Tag Archives: mental health

Is It Really an Illusion?

Something to think about!

Or maybe we should start with a different question. Is it a coincidence that just last night–the day before Thanksgiving–I read an article on the topic of the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon?

Before your eyes glaze over, more common terms for it are “frequency illusion” or “cognitive bias.” We can bring it down to an even more manageable level by calling it the “Red Car Syndrome.” If you buy a new red car, you suddenly notice red cars everywhere.

The author of the article points that frequency illusion easily affects our memory, potentially creating a bias. When we’re talking about red cars, it’s not much of an issue. Well, until we discuss the popularity of colors with a friend who just bought a blue car.

This can also harm relationships when we start noticing behaviors in a person. “She’s so bossy…” might be an illusion because we’ve only noticed her domineering behavior.

Our view of the world dramatically impacts our attitude towards it and our feelings about it. Frequency bias will reinforce the way we feel. It can work against us, but it also can work for us.

What are we going to notice today? If we notice things we have to be thankful for, the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon suggests that we’ll see even more of them. It’s akin to seeing the roses instead of the thorns. Or it might even mean we are thankful for the thorns since they protect the roses.

The original article was published by “The Blackboard Bulletin,” a monthly newsletter written by and for Amish School Teachers. The author’s name is Sylvia. That’s all I know, really. Being a humble people, credits and copyrights aren’t much of an issue for them. I am thankful she wrote it!

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

On July 16, 2022, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255) transitioned to an easy-to-remember, 3-digit number (988).

The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (formerly known as the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline) offers 24/7 call, text and chat access to trained crisis counselors who can help people experiencing suicidal, substance use, and/or mental health crisis, or any other kind of emotional distress. People can also dial 988 if they are worried about a loved one who may need crisis support.

The original number will continue to work. 988 is built off of that 10-digit number. Using either number will get people to the same services. In the end, 988 is an easier-to-remember way to access a strengthened and expanded network of crisis call centers.

In Maine, calls to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline have been routed to the existing Maine Crisis Line since 2018. With Saturday’s launch of 988, the process remains the same — only the number is changing.

The Maine Crisis Line will continue to answer calls, texts and chats to the current 10-digit number (1-888-568-1112) and calls to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline number (1-800-273-TALK), as well as answering calls to the 988 Line. Texts and chats to 988 continue to be handled by the national Lifeline support center.  Regardless of which number individuals dial, calls are answered 24/7 with free, confidential help and support for non-English speaking and deaf or hard-of-hearing callers.

Today I am…

It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.

George S. Patton

I am a big fan of George Patton–a man not without his faults, but one who understood leadership. So it is perhaps fitting that he “rescued” me this Memorial Day Morning.

One of my Memorial Day rituals for some years now has been to write some thoughts and feelings on a day that has been important to me since I was a very young child helping my Dad prepare for and experience the day. This year I felt, frankly, a bit empty because so many of the meaningful traditions and rituals are absent.

But when I checked my email, there among the Nigerian fortunes available and Memorial Day Sales was a post that led with this reminder from the General.

I found myself chuckling a bit while speculating how long it would take in today’s world for the General to be banned from social media platforms. It’s an interesting dichotomy. Social media depends on engagement and that engagement is often driven by controversy. So in one respect, he’d have been welcomed with open arms.

I can almost picture the comments. You know more than a few people would take issue with the first statement. After all, isn’t the point of Memorial Day to remember (mourn) those who died? And what about the women who lived and died? Don’t they count? How can he be so callous to not care about those who died?

Those twenty words would have generated at least 200 comments. Depending on the group, the moderators would have shut off the comments when it got angry and mean.

I’m working on a piece about anger and the role it plays in decision-making. Stay tuned.

The General knew the value of being dogmatic often lies in the fact that it creates perspective. I’m reminded of the song, “I’ve looked at life from both sides now.”

So today I honor, mourn, and grieve for those who died. I don’t think that’s foolish or wrong. But I do think Patton was right to expect us to see the other side and be happy that those men (and women) lived.

That’s NOT Who You Are!

One honor I’m awarded annually is to serve as a judge in the Maine 4-H State Public Speaking Contest. Several years ago, I was wandering the hall during a break when I noticed a future presenter standing with her dad. Since it’s a friendly group, I greeted her and asked how she was. Her reply included, “I’m very nervous.”

I said, “No, you’re not.”

She countered, “Oh yes, I am. I’m REALLY nervous.”

I asked her name and then stated, “You are not nervous. You are Lisa. You are feeling nervous.” I’d distracted her, so she appeared less nervous and more curious. We had a brief conversation about the difference between who we are and what we are feeling and experiencing. I asked her if she had ever been sick. She confessed she had. “Well, again, you weren’t sick. You were Lisa. Lisa was feeling sick.” We practiced some other examples. “I’m Lisa. I’m feeling sad.”

She and her dad (who was really enjoying the conversation) caught the subtle difference in language. I closed it by summarizing, “So you are feeling nervous. When you give your presentation, remember that you are Lisa. You have worked hard and are prepared. Be Lisa who is prepared. It is okay to feel nervous but don’t let it interfere with who you really are. Feelings are energy. Be you and make that energy work for you.”

Unfortunately, I did not get to see her present—the luck of the draw, I suppose. One great thing about this contest is that judges are encouraged to give “feedback” to participants, so I didn’t break any rules even if I had judged her presentation. (Notice I would have judged her presentation. I would not have judged her.)

This year, I got to witness another example with a participant I was judging. She was better than good. Her presentation was actually about presenting—a creative touch. At the end, she started crying. She, of course, apologized and explained how much learning meant to her and how fortunate she was to have supporters and mentors.

In my judge’s feedback, I complimented her passion and admitted I nearly cried with her—that says much about the quality of her presentation. Her tears were not who she was, but they were a concrete and visible demonstration of how she felt.

This is not just about public speaking. It’s about communication. I recently had a heated discussion with a life-long friend. Fortunately, we were able to pause long enough to remember who we were and acknowledge how we were feeling. Then we were able to move past the anger back to who we were.

I offer you the same challenge I offered these two young adults. Remember who you are. Don’t forget that what you may be feeling isn’t who you are. And, as a bit of a bonus, when you “get” that, you realize that you need not be the victim of your emotions.

You might also create a bit of a game out of it. When you first see someone and ask them how they are, listen to the answer. They will tell you how they feel. “I’m really… tired, frustrated, happy…” You can reply, “I didn’t ask who you are. I know you are (name). But I understand you are feeling… tired, frustrated, happy…” (Be gentle, be nice, keep a smile on your face and in your voice.)

Be prepared for some interesting conversation about the difference between communicating who we are and how we feel.

Weirdly Wonderful

I have no ambitions to become a restaurant critic. But I do feel the need to share something weirdly wonderful about the last two meals I’ve had at Geaghan’s Pub in Bangor. In the interest of full disclosure, the “wonderful” includes excellent food, beer, and fantastic service. The weirdness is also wonderful, but it’s also rare, unfortunately. It appears every time I eat there, something wonderful happens. A few months ago, I met a new young lady (nine years old) at the pub who showed me how to create hope and happiness by drawing a picture for the guy (me) sitting at a table near her. She doesn’t know it, but she  inspired the title of a book I’ve been working on. I learned how to . Last night, things were busy as usual. When my waitress stopped to collect my drink order, she leaned in and said, “See that nice you couple getting ready to leave? They gave me a ten-dollar bill to put towards your dinner.” I should also add that I do not think I looked particularly destitute or needy. I was stunned. The waitress’s smile looked even bigger than usual. Remembering my previous experience. I replied, “Why is it that every time I come here, something nice happens to me?” The management of Geaghan’s can be proud of Jolene’s reply. “You’re in an Irish Pub. Nice people come here.” To her credit, she seemed not the least bit surprised by this act of kindness–there was nothing weird about it. The couple stopped at my table briefly as they left–not to explain, but to wish me a good meal and a nice evening. I thanked them profusely for their generosity. During my meal, I continued to think about how strange these experiences were. I found myself wondering what would happen the next time I ate there—and already planning my next visit. A hand-drawn picture and a ten-dollar bill created countless winners far beyond the givers and receiver. The “weirdness” might not be in the events themselves. What might be strange is the fact I was surprised by them. Jolene later also encouraged me to order dessert, reminding me that she still had that ten-dollar bill in her hip pocket to put towards my check. Unfortunately, I had to pass—the shepherd’s pie had done the job. My stomach was full. But so was my heart and head. I laid my credit card on the table for the check. Jolene started to explain how she was going to process the check as part cash and part credit. As she reached into her hip pocket, I said, “Wait! You might as well leave it there.” She looked a little confused, so I added, “That’s going to be your tip.” Some people I’ve told the story say, “You paid it forward.” I confess I do not fully “get” that concept. Maybe that is because I find words interesting. If you pay for the coffee of the person behind you in the drive-through, wouldn’t you be paying it backward? What I do “get” is what the nine-year-old did. Even if you don’t have any crayons, you can put color into another person’s life and your own. And if you do have some crayons (or ten dollars to spare), sharing them with someone just because you want to is not so strange or weird. It can be—should be—a way of life. We can make it so.