Universal Rules
# 19. If You Say It's
Impossible, It Is.
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This is one of those truisms that have pretty much universal acceptance. What I mean is that we all know that, to put it colloquially,
"Everything was impossible until it wasn't." Everything you see around
you was un-invented at some point in history. Every social convention was, at
some point, "born." Nothing is real until it's discovered and brought
into being. We know all of this.
The oddness starts when we move from the realm of what we consider to be
neutral, physical reality to the personal realm. Then, we forget about how all
of life is in flux, and we set our minds in concrete. It's all "I can't do
that." "It's impossible."
Now, this has to do with a lot of life – and each person has his or her own
"impossible" list. Much of it has to do with two realms – what I think
and what I do. And what it boils down to is that I declare
myself incapable of doing something differently. And then, because we live in an
era of victims, I want an exemption from responsibility while I
"blame" all and sundry.
It's sort of like lying and then expecting people to accept your lie because
then your lie ceases to have consequences for you.
The hardest work I do is trying to find the language that will allow clients
to truly hear what they are saying, and in the hearing, choose to let go of what
they are telling themselves. Better choices are simply that – choices. Yet, to
make a better choice, I first have to understand that I have options. And if I
think that certain things are beyond me, that thought precludes my acting in a
different way.
Thank god it doesn't happen often, but occasionally I get clients who want me
to confirm just how stuck they are. They come in with some tale of woe and have
an excuse for every option I might point them toward. I worked with a client
last summer whose marriage had failed, and she had moved back in with her mom
and dad. She had never gotten along with them, and especially did she not get
along with her father. He never agreed with her and thought she was
irresponsible.
So, like clockwork, she told him each of her thoughts and plans, and he shot
them down. She'd get defensive and angry. He'd call her a baby. She came to
therapy to convince me that her father was a self-righteous a**-hole. I wondered
aloud, "And even if that is so, how will that help you to do your life
differently?"
Now, as time went by, it became crystal clear that my client wanted me to
assure her that indeed, at age 39, she was the helpless victim of a
self-righteous father. No matter how I pressed, she refused to see another
option. I would ask her, "Why do you need to get your father's permission
to arrange a ride to work?" She'd shake her head ruefully and say,
"You don't understand. When he doesn't support me, I feel miserable."
I'd reply, "If you know he pretty much always disagrees with you or
criticizes you, then why ask?" Reply: "Because he's my father."
She wouldn't allow for the possibility that 39-year-olds do not need their
father's permission to go to work. Actually, her belief was quite helpful. It
was, "I am the helpless victim of men, who make me miserable and never
support me. There is nothing I can do about it, and even my male therapist
doesn't get it."
"If you say it's impossible, it is."
Another client, this one long term, monthly. Lots of relationship issues and
a fair amount of skirting around sex. In the last six sessions, we've talked
more directly about her sex drive, or more precisely, her story about its
virtual non-existence.
One day, she said, and I love this line, "I just don't have the sex
gene." I laughed and asked her to explain. She indicated that sex was dull
and boring and that she never got excited, let along had an orgasm or ten. She
then detailed some really rough happenings in her teens, and her feeling of
being put upon to put out by her "over-sexed husband."
Then, almost without drawing a breath, she described a recent topless
escapade she and her husband had with another couple. I asked her how that was
for her. She turned red, started squirming on the couch and said that it was a
big turn on. I said, "How does that fit in with your story about lacking
the sex gene?" She looked at me blankly, then said, "Well, this is
different."
Another time, a month or so later, she told me she didn't like porn, and her
husband did. She'd get pissed off at him for watching. "That stuff is such
a turn off." I suggested she buy some for an Xmas present. Some months
later, now the proud owner of a satellite TV, she mentioned that she'd been
channel surfing and had found a porn channel and watched several. I asked her
how that had been for her. Again, she turned red, started squirming on the couch
and said that it was a big turn on.
I said, "Tough admitting you're sexual, eh?"
"Me?" More blushing and squirming.
"What are you feeling right now, as you think back and remember the
movie?"
Even more squirming. "Turned on."
"I guess you tripped over your sex gene."
It was impossible, until it wasn't.
You see, dear hearts, nothing is as it appears to be. All that's
"up" is whatever story I am presently telling myself. If I tell myself
that I have no options, or "worse" if I tell myself I am the helpless
victim of another or my circumstances or "my genes," while non of this
is true per se, it will be enough to keep me stuck in my story.
On the other hand, if I look at what I am telling myself and apply the
"utility question," ("How is this working for me?") I can
begin to gently let go of the beliefs and behaviours I am troubling myself over.
The hardest, most adult thing we can do is to let go of beliefs that either
limit us or blame how we are the fault or responsibility of others. This belief
is the clearest indicator of immaturity, and one of the hardest to get rid
of.
I've never met a content, wise and happy soul who holds the
belief that others are controlling their life.
This week, ask the utility question, and remind yourself that you don't have
an eternity to sort your life out by making others behave. Own who you are, and
own your "impossibilities." Loosen your grip on them and make them
"improbabilities," (so you don't scare yourself… J
) and give yourself some wiggle room.
Because squirming on the couch beats immobility any time.
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