Catherine Auman, LMFT

The allure of a permanent state of happiness – imagining the possibility is an essential part of being human. We dream that if we do the right things or have it all, we’ll achieve the pain-free, permanently happy life that we imagine celebrities or the super rich have. Advertising promotes the fantasy that happiness can be purchased as possessions, leisure, status, and lifestyle, all of which may contribute to happiness, certainly, but there are no guarantees.

Notice that as soon as you download a new song from iTunes, you’re tired of it. The dessert you carefully chose from the menu never tastes as good as you’d hoped, and when you try to repeat a pleasure that at one time made you ecstatic, it’s always disappointing. Our frustration prompts us to try to repeat an experience that one time brought us pleasure, as we become dulled against the truth that it can’t be done. We try to shift our moods by taking a pill, drinking alcohol, binging on food, or watching some porn, all activities famous for facilitating momentary happiness, but in the long run they create deep rooted and difficult-to-eradicate addictions.

Many of my patients express that, “all I want is to be happy,” by which they mean constantly positive and joyful, never negative, sad, depressed, or feeling angry or grief-stricken. Some people have even gotten to the point that if they aren’t happy all the time, they blame themselves and believe there’s something wrong with them. This frustration comes from a misunderstanding regarding the nature of happiness – it’s not supposed to last.

It’s not supposed to last so you will go on searching for something that does last. You are supposed to be continually frustrated in your search. The fact that happiness is transient is necessary to lead you to that which will make you truly fulfilled, rather than momentarily elated. True happiness cannot be found in that which is impermanent.

Certainly, there are many things you can do and ways to live your life that will make you happier, such as manage your finances, get enough exercise, and live according to your moral code. But no matter what you do, a permanent state of happiness will elude you until you find it in something other that which doesn’t last. It is possible to develop a sense of happiness about whatever is happening, a sense of celebrating all the flavors of life: sadness, lack, boredomk, and even the fact that happiness is not supposed to last.

© 2011 Catherine Auman

“Why didn’t I say something? I was so stupid! Why didn’t I stop the abuse?” Allison is crying as she recounts a painful memory that affects the way she relates to men in the present.

Often, my patients who are involved in processing painful wounds from childhood have trouble forgiving themselves. They feel they should have known better or handled things differently. It’s common, in the consultation room as well as out on the street, for people to blame themselves that in their early years they were not as smart, educated, assertive, or as neurologically mature as they are today.

When I looked into this, I went back in time and there I was, myself only smaller. In my childhood memories, I am as I am today only my body is tiny. It doesn’t make any sense, of course, but everyone I’ve talked to remembers a smaller version of how they are today, rather than remembering the emotional experience of the time.

But that’s not how it was. Back then, like all children, each of us was innocent, completely lacking in worldly wisdom or the street smarts that come from the school of hard knocks. We were utterly dependent on the adults in our environment for everything: food, shelter, for life itself. Our emotions were not mature, and our nervous systems had not yet developed. We weren’t able to make adult decisions, reason things out, or protect ourselves from harm.  Allison didn’t stop the abuse because she hadn’t yet matured into the perceptive person she is today who would handle things differently.

Years ago in my own therapy, I was clearing some trauma that had happened when I was eleven years old. I was baffled as to why the incident had hurt me so much.  Pondering this, I walked over to a playground and looked at an actual eleven-year-old girl. She looked so innocent and fragile that I began to cry. I saw that she needed protection and was obviously too little to have understood what was happening to her. It changed forever how I thought about my own experience, and the traumatic experiences of others.

I often encourage patients to go look at some kids if they don’t have any of their own. It helps tremendously. I’m not trying to create a new breed of voyeurs or playground stalkers – you can also visit children of friends or relatives if you have them. It really helps to see their innocence, and to recall your own vulnerability, trust, and sweetness. You were smaller, yes, but not just a smaller version of yourself today.

© 2011 Catherine Auman

Once when I was a little girl, my father said to me, “Stop crying. You’re too smart to have feelings.” He was my perfect dad (until adolescence anyway) so it seemed he must be right. He never stopped trying to get everyone in the house, my mother, my brother, my sisters and me, to stop expressing our emotions, although he met with minimal success.

There’s a prevailing notion in our culture that you shouldn’t have emotions, or if you do, only the “positive” ones. It’s okay to be happy, cheerful, and outgoing, but even if you’re happy, be careful not to be too exuberant. We wouldn’t want people dancing in the streets!

Then there’s the New Age tyranny that only certain emotions are politically correct. To be a superior person, you’re supposed to go around with a feeling of gratitude at all times. Anger, grief, disgust, resentment, pain, hopelessness – these are signs that you are not who you ought to be, and certainly, “not spiritual.”

In fact, however, all emotions are an essential aspect of what it means to be alive. Your grief is beautiful, your shyness, your reticence, your pain and hopelessness. All of these emotions are the truth of your life and everyone’s life, so why would you want to miss knowing this? Every single human being has been hit with crippling grief — no one gets out without having their heart broken. If you don’t experience the richness of your grief, the way it deepens you and opens your heart, you will not share this universal experience. What gets lost in these rules-not-to-feel is what it means to be human.

If you observe, you will notice that your feelings come and go like the weather. Some days it rains; some days the sun shines, but none of it lasts. We all know the weather will change and expect it to. Feelings are the same – if you watch them and allow them to be as they are, you will notice them morphing and changing  — floating by like clouds.

Instead of standing guard over yourself to make sure you only experience the correct emotions, how delightful instead to watch the passing parade of human feelings that float through like the weather, ever changing. If you remain at war with your emotional life, you run the risk of missing the truth of yourself, the truth of the experience of your life.

© 2011 Catherine Auman

People often ask what happens in psychotherapy. Sometimes, although more rarely than you might imagine, therapists give good old fashioned advice, and famously, we listen intently. Often we teach skills that people missed in childhood such as how to communicate or manage angry feelings. Therapy involves getting better in touch with your emotions, or helping you to make healthier choices. This kind of assistance you can often get from a loving friend, or self-help books or the Internet.

Sometimes, though, what is needed is help to clean out old rubbish from the past, and this is deeper work you can’t do with an untrained person. Osho, a spiritual teacher, once said that therapists are really people who help you take out your garbage.

One of the analogies I use to explain to patients what is going on is a blister. We’ve all had one: a pocket of fluid underneath the skin which has been caused by repetitive pressure or rubbing. The fluid inside is usually watery, but if it’s been there for a long time untreated and become infected, can be filled with pus or blood. To treat it, we carefully make a tiny puncture and drain the infected part, relieving the pressure and thereby allowing the healing process to begin.

This is an analogy for how material from the past – unexpressed emotions, outrage, sense of injustice, fear – can be trapped inside, while a protective covering has grown over to protect it. Therapy can be like this: we drain the old toxic material that has built up, thereby relieving the pressure and allowing the healing to begin.

The second analogy I use is to explain the therapy process is a teakettle. You’ve seen one that is all hot and bothered, steam jetting out the sides. People with a lot of repressed material inside can get like this, spewing out all over the place. The “steam” tends to come out crooked, such as getting mad when you didn’t mean to, or acting in ways that surprise you, and not in a good way. The material leaks out from the inside because the pressure has built up too much and we need to work to relieve the pressure. In therapy we get the “heat” down to a normal level so that we can sit and enjoy a cup of tea.

If you get with the right therapist and complete this work, you will agree that it was worth the commitment because of your new sense of freedom from the past. It is a joy to go through life without “blisters” or without the pressure of sitting on a hot stove.

© 2011 Catherine Auman

After an important insight into why you act the way you do, the long process of changing your behavior begins, one action at a time. Most people find it difficult to change without outside support, and if that is you, it doesn’t mean you’re weak or wrong in some way, merely a member of the human race. Here are ten suggestions for finding support:

1.  Keep a journal – Writing down your thoughts and feelings while observing your growth can be enormously helpful. It’s also encouraging to review your progress.

2.  Join a support group – There are many types of groups, as many as there are problems to solve. Depending on the issues you are working on, this might be Weight Watchers, a walking or work-out team, or a group for adult survivors of sexual abuse.

3.  Find a 12-step group – Modeled on the successful program of Alcoholics Anonymous, 12-step groups exist for nearly every issue now. The price is right (donation only) and the meetings are filled with “angels” eager to help you for free.

4.  Create a supportive environment – Look around your home to see what changes are needed. For example, you might need to clean the junk food out of your house. Also, this might mean you need new friends, or to see less of old ones.

5.  Set measurable goals – It is hard to know when you reach your goals if they are too broad. “I want to be happy” means something different thing to each person with that desire. If “happiness” includes losing ten pounds plus having three months savings in the bank, those are measurable steps on the way to happiness.

6. Reward yourself – It’s important that you celebrate your “wins,” the milestones of progress along the way. Maybe you’ll buy yourself some fresh flowers, or go for a massage. Reward yourself frequently for each small gain.

7 Educate yourself – Read books and study the Internet to learn what successful people before you have done to change and how they did it.

8. Find role models – Sometimes people find it difficult to change because they don’t think a clean lifestyle is sexy. Search out people you respect who have what you want and are doing it in a way you admire.

9. Meditate – You might like to take time each day to do nothing but sit and be with what is, or it might be useful to spend time focusing on the changes you are trying to make and being grateful for the opportunity to change.

10. Above all, continue with the psychotherapy that has helped you. Midway is not the time to stop. After you’re firmly rooted in your new life, you’ll be ready to fly on your own.

© 2011 Catherine Auman