"What are riches untold in a life without compassion? For there's no winter as cold as a life without compassion. There's no prescription that's sold that can heal you like compassion."
Todd Rundgren

Our Anxiety & Depression Therapy Group is a place of empathy and compassion. We all want these priceless gifts from each other, and they are free for the giving. We listen to each other, feeling the pain, frustration, confusion, and disappointment, and that's all we have to do. That's empathy. Empathy's slightly taller, kinder, and more reserved sister is compassion. Our hearts go out to one another, accepting and appreciating the others' circumstances, history, limitations, boundless qualities, and everything else that makes up the whole package. No judgment, no expectations. We reach out with whatever that thing inside us is that some people call a soul. Is it energy? Is it an aura? Is it imaginary? It doesn't matter what it is. Because as long as we feel each other's reaching, spreading, enlarging, growing, we are getting what we came for. What we came to group for? Sure. But also what we came to this existence for: to give and receive compassion. Is that the meaning of life? Is that all there is to it? We wrestled with this question last week. No, not out loud. It felt more like we were wrestling with the meaning of suffering, but even that question wasn't asked. We didn't ask "meaning" questions. We just listened for meaning from one another. And we just responded with our own experiences. Did we make sense out of any of it? We didn't even try. But we were there. For each other. And ultimately, for ourselves. Compassion is, after all, circular.

If empathy and compassion are free for anyone to give, if they cost absolutely nothing, if each of us has an unlimited supply, then why are these commodities so rare out in the world? Circles have no beginning and no end. They are infinite in their circleness. No matter how much compassion is dispensed (to someone or to ourselves), there is always an unlimited supply standing by. Is it a question of just letting go? These too were questions we wrestled with. These too were silent queries.

But I might have misled you. I might have out-and-out lied. Now that I think about it, I think I'd better take back what I said a little bit ago. I'll take back what I said about compassion being free. There is indeed a cost to giving this gift away to those around us; to those we love, to those we trust, to those we know, to strangers, even to those we dislike (or despise). And that cost is vulnerability. Vulnerability is that naked feeling that our ego is not very cool with. And it's what gives us our true power. The power of vulnerability. Is it too late in the year (or too early, depending on when you're reading this) to get into such deep ironic, paradoxical territory?

Power, vulnerability, irony, paradox, compassion, empathy, ego, questioning, suffering, listening, grappling, enlarging? God, that must have been an exhausting get-together! It sounds even more challenging than spending the Holidays with family (or alone, or in the world)! Well, it wasn't. It was as effortless as whatever Snoqualmie Falls does when it's doing its thing. Yes, it's a pretty impressive, pretty powerful "thing," that thing that it does. And the fact that it happens works out pretty well for us. If you've ever just stood and watched it, you know that there's something about it. Something about all that power, all that magnificence, yet all that effortlessness that makes it hard to look away from. In fact, stopping it from happening would be a real feat. Just as stopping our own flow would take a lot of doing (or undoing). For 2015, it might make sense to let our compassion flow like never before; whether we're with people we trust in a safe place or whether we're out there, exposed to the elements.

In January of 1981, poet/philosopher Todd Rundgren released his album, "Healer." In the song, "Compassion," he proclaims the healing power of compassion to be stronger than any pharmaceutical. In 34 years, I have not found evidence to refute his claim. If you feel you could use the healing power of compassion in your life, there's one way to get more. You only have to let your inner compassion out. Giving and getting are two sides of the same spiritual coin.

And if you feel like you're out there all alone, without the support of a group like ours, without a flow that you can join in with, try starting small. Think of the thawing of an icicle. Most of us have one crystal clear drop of compassion to give, don't we? If you have trouble letting go of that droplet, if you feel it clinging, if starting the flow feels difficult, just remember: Compassion and water flow in a circle. I promise you won't run out. It may not be free, but you can afford it.

It was a rare night for our Wednesday night group. We met at eight o'clock instead of seven, and on a Monday. Christmas Eve fell on our regular day this year, so we met earlier in the week to make room for any Holiday festivities our members were planning to attend. A number of new people came and that's always nice. As usual, our regulars gave warm welcomes; partly because it's great to see new faces and partly because we all remember what it was like to be new ourselves. After introductions, I invited one of the new arrivals to, "Tell us about your childhood trauma." I must have been feeling either comfortable in the room or brave. Either way, the response that came back was typical. "Is it that obvious?" she responded.

No. It's not that obvious. But people in counseling, either as individuals, as part of a couple, as part of a family or a group, or especially as a therapists, have experienced some kind of trauma in childhood. It's just the way of the world. So don't feel as though we can see it on you, or read your mind. Your symptoms are very old remnants of a history laden with one or another kind of troubling circumstances and events.

As adults, we may have forgotten about our initial responses to these traumatic conditions, since they might have begun in our very early years of life. Some of us may have even forgotten about the coping mechanisms we eventually settled on to help us through those trying years, effectively erasing huge chunks of preteen memory. But most of can recall the at least some of the old strategies we employed to protect ourselves as children from whatever onslaught befell us back then: withdrawal, compulsions, ferocity, overcompensation, hyper-rationality, passivity, dissociation, or self-harm. When we carry these defenses with us past the point of needing them--that is, into our independent adult lives--they become like the armor on a Medieval knight. It was very useful back then, even essential. Now, it is nothing but a hindrance.

But symptoms don't always feel like they hinder; not when they are still serving to protect us. It's just that those dangers are only imagined now and the need to self-protect has been left back in the dust. We become so used to feeling threatened by our fears, that our habitual responses to the imaginary threats feel normal. Fortunately, this false normalcy can only last so long. Eventually, the symptomatic behaviors, beliefs, and emotions become more overwhelming than the fears they are called upon to combat. That's when we reach out for assistance with the neurotic "stuff" we gradually feel able to grapple with. That's when our symptoms are helpful once again: when they act as emergency signals to get to work on repairing that old damage.

Becoming aware of our expired defense mechanisms is a good first step in feeling better. And simply talking about our childhood traumas brings out these important talking points. Whether folks come to group to work on social anxiety, depression, panic, bipolar moods, or other symptoms, our conversations can deconstruct what seems to be going on and help each of us to consider, in a nonthreatening environment, the underlying causes. Those causes might be over-self-protection from imagined or inconsequential judgments of others), preemptive negative self-talk, a desperate need to let go of resentment and forgive self or others. The magic of doing this work in a group is that we can first see what's underneath as we examine the stories and lives of our fellow travelers. Then, when we are able, we can see the similarities to our own predicaments. Gradually, we feel comfortable being uncomfortable. That is, we start to let go of our old, expired, counterproductive ways and experiment with new ways of being.

It's not an easy journey, but it's so worthwhile. Even in the midst of the suffering we encounter on this rough, hard truth-strewn road, we know that just around the bend, there's bound to be some of the freedom we've held ourselves back from. And striving for it together, each for each other, is the reason we carry on. We're all grown up now. And we can do this.  

In early childhood (say, the first five years), we learn about what a family is—and what love itself is. If that family features parents or other caretakers fighting like wild animals, hurting each other in other ways, or ignoring each other, or using third parties as levers, wedges, or bargaining chips; or if one leaves, or if both leave, then all that information, that pattern of intimate relating, gets encoded into our unconscious mind. As little kids, we are set up to thrive by learning nonstop. Our young Selves soak up all those observations (along with the attendant feelings) and that’s how we “know” what a family is. We may have fantasies about how families should be, by seeing examples on TV or in our friends’ homes, but deep down, we’ve been programmed to expect (in this example) chaos and turmoil in our closest relationships.

It seems counterintuitive that, as adults, we would seek out the same style of family “love” that made us so miserable in our youth but it happens too often to be coincidental. The theory of the repetition compulsion predicts that we will indeed be drawn to that kind of relationship in the vain hope that we can somehow make things come out differently. Is there also an element of our believing that we caused the problems way back when and it’s up to us to rectify the chronic interpersonal malfunctions? That could very well be. In any event, awareness of why we might seek out people and situations that have not been good for us in the past is the first step in stopping that pattern.

On Wednesday, we discussed these and other confounding patterns in our lives. We heard each other’s stories. We contemplated the implications of unconscious motivation. We discussed how awareness of unseen, unfelt, unknown inner influences can allow us to glimpse if not perceive, to "inkle" if not grasp, and to examine if not know these mysterious drivers.

Jill Bolte Taylor is the neuroanatomist who authored the astonishing book, My Stroke of Insight, after an aneurysm dismantled all function in the part of her brain that houses the ego (the left frontal cortex). She defines sanity as having a peaceful heart. Albert Einstein was the physicist who proved his outlandish theory that matter and energy are manifestations of each other (that is, they are one and the same). He defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Between these two gems of reason lies a truth that you and I can use to counteract our dreadful compulsion to repeat old, faulty scenes from our trauma-laden history. That is, if you don't have the calm contentedness you want, look for it someplace new. If you'd like help looking for those new places, come to group. We can look together.

The symptom that obviously wanted our attention on Wednesday was panic. This common symptom of many anxiety disorders is one that cannot fail to get one's attention. Everyone in the room on Wednesday had experienced panic in one form or another. For some, this dysregulating physical reaction to emotional stress is a new addition to their psychological life. For others, it's a familiar potentiality, waiting unseen, hiding in the shadows for just the wrong opportunity to show itself.

We shared the thoughts that have accompanied our individual attacks, as well as the associated attitudes, beliefs, and feelings that reside with us before and after. Many of us had had the same fearful thoughts the first time a severe panic attack had visited: "Oh my God! What's wrong with me?!" "Is this a heart attack?!" "Will I stop breathing?!" "Am I going to die?!" "Am I going to crash my car?!" We also had had many of the common thoughts following our first attack.  "Will this happen again?" "When?" "How can I know when it might come?" "How can I avoid these things?"

As I've said, the way to permanently protect ourselves from anxious symptoms such as panic is to go deep into ourselves do a lot of challenging work. One reason this is so important is that the "thoughts" that spawn panic are often unconscious. This is why panic attacks can feel spontaneous. "I wasn't even worried when it came!" is a common comment. Well, there's worry that you know about and there's worry that's been repressed. Worry, anger, resentment, fear, and other negative emotions only gain power when they're buried. Digging down to those time bombs and defusing them takes time and effort. But what can we do right here, right now, in this moment?

Thankfully there are things we can do to make panic easier to deal with as it happens or threatens to happen. Our therapy group put our heads together and came up with a list of short-term, in-the-moment strategies which have been helpful for us. This list is not exhaustive and perhaps you've tried something else that has been useful. If so, please share it with us! Here is our list:

BREATHE
This is so simple, it feels like a trick. Taking a few slow, deep breaths is better than any medicine for calming yourself down. Every cell in our body uses oxygen as fuel. More fuel means higher function for each of those cells. And the cells we're wanting to help here are the neurons that create our thoughts and that run throughout our body. Feel the stress in your mind and in your body lower as you breathe. Hey, but don't overdo it! One of our members recommends breathing into a paper if hyperventilating is a problem for you. All things in moderation, even deep, cleansing breaths!

CHALLENGE YOUR THOUGHTS
Panic attacks sometimes come out of the blue, with no noticeable warning, but they can also follow self-defeating thoughts. Some examples are:
I can't do this.
I'm not good enough.
I'm going to blow it.
I'm a loser.
I'm a hopeless case.
Life is too hard.
I'm defective.
Challenging these thoughts is as simple as turning them on their head. Tell yourself that these automatic thoughts are of no use to you and that the opposite is as likely to be the truth. Remind yourself that there are people who believe in you. They would never say such things about you, just as you would speak generously of them. You don't have to get corny with your self-affirmations. Just get real.

BE MINDFUL
An alternative to challenging thoughts is to let them go. Our thoughts, both pleasant and upsetting ones float in and out of our conscious minds and a rapid rate. We are thinking machines and sometimes operate like factories churning out thoughts. We try and sell these over-abundant products to ourselves at any price. They roll off the production line in rapid succession. Mindfulness is like being a very choosy customer. We don't need to buy every thought that's offered. In fact, we don't even need to touch it. We can let the thoughts just roll on by. We can observe them, but when we're mindful, we don't let any one thought occupy us for long. We observe it, we don't judge it, and we let it go. The conveyor belt taketh away just as well as it giveth. To foster calm, decide to be mindful and let those thoughts go.

ACCEPT
A number of members mentioned accepting the current reality, without fighting it, as a strategy. The interior dialog might go something like, "I'm getting that feeling. My heart is doing that thing and my anxiety is building. I'm afraid I'm going to panic. But I can handle it. I will breathe and be calm in spite of my fear. I will not die from this, this will pass as it always has." Acceptance works for a lot of stuff. Victor Frankl wrote that the concentration camp prisoners who survived their ordeal the best were the ones who made up their minds to accept their plight as a reality to be dealt with.

EXERCISE
We've all felt the benefits is a brisk walk, a jog, a run, swim, or a bike ride for giving us a more relaxed outlook. Is it because our bodies are distracted by physical exertion so it doesn't bother with the mental kind? Is it because using our muscles to raise our heart rate puts to good use any excess stress hormones (cortisol and adrenaline) we've produced unnecessarily? Is it because exercise raises our seritonin and endorphin levels? (Seritonin is our mood-stabilizing neurotransmitter and endorphins [there are more than 20 kinds] are the neurotransmitters that act as our own natural pain-killers and sedatives.) I don't know, but the result speak for themselves.

USE THE FRONTAL-OCCIPITAL HOLD
This is one you might not have heard of. But it works. Take a deep breath right now and give it a try if you don't believe me. Close your eyes and put one palm over the occipital lobes of your brain (you'll find them under those two bony protuberances at the back of your skull). This is where a lot of memories are stored. Put the other palm over your frontal lobes (they're those giant brain structures in the front of the skull where our executive functions are processed). Now breath slowly and just hold that pose. Keep your eyes closed and just think about calmness. You don't have to think about calmness, but the feeling of the hands on these parts of our head will kind of take over. Is there energy being exchanged? Absorbed? I don't know. But when we tried this on Wednesday, the group liked the feeling we got a lot.

SLEEP ON IT
It's not practical to take a nap during a panic attack (though some group members reported waking up in a panic at times), but good sleep hygiene was cited as a way to ward off high levels of anxiety. Bad sleep is closely correlated with anxiety symptoms. Once we get into a bad sleep cycle it can be come a self-fulfilling prophesy, so the sooner we attend to healthy sleep practices the better. There are just as many ways to sleep well as there are to sleep poorly. Try everything and don't let yourself get into a counterproductive rut. You'll notice the difference all day.

JOURNAL
This is another tool that is more strategic than tactical, but try it. Journaling about the things that bother us, the things we see as obstacles in our lives, and the things we want to accomplish is a time-tested way to get to know yourself better. And knowing yourself—as weird or alien or scary as it may sound—is a good way to understand what's really going on. Your panic didn't come from no where, even if it feels that way. Journaling can be a soothing way to make friends with that frightened, anxious person inside whom you've maybe been avoiding.

The emergency first aid tricks above can be used whenever you feel panic rising in you. (And the last two are good for before and after.) Instead of feeling helpless in the face of an impending attack, tell yourself that you have tools at your disposal, and that using them will be just what you need for now. You can do it. You are definitely good enough. You've done plenty of hard things before. This is just another one. You're going to be okay!

On Wednesday evening, we approached a high-voltage topic. It's an advanced subject, in terms of self-awareness and enlightenment, and one that never fails to put our senses on high alert, or to stiffen our ego defenses, or to bring up an almost pathological need for that least achievable of all desires: fairness. This third rail of the psyche, this electrifyingly powerful subject, this granddaddy of all taboos to be avoided if we are to keep our external world in balance is forgiveness. But our discussion was not about the run-of-the mill, ordinary variety of forgiveness. We were talking about forgiving the unforgivable; about forgiving those who don't ask for it, who don't deserve it, and who will never take responsibility for how we've reacted to their awful deeds. (It's as if they don't even care how we feel about them!) We approached this topic, but we were running late, after talking about our holiday-related and other wounds, and so diving into the deep end of this subject will have to wait for a future meeting.

And waiting is okay. It will have to be okay. What is the alternative? Just doing it? Now? Becoming a forgiving person is not a quick, easy, or simple task. I'll take that back. It is simple. It's like preparing for a marathon. In that case, all you have to do is start moving forward. What could be simpler? But easy? Definitely not. Not for most of us; maybe for all of us.

Let's look at the Golden Rule for a minute. If memory serves me, it goes something like: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." How can we fold the idea of unconditional forgiveness into that concept? If we are to forgive unconditionally, does that mean that we would also like to be forgiven unconditionally? I think most of us in our therapy group would say, "No! We do not expect to be forgiven unless we repent, say we're sorry and mean it, take full responsibility for our actions, unequivocally, ask for forgiveness, ask how we can make amends, then complete whatever conciliation or recompense is required. Only then would we hope for the forgiveness we seek."

Wow! That is a high bar. Even if we can deliver that kind of atonement to those we've trespassed against, can we really have any hope of getting such satisfaction from those who have wronged us so deeply? It just doesn't sound realistic to me. So we have to ask, "What's the alternative?" I think there are two: First, we can wait indefinitely, resenting the wrongdoers in our lives until they measure up to our standards for living right and being acceptable members of society; or second, we can let go of this fantasy and just forgive them anyway.

What? And let them off the hook? Where's the justice in that? Where's the fairness? Why do I have to be the one to give in? I'm in the right here! They're wrong and they shouldn't be treated as anything but the shameful dogs I think they are! Forgiving them would end their punishment. They must suffer at least as much as I have!

That last paragraph was written by my ego. It loves fairness and justice and winning and being right and all those other things that everybody else's egos love. It's what starts wars and seeks revenge. It's what makes sure we get what's coming to us and what cuts off people's noses to spite their faces. Ego is the thing that stops us from enjoying the free things in life. Forgiveness is one of those free things.

One group member flatly stated that she wasn't about to forgive her mother until mom agreed to change and not be a horrible person anymore. This condition on a daughter's forgiveness made me wonder if we weren't talking about parole instead of forgiveness. I voiced this question and it had to sound like an accusation. Her mother was not in prison, her daughter was; at least, from my point of view.

Then another member asked me, "Have you forgiven your father?" That stopped me. I had to think. I took a minute to inventory my outstanding resentments. I couldn't find one for Dad. He died ten years ago--no, 16 years ago! When I think back on our years together, now, I think of all the missed opportunities to learn about what made him tick. I think about how I held on to the anger he had stirred up in me, especially in my teens, when I was trying to break away from the ideals he held dear. I think about the mistakes he made, about his good intentions, and about my pride and his, and what I learned about being a father from him.

I had forgiven my father several years ago when I was in therapy for anger issues. It had felt so good to set that burden down that I'd forgotten about the painful process my counselor had led me through. Why was it so painful? Well, my ego is like any other. It's job is to not let go of things. Things like ropes and hopes and babies and memories. Painful memories can be important to hold onto so that similar pain can be avoided in the future. The problem is that, for efficiency, egos tend to run on autopilot. And once they grab hold of something that seems important, they need a really good reason to let go. That good reason sometimes has to come from a smarter (less autopiloty) part of the Self than the ego. That smarter (wiser) part of the Self is called the soul. My soul (whatever that is) responds very well to quotes like this one from Jonathan Lockwood Huie: "Forgive others, not because they deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve peace." Moving toward peace and away from pointless pain makes sense to my soul. And, with effort, it is able to convince my ego to let go of painful burdens.

I finally looked up at that group member and declared that I had indeed forgiven my father, though it had taken me until after his death to let go of my grudges against him. Am I a good example of letting things go? Of setting burdens down? Of just doing it? Certainly not. Am I a cautionary tale? A good example of how regrets can lead to redemption? Time will tell. But in the mean time, I will continue to practice forgiveness when it's completely uncalled for. Not because it's the right thing to do, but because it makes me feel so much better--even electrified!