dressed that much different than normal – black jeans and a button up shirt. Except this time, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing a scattering of tattoos, and the first few buttons were undone, showing a bit of his collarbone and possibly more ink.

“Hi.” Adalyn greeted, because she wasn't sure what else to do, what else would get Harry to move and hand her the survey.

“Hi.” He snapped back, but not like he was angry like before, but more so like he was caught doing something and needed to distract from it.

Adalyn, of course, didn't miss his eyes move away from her body slowly, almost hesitantly.

She took a seat in the chair – her chair – and for once, she thanked God for the seats being metal due to them cooling her exponentially. She let every part of her body slouch into the cool metal, feeling no shame when Harry eyed her like she was insane.

Adalyn just wanted this to go as quick as possible so she could get back to her Arctic room and ice cream she had waiting for her. Without much thought at all, she filled out the survey as honestly as possible.

She handed it back to Harry with him asking if she were ready. Like always, she was and he set the timer.

Adalyn pretty much knew what was going to happen by the fourth time she locked eyes with the ex-grumpy man who sat across from her for five minutes. It would be slightly awkward, but with Harry's new found cheer and can do attitude, it wouldn't be so bad.

She tried not to overthink why, out of nowhere, he didn't scowl when she entered the room or why he started greeting her with a smile on his face. She didn't need to know really. It was just a better scenery she'd gladly accept.

They were halfway through the process and the chair Adalyn was sitting in wasn't so cool anymore, it wasn't hot exactly, but all that relief she got from it had worn away. Now she was getting hot again. The room was feeling stuffy, and she felt like she just had to move. So, she did. She inched forward in the chair, leaning her elbows on the table and shaking her hair off of her shoulder, being sure to keep eye contact at all times.

Even that didn't do much to make the heat feel less, causing her to question if maybe the room wasn't actually as warm as she thought it was. Maybe it was just the intent Harry had in his eyes that had her skin feeling on fire and shining from the tiniest bit of sweat.

Adalyn kind of liked that idea.

The idea of Harry looking into her eyes so hungrily that her body had a physical reaction. It had her tingling in that good way she never got enough of, so much so that she'd often egg it on.

So basically, she couldn't help that she leaned forward that little bit more, enough to make her small tank top cover even less skin.

It was like she could feel it in his green eyes – how irritating she was being to his study. Nothing else about Harry gave her any indication that he was enjoying her little show, but all it took was the eyes.

And if he let his slip down her neck for just a split second before they met hers once again, she pretended not to notice.

She pretended not to notice while she was filling out the survey, while she was grabbing her things and smiling a good bye to him.

She walked out proud of herself, thinking that the next session would be fun – the last session.

session five

They were staring into each other's eyes for the last time. And it finally felt completely normal, not even awkward at all. Just like two friends. Which Adalyn knew they weren't, she had no delusion of that. But now she thought maybe the next time she waved at him,he'd return a small one at the very least.

Or possibly a big one.

Because Harry was staring at her again, like he wouldn't be able to look away even if this wasn't all for a study, and Adalyn couldn't help but tease him. She couldn't help but slide off the light cardigan she wore in and move her hair to one shoulder - the weather had dropped again, just like usual for this part of the US. Now Harry had a perfect view of an expansive amount of skin, from the V-neck of her t-shirt all the way up her neck.

He was good though, not playing into her efforts, locking even more ferociously with her eyes. That was enough to get Adalyn to lose some of the upper hand, because one can't just stare at someone like that – so kind and wanting – without having the recipient feel something.

This time, Adalyn needed to shift, not because she was feeling stiff or pressure, but because she just had to. Warmth was wrapping around her again but this time it had to be because of Harry and Harry alone. It was on her neck and up her legs and she just had to.

Once she did, momentarily she was feeling a lot better, like she could contain herself and keep her eyes looking into those green fiery ones.

Harry, though, then moved himself, scooting to the edge of his chair and extending his legs under the table enough to bump into Adalyn's. She moved hers out of the way just barely, not so much that they weren’t still nearly touching.

And then the beeps went off, just four small ones. They should've been louder for the moment that it was – the end of the study. But they weren't, they were the same as all the other times.

Adalyn and Harry didn't react much to the noise, fixed on each other. Until Adalyn was moving, surging forward across the table to connect her mouth with Harry's. Harry had no problems responding to that, standing up so the effort wasn't solely left on her, and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Whoa.” Harry backed up, breaking the kiss and all body contact they had with each other. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, wiping all the evidence of the kiss from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” Adalyn wasn't sure what was so wrong with what she had just done. It was clear that Harry wanted her, he kissed her back so fully that there was no mistaking it. And she waited until the end of the sessions instead of doing it sooner even though she knew she could've. His reaction seemed a bit too much to her.

Instead of replying right away, Harry began pacing the small room, going back and forth in a single line.

“What did I do wrong?” Adalyn repeated. If she were someone different, this would've done a lot to hurt her ego – to see someone react so horribly to a kiss – and even though her ego wasn't hurt, her voice was.

Harry stopped his pacing at once, rushing to the stack of papers on the table. And that's when it hit her. She forgot the last survey – the last survey that could pretty much define his entire research study.

“Fuck!” She stomped her foot, mad at herself for letting desire do something so idiotic.

“Just fill it out truthfully and it'll be okay.” Harry spoke like he was convincing himself, like he needed to hear it so he didn't have to worry.

“Of course I will.” She grabbed the paper from his hands.

Obviously she would fill it out with as much honesty as all the others, because in all honesty, it was a no brainier. Clearly the eye contact had worked. Clearly her perceived closeness was at a five in every way – especially in the way where Harry's mouth tasted like the sweetest honey against hers and his big hand warmed her body.

It took her maybe seconds to fill out the form before handing it back to him. And somehow, in the time she looked away, Harry had appeared on her side of the table. They were closer than they had ever been before, Adalyn noted to herself.

“Good.” Harry looked at her answers for the first time, not putting them straight into an envelope like he normally did. “Where were we?” He asked in one breathe as he slammed the sheet down on the table and brought Adalyn back to his mouth, those hands back on her like they hadn't left. It was all enough to have her giggling while simultaneously trying to keep the room full of that lust.

Before she could even stop herself, she had her hands running down the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. As more skin was revealed, so was more ink, and the need for her to run her tongue along every line. And she would've, too, if Harry hadn’t reconnected their lips as soon as she had disconnected them.

He was acting like he couldn't get enough of the taste of her, which she really didn't mind, not when he swung her around and had her sitting on the table that had kept them separated for the last five weeks.

It was then, with the cold against her legs, that she realized just what was going on and muttered the words, “This is so fucked.”

“What is?” Harry pulled back to look into her eyes. The two sets of eyes knew each other pretty well by then so if anything were wrong, he'd have known just by that.

Adalyn shook her head and laughed. “Your study.”

“Don't say that, it'll kill the mood.” He went back to kissing along the line of her neck.

“No seriously. I mean, you really proved something here.”

“What's that?”

“Stare at someone long enough and they'll want to have sex with you.”

“I've done this with a few other people, and Adalyn, you're the only person who I've ended the study with this way.”

“Damn, Harry. You have such a way with words.”

“Don't I?” Harry was playful it turned out, smiling against her neck. She had no way of knowing that before, but here he stood, slightly undressed and cracking a few jokes.

And his smirk? Well that was enough to drive anyone crazy, and have Adalyn undoing his belt buckle without a second thought – just knowing she wanted him so viscerally right then was enough for her.

Harry had her shirt off nearly as quick. Then, without warning, he slowed down, taking his time to touch every part of her skin, to kiss where he felt like she deserved and to slip her bottoms off gently.

Adalyn would've done well with a quick fuck, a onetime thing from a hot psych student, but she was finding the slowness pretty okay too. Because when he wrapped her legs around his hips, and slid into her like she was something special, her whole world went fuzzy.

She lulled her head back in pure ecstasy as Harry took his time with her, biting marks into her neck that were sure to show sooner rather than later. She felt herself being useless in his arms, and still she couldn't stop being completely wrecked by him – with every forward motion of his hips, pushing her closer to her end.

It was when she finally decided to look up again, to check that Harry was getting as much out of it as she was, that she met his eyes and reached her climax. It came with a mutter of Harry and then a slump of her body even closer to his. Like any respectable man, Harry followed with a little more coaxing of her mouth on his neck – she was determined to leave a few love bites of her own – and a swirl of her hips.

They were both getting dressed again when the first post-sex words were spoken. And from Harry no less.

“That was fun, huh?” He smiled lightly, testing the waters with his offhand question.

Adalyn pulled on her shirt, surveying the room to see no noticeable differences about it.

“Oh, I definitely have no complaints.” She spoke honestly and freely, living high off her orgasm.

That truth seemed to shock Harry. Probably not that she was satisfied but that she wasn't playing games about it.

“None?” He questioned.

“Nah.” She pretended to think on it, then continued. “And I'm not one for lying.”

“Good to know.”

“Yeah. I figure it might be nice for you to know something about me.” Adalyn stepped closer to Harry, who was fully dressed and grinning contentedly at her from the edge of the table he perched himself on.

“I think so too.” He nodded in agreement, checking his watch. “And so in that case, would you want to have lunch with me?”

#1dff #oooh #dusting off an oldie #im sure people who would read this already have but i wanted it here anyway lol #im posting lm tomorrow!

123 notes · View notes

mormonmommyphilosopher-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Crazy Pants

Crazy. Looney. Nuts. Psycho. Wacky. Kooky. Insane. Bonkers. Mad. Batty. Barmy... ADHD. Bipolar. Borderline. Depressive. Anxious. Schizophrenic. Multiple Personality. Obsessive Compulsive. Disorder. Disorder. Disorder...

Fortunately over the last decade or two, mental illness is becoming less taboo. Less discriminated against. What at one point was defined as demonic possession, is now realized as Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Personality Disorder. We still have a long way to go, but is it now, I would hope, safe to say that someone whom is plagued with a severe mental disorder is considered just as ill as someone with rheumatoid arthritis, or plantar fasciitis, or fibromyalgia.

All three of these conditions cause pain. One, two, or all of these may cause sleep problems, fatigue, weakness, and irritation. If you're familiar with mental illness, than you are aware that emotional pain, sleep problems, fatigue, weakness, and irritation, are also very common symptoms of mental health disorders.

About six months ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar II/2 Disorder. Unlike Bipolar I Disorder, Bipolar II is less manic, more depressive—Hypomanic instead of Manic and less often. Severe Depression instead of Depression and more often. When first diagnosed, my initial thoughts were, “yeah, that makes sense,” but also, “thank goodness it wasn't something worse.” When I went to see the psychiatrist, I was hoping upon hope that I wasn't going to be diagnosed with a personality disorder like a couple of members of my family, and was dreading that it was going to be, Bipolar Disorder. Which at the time, I didn't realize has varying degrees.

When I think Bipolar, I still think crazy. I still think of over the top, intense, rash, hysterical, etc.. I hate that I think that. And I know that I am not the only one that thinks that. The psychology of it is fascinating though, isn't it? When we can drop shame and prejudice against mental illness as an actual illness, the reasons for each individual disorder is quite compelling.

I was also diagnosed with PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Aside from the fact that this disorder can be debilitating at times, I'm amazed at how much of an impact an event, or time period, in my case, my childhood, can have on a person's mind. Especially an adult person with a fully formed brain.

We all have basic vulnerabilities that can make us “act crazy” sometimes. Hunger, anger, loneliness, tiredness.. Think of how “crazy” a normal person can get when they're “hangry.” Now add a disorder. Our vulnerabilities lead to thoughts, which then invoke certain emotions, that lead to more thoughts, and invoke more emotions, until a behavior or an action is expressed. Hunger can lead to anger which can sometimes lead up to lashing out at someone. Is it so unreasonable then when a person with an added vulnerability might lash out, doing something that is not construed as normal behavior? Throwing a chair, punching a wall, yelling at their loved ones, turning inward and going silent?

I have three major things that I deal with in my own mental illness. Two sides of hypomania and then the depression. When I'm happy hypomanic, I'm hyper, excitable, happy, and I like to tease. I become the life of the party. I am so much fun to be around. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that this was my favorite side of my disorder. Unfortunately, this type of hypomania can easily slip into irritable hypomania; when I've had enough fun, been somewhere too long, or I just started the day being irritable hypomanic. Mind you, these are my own terms of classification—happy and irritable hypomanic.

When I’m irritable hypomanic, the smallest things bother me much more than they would a normal person. The cashier at Walmart was snippy this last week and I acted like a pushover even though I was screaming on the inside. A day or two later, I had to cancel providing a meal for the missionaries that I had previously signed up for, but ended up out of town for, and when I called the man in charge of scheduling the day before the meal to cancel, he put me on a guilt trip, to which I again acted the pushover, but I felt the fire burning inside of me. A couple of days after that, a lady in my ward that I’m doing a kindness for, nitpicked at me about being on time and called me out for “running behind” previously on another kindness I had done for her. Upon reading her text message, my knuckles nearly collided with the passenger side dash in front of me. Irritable hypomania is the most difficult, frustrating, and embarrassing side of my mental disorder that I have to face on a semi-regular basis. I’m not proud of it. But it is a very real part of my life that I and my poor husband have to deal with. Along with that irritability comes horrible anxiety. Actually I'm pretty prone to anxiety in general. But it is especially bad in this case. To the point where, sometimes, all plans for that day have to be cancelled and I have to lock myself away and be isolated for awhile.

The third, and most frequent side of my mental illness is the depressive side. My depression ranges in severity from simply a continuous somber mood and moving slightly slower than the rest of my peers on a regular, day to day basis, to the really bad days when I am nearly incapable of getting out of bed, nearly incapable of speech, nearly incapable of dry eyes, and entirely incapable of leaving my house. I say “nearly incapable” in most of these instances, because ultimately I am capable of getting out of bed, speech, and dry eyes, and the reasons are two beautiful blue eyes in the sweetest little face of the sweetest little three year old girl you've ever seen. Even my husband is incapable of getting me out of bed in most cases, except for the times when he has literally grabbed me by the ankles and dragged me out of bed. Seriously.. He has done this.

I know that the topic of mental health is still something difficult for many people to talk openly about. Recently I posted something on social media about my current struggle with my irritable hypomania and how it is the most challenging of the three sides of Bipolar 2 to manage. Shortly after, I received a private message from a friend who had struggled with a bad case of post-partum depression, and it broke my heart to hear that she hadn't shared it with anyone except for her husband because of how worried she was that people would judge her harshly and talk badly about her behind her back.

I have so much faith that in general, people are kinder than that. That human beings, at our core, are more sympathetic and empathetic than we as individuals give each other credit for sometimes. I am really grateful that I have gained the confidence to be able to speak about my own mental illness publicly.

As much of an advocate as I am of acceptance and love in all of our varying differences, obviously it is also important to be cautious and to keep ourselves and our families safe. I, myself, had to cut ties with a family member within the last month due to his harmful actions derived from his mental illness of narcissistic personality disorder. God wants us to love everyone, but sometimes we have to love some people at a distance.

Mental illness is very real. Unfortunately, it cannot be cured. Not right now, nor anytime in the near future anyway. But, thankfully, it can be treated. If you struggle with mental illness, it is not the end. There is therapy and medication available just as there is for rheumatoid arthritis, plantar fasciitis, and fibromyalgia. Most of us also have loved ones whom are willing to make the effort to understand and to listen to our difficulties. If you do not have faith in God, I encourage you to seek Him through prayer, and He will answer you if you seek Him humbly and diligently. His son not only atoned for our sins, but atoned and felt all of our pain and all of our sorrows. He knows you by name and is forever reaching out to you, waiting for you to reach back to Him.

For those of you whom do not suffer with your own mental health, but are the loved ones of those that do, I encourage you to soften your hearts to them. I know that they can be really frustrating sometimes and you can't wrap your mind around why they're acting the way that they do. It doesn't make any sense. But it does to them. That's just how they are and they don't know any different. Unless it's harmful to themselves or others, it shouldn't be too much of a concern. You might just have to deal with a little “weirdness.”

If your mentally ill loved one needs a break and needs to be alone for a little while, let them. If you need a break sometimes and you start feeling like you're starting to go a little, dare I say, “crazy,” being around them, make sure that you take a break as well. There's also nothing wrong with non-mentally ill people seeking professional counseling. If anything, seeing a therapist might help you be able to understand and cope with the everyday challenges that you meet with your loved ones who struggle so much.

It is my hope and prayer that as we journey further into the future, we, as the human race, will be able to better understand mental health issues, and address those that carry them, with more kindness and understanding than we have in the past.

Best regards,

McKell

“There will always be more blessings than burdens--even if some days it doesn’t seem so.” -Jeffrey R. Holland

0 notes

dorindabfrank8 · 7 years ago

Text

Insidious Sexism in Elderly Populations: 3 Ways to Combat Double Standards

“Early on a Wednesday morning, I heard an anguished cry—then silence. I rushed into the bedroom and watched my wife, Rachel, stumble from the bathroom, doubled over, hugging herself in pain. ‘Something’s wrong,’ she gasped.” So begins Joe Fassler’s 2015 article in The Atlantic in which Fassler explores the experience responsible for inspiring, “How Doctors Take Women's Pain Less Seriously:” the trip to the ER with his wife in which her pain – which she categorizes as an eleven on a one-to-ten scale – is dismissed repeatedly by medical professionals in the hospital emergency room. Sexism’s impact on healthcare access seems rarely addressed in mainstream media or in the healthcare industry; healthcare in the United States is frequently touted as egalitarian and ubiquitous. While socioeconomic status is often regarded for its impact on a person’s access to healthcare, sex and gender rarely warrant the same scrutiny. Additionally, the lack of visibility that too frequently characterizes elderly populations seemingly exacerbates insidious sexism with aging female patients. Why Are Doctors Hesitant to Listen to Women? In Fassler’s article, his wife, Rachel, is continuously ignored by her doctors until hours later, she receives a diagnosis: “Another doctor had told her the mass was her ovary, she said. She had something called ovarian torsion—the fallopian-tube twists, cutting off blood. There was no saving it. They’d have to take it out.” And while the diagnosis and treatment (surgery) provide a solution, and Rachel begins to mend from the procedure, she reveals to her husband how deeply traumatizing the experience was for her: “Rachel’s physical scars are healing, and she can go on the long runs she loves, but she’s still grappling with the psychic toll—what she calls “the trauma of not being seen.” She has nightmares, some nights. I wake her up when her limbs start twitching.” Rachel’s pain being repeatedly ignored is indicative of a very real problem: That women are not considered as reliable or as serious as their male counterparts. As a result, their pain is not taken as seriously as that of their male counterparts. A particularly disturbing study conducted by Stony Brook University and published in 2007 showed that, although men are more likely to suffer a heart attack, women are 60% more likely to die of a heart attack due to a lack of prompt treatment. What Do You Do When It Happens to You or a Loved One? With regard to women in their senior years, ignoring their complaints and self-assessment of their own pain can have particularly negative consequences. I witnessed this firsthand when I served as a caregiver to my mother during her battle with metastatic terminal cancer, and in this role, I routinely witnessed such consequences. During the frequent trips we took to the emergency room, my mother was consistently labeled pleasant or sweet up until we demanded treatment. Self-advocacy was met with irritation. Questioning medical orders was met with anger. Constructive criticism was met with condescending retorts. My mother was rarely treated as a reliable source to her own needs and wants. It is important to note that the systemic ageism and sexism we witnessed was not the product of men only. Female doctors, nurses, technicians, caregivers and social workers consistently relied on sexist tropes to categorize care for my mom. I am too frequently reminded of the visit to the ER – inspired by one of my mother’s permanent radiation-induced ulcers turning green, a sure sign of infection and risk for sepsis – that led to a weeklong stay at the hospital. While hospitalization can be undoubtedly considered a privilege, to my mother and me, it seemed more reminiscent of a prison sentence: doctors refused to answer our simple questions (why can’t we go home) and also failed to provide care, rendering the hospitalization essentially useless. While she was in the hospital, I provided my mom with the daily wound care therapy I would have otherwise provided at home, simply because there was allegedly no one in the hospital trained to provide this critically important care. When we pointed this out to the medical team and asked to leave, we were met with anger and told that we were being reckless. It wasn’t until my mother said the detainment quality of the stay was making her question suicide that I scolded the doctors for failing to heed our concerns or succeed in providing valuable treatment. It seemed only then that we were taken seriously and discharged. Meeting Apathy with Aggression Similarly, we encountered apathy when handling the health insurance company responsible for approving cancer-fighting treatment. When chemotherapy finally failed and my mother’s cancer treatment suddenly hinged on an aggressive drug called Votrient, we were dependent on her insurance company (Tricare) to approve the oncologist’s prescription and send us the bottle of pills. Votrient is notoriously expensive. A month’s supply can easily run past $11,000 without insurance. But it was this drug that would prove capable of extending my mother’s prognosis. Thus, every day we went without it was a day that tumors grew and a day that my mother’s limited time seem to become even more limited. When I’d call Tricare and ask that they speed their approval process, I was met with canned customer service responses; a different excuse every day. My mom came up with a plan: Have a man call. I was furious that it should even be a consideration for us – that my mom’s life-saving drug be withheld because what we conveyed as urgency would be interpreted as unimportant because we were women. Nevertheless, I listened to her. The following day – which marked one month of us being put on hold with Votrient because of Tricare’s negligence – I called Tricare and threatened legal action. I explained that we considered the company liable for withholding life-saving treatment and because of this, I would proceed with an attorney. Votrient arrived at our doorstep that week. My mom was right. Perhaps I didn’t respond with a man’s voice, but I responded with something frequently characterized as a male virtue: aggression. After spending weeks calmly asking Tricare customer service representatives to help extend my mom’s prognosis, it was this aggression that secured results. Being a woman and being elderly and still being expected to navigate the healthcare system can be duly taxing as the combined powers of ageism and sexism can frequently impose negative consequences. The tools below are outlined to help combat these consequences: #1 - Fassler’s Message: Validate women’s pain Fassler’s experience with his wife in the ER illustrates a painfully frustrating reality: That pain is not invariably awarded with attention and treatment. In Fassler’s case, he and Rachel had access to medical treatment but were denied treatment because no doctor validated Rachel’s pain until nearly 14 hours into her waiting for treatment. This was caused by Rachel’s doctors failing to validate her pain, most likely because they failed to interpret her descriptions as reliable due to Rachel’s gender. By listening to and validating women’s pain, women can gain better access to healthcare. #2 - Avoid Typecasting: Limit stereotypical descriptions for aging women Too often, older women are defined by words like “cute” and called “sweetheart,” rendering them suddenly void of the decades of rich experience that brought them to a this point in their lives. How many female businesspeople suddenly pass an arbitrary and unspoken milestone and are abruptly transformed from ambitious and intellectual to quirky and adorable. Combat the compulsion to typecast elderly women by communicating effectively with them. Learning about seniors and their undoubtedly multifaceted lives helps breakdown the stereotypes associated with their age and gender. #3 - Be an Empowered Bystander: Learn to listen and watch for sexism so that you can advocate on someone’s behalf Witnessing overt sexism is undoubtedly disturbing but it is nonetheless common. In healthcare, aging women presumably witness sexism far too often. Watching for signs like the seemingly extraordinary lack of visibility that too frequently plagues older women or the subtle patronization that aging women too often encounter can help passersby advocate for victims of sexism. By continuously educating ourselves on how to help be patient advocates, especially for aging women, we can better equip ourselves with the resources to dismantle systemic sexism. Author Bio: Erin Corbett is a Care Coordinator at the Griswold office in Alexandria, VA who also enjoys focusing her time on writing about healthcare and homecare Prior to joining Griswold, Erin worked as a caregiver for her mother for nearly three years. She earned a bachelor’s degree in English and public communications, as well as a master’s degree in business administration with a concentration in healthcare management.