Dr. Maggie Is In the Shed

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Waking Up

Because we have recently adjusted to “summer time” here in Albuquerque, NM, I have been more aware of my circadian rhythm being in synch with nature’s rhythm. “Summer time” is when the days get longer in the warmer months so that darkness falls at a later clock time. I am watering my urban garden at sundown, adjusting my sleep pattern with the sunset times, and sitting on the porch before I go to bed. 
 
 
 
But I’ve also been thinking of sunrises, dawns, and early morning rising because the birds are back on the electrical wires outside of my apartment. They wake me gently up with their chirping. Dr. Linnea frequently recommends getting enough sunlight in the early morning to improve our sleep. She writes in her blog on ways to heal a dysregulated nervous system that: “We can improve our sleep by exposing our eyes to the sun in the morning. . . .” (“47 Practices to Heal a Dysregulated Nervous System”). She also notes the power of journaling and books to help heal us. 
 
 
 
I have found that reading poetry has been one of the most healing modalities of my journey thus far. This is because I will memorize poems that I want to comfort me in distressing times or reach out to poets that I know have a similar experiences as me. This makes me feel less alone. 
 
 
 
I’d like to share one of my favorite poems, “Dawn Revisited” by Rita Dove, with you. The speaker wants us to think about those early mornings:
 
Imagine you wake up
with a second chance: The blue jay
hawks his pretty wares
and the oak still stands, spreading
glorious shade. If you don’t look back,
 
the future never happens.
How good to rise in sunlight,
in the prodigal smell of biscuits –
eggs and sausage on the grill.
The whole sky is yours
 
to write on, blown open
to a blank page. Come on,
shake a leg! You’ll never know
who’s down there, frying those eggs,
if you don’t get up and see.
 
 
I love how the poem points to the interconnected relationship many of us have with our past lives, our present struggles and glimmers of green, and our hope to one day live into a future that is, to use Dr. Linnea’s terms— restored, connected, and expanded. “The whole sky is . . . blown open.” And how hopeful the speaker sounds when she tells us to wake up, be disciplined, be curious—“You’ll never know / who’s down there, frying those eggs, / if you don’t get up and see”!
 
 
 
What do mornings mean to you on your healing journey?
 
How does “summer time” connect you to something?
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Resiliency and Journal Writing

We are a resilient people! But if you “read the popular press–or even psychology journals–you might conclude that PTSD and other mental . . . problems are the standard responses to all large traumas Surprisingly, the opposite is true” (Pennebaker and Smyth, Opening Up by Writing it Down).

In Silver and Wortman’s research, they show that the majority of people who faced the death of a spouse or spouse, did not experience intense anxiety or depression or grief that lasted a long time. They write that about 2/3 of soliders who have seen combat do not show evidence of PTSD. People in a major auto accident did not experience depression or PTSD.

Of course, this by no means undermines those of us who have experienced PTSD and the devastating effects of hyperattentiveness and not feeling safe in our skin. It also does not mean that we don’t have a responsibility to be trauma-informed and trauma-responsive in our homes, communities, and workplaces.

But, by and large, we are a resilient people, who when we need to recover, we can. We talk it out with friends. We come together with our neighbors or community. We can process and communicate the emotions with others and by ourselves.

This is encouraging research to me and something I talk a little more about with Dr Belinda Elek above. While journal writing may trigger past trauma or anxiety for some, it is also giving us the tools to cope and heal with the help of a supportive circle. It is that circle that bears witness to when we need to show gentleness and compassion to our past wounds rather than just forging ahead.

When was the last time you felt resilient?

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Expressive Writing in College Classroom

Sometimes I just want to check in with my students and feel their heartbeats. I want to know if the writing process for them has been a healthy one or if they have some unresolved emotions.

I recently heard that when students are confronted with a lot of information, it can be a type of trauma. “In a twisted sort of way a lecture is like a trauma for the audience. People are passively confronted by a bewildering amount of information over which they have little control” (Pennebaker and Smyth Opening Up by Writing it Down).

I had never thought that lecturing was a type of trauma, but I think the bigger point here is that students need to be given opportunities to confront and control what is happening in their own learning experiences and not constantly be confronted by the lecturer’s ideas. Expressive writing is one of those confronting strategies to put the power back in the hands of students.

An unexpected outcome of the journaling session was the immense outpouring of support, compassion, and love that the students shared with one another in the chat box after someone was brave enough to read their journal entry. I couldn’t have prepared or constructed this result in a million years with just me lecturing to the students. When I let go, and let the students explore their own lives, they wanted to be present for one another and they felt a deeper bond as a result. 

What other confronting strategies do you use to have students reflect on the connections between the subject matter and their own personal lives?

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Managing Stressful Thoughts at Night with Writing

Do you have stressful thoughts at night that keep you from sleeping? Over the past week, I have struggled to get the best sleep because I was thinking about the friend who ghosted me. It was a painful experience that I hashed out in my mind when I was supposed to be sleeping!

A lack of sleep can lead to all other types of health issues. One expressive writing study asked at risk for depression students to write about what was bothering them. Those who benefited most were those who brooded less in the future. That is, “writing helped them to change the ways they were thinking about their world: perhaps staving off periods anxiety or depression in the future” (Pennebaker and Smyth Opening Up by Writing it Down).

I love another journaling prompt that can help you manage your thoughts: 1–Ask yourself what are the unpleasant thoughts? 2– How do you feel about these unpleasant thoughts? Try this prompt the next time you are having trouble sleeping because your thoughts won’t leave you alone.

The point isn’t to get rid of the thoughts. It’s to acknowledge them and accept them so they have less control over us. 

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Writing to Get Unstuck

Dr Maggie is so happy to be back in The Writing Shed! A type of expressive writing called the exposure method can help you adjust to a difficult life or transition. With the simple act of returning to the same life situation across three different writing sessions, you will experience greater habituation or adjustment. Researchers have also found that there can be some cognitive understanding gained with this method. The idea isn’t to “beat the issue to death”; it is to continue to look at the life situation from a slightly different angle so that it begins to feel more normal and less shocking. How do you adjust to new realities? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
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Teacher Loneliness

Lonely as a teacher? Do you ask yourself where your people are? Does your school discourage you from talking about your personal life or advocating for your mental well-being? Do you wonder why the professional development you are offered never seems to energize you? Do you laugh and secretly cry every time you hear about how well Finnish teachers are doing? In a research article in the International Journal for the Practice and Theory of Creative Writing, the authors note: “Both the academic literature and educational policy documents have emphasized that in order to support teachers’ professional development, teachers should be offered both individual and personally inspiring education that facilitates the development of both teachers and school communities.” What’s your story? How could you be supported more at your school?

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Writing to Let Go

Dr. Maggie is back in The Writing Shed! When I learned about the research on how expressive writing helps us have an experience of letting go, I was gobsmacked. Letting go experiences are normally associated with trances or spiritual experiences. But the simple act of identifying and recognizing your emotional reactions to fearful times in your life can have powerful effects on your body. In one study done about the human fear of spiders, when the participants expressed their deathly fear of spiders in language, they were able to move closer to the spider (more than those who merely looked at the spider without expressing anything). Journal writing is powerful!

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Benefits of Journaling About an Upheaval

I am a bit of a science geek when it comes to learning about the benefits of expressive writing. So many writing studies have been done about the biological and physical benefits of a consistent expressive writing practice. The evidence I share with you is from Dr. Pennebaker’s book titled Opening Up by Writing it Down.

What benefits have you noticed when you take part in journaling or another form of expressive arts?

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Creative Expression is Worth the Risk

Why are we so afraid to be creative?

Because creative expression is hard work. Because the imagination works slowly. Because who has time to be still and listen to what resonates? Because it makes you vulnerable. Because you have to forget about yourself. Because there are no guarantees. Because failing is the point. Because it is risky. We might look stupid. People might connect our ideas with our self-worth. Because you might be wrong. You might be laughed at or shamed. You might look stupid in front of peers. You will have to admit you don’t know. Because you will have to practice new skills. Because it’s hard work. Because, as John Daido Loori tells us in The Zen of Creativity, you won’t be an original for a very long time.

Why should we practice our creativity anyway?

Because it’s hard work. Because slowing down lets us observe our lives. Because, listening, we can invite inspiration, which makes life bright. Because vulnerability builds intimacy. What a joyful cry! Because you have to forget about yourself. Just see what is in front of you. Because impermanence is the way of life. Because failing just means you showed up. Because being wrong is humbling. Because discussing shame interrupts patterns that dehumanize you. 

Admitting you don’t know will feel like you have been reunited with friend from elementary school. She doesn’t judge you or belittle you. She too has marched in a band uniform down Main Street playing a half-learned tune. 

Practicing new skills will make you an expert. 

Because hard work is the way of life. Because creating something original isn’t the point. Creativity that embodies your own unique reality is the point.

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Confess Already: The Power of Disclosure in Writing

Confession has a bad reputation. It is pulled from suspects in the interview room. It is linked to crowded boxes at the back of the sanctuary. It is mocked when heard from writers who describe the body. 

I am told Sharon Olds’ confessions are pornographic–she wrote about the pope’s penis after all. I am told we live in an age of too much celebrity confession (braggadocio or commonplace varietals). 

I say confess already.

But confession is no banana split.

My relatives mistake my questions as a request for them to confess. I have asked family members what I thought were benign questions about my ancestors, such as: What was your favorite memory of your grandmother? To which the granddaughter responded: Nothing in particular. She was kind. Okay, not many details, I think to myself. Let me ask another question: What was your father’s relationship like with his mother? She quickly stiffened and likened my questions to an interrogation. Where is this going?, she asks me. Her body triggers a response as if she were confessing, which she then immediately tries to squelch.

Confession is the wince when forking a sopapilla, releasing the scalding steam before it is ready to be eaten.

I recently asked my mother to send me a picture of herself at the age in which she gave birth to me—1979. Not only was I curious about how young my mother would look in the photo, but I was curious to see what photo my mother would select. Would she choose a photo that put her in a good light, figuratively and literally? Would she select a photo to influence how I view her now? I didn’t tell my mother this, but an energy healer had recommended I place a photo of myself as a happy child on my desk, alongside a photo of my mother when I was first born. All of these gestures are supposed to help me—in a subtle and slow way—continue to forgive my mother.

I received the photos in the mail a few days later. She had sent the photo I requested of myself—the one of me wearing yellow OshKosh B’gosh overalls in our New Jersey kitchen. She sent a photo of herself sitting at Grandma’s laced dining room table. She is looking dreamily out into the distance, with two shell clips in her hair, and her favorite ombre sweater in purple and blues. She looks like a saint—St. Therese of Avila-esque. Something is off.

I certainly don’t remember my mother like this. And perhaps this is the point of the whole exercise. See your mother as she wants to be seen, not as you remember her. She wants to be your friend. She didn’t mean to hurt you. 

Looking at this photo of her, I can almost believe this.

When I ask my mother, Who is this woman in the photo you sent me? She says, Oh, I don’t know, all casual and non-committal. When I ask the same question another way, she snatches the air from between both of us, and says, What is this an interview?

Confession to one is small-talk to another.

Obviously, people in our lives don’t want to disclose or reveal their true feelings because of shame or embarrassment or void connected to their memories. Yet, the benefits of confession are strong. Or, said inversely, the strength required to keep something a secret (the effort involved in inhibition) has negative effects on our bodies. Researchers James Pennebaker and Joshua Smyth in Opening Up By Writing it Down (2016) conclude that “After confessions, significant drops in blood pressure and heart rate as well as improvements in immune function occur. In the weeks and months afterward, people’s physical and psychological health is improved” (41).

The changes happening on the bodily level from confession are indications that something is happening in our brain. Are we integrating our memories into our current reality in order to form a more coherent narrative? Or is our body/brain keeping memories at bay, thus limiting our ability to understand who we are and how we got here?

Pennebaker and Smyth share the study from a UCLA researcher, Matthew Lieberman, and his team. Lieberman’s study concludes that “putting our deeply emotional experiences into language and words facilitates our brain’s capacity to help us manage our emotional states” (39). They observed people who were really scared of spiders. Yet, when they were able to express these fears in the presence of a real spider, they were able to move closer to the spider (as compared to those who only looked). “Putting those fears into language appeared to confer some protective benefit” (39).

What is going to happen if I make these confessions about my mother?

And I am already badgering myself for confessing. Do you know how much flack you are going to get for this? You know you can’t share this right? Why would you want to hurt your mother like this? You’re just ungrateful. I’ve known your mother. 

I have already deleted the confessions in the process of writing this blog. Words like cruel, ghost, and You still make me cry.

Of course, confession in a journal is different from confession in front of a person you know. Sharing your confessions does not always end well, depending on who you share them with. It can end relationships. It can also make relationships stronger.

Confession is the tong you use to pick up a hotdog from the boiling water. It’s the perfect tool, yet not the only one. You can also use a fork, your fingers, or a pocket-knife.