Another step. Recovering from bullying.

Last month I looked different aspects of bullying; I’ve now moved on to looking at the recovery process. If you’ve been the target of serial bullying, you’ll understand the challenges involved in coming to terms with what’s happened and learning to live and breathe freely again.

Not long ago someone said to me, that even after having been out of the bullying environment for over a year, it seems almost impossible not to get caught up in thoughts like “If only…” “What if…” “Why didn’t I…” “How did it come to this?” “What did I do wrong?” and other similar comments, even though it is clearly evident they’re serving no useful purpose at all.

What seems to regularly happen, is that after becoming aware of this destructive rehashing, the target begins berating themselves with negative comments along the lines of “You’re useless, you know this isn’t helping”, “Why are you being so mean to yourself, why don’t you go for a walk…it’s because you’re not only useless, but lazy” on and on. As I said the other day, it’s a real double whammy.

This person’s mind is so used to following the well-worn unhappy paths, that it takes committed and conscious discipline not to fall into this self destructive habit. You're learning to nip it in the bud as soon as you become aware of it happening.

The path to the familiar story of the past can be easy to take. It’s a well worn track, and while you’re busy doing something mundane, you suddenly become aware that the old hurts and painful episodes are playing out again, and again, and again.

Sometimes I think of it like a virulent ‘earworm’. You know, one of those ghastly songs that as soon as you hear the title or melody, you can’t escape it, and it plays for days and days ‘till you all but scream “Get out of my head and leave me in peace.”

But much worse.

Is it helping?

If yes, read no further!

If not, are you able to pause for a moment as soon as you become aware of what’s happening?

A bit like we talked about the other day. Just pause. That’s all for the moment.

The next bit seems to be tricky. It’s just letting all the crap and hurt just be there without putting a value judgement on it, without the shoulds and oughts kicking in automatically. Can you make space for it, give the prickliness of it a little room?

The idea is to begin breaking the old familiar habit and take one tiny step in the long process of choosing and consolidating a new habit. I don’t pretend it’s easy. In a sense it’s a bit like forging a new track through uncharted territory where there appears to be impenetrable jungle full of all sorts of tricky obstacles. Our brains seem to skitter towards the familiar path, even if it’s hurtful.

What’s happening is that when you’re fighting the painful, intrusive thoughts constantly, and pushing them away fearfully, (because they hurt so much) the pathway to them seems to get stronger.

This old path is clear and direct. It’s so well worn from the countless times it’s been travelled that the sides are up high, way over your head and it’s difficult to see over them to what is around outside. To choose to deviate involves conscious effort, slipping and sliding, clutching at the steep sides, scrabbling up and over, but then and only then is it possible to see that being on this track was preventing you from seeing other options.

And so, one step.

Just one.

When the painful thoughts intrude; pause; breathe deeply, three times if possible, stretch tall.

That’s it.

I wonder how many times each day you can do this. 5, 10, 50 or more? Does it help?

There's a bit more on the recovery process here.

Change. How do we cope?

Life throws some odd things at us sometimes doesn't it. You are lulled into a sense of "things are going well at the moment aren't they" and whammo.

Sometimes it seems you've had an inkling that something is afoot, and a small part of you is hesitantly mentally prepared, and you cope reasonably well. But at others things seem to come out of the blue and confusion reigns.

Then there are the other changes that we know are imminent. We try to prepare ourselves mentally for the change, and sometimes fail dismally (although I use the word fail loosely, as I don't really accept the notion of failure as such). Perhaps it would be fairer to say we struggle with change that doesn't fit with our desires in the scheme of things.

Illness, being made redundant, the change of job or returning to the workforce after a break. These are the kind of issues faced by many people at some stage in their adult work-life.

When I first began working with people who had been made redundant I was mentally prepared for anger, bitterness, confusion, grief and loss. The emotions that I hadn't expected to encounter quite so often were relief, joy and excited anticipation. Some of my clients were simply delighted to be able to leave an unsatisfying job easily, and with a bit of a payout.

One gentleman had emigrated to Australia some 30+ years ago from Greece, and hadn't managed to squeeze language lessons into his early years here. He was initially embarrassed about his limited English. He'd worked in the one factory all that time, and was very hesitant discussing his career options with me. He then, with a twinkle in his eye, began talking about his dream - to buy a caravan and head off around Australia. Couldn't wait to get started. Why on earth would he want to retrain with the whole of the country waiting to be explored? Change dressed as anticipation.

Others were just happy to have the opportunity to change direction. They saw their redundancy as a chance to do something for themselves. The government offer of a short training course was gratefully accepted, and they planned to use their payout to extend training into an area of interest rather than working in a mundane job through necessity. Change as challenge.

Many of these clients had fled war-torn countries years ago. Had escaped with the few possessions they could carry, and left behind satisfying careers in universities, in the medical professions, as teachers. I simply can't imagine what they suffered on so many levels. but to add insult to injury to be forced to work in menial jobs as factory fodder once safely here must have been ghastly. So much change, adjusted to through necessity.

One sweet young slip of a girl, newly pregnant, sobbed uncontrollably. It was the only job she'd ever had, and with her limited English, she had little prospect of further employment. For various reasons, the retraining being offered was not practical for her. The baby would now be born. I wonder how she's going. Painful change.

There's no "one size fits all" scenario, we simply do the best we can at the time, with whatever resources we have to hand.

Change continues, we adapt.

Life goes on.