4
PRODUCING BETTER RESPONSES
The UK’s NHS is a big beast of a health service, although I doubt its founders considered it would one day be a major resource for attacking low self-esteem in the good citizens of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Yet, extraordinarily, that’s where I found myself not long after my humiliating and drawn out failure as a writer: in counselling sessions in, of all places, a London sexual health clinic.
In their wisdom, some of the more innovative NHS Trusts had realized that many sexual health problems arise from behaviours stemming from self-esteem issues, especially amongst the young. They reasoned that, while those with high self-esteem are having stable relationships with clear long-term goals in mind (even if there is a periodic change of long-term partner), those with low self-esteem pursue low-grade sexual gratification with as many partners as possible, which – as often as not – ultimately involves a trip to the clinic.
And while my own route to the sessions was more tangential, there I sat in one-to-one sessions discussing my poor childhood relationship with my father, as well as the trauma of my family splitting in two when I was a 10-year-old boy. This event, I realized from my chats with the female counsellor, left me with a lifelong fear of rejection from both senior figures (representing my father) and peers (representing my sister, who had also high-tailed it with dad).
The sessions soon ran their course and my benign cuddle from the NHS had to give way to something more constructive. I was offered a programme on cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), which seemed to be where the counsellor was heading from early on. As the name suggests, CBT is a behavioural methodology for linking our thoughts, our feelings and our actions to try and generate more positive outcomes. For people with anxiety, depression, panic, phobias, stress and PTSD many NHS Trusts have become keen on prescribing some form of CBT.
CBT works through breaking down problems into thoughts, emotions, physical feelings and actions, and by trying to turn unhelpful perceptions of each into more helpful ones. The literature I was given used an example of being blanked by an acquaintance in the street. The unhelpful route went something like this: thoughts (I was ignored so am not liked); emotions (rejection, sadness, loss of confidence); physical feelings (low energy, depression, sickness); actions (avoidance, isolation).
Meanwhile, the helpful version went something like this: thoughts (he/she seemed distracted so something must be wrong); emotions (concern); physical feelings (none); actions (contact the person to check they are OK).
As you can probably guess I didn’t attend the course. Why? I reasoned that it was time I could better use, it was all a bit touchy-feely, and that – going by the example above – I’d be spending my time with assorted under-employed undesirables. I’d enjoyed my sessions with the counsellor but surely things had not got so bad that I’d fall back on state-sponsored therapy?
Of course, the above response is outrageously inappropriate. It is also a classic High-FF avoidance tactic for something that was clearly going to be challenging. I feared failure at CBT and, therefore, avoided it – inventing an excuse that would protect my self-esteem. If I’d genuinely felt the above I could have found private therapy sessions for angst-ridden professionals or even seen if the counsellor was prepared to help me offline from the NHS.
The CBT literature, however, contained one nugget that was to transform my perceptions and evaluations overnight. It was a bullet point tucked away on an inside page under the heading: CBT – the work. It stated that “the therapist may ask you to keep a diary, to help identify patterns and thoughts, emotions, physical feelings and actions.”
This was a coincidence as – fed up with being in a bad or depressed mood – I’d wondered whether my moods were altered by my diet and had started jotting down notes in a page-per-week diary sent by a supplier. Soon, I was testing my moods against the time of day, days of the week, seasons and even the phases of the moon (easy in the better diaries). And, before long, I was no longer just writing “mood” but adding descriptions such as “self-loathing” or “irritation.”
Yet the CBT documents were suggesting a whole new level of journal-keeping – recording what I was feeling, as well as why I felt this way and how I was responding. I bought an A5 page-per-day diary and started writing it all down. I quickly became addicted. I found that recording my moods helped to rationalize them. My neural hijackings – while still frequent and unwelcome – seemed to dissipate almost as soon as I’d started writing, although the pen indentations on the page still attest to the state I was sometimes in.
And I also noticed from my furtive loiterings in the self-help sections of bookshops that just about every self-help book told me to keep a diary or journal. Some were stricter than others in what they required recording but many seemed to include versions of the following:
Moods: any episodes of anger, depression, frustration, hurt. The aim is to be as explicit as possible and to record your feelings at the time. So if you felt something like: “that Johnson’s done it again – he’s stolen my idea the totally brainless idiot who couldn’t have a single unique thought of his own but will probably end up my boss arrrgghhhhhh,” then that’s what you write down.
Having said this, it may also help to leave a space under it for a more reflective comment. This could range from “it turns out Johnson told the boss it was my idea. He is a good guy, so why was my first reaction so angry?” to “I need to get Johnson onside. My feelings towards him are irrational and undermining me – my move” to “I’m still angry about this but thank God the anger only appeared here and wasn’t shouted across the entire fifth floor.”
Obstacles: “No matter how prepared you are,” says Anthony Robbins, “you are going to hit a few rocks along the river of life.” The diary is the place to record these rocks and try and formulate a way around them. Just writing problems down can create a clarity-of-thought that removes the emotional clutter.
Goals: we’ll come to the big stuff in Part Two but the day-to-day diary is for the small stuff. What’s the next step? What’s the timeframe? Who do I call to work out what the next step is? In fact this is the most important aspect of the diary – making your diary the key tool for recording those small, positive, victory-by-victory building blocks of achievement. As stated, High-FFs need to create a map to chart their progress. Your diary is that map.
Results: how did the next step go? Did the call get the result you wanted? Yes, how come? What’s next? No, why? What went wrong? Again, what’s next?
Controlling displacement activity: I used to record my alcohol units. Then I realized I was drinking too much and used the diary to record progress towards keeping my intake to my weekly limit. When this kept failing I gave up drinking and now put a zero in that corner every day. Too much time on the internet or watching TV is also recorded – again with an admonishment.
Self-flagellation: anyone reading my diary (heaven forbid – this is the most private of documents) would be shocked at how hard I am on myself. Yet that’s the point. People with fear of failure beat themselves up all the time. I’m not asking you to stop beating yourself up – just that you do it constructively. Any beatings need to involve a “lessons learnt” element as well as practical next steps.
Self-congratulation: but also record the triumphs. I use a tick system to note what I am pleased with. The creation of new, more positive, neural pathways in the brain involves tiny steps taken in the right direction. Over time, this will build your confidence and move you towards a better place. It’s an exciting journey but it must be recorded if the steps taken are to lead anywhere sustainable.
Experiences: I love rereading my diary from my wedding day, or when my first son was born, or the crazy day my second son was born and my first son ended up in hospital. It has helped me record the ups and downs of my life and cured me of that horrible High-FF habit of looking back and only seeing the bad stuff. I can honestly say that the years since starting my diary have been the best of my life – and I think writing a diary helped me not only remember that but realize it.
And if you think writing a diary embarrassing or cheesy or a bit angst ridden and prepubescent: fine. Get over it and write the diary anyway. If you stop reading this book now – never mind – but please start writing a diary. It is the single most transformative action you may ever take.