{"id":285,"date":"2019-12-24T22:04:17","date_gmt":"2019-12-25T03:04:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/?p=285"},"modified":"2019-12-24T22:20:29","modified_gmt":"2019-12-25T03:20:29","slug":"2019s-been-a-g-a-s-a-retrospective","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/?p=285","title":{"rendered":"2019’s Been A G.A.S.: A Retrospective"},"content":{"rendered":"

A page from Buddha\u2019s book: \u2018all of existence, without exception, is transient, evanescent, inconstant\u2019. Put a little more accessibly: change happens<\/em>. As a Westerner, an old one at that, the idea of accepting, let alone embracing this concept is, shall we say, a little foreign to me. Stasis rules. Predictable, repetitive sameness is comforting, cultivated, sought after. <\/p>\n

Back in the day, when sororities, service clubs, professional development day organizers would seek me out to fill in an evening on \u2018timely topics\u2019, stress<\/em> was a favorite go to. I established a patter that seemed to meet the need. The tag line linked stress to change. More specifically, the more change experienced over short periods of time, the more \u2018stressed\u2019 we would feel. <\/p>\n

Nothing original here. Hans Selye in the mid-last century formalized this connection and even gave it a name: General Adaptation Syndrome<\/em> (aka, GAS). The give away ought to be that the process is a syndrome<\/em>. The language that Selye attached to his three-stage sequence is equally disturbing: Stage 1 \u2014 Alarm, Stage 2 \u2014 Resistance, and Stage 3 \u2014 Exhaustion. In a nutshell, when confronted with a situation to which we must \u2018adapt\u2019, we are briefly taken aback (the \u2018alarm\u2019 is sounded). Then, if homeostasis and balance are not restored in short order, we mobilize our resources in efforts to return ourselves to that much treasured state of equilibrium, blissful equanimity. Essentially we burn the candle at both ends and tap reserves that may already be in short supply (we \u2018resist\u2019 this disorienting plight). Ultimately, we deplete the batteries and begin a relentless slide downhill into an \u2018exhausted\u2019 state. Depending on how long the struggle has continued, fatigue, burnout, chronic anxiety, and depression are the brass rings at the end of the ride.<\/p>\n

Selye, at core a quite positive guy, was not beyond providing a silver lining to his gassy cloud. Pace ourselves, recognize when we\u2019ve asked of ourselves a little too much adaptation over too little time. In short, chill \u2014 when we can. The catch: we don\u2019t! Equally, the universe doesn\u2019t always cooperate sending along the unavoidables. The next layer: change is a chameleon \u2014 a seductive little bugger, change dressed up as a desirable, the adaptation hook baited with the coveted. <\/p>\n

So here\u2019s the 2019 score. 321!<\/em> Offspring of Dr. Selye\u2019s treatises was a little inventory known by various names, most commonly the Life Change Scale<\/em>. It dutifully attaches a \u2018value\u2019 to a range of adjustments we may encounter \u2014 or in fact, seek out. The \u2018cut scores\u2019 of 150 and 300 identify levels of risk of developing health issues, psychological and \/ or physical, attaching to cumulative \u2018life change units\u2019 collected over a year. Below 150, no worries; 150-300, pay attention; greater than 300, . . .<\/p>\n

Last time I checked, I\u2019m not in jail (63), I\u2019m still married (73), Nicola\u2019s way more alive than I am (100), and I still have a job (47), although the jury\u2019s out on the last one as change in numbers of spousal arguments (35), related to excessive delays in retiring (45), may actually result in a saw-off. Not pregnant (40), son and daughter are well clear of home (29), done my best to avoid outstanding personal achievements (28), no plans to return to school and \/ or graduate (26), and happily have re-established a church connection (19). Evidently I dodged the heavy artillery. Or so one would think. <\/p>\n

Ah but wait! Christmas (12), porting a mortgage (31), business readjustment (39), vacation (13), change in recreation (19) \u2014 can\u2019t remember the last time I \u2018recreated\u2019, and change in living conditions (25) are just the \u2018also rans\u2019. The really, really big ticket, with all sorts of cling-ons, is . . . wait for it, MOVING! Drs. Holmes and Rahe, the savvy originators of said scale (1967 \u2014 that\u2019s a year, not a score), attach a relatively modest weight of 20 to this particular life event. I don\u2019t get that!<\/p>\n

Which may, in fact, bring us full circle to another bit of Buddhist wisdom, embodied in a couple of the \u2018four noble truths\u2019. Dukkha<\/em>, aka, suffering \/ pain is driven by our level of attachment. And relief (nirodha<\/em>) is proportionate to letting go of said attachment. Hmm, that\u2019s pretty out there!<\/p>\n

Let\u2019s simplify. And who better to provide very (very) grounded wisdom than the painfully irreverent comedian \u2014 and speaker of, let\u2019s just say a \u2018fifth noble truth\u2019 \u2014 George Carlin. George\u2019s riff on stuff (link below) says most, if not all of why a move is not. . . just a move. It brings us face to (uncomfortable) face with our attachments. The books, the clothes, the tools, the furniture, the mementos, the pictures . . . How is it possible to carry on without 4th year texts on concepts long past believable, the sport coat that is \u2018still good\u2019 (fashion be damned), a lifetime supply of Robertson head, 3\/4\u201d wood screws, day beds, saunas, couches, pennant collections, a 1967 UWO jacket (what is it about 1967?), fabric stashes, and photographs and photographs and photographs? George puts it succinctly: \u2018our houses are our piles of stuff with a lid\u2019. Hmm. And we are loath to open the hand and let it go. <\/p>\n

And so a move is not just a \u201920\u2019. It is a confrontation, a challenging of a noble truth that fuels one of only four principles that drive our lives. It\u2019s a leaving of an obsession, an acquisitiveness that has defined decades \u2014 just ask Marie Kondo! <\/p>\n

So, as Nicola and I text each other from opposite sides of piles of boxes, as we search for the illusive location of the underwear drawer, know that progress is being made. I felt marginally superior and briefly satisfied following an encounter with a fellow resident in our new condo community who\u2019d wandered into Storage Locker Room A in search of unused space \u2014 a year later and still unable to part with his library. <\/p>\n