Let’s talk about the things we hide behind.

There are so many ways to avoid being seen, noticed or interacted with in this world. And each tactic is more fascinating and seductive than the next.

That’s human nature for you. We’re all expert at using things to protect ourselves from criticism, punishment and vulnerability. We have been conditioned to quell many of our top fears, like the fear of annihilation, the fear of losing autonomy, the fear of separation and the fear of ego death.

I remember the first time I learned about this phenomenon. I was in my twenties and spending most of my time traveling around the world, giving speeches about wearing my nametag. One of my mentors gave me feedback on a recent presentation, and he asked me the following.

Do you always wear sandals when you’re on stage?

My answer was yes.

He replied, cool. I don’t actually have a preference either way. Just make sure you’re wearing them because you want to, not because you’re hiding behind them.

Boom, talk about a gut punch. I wasn’t sure how to process his remark in the moment, but something about the observation chilled me to the bone.

What does that even mean? How does someone go about not hiding behind something?

There’s no simple, seven step process for doing so. It’s mostly a matter of intention and attention. And so, rather than offering instructions, let’s see if we can work backwards.

Below are four common things people hide behind, myself included. After reviewing them, we will tease out the common traits and reverse engineer a framework that you can use going forward.

Item number one to hide behind is our story.

Big word there. Story suggests complex, nuanced psychological ideas like personality, identity, ontology, the self, and so on. It’s more than a simple account of past events in our life, but also the narrative about the evolution of our growth.

Now, knowing our history is central to knowing who we are. But the past can’t be our exclusive way of understanding ourselves. This can easily slip into a pervasive defense that’s based on what we used to be, not who we are in the moment.

We can over identify with our past to such an extent it negative affects our present. And to hide behind our story is to take distant and neutral position, without having to acknowledge all the ways in which we’ve changed.

Are there stories you’re hiding behind because you don’t know who you would be without them?

It’s a bitter identity pill to swallow. And yet, there’s a difference between something that identifies us, and something that defies us. Each of us can trust that we’re bigger than our past and learn to live larger than our labels.

We can decide that whoever we were before is important to the degree that it brought us here. But we are the ones who choose the path forward. We are a human being who notices the moment, not a victim of our case history.

Next on the list of things we hide behind is other people.

Specifically, other people’s needs, wants and expectations. I’m reminded of a wonderful passage from the old testament:

We can come boldly to the throne of grace and find mercy in our time of need.

Preachers use this verse in sermons as an invitation to approach god with confidence, but we don’t necessarily have to involve the big man upstairs to gain value from scripture.

I see this verse as a reminder of the importance of being accountable to our own needs. Rather than codependently hiding behind other people’s circumstances as a convenient excuse to avoid confronting own problems, we accept the fact that we have needs too.

This is a tough one for people pleasers. Because it’s deeply gratifying to optimize our lives around being in service to others. Deny our needs in favor of others makes us feel useful, noble, even holy.

I don’t know if god really exists, but if he does, he probably loves codependents.

Point being, if we spend our days hiding behind what we think other people want, need and expect, it’s almost certain we’re not getting our own needs met. It’s unwise, unhealthy and unsustainable.

And people do this all the time, myself included. We hide behind our beloved veil of false modesty. Our charades of philanthropy. We perform perpetual acts of service for those we love, and even for those we don’t, and then one day it hits us like a ton of carbon emissions.

Have you ever heard of healthcare terminology like compassion fatigue and secondary trauma?

These are clinical conditions. I was reading a book on healthcare stewardship, and how nurses won’t slow down enough to be curious about what is happening within themselves. In their line of work, the research suggests, they can’t ignore the transformation that takes place within them as a result of exposure to the suffering of other living beings.

And if they don’t take time to rest, reflect, release and recharge, they will burn out faster than a strand of cheap holiday lights.

Eventually, we all need to step out from behind other people needs and pay ourselves first.

For our next thing we hide behind, let’s get physical. Let’s talk about objects.

This example is particularly resonant with me, since I have been wearing my nametag all day, every day, for over twenty years. And along my journey, there have been many occasions where people accused me of hiding behind it.

Which is a counterintuitive concept, because wearing a nametag is, in many ways, the polar opposite of hiding. It actually forces me to be seen, noticed and interacted with. The sticker makes me an order of magnitude more vulnerable than the average anonymous person.

I’m putting myself out there with my real name that anybody can call out at any time. And believe me, people do just that. Especially some of society’s more undesirable individuals.

When was the last time you had a belligerent homeless man yelling your first name while chasing you down the street? So much for hiding.

But that example relates to the physical realm. What about the more psychological aspects of hiding? Is it possible that wearing a nametag for so many years has become my own little security blanket? My own little comfort object to hide behind that justifies my behavior?

Absolutely. I remember attending a support group one night, which is the kind of venue where attendees often wear nametags. But at this particular group, they had a rule. No nametags. Anonymity was crucial for creating their container of safety, and also for preventing any sense of terminal uniqueness.

Before entering the room, the leaders kindly asked me to remove my sticker as a show of respect for the group’s confidentiality. And admittedly, this really bothered me. My ego chimed in and said, hey, what the hell bro? Do you know who I am? I always wear the sticker. How dare you tell me not to tell everyone my name.

I remember feel the fear welling upside my throat. Annihilation. Identity death. Loss of autonomy. No sticker means I don’t exist. Run now. Run as fast as you can and never come back to this stupid meeting with these nameless idiots.

But saner heads prevailed. I decided to get over myself for an hour and stop hiding behind my precious curtain of specialness. These people didn’t care what my name was. They cared less about the nametag and more about the heart behind.

That next hour of my life was beautiful. I had a wonderful time and learned a lot. Obviously, I never went back to that lame ass support group again, because screw those controlling jerks and their bullshit rules. But you get the point.

Ironman said it best in his final movie appearance.

If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it.

What objects do you hide behind? Are you making a conscious effort not to use props and offer a pure and vulnerable expression of your true self?

It’s counterintuitive, since we live in a world where almost anybody can hide behind their anonymity and commit horrible acts to others. But sometimes it’s good to be stripped naked of everything and confront what remains.

Item number four on our list of things to hide behind is my favorite, which is logic.

The last refuge of the cowardly and unimaginative.

For starters, let me just say that I am a huge fan of logic. Despite being the classic right brained creative whose livelihood centers around his ability to throw off the shackles of logic and exploit the resources of imagination, I see the allure.

Logic is just so clean, useful and beautiful. And as I collaborate with more engineers, developers, designers and technical people in my career, I have learned ways to improve my own logical capabilities. In fact, during the pandemic, our country could have used a little more logic and a lot less emotion.

Because fear was the predominant energy, thanks to the powers that be, and we citizens spent three years in a perpetual state of trauma where our rational decision making capacities were utterly disturbed. The results of that were catastrophic.

Lesson learned, there’s a balance. We must identify moments when we’re using logic to move the story forward, and when we’re using it to hide. Sometimes our over reliance on logic in certain contexts indicates a reluctance to confront deeper emotional aspects of our situation.

It might be stemming from a lack of courage or an avoidance of vulnerability. What’s more, leaning too heavily on logic can stifle creativity and limit possibilities. Sometimes we need to mentally play uninhibitedly outside of the constraining rules of logical forces like social norms and common language and popular society.

It’s like these people who watch science fiction films and have the nerve to criticize them for being unfeasible. I read these reviews all the time. Some home schooled idiot who hasn’t had sex in a decade thinks he’s a professor of film studies. His review goes like this.

This movie is a complete departure from even the most basic understanding of time travel principles. The plot presented in this film is so unfeasible that it becomes an insult to the intelligence of its audience. The parallel universe sequence in act two is filmed in such a convoluted and arbitrary manner that it becomes impossible to suspend disbelief. And don’t get me started on the characters themselves. They are beautiful but thinly developed vessels used to clumsily deliver clunky dialogue about poorly conceived scientific theories. Save yourself the disappointment and seek out a film that respects its audience’s intelligence.

Now, when I read a review like this, all I can think to myself is, wow, this person is hiding behind logic. Congratulations for not feeling anything. Good for them and their logical arguments.

But sometimes a movie needs to be something you surrender yourself to. Sometimes you need to leave logic at the door, let go of your addictions to rules and rightness and taste and restraint, and just let the operatic ecstasy of this art completely own you for two hours.

I cherish movies that do that. I love nothing more than a film with exquisite acting, beautiful shots, inspiring music, and a poetic script, but I still have no idea what the hell is going on.

It’s good practice not hiding behind logic. It’s an exercise in letting go.

Look, in life we will be faced with many difficult and uncomfortable situations that require empathy, vulnerability, or deeper understanding. Relying solely on logic won’t save us. It might distance us from the messy emotional or personal aspects of the issue. But running away from our fears and insecurities is a form of cowardice.

We’re braver than that.

In summary, there are four things we hide behind. Story, people, objects and logic.

What do all four of these things have in common? All of them serve as shields, protecting us from criticism, punishment, and vulnerability.

And while the hiding mechanisms provide temporary relief, in the long term, they hinder personal growth and genuine connection.

If we want to discover our true selves, we should consider the things we’re hiding behind.

You’ve heard of playing hide and go seek?

Well, this game is called seek and no hide.

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
What’s your favorite way to avoid being seen, noticed or interacted with in this world?

Do you know someone who needs to check in over and over again to make sure everything is okay?

Someone whose repetitive need for reassurance drives all of your interactions?

It’s totally exasperating when you’re on the receiving end of it. Particularly when someone’s level of distress is high.

People’s reassurance compulsion often goes up when their life is coming apart at the seams, so they work overtime to feel sure, abolish all doubts and establish certainty as a fact.

And as their friend or family member, you feel helpless. Like nothing you can do or say is going to pull them back from their trembling edge of insanity.

Now, that doesn’t suggest a lack of compassion for their fear for their struggle. A need for constant reassurance stems from a profound intolerance of uncertainty, which could stem from any number of causes.

If they had early trauma around abandonment, then of course they will need excessive reassurance.

If their life is chaotic right now, then of course they need to be certain something awful won’t happen to them.

If they’re suffering from depression or some other mental illness, then of course they believe that if they don’t act now, it will be their fault.

These are all very human reactions. They don’t make someone a bad person for feeling them.

The difficult part is accepting the reality that there will never be enough reassurance. We will never neutralize all the distress of confronting the uncertainty of living. There will never be enough proof. No amount of examples is ever going to convince any of us. Reassurance is futile.

The question is, what do you say to someone who is caught in their relentless quest for it? How do you free them from their constant demands for more and more reassurance?

A helpful first step is noticing our inclination to simply give people what they seemingly need to feel better. It’s the classic codependent move. Our efforts to deliver the reassurance someone seeks only hardens the hold the obsession has on them.

It’s enabling behavior. If we can train ourselves to notice and name it early and often, that’s a good start.

Another approach is to change our language when we respond to people’s reassurance requests. Rather than reflexively reminding them that everything is going to be okay, we make them feel seen and felt and heard. Perhaps saying something like this.

It seems like you’re looking for some reassurance, which I understand because life is stressful right now. But I know you can get through this. I know you can show up for yourself. I love you and I’m here with you, but I can’t tell you whether or not everything will be okay.

Now, that might sound too touchy feely for you. Or might backfire if comes off like too much like of a tactic.

You can always put on your therapist hat and call bullshit on the person with a few annoying but helpful reflective questions. If someone asks you for reassurance on a ridiculous issue, turn it back on them.

Is that you asking, or your fear asking?

Another good response is to ask:

That sounds like a reassurance question, and me answering it may feed your obsession, so what would you like for me to do?

Look, there’s no easy answer here. The repetitive need for reassurance often drives many of our relationships, and it’s a complicated, nuanced issue.

But what we have to remember as supporting and loving people is, it’s not our job to be someone’s external conscience when they can’t trust their own judgment about an experience.

We can make them feel seen and heard and felt. We can mirror their struggle back to them. And we stand at the edge and salute them as they troubleshoot on their own issues.

But we can’t walk the path for them. 

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
Whose need for constant reassurance is exhausting you?

Broken hearts come from emotionally over investing.

We decide that someone or something is the one. This is going to complete us and make us whole and change everything, so we place a dangerously high level of importance on it in our lives.

This over investment gives that person or thing complete power over our emotions.

But the joke’s on us. Because we are the ones who break our own hearts, not them. Heartbreaks reveal our possessiveness, which almost always leads to suffering. No sense of proportion or perspective. It’s all shoulds, musts, deserves and other expectation driven language.

In the area of interpersonal attachment, over investing is defined as devoting too much of our emotions in a losing situation the risk of draining away our resourcefulness. The investment we put in is disproportionate to the value of what something is actually worth and the probability of its reciprocation.

Like the unrequited love of my college years.

I spent months writing letters and leaving messages and picking up that girl at the airport, so why wasn’t she coming around and realizing that the two of us were meant to be together forever?

Woops. Turns out, she didn’t feel the same way. So much for that romantic venture paying dividends.

Speaking of dividends, in the world of finance, over investing has a slightly different meaning.

It refers to the practice of putting more money into an asset than what that asset is worth on the open market.

For example, people will make additions to personal consumables like houses and cars and trailers, and it devalues the asset so that it is worth less than what has been invested in it.

Like my friend in high school who bought a used car for two thousand bucks, then spent four thousand more bucks installing a subwoofer so loud it could blow a woman’s clothes off.

Woops. He couldn’t give that car away five years later.

Both over investment illustrations lack perspective or proportion. They’re inappropriate, inefficient and unhealthy attachments.

Koontz writes about this behavior in his psychedelic book about parallel universes:

Sometimes you can want a thing too fiercely. The excessive passion of your yearning blinds you to the mistakes you made, so that in the end, you were defeated by the sheer power of your need.

Have you ever made that mistake before? Where you wanted something so much, that it took over your emotional life?

It happens more than you might realize. Particularly when it comes to media consumption. We now live in a world where the average person spends a minimum thirty hours a week binge watching television.

Shows are slick, engaging, well written, beautifully produced and full of gorgeous actors. And so, it’s no surprise that viewers over invest hundreds of hours of their lives in fictional universes and stories that are, lest they forget, not real.

Funny thing is, when their favorite actor gets killed off or divorced or, god forbid, the show gets cancelled or reaches its series finale, viewers are outraged. They write essays about how they’ve been betrayed, cheated and devastated.

And those emotions are very much real. One article from a viewer said:

Watching shows sent her on an intense emotional rollercoaster each week. She felt every emotion that the actors felt. The show give her amazing characters but then hurt them or took them away, breaking her heart. She audibly rejoiced when characters succeeded, physically grieved when they died and dwelled on the feelings for days after. And in fact, still devastated over one character’s death that first aired months ago, she had to remind herself that the show was fictional and her relationship with the characters was one sided.

Wow, talk about poor dividends. That’s not a hobby, that’s a full on unhealthy attachment. This woman is a clear example of someone who needs to manage her emotional investments in healthier ways.

And it’s not a takedown of television. People should watch whatever they want. But don’t blame some sexy television doctor for your real life heartbreak.

He’s merely playing a role, you’re not.

You have to protect your heart. You have to find completeness from within.

Otherwise disappointment will be your constant companion.

Are you making investments that are disproportionate to the value of what something is actually worth?

If something helps you secure a measure of control in a world of chaos, then it’s worth doing.

Even if that sense of control is delusional, it still provides utility value.

Because feeling able to influence your reality in any way is deeply motivating and satisfying. My therapist once told me, control may be an illusion, but empowerment isn’t.

Meaning, if you believe that you have a role in determining your future, it doesn’t really matter if you’re right or wrong. If your expectations and efforts help to steer your fate in a positive direction, then that mindset is enough to fuel you to take useful actions on your own behalf. Those actions will bring you closer to the fulfillment you seek. Which tells your brain that when it does what the software tells it to do, it gets rewarded. And the cycle repeats until you win.

That’s empowerment. The ability to make decisions that influence the outcomes of your work. You should take it wherever you can get it.

Besides, what’s the alternative to this belief? Preoccupying yourself with the millions of terrifying possibilities you can’t control?

That’s no fun. It just puts you into a victim mindset.

It’s better to focus on the small handful of positive possibilities that you can control. It’s better to embrace the possibility of success, small as it may be, rather than the probability of failure.

During the first six month of the coronavirus pandemic, our collective sense of control hit record lows. It’s one of the reasons panic buying of toilet paper was so rampant in the first few weeks. Our perception of scarcity created feelings of insecurity, and that activated a prehistoric mechanism that triggered hoarding behaviors.

Honey, do you think two hundred rolls is enough? You’re right, better make it three hundred.

There was a study in a psychiatry journal that year which showed how during a crisis period, people generally like to control things because brings them some aspect of certainty. The phenomenon is explained as a remedial response to reduce fear and anxiety of losing control over the surrounding environment. Unsure when the pandemic would end, people were saving basic needs by purchasing as much toilet paper as possible is a shortcut to cope with the feeling of insecurity.

Now, personally, hoarding toilet paper wasn’t at the top of my shopping list. It’s cheaper to wipe your ass with junk mail if you ask me. But every family is different.

Point being, the panic buying still made sense to me. It was helping people secure a measure of control in a world of chaos.

Are you currently feeling like life is one of those bizarre dreams where you’re half awake, but not in control? It’s an awful, helpless feeling.

But when life’s restrictions start chipping away at your joy one by one, simply asking the following question will put the power back into your hands. Think of it as a nursery rhyme.

If you can’t choose where to go and what to do, how could you bring that joy to you?

With this question, instead of using worry as a tool for trying to predict the future, you engage with your life in whatever capacity you still can.

You access more choice to give yourself more freedom.

Remember, control may be an illusion, but empowerment isn’t.

Save your lies for when you need them most, and you might just make it out of this thing alive.

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
Are you focused on the small handful of positive possibilities you can control?

Some people wake up in the morning fraught with potential crises.

They constantly feel that the bottom is about to fall out. Minor details that would be nonissues to others seem like insurmountable hurdles to them. Having to cope with life’s daily events is a second full time job.

And they’re either late, afraid of being late, or freaking out because they were late.

As a result of this toxic emotional baseline, they have a continual need for others to serve as their sounding boards. They live for long debriefing sessions and pep talks, where they can exaggerate the gravity of their manufactured emergencies.

Do you have someone in your life like this? Does it ever seem like a form of theater to them?

It’s a frustrating and bizarre thing. Like the guy at my yoga studio who always took the same class as me. He was constantly asking for my advice about whether he should get his master’s degree, join the military, go full time as a print model, start a business with his girlfriend, study to become a stock broker, or relocate down to the jungle and become a plant medicine shaman.

It was a bit much for seven in the morning. The guy was all over the place. Each time we’d chat before or after class, it turned into his little one act play. He bombarded me with all of these mini traumas.

But he must have smelled my codependent, midwestern, passive aggressive nature. Drama queens usually have a nose for people like me. They seek out competent, compassionate individuals who love being the hero to save another person from themselves. And then they suck the savior in by becoming this sad creature who needs their help. Works every time.

Because when you’re the sounding board, you feel a gratifying sense of service and support and usefulness. You’re a good friend. A great listener. You’re the lighthouse for that person, and if you collapse, they’ll collapse too.

Which is why you let them unload on you all the time without putting up a fuss.

The problem with this dynamic is, it leads to a vicious cycle of unhealthy dependence for them, and resentment for you. They never learn how to regulate themselves properly and troubleshoot issues on their own. And the onslaught of requests and intrusions makes you feel helpless like you’re drowning.

But because the gratification of managing havoc in someone else’s life outweighs the fear and guilt of telling them how much they’re exhausting you, the cycle perpetuates.

Whew, what an exchange.

Have you ever been sucked into one of those dramatic interpersonal vortexes before? It’s surprisingly difficult to unhook from. Like trying to kick heroin. The sweet neurochemical high of helping someone is deeply intoxicating, and the withdrawal symptoms of telling someone that their needs aren’t our priority at the moment is very painful.

However, we must remember to set boundaries. We must remember that each of us has the right to let others know when their actions are unacceptable us.

Yes, we fear they’ll abandon us if we stop being there for them all the time. But in reality, they will be fine. And so will we.

Besides, what’s the alternative? Being a human landfill for other people’s emotional waste until the end of time?

Next time someone offers you a complimentary season pass to their perpetually unfolding life drama, tell them you’re not much of a theater person.

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
With whom do you need to have a courageous conversation to reinforce your boundaries?

If your entire identity centers around how much you hate someone or something else, you lost.

If you define yourself solely by what you dislike rather than what you enjoy, you’re not living.

Now, there’s no rule that says you have to love everything and everyone, but if your default response to the world is to demonize things, give problems even more energy and create unnecessary psychological fuel around them, then you’re building negative value for the rest of us.

I’m reminded of a widely quoted study from the national sociology review. It explores how the process of leaving deeply meaningful and embodied identities can be experienced as a struggle against addiction.

Scientists found that involvement in extreme hatred often includes a complete identity transformation, in much the same way a person describes opiate addiction. Researchers demonstrated that although we can’t definitively conclude whether involvement in hate produces a legit form of addiction, empirical evidence proves the sociological significance of addiction.

As an interesting side note, this very study was published on the homepage of the department of homeland security. Which means our country finally accepts the fact that we have a chemical dependence on hate.

And it’s not just our nation. This is a global pandemic. Covid ain’t got nothing on the negativity addiction that’s slowing wiping out the human race.

Because think about what that word actually means. As the aforementioned study states, addiction is defined as thoughts, emotions, bodily experiences, and unwanted behavior of a chronic, relapsing, and compulsive nature that occur despite negative consequences, characterized by episodes where people feel they have lost control.

Doesn’t that perfectly describe our culture right now?

Dozens of times a day, emotions like hate and anger give us powerful neurochemical hits. Searching for targets at which to spit our vitriol is intoxicating. It makes us feel alive and vital and motivated.

What’s more, we gain power and authority by putting everything down.

But not unlike snorting cocaine, those effects wear off very quickly. Which means the hit needs to be administered again. And again and again and again.

Uh oh. Pulse slowing. Haven’t flooded my brain with outrage porn in thirteen minutes. Must find new hate target. Must engage the infinite scroll of notifications and information that passes by at a steady clip. Must perpetually micro dose my brain with feel good chemicals.

But the question we have to be asking ourselves is, who would we be without any resentments? Are we trying to make the world a better place, or are we just worried about our favorite villain disappearing?

Look, we all have justifications for our resentments. Hate is attractive because it’s a cheap and quick way to cement people together. Our plethora of poisonous feelings is like a prized possession.

It’s our precious. We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious. They stole it from us.

But isn’t it about time we started crafting our identities around things that were more life giving? Perhaps feelings like love and joy and compassion might release neurochemical hits that reduce our need to hate in the first place.

They may not feel as glamorous, rebellious and gratifying as shitting on the world all the time, but the long term health effects emotional sobriety are worth it.

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
Do you define yourself solely by what you dislike rather than what you enjoy?

When someone’s opinion goes against the majority it’s deemed unpopular.

Which is essentially just code for wrong, infuriating, shameful and offensive.

People are now ostracized, penalized and cancelled for what the world assumes they meant. Discourse is not even about listening anymore, it’s about judging.

I’m right, you’re wrong, has officially degraded into, I’m right, you’re evil.

This is why entire message boards and communities are built for people to anonymously share unpopular opinions. Our feelings have become dangerous and expensive to express because we’re afraid of the adverse reaction we’ll get from friends, family, followers and strangers.

For example, here’s an unpopular opinion of my own. Prepare yourself.

Frozen was a boring animated movie with wooden acting that wasn’t even remotely funny. The pacing was awful, the main character was literally and figuratively an ice queen, there was no decent hero to root for, the storyline was pointless, and the songs were rushed and forgettable with the exception of a single hit. Frozen doesn’t deserve its multi billion dollar box office gross. The fact that it’s the highest animated film in history is frankly insulting. Disney has created numerous classics that are ten times better.

How’s that for an unpopular opinion?

What’s interesting is, if I were to express that, people would label me an insensitive, misogynist asshole who doesn’t understand revolutionary art. Which is why it’s not an opinion I bring up in everyday conversation.

But of course, this isn’t about one man’s taste in cartoons, this is about the current state of the freedom of expression. The reason we have stopped taking chances with our own opinions is because our hypersensitive, contentious, politically correct, popularity driven culture has told us that there are certain things about which certain people are not allowed to have an opinion.

Because of age, gender, political standing, personality, career, financial status or religious beliefs, we are simply not permitted to comment. People like us aren’t allowed to say things about things like that.

And that’s why people often change their opinions to go along with others and not feel different. It’s safer and cheaper. The thought police is a very real force, and it is their job as the suctioning body of opinion to dispense demerits to anyone who holds contrarian beliefs.

Go against the majority, and we’ll have your head on platter.

This is all very unfortunate. Our country was founded on the principle that supports the freedom of an individual or a community to articulate their opinions and ideas without fear of retaliation, censorship, or legal sanction.

Opinions may not be facts, but they are still the only thing people really pay for.

We should have a lot of them and express them often. 

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
When was the last time you were told that you weren’t allowed to have an opinion?

A leading medical journal recently reported that only a quarter of doctors wear name badges, despite evidence that most patients believe their doctors should do so.

The study showed that three fourths of patients were unable to name anyone when asked to recall the name of the physician in charge of their care, causing additional frustration.

The irony is, most patients get dozens of identification tags from the moment they’re admitted. Think back to the last time you visited someone at the hospital. That person’s name was documented on everything.

Labels, wrist bands, meal trays, patient lists, clipboards, dry erase boards, doors, gowns, beds, medicine bottles, computer screens, bags of intravenous fluid, and so on.

In contrast, doctors only have their names on security badges attached to their hips, lanyards around their neck and embroidered lab coat. That’s it.

Researchers call this an asymmetry in identification. Advocates for better patient care say this is a symptom of the enormous information gulf separating patients and their doctors. And with adherence to wearing badges only around twenty five percent, many healthcare organizations have been testing new solutions to this sticky problem.

Some are rewarding good nametag behavior, like the hospital providing coffee vouchers to doctors seen wearing their badges. This is a nice idea in theory. Bribery can be an effective tool for creating behavioral change.

But employees shouldn’t be rewarded for doing something they’re supposed to be doing. That’d be like offering free cigarettes to chefs who remember to wear their aprons in the kitchen. It’s just part of the uniform. Get used to wearing the thing. It comes with the territory.

Korean doctors take more of the negative reinforcement approach. Physicians are required to wear their name tags by law. The health authorities enacted the nametag law after a string of incidents where fake doctors were found to be conducting surgeries disguised as licensed professionals.

According to the ministry of health and welfare, the name tags must display the medical worker’s name, the license, and the type of the license so that patients and guardians can identify them. Medical workers who don’t comply receive a corrective order with a fine, starting at a few hundred for the first offense, escalating in cost with each repeated incident.

Clearly, this approach is quite different from giving free coffee. Korean doctors recently criticized the law as excessive regulation. The medical union said it made physicians feel like elementary school students and was a violation of their freedom.

But since the law was enacted, only about thirty corrective orders have been issue. Proving that medical workers are abiding by the rules quite well. Maybe negative reinforcement is the way to go.

Ultimately, there is no perfect answer for how to increase nametag adherence, in the medical community or anywhere else.

My recommendation to any organization trying to solve this problem is empathy focused. When you do orientation with new team members, spent ten minutes helping them understand the bigger picture.

Nametags aren’t for you. They’re for everyone who interacts with you. Here, think back to all the incidents in your career when you chose not to wear your nametag. You didn’t want people knowing your name. You forgot to put in on. You were annoyed by attaching the damn thing each day. You disliked how it looked on your clothes. Your hair got caught in it. You were cold so you put a sweater over it. You wanted to lower the amount of complaints about your service to your employer. Or you were rebelling against the badge rules just for kicks. Notice that each of those excuses has everything to do with your ego and nothing to do with other people’s needs. Notice how few of the reasons for not wearing the tag have nothing to do with improving communication, deepening connection and increasing transparency.

Listen, if you work in any kind of customer service or patient care field, part of your job is setting aside your own issues for a moment and fulfilling someone else’s needs.

And if that means suffering the momentary vulnerability of revealing your name to another human being, then so be it.

In a world hell bent on keeping people separated from each other through their differences, perhaps the nametag is a simple way to keep the gulf between us from growing any bigger.

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
Why don’t you wear your nametag?

Making major life decisions when you’re emotionally overwhelmed is a bad idea.

That’s like going grocery shopping during a five day fast. All those strong emotions distort your perception of reality, activate the decision making process with little oversight by the logical part of your brain, and incite you to take action on the wrong grounds.

You begin pumping a cocktail of stress hormones into your bloodstream, feeling helpless to fight back against powerful biological forces.

Meanwhile, the people in the checkout line at the supermarket are giving you strange looks.

I’m sorry sir, but we have a store maximum of ten rotisserie chickens per customer. Please come back tomorrow.

Here’s a strategy that’s healthier and ultimately leads to a lower amount of resentment and indigestion.

Wait until you’re on steadier ground, and then decide.

See if you can get out of your emotional limbic system and back into the rational parasympathetic system of your brain. Use soothing practices like deep breathing, verbal mantras or other trusted routines to reconnect with self. If possible, perform a physical act of some kind to interrupt the patters.

In my own experience with anxiety and depression I’ve found playing guitar or piano for five minutes pays huge dividends.

Because when I engage in a physical act that requires me to focus, concentrate and synchronize my body’s movement across multiple dimensions, it drains the energy from my emotional brain. Those neurons are suddenly required for my motor reflexes, and so, the anxiety struggles to compete for resources, and simply fades away.

How do you get yourself on steadier ground? What’s is your emergency anxiety plan?

Once you figure out a solid subroutine, you’ll find that the basic awareness of the psychological transition will bring you from subconscious to conscious, and help regulate your emotions. And as for that major life decision you were thinking about making, well, for now, just see if you can change your state first, where you can feel calm, relaxed and intentional.

And then you can revisit that same decision with new eyes.

You might discover that it was a terrible idea in the first and thank god you didn’t book that transcontinental flight.

Or you might realize you were onto something, and it’s actually worth exploring further, but not from a reactionary place of fear.

As my therapist once said, never decide how to respond to a crisis during the crisis itself.

Have a recovery plan in your back pocket, that way you can execute when the pressure is on.

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
How could you drain the anxious energy from your emotional brain right now?

Have you ever had an art attack?

Not a heart attack, but an art attack?

This is a real thing. Stendhal syndrome is what sometimes happens when people are exposed to art of great beauty. Audiences experience psychosomatic responses such as rapid heartbeat, fainting, confusion and even hallucinations.

Kind of like those iconic black and white photos from the sixties. Beatles fans would watch their heroes arrive at the airport, and experience physical attacks. People would work themselves into a state so frenzied, that police would have to carry hysterical fan outs of the concert and into medical care.

Most of us have experienced some version of this. Maybe not fainting, but we’ve all witnessed a performance, art exhibit or movie that made us feel physically overwhelmed.

And objectively, it’s wonderful thing. It’s a unique feature of the human experience that everyone should experience at least once in their lives.

Now, this condition has been widely debated in the psychology and art worlds. Stendhal syndrome hasn’t been officially added to the latest version of the diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders yet, and it’s hard to tell if it ever will.

But audiences around the world agree, the buzzing afterglow of amazing art is undeniable.

My question is, to what degree can these art attacks become weaponized?

Because let’s face it, a fundamental purpose of consuming art is to make us forget about our miseries. A central reason why we attend concerts and watch superhero movies and play video games and read throbbing member erotica novels, is to distract us from our suffering. To forget about the fact that we’re going to die.

And again, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Avoidance is a powerful coping mechanism, when used judiciously.

But moderation isn’t exactly the strong suit of our species.

Look, I’m as guilty as anyone of using mass culture to soothe and seduce and mesmerize myself into forgetfulness. During college, the amount of television I watched was appalling. We’re talking about dozens of hours a week, for years. Just thinking about it fills me with shame.

Is that what my parents paid twenty thousand a year for?

God damn it, I should have been out there on campus learning things and making friends and having adventures and getting into trouble.

But unfortunately, at that period in my life, I was lonely, confused and unfulfilled. Despite not being a drinker or a drug user, I fell into the habit of using television, among other things, as a substitute for meaning. Soothed by the warm hypnotic cultural trance, I developed a series of avoidant behaviors, rather than confronting my own issues.

Do you have a version of that? Have you ever weaponized great art to chase some high, some soothing sensation, that sheltered you from your real feelings?

It’s not the healthiest place to be. Because the relief obtained from avoidance is only temporary. And when that avoidance becomes the major action in our lives, we can’t move to where we want to go. It may soothe us, but it answers nothing.

Mellin, in her brilliant book on wiring ourselves for joy, explains that if you are not securely attached to yourself, you’ll have nowhere to go when the going gets rough, so you’ll naturally soothe and comfort in some other way. Without this secure attachment to self, then you’re vulnerable to using external solutions as false attachments.

The good news is, this process can become art of great beauty in its own right.

Reconnecting to self. Developing a robust inner life. Building a strong internal locus of control. Having a practice of facing everything with no distractions or avoidance mechanisms.

Shit, that’s what should be in a museum.

And so, by all means, let us consume great art as often as possible. It’s a necessary fuel for our lives like food, water and oxygen.

At the same time, let us also learn to see advanced avoidance techniques for what they really are. Let’s remember that all mass culture exists to create a hypnotizing trance that soothes us away from critical thinking.

And let’s admit that human beings have a litany of beautifully crafted dodges that we use to avoid our real feelings.

To quote the fab four’s song about strawberry fields, living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.

LET ME ASK YA THIS…
Do you need to forget life right now, or do you need to look in the mirror?