a fear of focusing on the negative

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We have many words to describe fears. In fact there may well be a word for every fear or phobia. Why is that?

True, many of the names fears and phobias are a little more esoteric. Not in most people’s vocabulary. For example…
Athazagoraphobia – fear of being forgotton or ignored
Chionophobia – fear of snow
Alektorophobia – fear of chickens
Geniophobia – fear of chins
Sesquipedalophobia – fear of long words (ironically)

However there are common examples we are all familiar with; such things as…
Agoraphobia – fear of open spaces
Xenophobia – fear of foreigners
Technophobia – fear of technology
Claustrophobia – fear of confined spaces
Arachnophobia – fear of spiders

Technically we could replace phobia with philia (Greek origin) and turn these into loves or addictions, but we don’t have these in our daily lexicon. How many -philias do you know or use?

Why such rich language for negatives when we don’t have the same plethora of words to describe the love of something?

What does this say about our societal focus on the bad or negative, and how does this impact our human psyche?

That worries me.

origami emotions

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I read recently about an ‘origami robot’ that unfolds itself to perform remote controlled surgery in the stomach. It has just undergone laboratory tests.

The small rectangular robot is ingested in a dissolving capsule and then steered, using magnetic fields, to patch a stomach wall wound or to collect a foreign body, such as a swallowed button battery. Using magnets rather than a tether to direct it, provides greater flexibility and control.

Wow. Science is amazing.

But, how come we can do this, yet…
we can’t cure loneliness?
we can’t stop people worrying?
we can’t stop human beings commiting self abusive behaviour?
we can’t give people their self esteem back?

How many more people worry, or are lonely, or have low self esteem in comparison to those with stomach wall tears or those who swallow batteries?

Come on science, let’s pay attention to the emotional and psychological too. We need you to do great things for us.

a bit worried about worry

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I met a potential coaching client the other day, wanting to explore how they could spend less of their time in a worried state. The brief conversation led to me being curious about worrying. Its intent, patterns of behaviour, structure, purpose etc.

In pondering my own experience I notice that I don’t typically worry when I’m in a really good mood.  When things are joyous, happy, positive, worry seems to be absent?

The next thing I notice is that worry seems to be in two broad forms – imagining a future potential scenario or assessing a past one. I worry about something that might or might not happen, or I worry about what I’ve just done, or not done. This leads me to notice that worry seems to be neutral in some way – it shows no favoritism to good or bad, might or might not, did or didn’t.

Worry seems to be a state of disablement.  Worry, in a sense, stops me acting.  It occupies me … with worry.  I don’t know that worry achieves anything other than keeping us busy. I am reminded of this quote (attributed to a number of people)…

Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do but it gets you nowhere.

I have also met people for whom worry becomes a state of existence. They develop beliefs about the need to worry in order to be themselves. Worrying develops a heightened state of challenge that delivers, it seems to them, a better result.

Curious that we worry.

That’s enough worrying about worry for now. Time to just be.

 

what if I’d had a latte?

choice matrix

I have had to make a decision today.

We make them all the time of course, many at a relatively mundane level – what coffee shall I have? Should I walk or take the lift? What vegetables go with this meal?

Sometimes we make more important decisions.  Is it safe to cross the road now? Can I afford that holiday? Is it right for me to apply for that promotion?

Sometimes we make major life decisions. Shall we start a family? Should I opt for that major surgery? Should I move in with my partner?

My decision today was significant. I didn’t know I had to make it until yesterday and I had to make it by tomorrow.  I don’t know all the facts; there are many future options, unknowns and uncertainties. My decision though could have implications for the rest of my life. Curiously, I’m strangely relaxed about it.

Interesting how we respond to decision making.  Sometimes they are almost unconscious, often fleeting with little pause for true reflection. Sometimes we pore over the decision for a long time, considering possible outcomes, pros and cons; very conscious, measured decisions. Sometimes we make significant decisions on a whim. This decision making process doesn’t always line up to importance – I’ve spent ages choosing my main course in a restaurant before, yet picked an expensive holiday in a moment.

Sometimes, after the event, we dwell on the implications, the outcomes, the ‘what ifs’ of decisions we have made, sometimes not.

Personally, I’ve never wondered ‘what if I’d had a latte?’

And now, I’m not wondering ‘what if I’d chosen differently today?’

shall we play that game?

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Returning to work after a holiday is…

Well, what is it?

How do you complete that sentence?

Returning to work after a holiday is…

… difficult?
… to be relished?
… depressing?
… a relief?
… a right pain?
… worrying?

I wonder what is to be learned from our transitions in and out of holidays?

The rush to leave. Clearing the inbox. Completing the ‘to do’ list. Handing over. Readying the house or the family for the break. Buying what you need; food, gifts, tickets.

If you are going away, checking you have everything at point of departure (tickets, passports, money etc). Securing the house. Telling neighbours, friends, relatives.

Then the return. Knowing that work will have been piling up. Checking your emails the night before. Anything urgent? Can you clear the junk? Getting your work bag, clothes, technology ready. Dealing with the nervous tension in your stomach. Packed lunch?

First day back. Easy routine to fall back in to. So much to catch up on. Nothing has changed. Tell everyone about your break. Listen to their story. Let it all fade into memory. Focus on the work. Rhythm found.

Until the next time.

Why do we play this game?

change is the one ever present truth

change
Change is ever present in our human lives.

The world around us changes constantly. Not just with the seasons, the passing years, but the tools of living, the way of living, the world in which we live. And we change too…

From birth we change, learning to communicate, to walk, to make friends, to become part of the family, to find our place. We learn to learn, we go to nursery, to school, to university, at each stage taking more responsibility for ourselves. Our family may move house, add family members, lose them too. Our friends may change. Our location. Our journeys. At work, our job roles change. Our bosses. Our colleagues. Our employers. We change our house, our car, our hairstyle, our look. Our hopes, ambitions, desires change. We meet new people, new friends, new loves. We start a family. We nurture them, they grow, they leave. Later, illness may strike and our lives change again. Relationships falter and new ones are born. We leave the world of work. We become grandparents, great grandparents. Challenges and opportunities emerge constantly in our human lives and we respond, changing to adapt, to thrive, to grow. We choose to change, incessantly.

Much of this change has a connection to learning and growth. The opportunity to become more. Positive outcomes. Yet often we are worried by change. Anxious about what it will mean. Will we cope, will it be good, will we be good enough, are we doing the right thing? It can become a psychological and emotional wave machine. Hard to keep your head up. Hard to put your feet down. Hard to breathe.

I am fortunate enough to have the opportunity of a six month career break. An incredible opportunity to take time out, travel, try something new, recharge. Yet I’m worried. It will be a change. Not the routine I have become used to. Will I be prepared enough, planned enough to reap the rewards? How will things have moved on whilst I’m away? Will I want to return? Will I be able to do the things I want? How will relationships change? How will I change?

I notice that all the uncertainty, all the doubt, is in my head. Imagined. Foretold. I have become an anxious soothsayer.

We do this at times of change, particularly in work, in organisations – catastrophising, worrying about the impact, the implications, the problems. Yet when we look back, after the change, we seem able to find good. To find benefits, positives. A new lease of life. Fresh shoots. New learning. Even in the most extreme circumstance we are, as human beings, remarkably resilient and accommodating of change.

Yet still the worry persists.
Why is it there?
What’s its purpose?
How does it serve me?