Recently, my Dad wrote up a list of the advice he’d give to a younger version of himself.1 It’s a rare gift to hear the wisdom that someone has gathered over a lifetime, so I wanted to share my Dad’s tips with my readers.

Take a few moments to really sit with each idea; I think you’ll find some advice here that might speak to the moment of life you’re currently in.

Here’s Dad’s advice for his younger self (and perhaps, for you!):

- Invest in relationships.

- If you want to have a friend, you have to be a friend.

- Find a girl, settle down, if you want you can marry. (Cat Stevens)

- Prioritize family.

- Learn the stories of your friends and family.

- Ask questions, listen, and learn.

- Invest in others and encourage others.

- Try something new. (excludes drugs and risky behaviors!)

- Regular dollar cost investing. Start early and keep it simple.

- Reach UP and Out at work. (Connect with people in other departments or different levels in the organization.)

- Be a life long learner.

- Read, do, go, and try.

- Spend time with your spouse & children. Encourage each one.

- Hug your kids.

- Get a hobby and have some fun.

- It’s not about you.

- Focus on what’s important and not just what’s urgent.

- Stay balanced.

- Be generous.

- Don’t live in fear.

- Don’t have regrets.

- Say I’m sorry.

- Learn from your mistakes and move on. Don’t stay stuck.

- Laugh, cry, hug, and hold.

- When you’re old & grey, work won’t be there. Choose wisely.

- Build a community at church.

- Travel and expand your views.

- Keep moving and make healthy life choices.

- Be grateful.

- Find several mentors to encourage you and share advice.

- Mentor someone and give back.

- If you have your health, you’ve got just about everything.

- Enjoy life’s journey and savor each chapter - even what’s hard.

- Be deliberate to make memories. Put in the effort.

- Take chances and don’t be afraid.

- Show up for those you love.

- Smile and be positive.

- Don’t be afraid to tell someone you love them.

- If you’re going to do it, do it right.

- Acknowledge your days are numbered.

- Think about what’s important and be deliberate.

- Use your gifts, talents, and resources to make an impact.

- Between time and money, time is more important.

- Call your parents, siblings, relatives, and friends.

- Stay connected.

- Live life well.

If you want to live well, you have to let the hurt in.

We all carry regrets. Loneliness. Physical aches and pains.

Life is filled with heavy parts.

So we often try our best to block the hurt out, to sandbag against the flood of emotion with whatever numbing agents we can find.

We play a video game all day and remember none of it. We disappear for hours into social media. We use work, alcohol, food, sex, sleep. Lots of options that feel kind of good but mostly just help you not feel so bad.

But fleeing from pain can’t lead you to joy.

When I was wrestling with the idea of proposing to my wife, I reached out to my uncle Lou for advice. I told him about my fears of a lifelong commitment, the challenges we’ve need to overcome together, the painful growth I would need to become the husband she deserved.

Lou told me that I was focusing on the wrong question.

The right question was not, “What am I afraid of?”

The right question is, “What does it mean to seek out the light? How do I move towards the good energy?

The heavy is where you find the light. If you try to avoid your fears, you also avoid your deepest fulfillment.

The commitment of marriage is heavy. And my life blazes with light because of her.

The weight of grief is heavy. And it’s the price you pay to have a love worth grieving.

The sting of rejection is heavy. And the courage to risk rejection will lead you to your tribe.

If you numb yourself out, you might skip the heavy, but you’ll definitely lose the light.

But if instead you move towards what makes you feel, your pain gets a purpose. Your suffering transforms in service of your joy. And the heavy parts get easier to carry, because you’re not carrying them in silence anymore.

So let in the heavy. And bask in the light.12

He lived to 98, and spent 70 years married to my Grandma. He was healthy and vibrant until the end of his life, and he passed away surrounded by love. There’s a lot to envy about my Grandpa’s life.

And there’s a lot to admire, too. He saved a boy from drowning when he was just in high school, and he served in World War 2. He founded an engineering company that helped make bridges safer all over Illinois, and he helped design the Dixon arch1. He traveled the world, and had albums stuffed with photos from his adventures. Along with my Grandma, he helped organize a social group of lifelong friends. And of course, he helped raised three great kids and modeled to them how to raise their grandkids.

In some ways, it’s sad to reflect on everything he did in his life, because so much has faded over time. The boy he saved in high school passed away twenty years ago. The engineering company he founded has been sold.

But the parts that faded don’t really matter, compared to all that has endured.

The boy he saved grew to be a man with a family of his own. His kids and grandkids never met my Grandpa, might have never heard his name. But they got to live because of him.

So did the people who drove over bridges that didn’t fail, because Grandpa’s inspections made sure they were safe.

So do I, of course. And not just in the sense where my Dad created me, and my Grandpa created him. But in the sense where my Dad shaped me, in the way that my Grandpa shaped him.

During the funeral, people talked about the traits they admired in my Grandpa - how he was always there when you needed him, how he was a calm and patient teacher, how he was devoted to his wife. These are traits I see in my Dad. And these are traits that I want others to see in me.

My Grandpa never knew the total impact he had on the world. None of us do.

If we did, it would stagger us.

Every gift you gave to the world - every act of love, every moment of connection, every use of our talents - every single one matters. Every one has the chance to change someone’s life.

And I’m not talking about big impressive things like saving a life. Every time you show up for someone else, you change their life.

Grandpa did a lot of big, impressive things. But he never focused on that. Instead, he focused on the people in his life. He wanted to make memories with his friends. He wanted to love and guide his kids.

Most of all, he wanted to be with Grandma, and make her happy.

And he did.

Together, they filled countless moments with love. And each happy moment Grandpa spent with Grandma changed her life, and each happy moment Grandma spent with Grandpa changed his life.

It’s true that those moments are over now. That’s sad, but it’s okay. All moments end. What matters is what we do with the moments that we have.

We might not have the opportunity to save a life like Grandpa did. But we all have the opportunity to live our lives like Grandpa did.

Grandpa lived a life of love. He chose to give the people around him as many moments of happiness and connection as he could. That, more than anything else, is his legacy.

May it be ours, too.

Way back in 2005, the band Switchfoot released the song Lonely Nation, singing to the “lonely, scared kids” in their audience.1

We were a lonely nation back then, and we’re a much lonelier nation today.

It doesn’t have to be that way. Our culture makes loneliness our default, but not our destiny. If you’re willing to put in the effort to swim against the current, you can form a real community.

Here’s 5 ways to get started:

1) Volunteer somewhere

Do me a favor. Do a quick search for “volunteer opportunities near me.” (I’ll wait!)

Depending on your area, you might find

• A food bank that needs volunteers to stock shelves or greet clients.

• An animal shelter that needs volunteers to walk the dogs or handle adoptions.

• A retirement community that needs volunteers to spend time with the residents.

No matter where you choose to volunteer, you’ll be well-positioned to make new friends. Most volunteer opportunities have you working alongside other volunteers. And the other volunteers will often be kind, empathetic, warm human beings - after all, they chose to give up their afternoon to go volunteer! That’s the kind of person that you might want to be friends with.

Plus, a volunteer opportunity is a chance to do some good. Even if you don’t make a new friend, you’ll still feel more connected to humanity as a result of helping out. That can help cut down on your loneliness, and it can motivate you to keep going to future volunteer events (giving you more chances to make a new friend.)

So - if you’re feeling lonely, this can help yourself while helping someone else. Pick a volunteer opportunity, and put it on your calendar. The worst case scenario is that you spend a few hours making the world a better place, and that’s not so bad, is it?

2) Go shopping in your closet

When I was a kid and I asked for a new toy, my Mom would sometimes encourage me to “go shopping in my closet.” We look in the closet at the old toys that I’d set aside, and I’d often find a toy that I’d forgotten about but was excited to play with again. I got to rediscover a beloved toy, and my Mom got to save money.

A similar principle exists in our friendships. Often we have friends that we’ve drifted away from, but would love to reconnect with. Instead of expending the effort to form a new friendship, you can just reach out to an old friend.

Dr. Geoffrey Greif coined the term “rust friends” to describe this kind of friendship2. A rust friend is someone that you still feel warmly about and would enjoy spending time with - you just haven’t seen them for awhile. Rust friends are often formed when

• You switch jobs and leave behind a friend from work

• You start a new chapter of life

• You go through a period of depression and withdraw from relationships

• You move to a new area

• Life gets busy and you fall out of the habit of spending time together

Our family relationships can often become rust friendships. You might enjoy spending time with your cousins or siblings over the holidays, but not talk to them any other time.

Regardless of the cause, the solution is simple - reach out! You don’t have to overthink it. Just send the person a quick message. Something like:

“Hey, you came to mind recently and I realize we haven’t hung out in a while. How has life been for you? Want to do a call/grab a drink/play some Fortnite/whatever?”

By asking them about their life and also giving them an invitation, you provide them with two opportunities for connection - they can write back to chat about their life, or they can accept your invitation.

Of course, not all rust friendships can be recovered. Sometimes too much time has passed, or the other person is no longer interested in a connection. If you reach out and don’t get a response, wait a few weeks and try again. If you still don’t hear back, you should leave the person alone.

But it doesn’t hurt to try. And chances are, if you would enjoy reconnecting with them, they would enjoy reconnecting with you.

3) Explore your hobby

Whatever you’re into - someone else is too. And if you can find someone with similar interests, it’s easy for a friendship to form.

Just about every hobby has some kind of group formed around it. Start by searching for your hobby + your area + club/group/meetup/class/etc. For instance, “Portland board game group” or “San Francisco cycling club.”

If nothing comes up, see if your town has a subreddit (ie, reddit.com/r/denver) and try asking there if any groups for your interest exist. You might also try reaching out to stores that cater to your hobby. For instance, if you really love ferrets but can’t find a ferret appreciation club, contact a local pet store. They might run some kind of events for ferret owners - and if they don’t, they may be willing to let you put up a flier and start your own.

Of course, if you live in a small town or you have a niche hobby, you may not be able to find an in-person group. Fortunately, it’s not hard to find an online group for basically anything under the sun. So if you can’t find something in your local area, check online. Reddit is usually the place to start, and subreddits often have Discords you can join where you can have more active conversations with fellow hobbyists.

Also - this idea works even if it’s not technically a hobby. For instance, if you’re passionate about a particular issue, you might be able to find a volunteer or political group working to make a difference for that issue. The important thing is to find a group of folks who have either the same interests or passions as you.

4) Explore someone else’s hobby

Sometimes, in order to make new friends, you need to branch out.

This could be because your area just doesn’t have any in-person groups for your existing hobbies and interests.

This could be because the local scene for your hobby is cliquish or otherwise not a good fit for you

And, this can sometimes be because you’re in the process of growth - and your old stomping grounds don’t quite fit you anymore. For instance, perhaps you usually enjoy sports and physical activities, but you’re craving to develop your artistic side.

That’s why I encourage you to spend at least a little time trying something new. Go through the same process as exploring your own hobby - look for clubs, meetup groups, etc. But pick something that you haven’t tried before.

For instance, several years ago I was walking in a park when I noticed a group of folks doing acro yoga3 I’m not very flexible or coordinated, and I’d never done anything like that before. But they seemed like they were having fun, and I asked to try.

I was very bad at it, but I had a good time. So I kept coming back. I didn’t get any better, but I had fun, and I made some friends I never would have met otherwise (including one person who is still a close friend to this day.)

My best friend Kyler4 has a 20 minute rule, where he’ll give anything a try for 20 minutes. If he’s still not having fun at minute 21, he can call it quits guilt-free.

Be like Kyler. Find some kind of social activity you wouldn’t normally try, and give it 20 minutes. Who knows? You might make a lifelong friend.

5) Embrace “Yes, And!”

The cardinal rule of improv theater is “Yes, And!”

“Yes” = accept what your partner brings to the scene (in theater terms, their “endowment”)

“And” = build on it.

For instance, if your partner enters the stage and says “Ahoy, matey!” they’ve just established that you’re olde time sailors. So you might say “Shiver me timbers!” to give a “Yes!” - you’re agreeing with their endowment.

But then you need the “And” in order to keep the scene momentum going. So you might say “Shiver me timbers! There’s a kraken on the port bow!” Now you’ve taken what they offered (we’re sailors) and built on it (we’re fighting a sea monster!)

Here’s how this relates to making friends.

The other four suggestions were about reaching out to other people. But this final tip is about how to respond when other people reach out to you.

As you go through your life, other people will offer connection to you. They might ask you a question about how your day, show you a funny YouTube video, invite you to something, etc.

In some cases, this is pure politeness. The cashier at Starbucks that told you to have a nice day might not actually care if you have a nice day. But often, these glimmers of connection are a sign that the other person would like to get to know you better.

And when that happens, you hit ‘em with the “Yes, And!”

“Yes” = receive their offer of connection

“And” = Offer them some connection in return.

For instance, if someone asks you about your day, share one or two extra details to show that you’re happy to answer (“Yes”). Then ask them something about themselves (“And”). If someone shares a video or a funny meme with you, share a sentence or two about what you liked about it (“Yes”) and then share one of your own5 (“And.”)

If you’re deliberate to “Yes, And!” when others offer you connection, it accomplishes two goals:

1. It signals to the other person that you’re open to connection, which means they’ll probably offer you more connection

2. It helps YOU appreciate the connection that you were offered. Sometimes we can feel lonely even when we’re well-loved, simply because we miss out on the care and connection that is offered to us. But this technique forces you to notice when connection is offered to you, and that helps you realize how many people care about you and want to connect with you.

Go

I’ve given you five ways to make friends.

Five ways to build a life with greater connection.

Five ways to, perhaps, change someone else’s life (after all, you can’t make a friend for yourself without being a friend to someone else.)

But start with just one. Pick one idea. Give it a try. (Bribe yourself with some ice cream, if that’s what it takes!)

The important thing is to start. In their most famous song, Switchfoot sings

This is your life / are you who you want to be?6

If you’re not who you want to be - if you dreamed of a life that had more connection and more purpose - this is your sign.

Pick one idea, and go.

Recently, I’ve been dogged by a strange feeling that I’m not good enough.

Not in a low self-esteem kind of way. It’s more of a “skill issue” feeling. I feel like I’m not good enough at the things I try to do.

No matter how much I accomplish, a part of my mind stays fixated on the mistakes I made along the way, or the tasks I haven’t been able to get to yet.

To be clear, this feeling is objectively bonkers.

I know that, because I still feel “not good enough” even when every possible piece of evidence contradicts that feeling.

Last week, I gave a bow to thundering applause.

My best friend1 and I had just delivered a stellar keynote. The audience leaned in, took notes - even put their phones away. During the grand finale when our wives rushed the stage to shower us in bubbles2, the room erupted in the biggest laughter I’ve ever heard from an audience.

I’ve been speaking professionally for more than a decade. I know a great talk when I see one, and we had just delivered a PHENOMENAL talk.

And yet!

Before the applause had even faded, I felt a surge of sadness and regret.

Your talk wasn’t good enough.

You didn’t have enough good ideas.

You let everyone down.

I know these feelings are not an accurate reflection of the world. I know that even if they were, my value as a person isn’t determined by how much I accomplish.

But knowing the truth doesn’t stop you from feeling the lie. And for whatever reason, I've been feeling the lie a lot recently.

That’s a big part of why it’s been a few months since I’ve last written. I’ve started writing a few different times, and each time I stop.

It’s not going to be good enough.

Not enough people will read it.

You’re going to disappoint your readers.

Nothing that I try to write feels good enough. This post certainly doesn’t.

But, I’m still choosing to write it. And I’m choosing to hit publish.

Here’s why.

A goal can be a threshold or a spectrum.

A threshold either happens or it doesn’t. Nothing else matters.

• If a sports team loses, it doesn’t matter if they lost by 1 point or 100.

• If you’re late for a flight, it doesn’t matter if you miss it by 5 minutes or 5 hours.

• And, if that plane crashes, it doesn’t matter if it crashed on takeoff or flew 1000 miles before going splat.

A spectrum, conversely, is an infinite line. You can move up and down the line, but you never reach the end.

• If I go on a walk for 10 minutes, I become a little healthier.

• If I spend 10 dollars at Taco Bell, I become a little less healthy3

The deepest lie of “not good enough” is that it trains us to view spectrums as thresholds.

Your 10 minute walk wasn’t good enough, because it wasn’t a 10 mile run.

Your talk wasn’t good enough, because it didn’t get a standing ovation.

Your writing wasn’t good enough, because it didn’t turn out exactly the way you wanted.

This is a trap.

A spectrum stretches on forever, so there will always be more that you could do. When you compare what you could have accomplished with what you actually accomplished, you’ll never feel like you did “good enough.”

But what matters is not what you could have done. What matters is what you actually did.

You created a good thing where nothing existed before. You moved the spectrum of the world closer to goodness.

Maybe you could have created a better thing. So what? The thing you made is still good, and imagining a hypothetical better thing doesn’t change that.

Maybe the thing you created is small and imperfect. So what? Kittens are small and imperfect, and the world is much better because they’re here4.

And, no great thing ever starts as a great thing anyway. We build mountains by stacking a lifetime of imperfect pebbles. The internal critic only judges your pebble because it doesn’t recognize the seed of a mountain5.

My writing feels like a threshold, like something I’ll never be good enough at.

But I believe it’s a spectrum. I believe I have infinite ways to make a good thing, and that I can add to the goodness in the world even if I never make a perfect thing.

I don’t feel that way. But I don’t need to.

I get to choose whether I follow my feelings or my beliefs.

And so, I choose to write.

Because I believe that if I can write one good word - if I can bring just one true thing into the world - it’ll be worth it.

Maybe this post sucks.

Maybe you’re the only person that will ever read it.

But maybe… that’s okay.

Perhaps there’s one good word, one tiny truth, that you can take from this and carry with you6. Maybe you’ll find something in my struggle that gives you courage or comfort in yours.

And who knows? Maybe you’ll share one good word with someone else, and we’ll build our mountain together, pebble by pebble.

There are eight billion people on earth that I could reach with my writing.

But if I can touch one, just one

that’s good enough.

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Last week at the gym, I heard my grad school clinical director.

Not her voice. But her words. Specifically, her favorite phrase:

Trust the process.

It’s not an easy job to corral a crowd of nervous psychologists-to-be. And our cohort was more nervous than most. Other students nicknamed us the “Anxious Sparkly Unicorns” because of how often we worried.1

When our unicorn brigade brought our concerns to Dr. Andrews,2 she would inevitably encourage us by saying, “Trust the process!” Generations of psychologists had developed a training program that worked. If we stuck with it, our rough clinical edges would be smoothed out. Our career paths would become clear. We just had to show up every day and let the process work.

You can trust the process with more than just grad school, of course. At the gym, I heard “Trust the process” from a video about the wrestler Zion Clark3.

Zion was born without legs, and became a champion wrestler and Guinness World Record holder. When interviewed about his success, he attributed it to trusting the process.

1. He showed up every day.

2. He put in the work in.

3. He believed that the same iron and sweat that transformed others would make him strong, too.

There’s great power in trusting the process. But trust is the easy part.

When you trust the process, you sacrifice for the process. The process of becoming a psychologist demands long hours studying and painful tuition payments. The process of becoming strong requires long hours in the gym and painful denial in the cookie aisle.

That’s why we rarely commit to the process, even when we trust it. The sacrifices stack up. The discomfort rises. And we’re faced with a choice.

Do we choose the promise of eventual transformation, or immediate relief?

Most of us choose the easy path most of the time. That makes sense (easy things are easy!) But sometimes, we choose the hard path.

Why? What unlocks the hard road of transformation? Is it based on:

• How hard you try?

• Your willpower?

• How much you want the end result?

Or is the truth…none of the above?

Trying hard relies on willpower. Willpower is a finite resource, and even the strongest wills will be exhausted long before the transformation arrives.

And, let’s be honest. You’ll rarely want something in the far future more than you’ll want an immediate gratification.

Instead, the answer is love4.

Genuine transformation comes when we love the process.

I’d love to be a New York Times bestselling author.

But I don’t love that now, because it hasn’t happened. I can’t love that, in fact. It’s not real, and you can’t love a fantasy.

Getting a comment that my writing has helped someone, on the other hand?

That’s real, and I love that.

Feeling satisfied when a paragraph comes together?

That’s real, and I love that.

Smiling to myself when I put in a weird footnote?

That’s real, and I probably love that more than I should.5

I write because I learned to love the act of writing. I do trust that if I keep writing, it’ll pay off down the road. But it’s love, not trust, that actually gets me to sit down and confront the blank page.

So -

If your goal is to transform yourself, it’s not enough to find a trustworthy process. If you tried and failed at a long-term goal before, you probably trusted the process but you didn’t love the process.

But you’ll find something to love, if you keep searching. Look for something about the process that makes today’s sacrifice feel worth it - today.

That might not feel as noble. That might even require you to go about the process in a less efficient (but more enjoyable6) way.

That’s okay :)

Because when you love the process, you can commit to the process. And when love and commitment meet, magic happens.

Sometimes, this takes the form of a traditional resolution. Maybe this will finally be the year that you shed those pounds, learn that language, or land that job.

Sometimes, the goals come from regrets. We decide this is the year we’ll stop being hurt by other people, or the year that we’ll make up for the hurts we caused others.

But almost always, our goals involve change. We want more of something, less of something else. Vowing to change nothing seems like laziness, or perhaps apathy.

Certainly, any life has room to improve. And I encourage you to continue to grow and build a better life for yourself.

But please don’t forget the life that you’ve already built.

I’m sure it’s not a perfect life. But it has treasures.

• Memories that you cherish

• Hobbies that delight you

• Ways that you contribute

• Friends or family that you care for (and that care for you.)

These treasures still exist even if right now is a difficult time for you. Your life undoubtedly has bright spots - or it had bright spots in the past, and it will have them again in the future.1

So perhaps, for this new year, you can resolve not to change - not yet.

Instead of climbing a new mountain, enjoy the beautiful view that’s right in front of your eyes.

Instead of pushing yourself to make something, pause to feel something.

And instead of building a new life for yourself, make a home in the life you’ve already built.

A life filled with treasures.

I attempted a YouTube channel nearly a decade ago, and the results were…not pretty (you can look at my archives if you want to see baby Dan teaching you about social skills.)

But I’ve leveled up since then, and I want to return to YouTube as another venue for sharing ideas that help you live your best life. I’ll be sharing videos on topics very similar to the ones I discuss here: Better self-understanding, better relationships with others, and a greater ability to flourish with neurodiversity. I’m also planning to post some playful nonsense, because that makes me happy and maybe it will make you happy too.

I’m still fully committed to this Substack, and I have a few posts that I’m excited to share soon. I won’t bother you with cross-promotion in the future, but if you’re open to checking out what I’m doing on YouTube and perhaps supporting me with a comment or a share, I would be very grateful.

My first video is below. As thanks for sitting through this self-promotion, I’m also sending a link to a fun video I made years ago where I battle my cat. Thanks everyone - looking forward to sharing lots more writing with you in the new year!

My wife Elizabeth and I bought our first Christmas tree today.

Well, not our first Christmas tree ever - but our first Christmas tree as a married couple.

Being newlywed is a strange season in life, because every mundane thing is infused with the magic of “first.” The first time we make a meal together as husband and wife. The first time we travel together.

The wedding throws a lot of firsts at you all at once (first kiss, first dance, first time going through the Taco Bell drive through in a wedding dress.1) But it’s the firsts that come after where you really feel the weight.

It’s weighty because each first is anchored in commitment. This first time we made a meal together was a reminder that we’ve chosen to share our table together for the rest of our lives. The first time I left for a speaking trip and came back to her was a promise that every journey I make will always end by returning home to her.

I felt that commitment as we chose our tree. We ended up spending a little extra on a more expensive tree, because she lit up with delight when she saw it. And so our first tree became a message about the value of joy in our lives together.

When we got home and set up the tree, I said that I loved the tree and I loved her.

I was lying.

Not about loving her, of course.

I was lying because I didn’t love the tree. I like the tree just fine. It’s beautiful, and it makes our home smell like Christmas.

But I don’t love the tree, and that’s obvious from my actions.

If I wanted to love a tree, I would bring it water and fertilizer. I would make sure it was planted in good soil, with the right amount of sunlight. I wouldn’t pay someone to cut it down and bring it to me.

The strange thing is, my unloving actions towards the tree were because of my positive feelings towards the tree. I bought the tree because I liked it (and because it made Elizabeth happy.) If I hadn’t liked it, I would have had no reason to cause it to be chopped down.

That’s often the way it goes, with tree love.2

We like a tree, and then we say we love the tree, and then we harm the tree.

• Two teenagers share a first kiss under a willow, then plunge a knife into it to carve their initials.

• A hiker in a state park sees a beautiful redwood and pries off a piece of bark to take home.

• A newlywed psychologist3 buys a fir that had been chopped down and takes it home to slowly wither in his living room.

With tree love, harm isn’t the conscious goal. I didn’t want to chop down the Christmas tree. I just wanted the Christmas tree in my living room, and chopping down the tree was necessary to accomplish that.

Instead, the goal of tree love is to gain control over the tree. I want the Christmas tree in my living room, not the forest. The hiker wants the tree to be a souvenir, not a memory.

To be clear, I think tree love is perfectly fine when it comes to trees. It’s trashy to pull a piece of bark off a thousand-year old redwood, but nobody needs to apologize for buying a Christmas tree or breaking a stick off a tree to use as an imaginary sword.

The real danger is when we use “tree love” with other people.

We feel strongly towards another person. We even say that we love them.

But embedded in love is always the fear of loss. What if they leave? What if they turn away?

The more you love someone, the more you need them. The more you need someone, the more you fear losing them.

And when you’re desperately afraid of losing someone, you might do anything to pull them closer - even harm them.

As a psychologist, I have a cheat code when it comes to understanding controlling behavior. Our human desire for control stems from our need for safety. We grab for control when we feel afraid.

When a therapy client says, “I’m a control freak”, I hear “I’m afraid of something and trying desperately to prevent it.”

So in order to understand why someone is engaging in controlling behavior, I try to look beyond the control and into the deeper fear. What is the bad outcome they’re trying to prevent with their controlling behavior?

Sometimes, these fears relate to practical matters. For instance, a controlling boss might fear that their team won’t complete their tasks without micromanagement. A controlling parent might fear that their child will get into trouble without strict rules.

But most often, our deepest fears are relational. Our worst fears are often some variation of being alone, or abandoned. We are wired to need one another, and just about everyone is afraid of the people in their life turning away or leaving entirely.

And when these fears are triggered, that’s when real love can turn into tree love.

We nudge the other person to rely on us instead of building their independence - because if they need us, they’ll cling to us.

We lean too heavily on them instead of taking care of ourselves - because if we make them feel responsible for us, they’ll stick around.

We shut down heavy conversations - because if we brush the problems under the rug, we don’t have to fear our relationship buckling under the strain.

This can show up in any important relationship - family, friend, romantic partners. Anyone whose loss you fear can be someone who tempts you towards tree love.

But the thread pulls in the other direction, too. Anyone who you might be tempted to control is someone who is very important to you. And anyone who is very important to you is someone who you’re willing to fight for.

Even if the foe you’re fighting is inside yourself.

With Elizabeth, my “tree love” temptation is to avoid asking her for help. If I never need anything from her, then the scales are weighted in my direction. The part of me that fears her anger and disappointment feels protected, because how can she be mad at me if I do everything myself4?

At first glance, this might seem like real love - I’m doing so much for her!

But it’s tree love.

See, Elizabeth wants to help me. She wants to give to me, just as I want to give to her. Hiding my needs doesn’t protect her - it just takes control of the situation to prevent Elizabeth from making her own choices. That’s harmful.

The good news is that tree love is not inevitable. Nobody forced the teenagers to pick up their knife and carve those initials. Nobody is forcing me to hide my needs from Elizabeth. It’s something that I chose.

And even if you choose something once, it’s up to you whether you choose it again.

That’s what relationships are built on, after all. The trust that we’ll keep making the right choices, over and over again. Wedding vows are nice, but they’re given power by the choice to uphold the vows the next day, and the day after, and every day for a lifetime.

Relationships are also built on the trust that we’ll stop making the wrong choices. That even if my fear or hurt or selfishness causes me to take some steps on a bad path, I’ll pull back before it’s too late.

My first time coming home from a trip wasn’t just a promise that I’ll always make the choices that bring me home to her. It was a commitment that I’ll stop if I find myself making choices that lead me away from her.

In those moments where I feel a pull towards tree love with someone I care about, I have a choice.

I can control, or I can cherish.

I can take, or I can trust.

I can love them like a tree, or like a person.

You have the same choice.

Let’s both choose to love them like a person :)

You can find endless tips on self-care scrolling social media

You can sign up for self-care subscription boxes to get monthly deliveries of bath bombs and affirming stickers.

And if you really want to, you can read a book about self-care written by a frog

But what does it really mean to engage in self-care?

And why is it that self-care can often leave you feeling stressed out and empty, even after you’ve tried everything the frog recommended?

Well, most people don’t realize that there are two different kinds of self-care - and you need both of them. When you focus on one and neglect the other, it’s kind of like paddling a canoe on just one side. You can put in as much effort as you want, but you’ll just spin in a circle.

Conversely, if you understand the two forms of self care - and you learn how to identify which form you need in a particular moment - then you can gain real rejuvenation from your self-care.

The two forms of self-care are:

1. Self-Soothing: Actions that create a nice feeling, or take away a bad feeling.

2. Self-Nourishment: Actions that meet a need (but might feel uncomfortable.)

Self-Soothing

Self-soothing is what most people think of when they think of self-care.

It might look like:

• Taking a nice bubble bath

• Binge watching your favorite TV show

• Having an extra helping of ice cream

• Hitting that snooze button an extra time (or an extra dozen times)

• Buying yourself something you want but don’t need

All of these things help you feel good in the moment and chase away whatever stress you’re feeling.

And to be clear - this is important! You need to have some times when you’re not “on”, and when you can just exist and focus on feeling nice. You need to let your willpower recharge by giving in to occasional temptations. It’s not a sign of weakness or laziness, but rather just the essential reality of being a living being and not a tireless robot.

Your heart constantly beats - but it’s also constantly resting between beats. Even the hardest working muscle in your body needs rest, and even the hardest working person needs the chance to pamper themselves.

Self-Nourishment

Self-nourishment is more complicated, because it doesn’t feel the way we expect self-care to feel.

Our culture associates self-care with ease and relaxation. But self-nourishment often involves some degree of discomfort and effort.

Or to put it another way: Self-soothing makes you feel good right now, while self-nourishment causes temporary discomfort but makes you feel good later.

For instance, self-nourishment might include

• Going to bed early so you’re rested tomorrow

• Opening up to a friend about a problem you’re having

• Spending time playing an instrument or writing a poem

• Cooking yourself a healthy meal

• Scheduling that dentist appointment you’ve been putting off

While self-soothing typically revolves around passive consumption, self-nourishment involves active creation.

If you watch Netflix in a bubble bath, you’re just lying back and letting the experience happen to you. If you ask a friend for help, cook a meal, or schedule that dentist appointment, you’re taking action to build something that wasn’t there before.

What Kind of Self-Care Do You Need?

Everyone needs both self-soothing and self-nourishment. But it’s easy for people to get stuck in too much of one and neglect the other.

Of course, it’s certainly possible to neglect self-care altogether, and need both self-soothing and self-nourishment. (In that case, the important thing is to just get started - pick something from the lists above and do it!)

But if you’re trying to give yourself self-care and you still feel crummy, you’re probably overloading one form and neglecting the other. And that has real consequences.

When you’re stuck in self-soothing and neglecting self-nourishment:

• Your self-soothing actions stop feeling good, and instead just numb you out. (In other words, you start avoiding a bad feeling, instead of enjoying a good feeling.)

• When you stop engaging in self-soothing, you feel an immediate craving for more, instead of a sense of satisfaction or relief.

• You feel like your problems are piling up and you need more and more self-soothing to deal with the stress of the unsolved problems.

When you’re stuck in self-nourishment and you need more self-soothing:

• You feel like you’re always “on” and you’re constantly thinking about the next task you need to complete.

• You interrupt or cancel enjoyable activities in order to complete more “productive” tasks.

• You find it difficult to know what you’re feeling in any given moment, and find it much easier to identify what would feel productive instead of what would feel pleasant.

Giving Yourself Both Forms of Self-Care

In order to break free of burnout and feel genuine rejuvenation, you need to give yourself balanced self-care.

If you’re stuck in one form of self-care, the solution is simple - focus on the form of self-care you tend to neglect! If you’re not sure what kind of self-care you need most, then you probably need some of both.

The good news is that a little self-care goes a long way. Even taking 20 minutes here and an afternoon there can make a real impact in your well-being and ability to flourish - as long as you’re providing yourself with a balance between both forms.

And it’s easy to get started!

In order to add more self-soothing to your life:

• Make a list of activities you used to enjoy that you haven’t done in awhile - and then doing something off that list. (For instance, favorite movies you haven’t seen in a long time, hobbies you’ve neglected, etc.)

• Planning an activity that heavily involves your senses, and engage in it without distractions. For instance, have a meal at your favorite restaurant and put your phone away when your food comes so you can fully experience the flavors.

• Think about what you might do for a friend to make them smile - and then do the same thing for yourself!

• Create a protected time each week where you don’t take on any work or other responsibilities. For instance, my best friend Kyler keeps his Sunday evenings free just to relax, and plans tasks or social opportunities for other times.

• Set aside a small monthly budget just for self-soothing. For instance, give yourself $20 per week to spend on a movie, or a bath bomb, or a fancy cheese at the store.

In order to add more self-nourishment to your life:

• Make a list of creative activities that you’ve previously found fulfilling. For instance, if you used to write poetry in high school, try writing a haiku and see how that feels.

• Choose a friend or loved one that you feel close to but haven’t spent time with for awhile. Then find a way to connect with them - whether it’s sending a quick text, scheduling a phone call, or planning a hangout.

• Do one thing to take care of your health. Go to bed an hour sooner, exercise for 20 minutes, schedule that doctor’s visit, eat a gosh-darn vegetable - whatever you want. If you pick something and it doesn’t get done, that’s okay (just pick something easier and try again!)

• Make a list of the incomplete tasks that are weighing on you. Choose one thing from the list (or pick at random). Then set the rest of the list aside and focus just on doing that one thing.

• Plan at least one thing per day/week that you do for yourself, not for someone else. For instance, if you feel overloaded by work responsibilities, find a way to spend 20 minutes working on a personal goal.
  

  These lists are obviously just a starting point, and you might want to develop your own ideas. You can find new ways to self-soothe by looking for activities that are easy, feel good, and bring refreshment, and you can look for new ways to self-nourish by looking for activities that make your life easier, feel good afterwards, and bring pride and satisfaction.

It’s Okay To Be Kind To Yourself

Even though self-care has permeated our culture, it can still be difficult to commit to it.1

Sure, self-care is good for other people - but I’m too tough to need it! Or I don’t deserve it! Or I have so many responsibilities, I can’t make it a priority!

If that sounds like you…I’ll say two things.

1. Some of the top regrets of the dying2 are “I wish I hadn’t worked so hard” and “I wish I had let myself be happier.”

Maybe you’ll be the one person who gets to the end of their life and is super glad you worked all the time and deprived yourself of happiness. But I wouldn’t bet on it.

Listen to the wisdom of people who have passed on. Make your life a good one while you have the chance.

2. One of my clinical supervisors liked to tell us “A surgeon has a responsibility to take care of his tools and make sure they’re as well-maintained as possible. As a psychologist, you are the tool - and if you don’t take care of yourself, your clients will suffer.”

Whatever it is that you care about in your life - your career, your family, the cause you’re passionate about - your ability to show up is dependent on your ability to take care of yourself.

So take care of yourself!

Find one thing from the lists above - bonus points if it’s something you tend to neglect.

Try it out. See how it goes. And then keep going :)

I’m a clinical psychologist, thus the “Dr.” in “Dr. Dan’s Writing.”

In my work with clients, I find that their current struggles have often been shaped by profoundly painful experiences from their past.

Sometimes these experiences are catastrophic, like being in a car crash or a warzone. Sometimes, they’re more subtle but still painful, like being bullied or having a parent who was never around.

Within the mental health field, we often categorize these experiences as Big-T traumas (life-threatening accidents, sexual assault, etc) and little-t traumas (divorce, prolonged financial insecurity, death of a pet, etc)1.

However, when I’m working with clients, I use the language that feels most helpful to them. For some clients, labeling an experience as a trauma feels healing, but for other clients it doesn’t quite ring true. So I’ll use the wider label of “painful experience” to describe a past experience that still continues to affect a client profoundly in the present day, whether they consider it to be “traumatic” or not.

When I invite those clients to explore their painful experiences in therapy, I often get an answer like:

“What’s the point? I know what happened - maybe I’ve even told my friends about it. Why would it help to talk about it again with you?”

To answer their question, I use the model of frozen, flowing or flooded emotions. I think this model is super helpful for understanding how talking about a painful experience in therapy can help you work through it, and also as a tool for attuning to your own emotional experience. (Recognizing when you’re frozen or flooded - or at risk of becoming so - is a huge leap of emotional maturity.)

While I originally developed this metaphor for trauma work, it’s helpful for any kind difficult emotion. Some emotions might be difficult to feel even if they don’t necessarily spring from a specific painful experience, and this model can help understand how therapy can help in those situations.

As far as I’m aware, I’m the only one who uses this exact metaphor for working through trauma or painful experiences. But I believe most effective trauma therapists would recognize their own approach within my description, even if they might use different language to describe it.

In other words, I’m not trying to claim that I’ve developed a new innovative way of treating trauma (you should always be very skeptical of those sorts of claims.) Rather, this is an attempt to explain what any good therapist does when working with painful experiences, using language that’s more accessible.

The basic idea of the model is this:

1. Our emotions surrounding a painful experience often get stuck bouncing between being frozen and being flooded.

2. As long as our emotions bounce between those extremes, they cause various problems, and we can’t really move forward from them.

3. So the goal of therapy is to help you get your emotion flowing.

But what does all that mean? Well, let’s dive in.

Frozen emotions

By frozen emotions, I don’t mean crying when you hear a bad cover of “Let It Go” at karaoke. Rather, frozen emotions are emotions that you’ve walled off within yourself2. Even if you’re actively talking about a painful memory, frozen emotions stay safely iced over.

I suspect a client may be dealing with frozen emotions if we’re discussing a painful experience and the client:

• Is nonchalant, acting as though we are discussing the weather or telling a story about something that happened to someone else

• Tries to entertain me (using frequent humor or dramatic storytelling)

• Uses second or third person pronouns 3 to distance themselves from the narrative, such as saying “you” instead of “I” (eg, “It hurts when your dad dies” instead of saying “it hurt when my dad died”)

• Uses minimizing language to distance themselves from the narrative or from their emotions (eg, using “irritated” instead of “angry” or “a little sad” when they’re actually very sad)

• Becomes floaty and dissociative

We get frozen emotions when our feelings about an experience are so intense that it feels intolerable. Instead of feeling the overwhelming emotion, our psyche shuts it down and shunts it aside. When we’re reminded of the experience, we feel only numbness.

Sometimes emotions are frozen consciously - we intentionally try to avoid feeling something, or steer the conversation away from a topic we know we will trigger the emotion. Sometimes, it’s unconsciously. Often, it’s a mix of both.

Emotions might become frozen when detaching from the emotion helped us survive a painful experience. For instance, a child who experienced abuse might learn they experience less abuse if they act calm instead of crying. Or a spouse whose partner has died may feel they need to maintain a cheerful face for their children. Our psyches are loath to give up a tool that previously helped us survive, so freezing becomes the default.

Emotions might also become frozen when the emotion was far too overwhelming the first time we felt it. If an emotion flooded us, keeping it under ice can feel like the only safe option.

Of course, there’s a cost to this.

For one thing, you can’t pick and choose which emotions to numb out. If you start turning down the volume on negative emotions, then joyful emotions get quieter too.

For another, frozen emotions usually get morphed into another emotion. That loneliness you don’t let yourself feel turns into self-loathing. That grief you push aside turns into anger. (This is why therapy often ends up working with trauma even when the original presenting problem may have appeared totally unrelated.)

Plus, our psyche can only do so much to keep our emotions numb. It often needs help from outside sources - which is why people might turn to unhealthy coping mechanisms or an addiction in order to stay numb.

And…even the thickest ice will eventually crack. If you’re used to your emotions being frozen, when that glacier of emotion drops into the ocean, you end up flooded.

Flooded emotions

Flooded emotions are emotions that are overwhelming and unbearable. When someone is experiencing a flooded emotion, it’s very difficult for them to think of anything other than wanting to escape how they’re feeling.

If the flooded emotion is related to a traumatic experience, the person might feel as though they are back in the moment of the trauma, and feel all of the unsafety and fear they did in that moment. Flooded emotions might lead to panic attacks, outbursts of anger, or seemingly irrational behavior - because the person is trying anything they can to escape the emotion.

Sometimes, people get flooded by emotions because they try for too long to keep them frozen, and eventually the dam breaks and floods out all at once. Other times, people develop flooded emotions because in the past, being overwhelmed by their emotions was the only way to make the people in their life pay attention to them. And sometimes, the emotion was so uniquely painful that the person just can’t figure out how to feel it without being flooded.

Some signs of a person being flooded by an emotion are:

• Shutting down and becoming noncommunicative

• Physically withdrawing (curling up, hugging themselves, looking away)

• Becoming aggressive, shouting, or violent.

• Engaging in self-harm behavior

• Becoming agitated and panicky

• Bursting into frantic tears

There’s a flywheel effect between emotional freezing and flooding. When we’ve been flooded by an emotion once, we often fear we’ll be flooded if we feel that emotion again. So we throw that emotion in the freezer and do our best to avoid feeling it - and every time the emotion breaks free and floods us, the harder we try to keep it frozen.

Unfortunately, just like any other form of avoidance4, the longer we avoid our feelings, the more overwhelming they become. So an emotion that we typically keep frozen is even more likely to flood us when the ice breaks.

But actually feeling our feelings - without being flooded by them - is where healing comes from. That’s what it means to have flowing emotions.

Flowing emotion

Flowing emotions are healthy emotions. An emotion “flowing” is an emotion that you can feel without being overwhelmed. Since you’re not afraid of being flooded, there’s no need to freeze the emotion. It might not be pleasant to feel, but it’s not scary or dangerous, so you don’t need to avoid it.

When I work with a client in therapy, my goal is to get their emotion flowing - without letting it boil over and flood them. I want them to experience the emotion from the past experience in the context of their current moment. They can feel the fear from a traumatic experience, while also feeling the safety of being in a therapy office. They can feel the grief of a lost loved one, while also feeling the joy from the memories they carry. They can feel the helplessness of the child they were, while also feeling the strength of the adult they currently are.

In order to accomplish this, I’ll use various interventions to bring clients closer to the painful emotion if they’re frozen, and closer to their current calm and safety if they’re getting flooded. For instance, I might bring a client closer to emotion by steering the conversation towards how an experience affected them, or inviting them to pay attention to how their body is reacting to the memory. I might bring a client closer to calm and safety by leading them in a grounding exercise, or suggesting a break in the conversation.

The goal is to slowly help them feel more of the emotion, without ever reaching the point where it becomes overwhelming and intolerable. This is a delicate balance, and if it gets messed up the client can find themselves intensely flooded or deeply frozen. (That’s why you should talk this stuff out with a therapist rather than your buddy or ChatGPT.)

I can tell the client’s emotion has started flowing when:

• The client is able to feel a painful emotion, but then calm themselves down without substantial effort or outside support.

• The client is able to experience the pain of the memory, but remain an awareness of their current safety and distance from the past experience

• The client’s emotional intensity moves up or down fluidly - instead of jumping immediately from calm to overwhelm, or overwhelm to shut down.

• The client reports a sense of peace and relief after expressing the emotion

That last point is probably the biggest clue that you’re making progress towards your emotion flowing. You feel awful when you’re hit with a flooded emotion - and after the flooded emotion has iced over again. But when your emotion flows, you typically feel some relief and peace (especially if you were able to express the emotion in the presence of a caring person who can offer empathy.)

Or in the words of Judah and the Lion5,

When you feel it, when you feel it come up / Let it unravel

This is not the end / Maybe with our feelings, let's try feeling them

So my heart, don't you know / Healing starts when the unraveling unfolds

Learning how to feel a painful feeling without overwhelming it is a big part of what “processing trauma” or “working through feelings” means. Instead of being “stuck” in the way the experience felt when it first happened, you can update that feeling with all the good in your life that’s happened since then. Instead of needing to suppress an intolerable emotion (and suffer under the other emotions it morphs into), you can feel the emotion when it comes up, then get on with your day.

Of course, this isn’t the full story of what it means to heal from trauma - or any kind of painful experience. (There’s a limit to what you can fit inside a substack post.)

But I’m hopeful this will be useful in understanding what exactly is supposed to happen when you go to a therapist and try to “process your trauma” or “work through your feelings.”

And hey - if you recognized yourself in the sections on flooded or frozen emotions. This post might be a sign that it’s time to call up a good therapist6…and give your feelings the chance to flow.

Hey everyone! In order to organize all of my scraps of writing in one place, I decided to start a Substack. I’ve filled it with writing that I’ve previously done but had saved offline, plus a few blog posts imported from my old website and one post (Kind, true, necessary) that I wrote fresh to mark the occasion.

Please take a moment to look around and let me know any feedback, suggestions etc that you might have. I welcome thoughts on the Substack design and layout, the topics I write on, and the writing itself.

My plan is to focus the main content on helpful, thought-provoking nonfiction. If I end up publishing lighthearted tidbits or personal updates, I’ll separate those out in a separate section so subscribers will only get my best stuff by default.

And of course, please comment if a particular piece of writing stirred up a reaction in you - if you had an insight, if you found an idea helpful, or if something resonated with your experience.

Also, if you somehow stumbled across this without knowing about me previously… Well, first of all welcome! Second of all, you can stop by DanielWendler.com to learn who I am and why you might be interested in reading my thoughts. And third of all - shoot me a comment or DM letting me know how you discovered me, so I can possibly build on that success.

Last thing: I’d love your help in getting this off the ground. Please consider subscribing if you haven’t already. If someone you know might like a particular post, please consider sending it to them. And - if you notice I haven’t put out any new writing for awhile, please feel free to send me a nudge (it’s much easier to write when I know someone is reading!)

Thanks everyone!

-Dr. Dan

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When I was a kid, I would stim for hours at a time. I’d go into the basement of our Minnesota house and race around, flapping my arms while going on vivid imaginary adventures. Some days I was a Jedi knight, other days an elven warrior.

I didn’t know what I was doing was called stimming, but it happened often enough that my family developed our own term for it. We called it “jumping around” and it became a part of our daily conversation. It was normal for me to tell my mom “I’m going to go jump around” or for one parent to ask the other “Where’s Daniel? Is he jumping around?”

Autistic people stim in different ways. Some people rock back and forth, or jump up and down, or shake an object. While my family called my stimming “jumping around,” the core of how I stim involves my arms (I would run and jump too, but that was just me being a kid thrilled by the imaginary adventure I was on.)

How I Stim

When I was diagnosed, the psychologist described what I do as “flapping”, but that’s not quite right either. Flapping conjures up images of someone with arms spread wide imitating a bird’s flight. My stimming is different. I extend my arms in front of me about halfway, then pull them back to my chest, over and over. I’ll usually combine the movement with a noise deep in my chest that sounds kind of like “unch” although I can enjoy stimming even without the noise.

I can also stim by flipping an object and then catching it. When I would “jump around” as a kid I had a yellow plastic tube I would flip as I “flapped” As an adult, I don’t generally combine the sensations but when I need to covertly stim I’ll flip a pen over and over.

There are a lot of details that are required for an object to be suitable for flipping. The object needs to have some substance but not be too heavy, and I need to be able to flip it with a gentle movement (throwing the object up and catching it doesn’t feel satisfying, nor does flipping by curling my arm instead of my wrist. I have to combine the wrist sensation of flipping with the palm sensation of the object landing.) With my poor handwriting I rarely take notes, which means if you see me carrying a pen it’s probably for stimming and not for writing.

Autistic people stim for different reasons, too. Some autistic people stim when they’re overwhelmed or anxious, or when they’re feeling joyful, or in response to their special interest.

How I Stim

For me, stimming has a particular purpose. I’ll experience a desire to stim, and when I stim in response it feels satisfying, like scratching an itch or drinking a glass of water when you’ve been thirsty for a while. Stimming also makes me feel more present and focused in whatever is happening. If I stim in response to a game, the game feels more exciting and enjoyable. If I’m in class or working on a project and stim, my mind is clearer and it’s easier to avoid distraction.

If I feel the desire to stim and I don’t let myself stim, it’s distracting and uncomfortable, like the way you might feel if there was an insect crawling on your skin and you couldn’t brush it off. It builds over time, so the longer I suppress it, the more uncomfortable it feels. If I don’t feel the desire to stim, then there’s no benefit to me stimming – I can still do the movement, but it doesn’t create any sense of satisfaction.

Sometimes my desire to stim comes out of nowhere, but usually it’s in response to certain types of stimuli or situations. When I was a child, my special interests would cause me to stim, and I have many memories of running around the mall stimming in response to the video games and Star Wars toys.

As an adult, I still stim in response to video games, but my desire to stim usually comes from more unconventional places. One of my unusual triggers for stimming is awareness that something is “processing.” I’ll often stim when watching the timer on a microwave tick down as my food cooks or in front of my computer as a download bar fills up. I’ll also leave ice cubes on the sidewalk so I can be aware that they’re melting, and if I see an hourglass in a store I’ll inevitably turn it over.

Just like my “flipping” motion would only be satisfying if I followed specific rules, there are specific criteria that result in my brain determining that something is “processing.” If they’re not met, I don’t feel a desire to stim. For instance, it doesn’t count if I just set a timer but nothing is actually happening, or if something is happening but it won’t reach a clear point of being “done.”

I don’t have any particular interest in microwaves, downloads, or the physics behind ice melting, so I have no idea why my brain has decided these things processing should prompt stimming. I just know that it adds a lot of happiness to my life.

Dr. Stephen Shore famously said “If you’ve met one autistic person you’ve met…one autistic person.” I’m sure that other autistic people experience stimming differently than me. But I’m also sure that their experience is just as deep and complex as my own.

If you’re autistic, I hope that your stimming brings you a lot of satisfaction. And if you love an autistic person, I hope you take the time to better understand how they uniquely experience their stimming.

Stimming and Shame

This is especially important because deep shame has been attached to stimming. Other autistic people have shared terrible stories of being silenced, berated and in some cases physically abused by caretakers who attempted to stifle their stimming behavior. (A quick search online for “quiet hands” will yield stories that will churn your stomach.)

I never experienced anything like that, but I still internalized the stigma around stimming. Over time, I realized that stimming marked me as “different” and “other.” I was desperate to belong, and I would do anything to fit in. So I silenced myself.

I remember telling my Mom “Don’t look, don’t look” when she came down to the basement. In public, I would push my desire to stim down, even though it felt like letting bugs crawl on my skin.

Eventually, I reached the point where I became incapable of stimming in front of someone else. I can still do my covert stimming of flipping a pen in public – and thank goodness for that (I don’t think I would have made it through college, let alone graduate school without it.)

But my deepest, most fulfilling stimming, where I reach out in excitement and pull satisfaction and the ability to be fully present to myself, where I let out a guttural cry from deep, deep inside myself… Nobody in my adult life has ever seen that.

I have people in my life who love me very much, who I know would absolutely respond with acceptance if I chose to stim in front of them. I’ve even had a partner, someone who I was deeply vulnerable with in many other ways, ask me if she could see me stim.

But I can’t do it. Somewhere along the way, I learned that if I wanted people to accept me, I couldn’t stim in front of them.

I know that’s not true. But on some deep, deep level, it still feels true.

One day, I hope I’ll be able to stim freely in front of the people that love me. But until then, stimming remains a hidden part of myself.

Stimming and You

So again, I’ll speak to my readers who are autistic. I’ll tell you that there is nothing wrong with your stimming. Yes, there might be certain situations when it makes sense to hold it back temporarily, and it’s a good idea to develop a covert stim like I have. But the most important thing is not to learn how to stim “correctly.” It’s to realize that the people who really love you will love you no even when you stim.

And again, I’ll speak to my readers who are not autistic. I’ll tell you that if you have an autistic person in your life and you see them stimming, let yourself be glad that they get to experience such an incredible gift – and let them know that it brings you joy to see them stimming.

My first memory of grief was when I lost the carpet in my closet.

I don’t remember exactly how old I was – first or second grade perhaps. I had lived in the same room of my Minnesota house my entire life, and it was the same and it was safe. My bunk bed was always the same, with my bed tucked underneath and the bed above waiting for a cousin to sleep over. The fan was always the same, planted in the corner and wafting a comforting breeze across my room.  And my closet was always the same, with the faded carpet that was scratchy between my toes.

I don’t remember why my parents decided the carpet had to go. I suppose it was old and faded, and perhaps they were looking ahead to the day we’d have to sell the house.

I just remember the spike of anguish I felt when I was told the carpet would be replaced. I remember going into the closet and lying on the floor, grabbing as much scratchy fabric as my small hands could hold and pressing my face into the carpet so my tears could soak into it. Nobody teaches a child how to mourn a carpet, but I was doing my best.

To be clear, there were no profound memories attached to this carpet. I didn’t spend much time in my closet, and I doubt I thought at all about the carpet until I was about to lose it.

But it was a tiny yet essential part of my comfort zone. The world outside my room was frightening and unknowable. Other children could be cruel. Teachers might get upset with me for reasons that I could not decipher. My family might take me to a restaurant where the sensations of chatter and smell would assail and overwhelm me.

But in my room, I was okay. I had control. I could close the door to block out all noise, feel the pleasant sensation of the fan across my face, take my toys on an uninterrupted imaginary adventure. I didn’t think about my closet carpet, because I didn’t have to. Every time I padded into my closet, I knew what to expect, and I knew it would be okay every single time, and I never had to be afraid.

I adjusted to the new carpet eventually. But I never found a way back to that perfect security of my childhood room, with the door closed and the fan blowing and everything safe and good.

I think that’s okay, though. It is a unique gift of childhood that you can have so many experiences that are both good and safe. But real life often requires you to choose between safety and joy.

The week before I graduated college, I went with the girl I loved to a tunnel underneath a bridge. I was about to move away and our relationship was about to end. We wanted to create something permanent, to make a physical representation of what we had meant to each other.

So together we painted a rose, and we wrote a lyric from our favorite song, and we dipped our thumbs in the paint and pressed them together to the tunnel wall. Then she picked up her brush again and added some splashes of red.  When she leaned away, I saw that she had made the rose bleed.

I asked her why –it seemed like a grim addition to a symbol of our relationship. She smiled and said, “Daniel, when something bleeds you know it’s alive.”

I didn’t understand at the time (and the security guard who caught us trespassing and shooed us away prevented an explanation!) But looking back, I understand.

It was her way of saying “Losing you hurts because we made something real together – and that’s worth the pain.”

The “safe” path would have been for us to stay walled off from one another. We could have treated the relationship like a superficial fling, just for fun. We could have hardened ourselves instead of becoming tender.

But if we had, my grief for her would have been like my grief for the carpet – forgotten after a few days.

Instead, there’s a part of me that will always be shaped by what we shared. Even if the fingerprints we pressed to the tunnel wall fade away, the fingerprints we left on each other’s souls will remain. My life is so much richer because she was in it, even though it was temporary, even though it hurt to lose her.

Real life doesn’t happen inside a room by yourself, with the door closed and the fan on and nothing ever changing. Real intimacy can’t happen inside your comfort zone.

If you want to live fully alive, you’re signing up to bleed.

But man, it’s worth it.

As an autistic kid, I was prone to blurting out a lot of…unfortunate truths.

The most famous incident was during a family Christmas. As a kid, I loved video games, candy, and Warhammer 40K miniatures. As I opened up gift after gift filled with nothing but clothing, my frustration rose.

Finally, I cried out “I don’t want these…DUM DUM CLOTHES!”

My poor grandmother (who had spent weeks picking out nice outfits for me and wrapping them up with love) was shell shocked. And my Dad realized something needed to be done.

He pulled me aside and helped me calm down, then asked me to apologize to my grandmother. I could see that she was upset, but I didn’t understand why I needed to apologize. After all, I had said the truth. I didn’t want the clothes.

My Dad explained,

“It’s not enough for something to be true.

If it might hurt someone’s feelings, you need to ask:

1. Is it kind?

2. Is it true?

3. Is it necessary?

Unless all three are true, it’s best to avoid saying it.”

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve relaxed my Dad’s standard a bit. Typically, I find that if 2/3 of those criteria are met, then I don’t regret saying something.

For instance:

• Telling someone firmly that they’ve violated a boundary may not feel kind, but it’s true and it’s necessary.

• Telling a friend you love their new hairstyle might not be necessary, but it’s kind and (hopefully) it’s true.

• Saying something kind and necessary but not true is the exception to this rule - typically, it’s best avoided unless it’s very kind or very necessary.

Although I’ve gotten better at appreciating clothing gifts, I still use my Dad’s wisdom about how to handle tricky truths. When I’m uncertain about saying something that might cause hurt, I ask myself

Is it kind? Is it true? Is it necessary?

I encourage you to do the same :)

There’s a YouTube video of actor Shia LeBeouf giving a motivational speech in front of a green screen. He stares at the camera for a poignant moment, then yells

“DO IT!”

He pauses, then explains his idea further.

“Just… DO IT!”

It’s a fun video – and can be legitimately helpful. If you’re looking for a bit of motivation to finally wash those dirty dishes, a few minutes with Shia might be enough to spur you into action.

Unfortunately, “Just DO IT” doesn’t work very well over the long term.

Anyone can muster up a few moments of effort when Shia Lebeouf yells at them. But sticking with a goal takes sustained effort, and “Just DO IT” becomes less effective every time you hear it.

Now, I don’t think most people play Shia’s video every time they need to accomplish something. But I do think it’s easy for a subconscious Shia to lurk in your mind.

Here’s what I mean.

You have something you need to accomplish, but it’s not getting done.

It’s not a big or hard thing (at least, it doesn’t seem that way.) So you feel like you should be able to just…DO IT! You try to push yourself to take action and….

Nothing happens.

Subconscious Shia continues yelling. “It’s so easy! Just write that email! Take out that trash! Hit the gym! JUST DO IT ALREADY”

And we keep listening. We buy into this belief that since we “should” be able to complete this task, we just need to keep pushing. But the more we push (and fail), the harder it becomes to actually take action.

This is because we get caught by the Avoidance Anchor – which drags us into the Shame Spiral.

The bad news? I’m going to keep using cheesy alliteration (sorry not sorry)

The good news? Once you understand how these ideas keep you stuck, you’ll learn how to break free. And your first insight is just around the corner.

The Avoidance Anchor

Your imagination is a miraculous thing. You can design entire worlds, dream up characters you’ve never met, and make books you read come alive.

Right now, I’m going to ask you to use your incredible imagination to picture… calling the dentist. (Feel free to imagine something more interesting later.)

Chances are, scheduling a dental appointment isn’t your idea of a good time. You have to wrestle with your busy schedule, you have to talk to a stranger over the phone (yuck) and – worst of all – you’ll eventually have to GO TO THE DENTIST as a result.

So when you look at “Call the dentist” in your to-do list, you don’t think about healthy teeth. You think about all that anticipated stress and you feel a spike of anxiety. And whenever anxiety appears, avoidance is soon to follow.

See, avoidance comes with a compelling offer. It says “Instead of calling the dentist and feeling all that anxiety and stress, what if you just….didn’t?”

That sounds pretty good to you, so you decide to skip calling the dentist for today. Immediately, your anxiety disappears, followed by a nice feeling of relief.

And just like that – the Avoidance Anchor wraps around your ankle and starts pulling you down.

The next time you think about the dentist, you remember feeling stressed and anxious, and you remember the relief that avoidance brought you. So you choose to skip calling the dentist again.

Each time you do, it makes calling the dentist feel a little more stressful and difficult, which makes avoidance a little more tempting and automatic. After you avoid something several times, it can feel almost impossible to break out of avoidance autopilot and finally take action.

You might not even realize it’s happening. After all, we don’t consciously think through every decision to procrastinate on an assignment or go to the gym…tomorrow. But on a subconscious level, your mind is constantly learning, and what you’ve taught it is that trying = scary and avoidance = relief.

This is why we can struggle to answer an email that’s sat in our inbox for two weeks, but immediately respond to an email that came in today (or easily unload the dishwasher you just ran, but ignore the clothes that have been slowly wrinkling in the dryer.) The deeper the Avoidance Anchor pulls you down, the harder it is to find your way back to the surface.

But that’s not the worst part. When avoidance becomes habitual – when you put things off over and over and over again – you can get pulled into the Shame Spiral. That’s where the real problems begin.

The Shame Spiral

Before we talk about the shame spiral, we should define shame. (You’re on your own if you need help defining “spiral.”)

Shame is best understood in contrast to guilt. Guilt is the emotion we feel when we did something wrong. Guilt is uncomfortable, but it’s actually a pretty useful emotion. Guilt tells us:

• Hey, you did something wrong

• Try to fix it or apologize

• Learn from your mistake so it’s less likely to happen again

In contrast, shame is the emotion we feel when we start to believe that we didn’t DO something wrong, but that we ARE wrong. Shame tells us

• You did this because you suck

• There’s no point in fixing it; you’re just going to do it again because you suck

• There’s no point in trying again; just give up because you suck and you’ll always suck

(Swap in whatever word your own self-critical voice uses in place of “suck.”)

Shame is intensely destructive.

It isolates us from the people that care about us (because we’d rather hide than risk them rejecting us the way we reject ourselves.)

It fuels self-destructive or addictive patterns (because we’ll take anything that lets us numb out and forget our shame for a second.)

And it kills our motivation to change (because we believe that we can’t.)

Avoidance can lead naturally to shame. Avoid something enough times, and you start to wonder… what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I do this thing that seems like it should be easy? I must be lazy/bad/incapable/etc.

And then shame leads to more avoidance. Now, the worst part of calling the dentist isn’t the call itself. It’s the fact that thinking about the dentist means confronting your failure. Here’s how it works:

1. You remember that you’ve been putting off this “small” thing for a long time.

2. Shame takes the opportunity to send self-critical thoughts swirling through your mind.

3. Those thoughts make you feel awful, so you distract yourself with something else.

4. The dentist goes uncalled, avoidance becomes more automatic, and your shame belief – that you’re lazy/bad/whatever – feels a little more undeniable.

This is the shame spiral in a nutshell. And if you’re not careful, it can metastasize. As you start to believe that you’re lazy/bad/whatever, shame can trigger anytime a new task has any kind of difficulty or resistance. Avoidance becomes your default, and change starts to feel impossible. This might be limited to a specific category of actions (like schoolwork or social connection), or you might reach a place where doing just about anything triggers the shame spiral.

Now we understand why “JUST DO IT” doesn’t work. You don’t need to JUST DO the thing itself. You need to break out of a long pattern of avoidance, and you need to endure an excruciating reminder of shame. That takes more than Shia LeBeouf can offer.

Fortunately, there’s a way forward. We can side-step the shame spiral and build motivation that works.

But first, we need to ask an important question. Why do dogs pee on the carpet?

Compassionate curiosity

I HAVEN’T WRITTEN THIS NEXT SECTION YET SORRY

But I figure it’s better to publish and get feedback than continue to avoid this post and let the Avoidance Anchor drag me down.

So let me know what you think and if it’s worth continuing!

Setting boundaries can be difficult, but it doesn’t have to be complicated. You just need to understand what a boundary is, and what it isn’t.

At its core, a boundary is an if-then statement.

When you set a boundary, you inform the other person IF they make a certain choice, THEN you will respond in a certain way. A boundary is based in concrete action. The IF is a specific, clear action the other person might take, and the THEN is a specific, clear action that you will take in response.

The purpose of a boundary is to ensure that your needs are met, regardless of what the other person does. If they make a choice that meets your needs, awesome. If their choice doesn’t meet your needs, then you have a planned action ready to go that will ensure you are okay.

You’re still allowing them to make whatever choice they want. But you’re letting them know ahead of time what your response will be, so they can be fully aware of the consequences of their choice and make an informed decision.

For instance, let’s say you have a friend who often arrives late to a movie night that you organize. You get frustrated waiting for the friend to arrive, so you set a simple boundary. You say IF they arrive late, THEN they’ll miss the start of the movie because you will begin it on time.

The friend can still freely choose to show up late. But now they’re aware that the negative consequences of their choice will go to them, not to you. They get to make an informed choice and no matter what they choose, you’ll be okay.

Boundaries vs ultimatums

A boundary is not an attempt to control. Again, the other person can still make whatever choice they want. Where a boundary crosses into control is when the consequences are based in manipulation or punishment.

Manipulation is when you use the other person’s empathy and care for you as a weapon to get them to do what you want. Saying “If you show up late I’m going to have a nervous breakdown and it’ll be all your fault” is manipulation.

Punishment is when you threaten an artificial, vindictive consequence. Saying “If you show up late to my movie night I’ll show up late to your birthday party” is punishment.

When you use manipulation or punishment, you’re giving an ultimatum, not setting a boundary. An ultimatum is an attempt to control the other person by making it so they can only meet their needs if they do what you want.

In contrast, a boundary makes sure your needs are met, but doesn’t stop them from making their own choices or meeting their own needs. (Your boundary might mean you don’t meet their needs for them, but you’re not stopping them from meeting their needs on their own.)

While an ultimatum inflicts artificial consequences, a fair boundary causes consequences that are a natural result of the other person’s choice.

Most likely, their choice is probably already causing some kind of negative consequence (otherwise you wouldn’t feel the need to set the boundary.) In that case, all you need to do to set a boundary is refuse to take that consequence onto yourself, thus causing them to experience it instead. In our movie night example, instead of you feeling frustrated because you have to wait, your friend feels frustrated because they miss the start of the movie.

If there’s no obvious negative consequence to transfer on to them, often the fair boundary is to simply remove yourself from the situation. For instance, let’s say your friend arrives on time to the movie night, but they insist on watching a horror movie that will give you nightmares. You don’t need to say “If you do that you’re a terrible friend because I’ll be scared for a week” (manipulation) or “If you do that I’ll creep into your bedroom in a monster mask to scare you back” (punishment.). You can just say “You can watch the movie if you want, but I’m going to go into another room and do something else if you do.”

How to create a boundary

Remember, the purpose of a boundary is to ensure your needs are met. So if you’re struggling to design a boundary, it’s usually helpful to first identify what you need from the situation.

To determine your needs, just ask yourself “What feels important to me in this situation?”

Your answer should generally take the form of an “I” statement. For instance,

• “It’s important that I feel safe”

• “It’s important that I get enough sleep tonight”

• “It’s important that I can show off the project I worked hard on.”

If your initial answer focuses on another person (ie, “It’s important that Joe stops interrupting me”), try to explore it until you can turn it into an “I” statement. For instance, you might realize Joe’s interruptions make you feel disrespected, and therefore say “It’s important that I feel respected.”

If your initial answer includes several different needs, try asking yourself “Which need is most important?” Once you’ve identified your most important need, ask yourself “If this need was met, would I be okay without the other needs?” You might find that you have multiple critical needs, but often you’ll find you have just one or two core needs and everything else is more of a “want”.

Once you identify your core need(s), ask yourself two questions.

First, “What could the other person do (or not do) to meet that need for me?” This will create the first part of the boundary (the “if”).

Make sure you find reasonable options that could be acceptable to the other person. Whatever you ask for should feel fair and doable.

Second, “If the other person can’t meet that need, what could I do to meet that need for myself?” This will create the “then” part of the boundary.

Let’s take the need “It’s important that I get enough sleep tonight” as an example. Perhaps you are attending your friend’s birthday party, and you’re worried it will run late.

Your friend could meet the need for you by ending the party early, but that’s a bit extreme and would probably compromise your friend’s need to have the birthday they wanted. A better option might be for them to do the cake and happy birthday song earlier, since that’s typically the most important part of a birthday party. That way, you could be there for the heart of the celebration, and you could leave when you needed to.

But remember, we want you to be able to meet your needs no matter what they choose. A good way to accomplish that would be if you decided, “I’m going to leave by 9 PM, even if the cake hasn’t happened yet.”

Putting that together, your boundary would be “Hey, is there any way you could move the cake ceremony earlier in the evening? I’d like to sing happy birthday to you, but I will need to leave by 9 PM even if we haven’t had cake yet.”

You’re not forcing the other person to change their plans, and you’re also not forcing yourself to stay up all night. You’re just giving the other person an opportunity to meet your needs, and communicating your plan for meeting your own needs if they choose not to meet them for you.

You may have noticed that the boundary wasn’t worded strictly as “If you don’t move the cake earlier, I will leave at 9 PM.” Boundaries don’t have to be literal if/then statements – it’s okay to preface a boundary with a request, or otherwise try to make the wording more friendly. As long as the core if/then idea is clear, you can word it in whatever way feels comfortable for you.

The exception is situations where someone is pushing your boundaries. In those scenarios, it’s best to make the boundary as clear and explicit as possible, which typically means going straight to “If you X, then I will Y” language.

Making flexible boundaries

When designing a boundary, you might want to set escalating tiers of consequences. For instance, let’s say you have a friend who sometimes makes offensive jokes. You might set a boundary that “If you make an offensive joke around me, I’m going to give you one warning, and then after that I’m going to leave the conversation.”

This gives you the ability to have a lighter consequence in case they made an honest mistake, but still have a strong consequence in reserve in case they are attempting to push your boundary or ignore your needs. It also makes it easier for you to enforce the boundary, since it might feel more fair to enforce the boundary after giving a warning.

You may also give the person multiple ways to meet your needs and thereby avoid a consequence. For instance, you might say “If you arrive late, and you didn’t tell me you were running late, then I’ll start the movie without you.” That creates more flexibility by allowing the person to either arrive on time or let you know they’ll be late.

Flexible boundaries are a privilege, not a right. If someone pushes your boundaries or otherwise makes you feel unsafe, you should move immediately to strict, explicit boundaries that you fully enforce.

When to set a boundary

In most well-functioning relationships, you won’t need to set boundaries very often. Instead, you can simply use requests.

A request is when you express a desire or a need without any kind of consequence attached to it. For instance, “I don’t want to watch a horror movie, let’s watch something else instead” would be a request, not a boundary. Making requests feels more friendly and casual than setting a boundary.

However, even well-intentioned people can sometimes misunderstand your requests, or fail to recognize that a request is important to you. In those situations, it’s a good idea to set a boundary. It allows you to communicate your needs in a clear an explicit way, so there’s no chance for misunderstanding.

Setting a boundary doesn’t necessarily mean that you distrust or dislike the other person. In the same way that “good fences make good neighbors”, communicating your boundaries to friends or loved ones can help make sure they don’t inadvertently make choices that hurt you.

If it seems the other person isn’t understanding your request, or doesn’t realize the importance of the request, setting a clear boundary will ensure they understand.

Boundaries are also useful for protecting yourself.

Unfortunately, some people might ignore your needs even if you communicate them clearly. Boundaries give you a defined plan of action that ensures your needs are still met even if the other person ignores your requests. If a friend insists on showing a horror movie that will give you nightmares, all you have to do is follow your boundary of “I’m going to leave” and you’ll avoid the nightmares.

Boundaries also protect you by showing you who is trustworthy, and who is not. Trustworthy people will do their best to adhere to your boundaries. They might make mistakes at times, but they won’t pressure you to change your boundaries or make you feel guilty for enforcing them.

In contrast, people who are not trustworthy will often push your boundaries, trying to get you to change your mind. Or they might cross your boundary and then get mad at you for enforcing it, making it seem as though you are in the wrong even though they were the one who crossed the boundary.

If this happens consistently, this is a strong warning sign. Someone who is not respectful of your boundaries in one area is unlikely to respect your boundaries in any other area. If someone constantly challenges your boundaries, it’s generally a good idea to significantly limit how much that person is in your life and how much you trust them.

Enforcing boundaries

Each time you successfully enforce a boundary, it teaches the other person to take your boundaries seriously. Each time the other person successfully pressures you to change or ignore a boundary, it teaches them to pressure you more in the future. So following through on your boundaries is critical.

In order to enforce a boundary, all you need to do is take the action you stated in the boundary. Just as “no” is a complete sentence, you’re under no obligation to explain yourself – it’s fine to just do what you promised you were going to do (whether that’s leaving, starting the movie, etc.)

However, it can feel uncomfortable to enforce a boundary without any explanation, and sometimes the other person might complain or be confused. Because of this, I recommend reminding the person of the boundary, as well as letting them know when they have a second chance to avoid the consequence.

A simple format you can use is

• “I told you that if you do X, I was going to do Y.

• “You just did X, so now I am doing Y.”

• “I’ll see you tomorrow, and as long as you don’t do X I won’t do Y.”

For instance,

• “I told you that I don’t like hanging out with you when you’re high and I would leave if you smoked while I was visiting.

• “You just took a fat bong rip, so I’m going to leave.”

• “Next time we hang out I’m happy to stay longer as long as you wait to smoke until after I leave.”

Often, the other person will apologize and ask you to avoid enforcing the boundary this time. If the other person generally respects your boundaries, it can be okay to give a warning the first time and enforce the boundary the second time. However, if someone frequently pushes your boundaries, you generally want to fully enforce them each time.

Enforcing boundaries is a skill and, just like any skill, you can get better. If you struggle with setting or enforcing boundaries, you may want to consider working with a therapist. Most therapists can help you develop your ability to enforce boundaries, and figure out your needs so you can design effective boundaries.

You might also try asking trustworthy friends and loved ones to help you practice enforcing boundaries. Enforcing small boundaries with safe people is a great way to build your ability to enforce more important boundaries with less trustworthy people.

Creating failsafes

Sometimes, it can be extremely difficult to enforce a boundary. Perhaps the other person is someone very close to you, like a partner or a family member. Perhaps the other person is very pushy and difficult to oppose. Or maybe you just don’t have much practice enforcing boundaries yet.

In those cases, a failsafe is your best friend.

A failsafe is an action you take before you anticipate someone might push your boundary, to make it easier for you to enforce the boundary.

For instance, let’s say you decided to stop drinking, but you’re going to dinner with a friend who enjoys alcohol and will probably try to buy you a drink.

You could make a request (asking your friend not to offer you a drink), but they might ignore this request.

You could set a boundary (saying if they offer you a drink, you will leave). But perhaps this friend is kind of pushy, and you’re afraid you might change your mind in the moment.

That’s where you can create a failsafe. One failsafe might be to leave your ID at home. The restaurant can’t serve you alcohol without it, so even if your friend successfully pressures you nothing will happen.

Another failsafe might be to bring a different friend with you to the dinner who you trust to shut down the first friend if they attempt to pressure you.

You might even consider calling the restaurant ahead of time and asking them not to serve you alcohol. Might feel a little awkward, but certainly better than regretting your decision to drink!

For another example, we can revisit our late-to-the-movie-night scenario. A failsafe might be to have the movie night at a theater instead of your home. You might be tempted to delay the start of the movie, but the theater doesn’t care, and your friend will quickly learn the consequences of arriving late.

Some boundaries are easier to create failsafes for than others. But just as removing yourself from a situation is a boundary consequence that almost always works, not entering a situation in the first place is as close as you’ll get to a universal failsafe.

Worried your friends might encourage you to stay out late the night before you have a big presentation? Maybe don’t hang out with your friends that night.

Afraid a Tinder match might push your sexual boundaries? Meet them in a public place, and wait to go somewhere private until a future date where you’re confident they’ll respect your limits.

Constantly pressured by someone to change your boundaries? Honestly, maybe the best failsafe is to let that person go from your life.

Examples/exercises

A friend frequently invites you to expensive restaurants that are outside your budget

Examples of requests:

• These restaurants are out of my budget, can we eat somewhere else instead?

• Do you mind if I eat dinner beforehand, and I’ll just order an appetizer to munch on?

• Could we cook dinner together instead?

Examples of boundaries:

• I want to hang out with you, but if you invite me to a fancy restaurant I’m going to have to say no

• If you invite me to a fancy restaurant, then I’m going to eat beforehand and only order an appetizer.

• If you invite me to a fancy restaurant, you will need to promise to pay my tab or I can’t come.

To burn your boats is to create an artificial point of no return. Conquering leaders from ages past would order their armies to burn the boats that had brought them to a foreign land, making retreat impossible. Success or death became the only options.

Sometimes, the only way forward is to make sure there’s no way back. Sometimes you do need to take a risk, make a leap, sign your name, speak the words that will change everything.

And sometimes burning the boats is just an excuse to not do the work. A sudden proposal is an easy way to feel close to your partner — certainly easier than choosing daily acts of love. A swanky entrepreneurship conference is more fun than sitting alone working on your business. If you burn a big enough boat, it’s easy to forget that you haven’t stepped off the beach.

When the ancients burned their boats, it was after they had sailed across an entire ocean. It was after they worked, day after day, to reach that far shore. Burning the boats was their last leap of faith, not their first

.

December 2019

My kitten Meowster passed away today. She died wrapped in her favorite blanket and she was purring and leaning into my hand when she passed peacefully into sleep.

She came home with me on Oct 25. I was not planning to adopt a cat, but when I visited her in the store she came right up to me and curled up in my lap. When it was time to go and I put her aside, she immediately climbed back in. She chose me, and when a cat chooses you you don’t have much of a choice.

She was sick when I got her, and started to show symptoms within a week. Despite the best care I could give her, her disease of FIP is 100% fatal for cats and she reached a point where the kindest thing I could do was let her go. I am comforted by the knowledge that if I had not adopted her, the shelter likely would have put her down when she began to show symptoms. This way, she got to have a life even though it was brief.

And it was a good life. She liked to play with her rainbow cat dancer toy, and she would sit in her cat condo and look out over the world. Despite her name, she rarely meowed – she would chirrup when she was excited and squeak when she wanted my attention. When I started turning on the TV to watch a movie, she learned to jump on the chair so she could be ready to watch it with me, and our last nights together were special because each night was a Meowster movie. Towards the end, when her appetite faded, she was able to try exciting new flavors – sardines and tuna, turkey and popcorn, and her absolute favorite, ranch dressing.

More than anything, she enjoyed cuddling, and she would happily spend hours in my arms or on the lap of anyone who came near her. She truly loved everyone that she came in contact with, and she was quick to forgive when I had to give her medication or take her to be poked and prodded at the vet.

Before she died, I had the opportunity to say some words to her. This is what I said:

“At first, I waited to name you because I wanted to know who you are.

Now I know you.

And so I name you Meowster the Good, because every part of you is good.

I name you Meowster the Brave, because you fought to take every scrap of joy you could in the face of a terrible foe.

I name you Meowster the Clever, because you knew how to find every hidden place in my apartment.

I name you Meowster the Wise, because you knew to ask me to take you home.

I name you Meowster the Gentle, because you never caused pain to others even when you were in pain.

I name you Meowster the Open-Hearted, because you were a friend to all you met.

I name you Meowster the Everlasting, because you will live on as I carry you in my heart.

And I name you Meowster the Beloved, because I love you.

Go in peace to the place with no more pain, knowing who you are, and knowing that you were well loved and that you loved well.

Goodbye, my littlest friend.”

Jack stared morosely at the bowl in front of him. The stew here was better than most taverns in town, but he’d barely tasted the few bites he’d taken. His senses were occupied by the shapes barely visible in the corner of his eye. Don’t look at them Jack, you’ll only encourage them. Just eat your stew. Holy light above, you’re not in a place to waste coin. The rational part of his mind muttered sound advice which the rest of Jack promptly ignored.

With a sigh, he turned to the crowd that had gathered around him. They gasped, awed by his attention and oblivious to his frustration in equal measure. “It’s really him!” cried a young woman, somewhere in the middle of the throng.

At least it was only about a half dozen this time. Better than usual, but still too many for any chance to slink back to an anonymous dinner.  Jack had chosen a table far from the fire, hoping to hide in the shadows. Unfortunately, this just meant there were no patrons to stop the gawking crowd from claiming the benches nearest him.

By the looks of the barmaid coming with their fresh order of drinks they had settled in for a long evening of bothering Jack. They wouldn’t budge without a show, and Jack resigned himself to the inevitable.

Turning in his seat, Jack sized up the group. Two portly caravan merchants, their boots still dusty from the road. An old man deep in his cups, his white beard stained yellow around the mouth. A town guard, trying to look stern and professional but failing to hide the excitement in his eyes. And two tittering young women in homespun clothing and glinting jewelry – noble daughters pretending to be commoners, out for a bit of slumming.

He pointed his stew spoon at his unwanted admirers, his expression as serious as if he was wielding forged steel. “Yes, I’m Jack the…” he sighed heavily “dragon slayer. You found him. Congratulations and huzzah.”

Jack stood and made a sarcastic sweeping bow, flicking the remains of his stew on the guardsman’s boots as he waved his hand. “I’m sure this must be very exciting to all of you, but it is less so for me. So I will answer the questions I always get so I can go back to my rapidly cooling dinner.”

“Yes, I killed the dragon that burned Towsen and ate a half-dozen of the king’s knights. No, it wasn’t easy. Yes, I was scared.”

Jack suppressed a shudder through long practice, his mind flashing back to the worst day of his life. Gasping for air and pulling in nothing but heat, the dragon’s fire burning away all the oxygen in the cave. The rows and rows and rows of teeth. The sword in his hand, useless as a child’s toy. He hadn’t even noticed when he dropped it.

He fixed his gaze on the two young women, aiming the spoon at each in turn as if to skewer them one by one. “No, I will not sleep with you.” The spoon twitched towards the guardsman. “Nor you.” He paused for a moment as the spoon pointed towards the old drunk, then dropped his voice to a sultry whisper. “You… I might consider.”

The dragon had killed the knights immediately, mildly annoyed by the pricks of their longswords. Then it had chased him through the treasure piles for sport. For seconds? hours? he had run through king’s ransom after king’s ransom, claw and flame and teeth always inches behind. He ran even though he knew the dragon was toying with him, even though he knew he was dead. He ran until he tripped, fell into a gleaming pile… and stood with something new shimmering in his hand.

His whisper got a laugh, as it always did. Tell them no, they might get upset. His mind whispered a familiar refrain. Make them laugh, give a diversion before they stop smiling, and they’ll forget what they wanted until well after you’re gone.

Of course, Jack would remember. He’d lie in another lonely bed tonight, thinking about the look of disappointment on two lovely faces, and what those faces might look like with an entirely different expression. But he was past the point where he could safely enjoy those pleasures.

Say yes to one night with a lass who believes you own a dragon’s horde and sure as clockwork, she’s chasing you down nine months later with a baby that isn’t yours. Say no, and that lovely noble’s daughter will go home and cry to her rich father and poor Jack will spend another weekend in the stocks.

So smooth talking and clever jokes were the only way. Jack didn’t mind, truthfully. He’d never been strong, failing his teenage apprenticeship with the smith after his tenth lumpy horseshoe. His hands stumbled over any skilled task, ending his apprenticeship with the tavern bard in a jangle of broken lute strings. But he loved words, and they danced to his command. With the right words, he could do anything…

Like talk your way into Sir Sulfin’s dragon slaying expedition? That was a great idea. They believed you when you said you were a bard and would compose a ballad for them. You should have believed them when they said it was dangerous.

His mind settled into a familiar battle as his mouth continued to charm the crowd, the words so well-worn he barely needed to attend to them. I had three coppers in my pocket, no prospects, and Ma couldn’t afford another mouth at home he argued with himself. Sulfin was a legend. He was going to kill it quick and easy, and he said I could take a few gold pieces from the horde. I’d be set for months…

The dragon had thrashed as it died, thick tail slamming into the walls of the cave over and over as it roared in furious agony. The cave began to collapse almost immediately. Jack didn’t remember running out. He didn’t remember continuing to run until his legs dropped out from beneath him.

He did remember waking up with his ears still ringing, and his hands still clutched tight around the sword that had killed a dragon with a single cut. He remembered the futile day searching for the entrance to the dragon’s cave, but one pile of collapsed rubble looks much like the other, and he was hungry and hurt all over and more tired than he’d ever been. Jack had returned to town with nothing but a story and a lost fortune everyone else thought he had found.

With a force of will, Jack pulled his mind back from the memories. His hand twitched towards the scabbard on his hip before he stopped himself. His sword hand was still threatening the crowd with the spoon and besides, if he drew the blade it would be another hour before he could get rid of this crowd.

He went through the motions of chattering with the crowd for a few more moments, and finally got them to scatter after he offered the guardsman a few (completely made up) tips for what to do if a dragon ever threatened the town. Then, wearily, he returned to his lukewarm stew.

Only to find the bearded drunk sitting across from him, eating the last of Jack’s meal.

His spoon clattered to the ground as Jack sank into his seat, burying his head in his hands . “You know what? Fine” he said, his muffled voice barley audible. “Nine hells, I don’t even care any more. Eat my stew. I’d rather starve than deal with…” Jack’s head slumped forward onto the table as his hands waved around, ambiguously signifying the drunk, the tavern, or the general slog of existence.

The drunk slurped the last of the stew. “Actually, Mr. Bartleby, I have a proposition for you.” Jack sat up suddenly, hand going fully to his hilt this time. People knew him as “Jack the dragon slayer.” Nobody outside his hometown knew him as one of Ma Bartleby’s kids, and nobody in his hometown would have traveled this far. This old drunk knew him, and Jack had no idea why.

Jack forced a smile to his face. “I actually, uh, was joking when I said I’d consider an…intimate interlude…with you.” Use your words, use your humor, stay in control. Keep him laughing until you stop panicking.

The drunk’s smile in return was genuine, and Jack noticed for the first time his eyes were alert and cunning. The old man’s mug sat at his elbow, still nearly full despite his show of swilling from it all night. “Name’s Yortise. Spellbinder Yortise.”

Spellbinder was the title for a magic user who had passed a grueling proficiency test demonstrating true skill in the magic arts. It was uncommon but not rare for someone to manifest a bit of magical talent, which was helpful for mundane tasks and not much more. Making a spark without tinder, keeping your boots dry in the mud, that sort of magic was common enough.

But calling down thunder from the sky? Summoning a griffin and bending it to your will? Only spellbinders could do that. And only those who had been gifted with a prodigious natural talent – and the discipline to refine and strengthen it – could ever become a spellbinder.

There was no magic university or royal decree governing the spellbinders. The rule for becoming a spellbinder was simple. You just had to call yourself one.

Within a few moments, the nearest spellbinder would notice, teleport to you, and do their darndest to kill you. If you could hold your own for three minutes, they would take you to the newest inn, buy you an ale and announce that you were officially a spellbinder. If you surrendered, they would buy you an ale and gently counsel you to consider accounting instead. If you kept fighting even after it was clear you’d lost…you’d become a cautionary tale.

Jack tensed unconsciously, waiting for an angry spellbinder to burst in and try to melt Yortise on the spot. When nothing happened, his eyes widened. “You’re…you’re actually a spellbinder!”

“Yes.” The old man’s eyes were dancing, clearly enjoying himself. “And you’re actually a dragon slayer, as much as you mope around pretending you’re not.” The man extended a finger, interrupting Jack’s protest before it could start.

“I know it was luck, Mr. Bartleby. I know you wouldn’t have stood a chance unless you happened upon a magic sword that just happens to strike truest in an unpracticed hand.”

Yortise spread his hands, grinning. “But I also know it wasn’t luck. A magic sword like that…giving off so much power that it tickled my balls from the next town over.” Yortise leaned forward. “Well, a sword like that has a will of its own. That kind of magic doesn’t wait passively until it’s picked up. It guides the right hand to it.

Jack frowned and glanced down at his scabbard. “Ok, fine. So a magic sword took pity on me. So what?”

Yortise clapped his hands, “So, Mr. Bartleby! Your pitying magic sword has given you a doorway to gainful employment. You see, you’ve been doing this all wrong. BEING a hero is terrible – all bloody battles and untimely deaths. But HAVING BEEN a hero…well, that’s a cushy gig.”

The spellbinder snapped his fingers once and the empty stew bowl flew inerrantly to a nearby table. He snapped his fingers a second time and a map of the kingdom blossomed on the table in the bowl’s place. Jack tried and failed to keep the astonishment from his face. Spellbinders showed up in king’s courts and storybook pages. They didn’t belong in an ordinary tavern, especially not an ordinary tavern with lukewarm stew.

Yortise stabbed a finger at a city on the outskirts of the map. “Auflin. Bigger than the backwater we’re in now, a little smudge on the map compared to Kingshaven. Last stop on the King’s road before a huge elven forest.”

“The elves are still plenty cowed after the last war – the forest elves might not have the long lives of their prancy cousins in the floating cities, but their memories are plenty long, and the whomping we gave them still stings. They’ve no intention of stirring up trouble.”

“But it’s easy for a rumor to get out of control. A lad gets lucky once, and suddenly everyone thinks he’s a dragon slayer.” Yortise’s eyes twinkled as he winked at Jack. “A few young townsfolk go missing, a popular woodsman say he saw dark shapes roaming in the woods, an elf trader hears one slur too many and throws a punch, and suddenly the town is frothing at the mouth convinced an elven invasion is imminent. The town council hires a wise and blindly handsome spellbinder to look into things and he quickly realizes both that nothing is wrong and that nobody will believe him if he tells them.”

The wizard started to roll up the map and stuff it back in his bag, his magic apparently better suited to dramatic reveals than careful storage. “That’s where you come in. Again, there’s no real danger, but the townsfolk are convinced the elves are on the warpath. So what stops the pot from boiling over?”

Yortise waited patiently for Jack to start a reply, then immediately interrupted him.

“Well, what if a mighty hero – a dragon slayer, perhaps – were to be hired to protect the town? Surely the cowardly pointy-ears wouldn’t try anything then? The good townsfolk can sleep easy at night, the elves avoid a pitchfork mob. The hero gets a salary, a free house, and a grateful town. Everyone’s happy.”

“Especially the hero” Yortise tapped Jack on the nose with a wizened finger “Who doesn’t exactly have any other options right now.”

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his unkempt blonde hair. “But why me? Why not get one of the king’s knights, or…” Yortise tutted, cutting Jack off.

“First, the king’s knights are actual heroes. No offense.” Jack shrugged, strangely grateful for the reprieve from hero worship. “A good knight would never be content just sitting around. They’d undoubtedly tear off into the forest their first day there looking for monsters or elven warlords, and likely cause more trouble than they’re worth. Second… have you heard the stories about you, Jack? I mean, really listened to them?”

Jack shook his head. The time he heard a bard singing The Ballad Of Jack Dragon Slayer he had barely been able to stifle his rage, the cheerful tune like sandpaper against the raw wound of his memories. The second time had brought back the same memories but despondent weeping instead of anger. After that, a part of his mind always listened for the first few notes, and pulled his attention away from the words anytime the song started.

“People believe you’re a bona-fide hero, Jack. Like something out of the stories the bards tell little kids. Knights are impressive, sure. But they’re only human. People…think of you as something else.”

The dragon slayer sighed and sank his head into his hands. Yortise waited patiently, humming the chorus from The Ballad Of Jack Dragon Slayer under his breath.

In the relative privacy of his steepled fingers, Jack thought furiously. His purse was nearly empty. He was desperately lonely, forced to humor his admirers and unable to have real conversation. And the spellbinder had eaten his stew.

He would give almost anything to go back to his old life. Except…

Except sometimes, the crowds around him would include a child. A young boy or girl, clutching a wooden sword. And when Jack met their eyes, he realized they weren’t seeing him.

They were seeing themselves. They were imagining themselves in his place, brave, heroic. And they left his presence standing a little taller, with a little more courage in their pockets.

Deepest of the nine hells, there were worse jobs than calming townsfolk and inspiring children.

Jack sat up, straighter than he had in weeks. “Tell me what I have to do” he said.

His voice only trembled a little.