Trouble will find you, even while living a good enough life

No one is happy all the time.  This shouldn't be too surprising.  We begin life in a random place at a random time with absolutely no idea where to go next.  If we are lucky, as most of us are, we find ourselves in the midst of a reasonably loving and conscientious family, who help to guide us and maybe give us a few rules to live by.

But the world is indifferent to your hopes and dreams, and it certainly isn't designed to insure that you will be happy.  Plan a picnic and the weather turns stormy.  Save for retirement and the stock market (or real estate market) crashes.  The other party's candidate gets elected.  Healthy people are diagnosed with cancer and die.  Shit happens. So leading a good enough life includes learning how to cope when things don't go your way.

For example, I telecommute out of a spare bedroom in our house in a suburban Honolulu neighborhood.  During the work week, I often don't see another person between the time my wife leaves in the morning and her return in the evening.  Phone calls, email, IM, and the various other forms of electronic communication are helpful, but they don't replace good old face-to-face conversation. By the end of the day I am craving companionship and I eagerly anticipate our evening pre-dinner debrief (with martini and wine).

Trouble is, it doesn't always happen.  A meeting may run long, there may be extra emails or essays to write, or a donor-cultivation dinner to attend.  Whatever it is, I'll have an extra hour or two (or more) to fill.  Maybe it sounds trivial (it probably is), but missing that evening conversation has been known to put me in a grey funk for days. Particularly if it happens on a Tuesday (don't ask why, I haven't figured that one out).  Fortunately, I've learned a few tricks to navigate the unexpected misfortunes.

Before

Stoic philosophers advise us to contemplate the losses and misfortunes that could befall us.  In his book on Stoicism, A Guide to the Good Life, William Irvine calls this practice "negative visualization."  Modern cognitive therapists recommend a similar technique, which they call "decatastrophizing."  Basically, you imagine the crappy things that could happen and then contemplate how you might react if they did happen.

Here's how it works.  While hanging around on a Sunday afternoon, I might imagine that my wife will unexpectedly have to work late on Tuesday (aaarrghh...the worst possible night!)  How might I react?  I could curse the reason for her absence (damn those confounded hungry donors) and generally get mad at circumstance.  From the perspective of Sunday, that seems like a ridiculous reaction.  

Thinking a little more, I might realize that I could use the time to do a little extra work of my own, meditate for a little longer than usual, revise a draft blog post, plan a karaoke party, watch a little TV, or some combination of all of those things.  Suddenly, a couple extra hours to myself start to look kind of appealing.  Regardless of  what happens next Tuesday (or any other evening), I'm prepared to deal with it. 

Seneca says

He robs present ills of their power who has perceived their coming beforehand.

Indeed it does.  The example above isn't hypothetical.  I used exactly that thought process once I recognized that the feeling of resentment and anger that bubbled up every time my wife got home a little late was pointlessly adding friction to our relationship.  And it works.  I don't like the extra loneliness, but I'm prepared for it.

During

Prepare all you want, but life will still catch you unawares. She can be a bee-otch that way.  The curve ball could be something completely unforeseen.  Or it could be something that you "negatively visualized" last week, which nevertheless still upsets you when it happens this week.

Suppose it is mid-afternoon on a week day and I get a call from my wife.  She forgot about an opening of a show at one of the local galleries.  Sorry, but she'll be an hour or two late.  Normally, that's no problem.  But sometimes, I don't want to do more work, meditate any more, or watch TV for two hours.  I just want to mix up a martini, talk for awhile, and then make dinner.  Forget the show, she should be home with me.  What to do then?

How about nothing? Just sit back and watch the fireworks exploding in your brain.  It can be an entertaining sight.  After an unexpected interruption in my evening plans, the first thing I notice, when I'm being mature enough to practice what I'm preaching, is a bitter, resentful feeling.  What right do these other people have to mess up my carefully laid plans? And a little self-pity often shows up - why didn't someone invite me out to dinner?

But it is not all whiny self-indulgence.  Usually a feeling of empathy steals onto the scene.  My wife is just as attached to our evening time as I am.  She isn't happy about the change of plans, either.  And for her it might be worse, she is working late at someone else's beck and call.

Compassion follows.  First, for myself - I know the anger will pass if I let it.  Then, for my wife.  I can help her recover from the long (and possibly frustrating) day if I let go of the angry feelings and welcome her home with a smile and a hug.  Or I could cling to my self-righteous resentment, with predictably bad results.  My choice.  Before I caught on to the mindfulness trick, I frequently went with the latter.  Now I usually choose to let go and smile.

After

Now your day is going really badly.  You anticipated a potential problem and it came to pass.  You paid attention as it was happening but you still feel crappy about what went down.  Now it seems like your world is going to hell in a hand basket.   Nothing will ever go right again.  At least not for you.  Maybe it's time to remember your ABCs or, more exactly, your ABCDEs.

Martin Seligman outlines a great technique for dealing with setbacks after the fact in his book, Learned Optimism.  There are five basic steps:

• Adversity - This is what happened.  Rain, stock market correction, presidential election, or cancer.
• Belief - This is what you believe about the adversity.  I should have looked at a weather report, invested in bonds, voted, or eaten more fruits and vegetables.
• Consequences - This is what you think will happen as a result of the adversity.  Catch a cold, never retire, world war, or death.
• Disputation - This is where you challenge your beliefs and expected consequences.  Colds are caused by viruses and not wetness, stock prices historically fall and then rise again, Congress has the sole power to declare war, chemotherapy and radiation are often effective treatments.
• Energization - Now you take a positive step in response to the adversity.  Dry off and drink an orange juice, be patient and don't sell your stocks, write your representatives in Congress, call an oncologist.

There is a lot more to this technique and it is well worth the effort to explore in more detail.  Rather than bore the uninterested, I'll just recommend the book.  But you can skip the part where he administers electric shocks to dogs.

Epilogue

What?  You're still here?  You visualized (negatively), decatastrophized, paid attention, did your ABCDEs, and you are still grouchy?  A regular Oscar-in-the-garbage-can aren't you?  Then you leave me with no choice.  We have to go way, way bold.  It's time for Jonathan Richman.  I dare you not to smile at the dance break.  Enjoy!