What this means is that Tuesdays are especially…intense. There’s that word again, huh? This also means that Tuesday nights are a highly convenient time for silent writing; by this time of night, I have quite a bit pinging around in my head. I’ll try to focus on my work, since it’s mine to discuss. Oh, and work is exactly what it is. Even without any personal time today (my therapist had to reschedule), I was emotionally wrecked. Perhaps my being emotionally wrecked was BECAUSE of not having my own time?

“You have a lot of grief that you need to allow yourself.”

Apart from the comment about my intensity, this was the parting comment from my new therapist. If my response (melting into a puddle of heartfelt tears) was any indication, she hit the nail on the head. I’ve taken to saying in a semi-pithy way that I’m not even a has-been, but more of a “could have been, but never quite did.” My tone stays purposely light and self-mocking when I make comments like that, but that tone belies the utter pain I feel when I contemplate a) how much I could have done with myself, b) what I’ve actually done, and c) the vast, gaping distance between the two. I’ve yet to dig deep into the root cause of things just. not. happening. Did I sabotage myself along the way? Likely so, but there are other circumstances that made it easy for me to do so. Whatever the cause(s), I have been mourning — and not allowing myself to mourn at the same time — all of what I believe be, but isn’t.

Because all of this is complex (and I’m mentally zapped), I’m just going to start a list. Lists are good. Lists are my friend.

And, apparently my list will have to wait; there’s a not-quite-3-year-old storm raging upstairs.

Last Monday, I entered midlife. Now, I’m not saying I have any sort of prescience about my date of death, but rather, that I hit the stereotypical crisis head first.

Before anyone worries (if anyone ever even sees these posts anymore — I sometimes muse that I take breaks in writing because I subconsciously *want* to lose my audience), I’m fine. I’ve yet to ever want to end my own life, although I briefly wished someone else would do it for me. How sadly passive-aggressive is that?

Anyway, I’m avoiding the topic at hand. All of this started about 1/2 a week earlier, as I walked Maya to school. You see, it’s been with great pleasure that I’ve watched Maya’s social development. This isn’t so much about pride as it is relief. Having grown up never quite fitting in for various reasons, I relished the idea of having a child who wouldn’t have to experience my particular pains. She can find her own, thanks! Since Maya entered kindergarten, I’ve started to have fears about whether my relief was premature. She yells and bosses other kids, then is bewildered why no one wants to play with her. She practically attacks classmates with hugs of how glad she is to see them — even kids she really doesn’t know well. She tells renewed acquaintances how horribly she’s missed them (when she’s not mentioned them even a single time, much less pined during their absence). It’s all so fraught. It’s all quite dramatic.

And, it’s all really, really hard to watch. Much like her mother before her, Maya is a Very Intense Person(tm).

Back to that Wednesday: we arrived at school before the bell rang, and parked at a table outside the classroom door. Maya saw a boy in her class heading up the sidewalk and yelled to him. “[Boy's name]! Hey! Come sit here with me!” The boy ran. He hid. Behind a trash can.

Normally, Maya would be a bit oblivious to the import of this reaction, but not that morning. She burst into tears. With each sob, I felt my heart ache for her a little — and rip open with old and forgotten pains of my own.

I walked home fighting the fears and tears (Shout! Shout!) back until I could return to the safety of home. Once I was home, I melted into a near-inconsolable mess. Mike was home to witness this. To his immense credit, Mike listened without responding, judging, or otherwise trying to fix the situation (that my speech was incomprehensible may have aided in that). I told him that I thought it was time I see a counselor, because *clearly* I had un-addressed issues.

It all revolves around “being too much,” as I’ve been told before. Or perhaps there’s “you’re just a bit intense.” Or how about this one? “You’re great to hang out with — it just has to be in small doses.” There was also the time, at age 26, when my boss ever-so-gently told me that I needed to back off from personal conversations with other department members. “They just want you to get their promotions done for them; they don’t care about your personal life.” Or, as I interpreted it, “don’t be you; just do your work.”

Much has changed since my mid-twenties, when I got emotionally slapped up the head by my boss. (There’s no resentment toward her; it was all the truth. I just didn’t know what to *do* with that truth.) What I recognized after watching Maya get shut down by a classmate, however, was that things weren’t necessarily better. They were just different. Instead of being the intense glom-on friend/girlfriend I’d been during my youth and 20s, I’ve become detached. The last time I truly fought for a romantic relationship, I was in my *early* 20s. Since then, I’ve been interested as long as the other party found me worthy of interest. At the first sign/s of difficulty, I’d bolt. Or, in the case of one long on-again-off-again relationship, I’d attempt to bolt. Or, in the case of my marriage, I’ve generally had a “one foot out the door” mentality since near the beginning.

What has become obvious is that this detachment is not only harmful to (ex)boyfriends, husbands, and would-be galpals; it hurts me too. I often find that I’m more lonely now than I ever was during my try-too-hard 20s. And, if I’m honest about it, it’s not just because …I live in a small town …I haven’t been here that long …I can’t find the right sort of job …people just don’t get who I am et cetera, et cetera. Those things may be true, but it’s also because I’m sitting back waiting for other people to come to me. I’m not making the effort myself; after all, effort would open me up to rejection.

Seeing this in myself was a step in the right direction — a huge step — but harder would be to figure out what to do about it. And so, today, I had a first session with a counselor. And you know how she described me at the end of the session? INTENSE. Oddly, I’m totally okay with that.

And thus ends my first experiment with a Write-In. Now, for the hard part: hitting “publish” without editing or otherwise censoring myself. If I edit, I will do it for clarity only, damn it. Promise.

Here’s a smidge:

Love, in my opinin, is better than adoration. Love is an equal-to-equal proposition. It has the opportunity for respect instead of worship. One can’t negotiate with the being one worships – they always have the upper hand, always have the power position, always must win, simply because they are more worthy than we.

Love puts us eye to eye with our kids. It says ‘I’m worthy, and you are worthy, so let’s work on getting us both what we each need.’ Love lets us embrace the rotten miserable awful parts of our child’s behavior and character, instead of rejecting them. When we embrace the things we dislike about our child, then we can work with those issues as whole parts of our whole child, rather than trying to cut off, squash, or negate the things we wish they didn’t have as aspects of personality or skill. The same is true of ourselves – I’m better at working on an issue in myself if I embrace it first, recognize it as ‘of me’.

Very true — I can certainly work on my own issues more if I accept them first.

While love is more messy, it’s also much more powerful and real. From the receiving end, I can tell that Maya, at least, craves the love, even as much as she enjoys the adoration. As Gavin continues to come into his own personhood, I hope I remember to frequently step back from adoring him so that I can SEE him.

Read the whole thing. Hedra’s description of watching her son morph from destructo to deconstructionist before her eyes is a powerful example of what we can see if we stop assuming we know who people are.

(ring)
Hey, how are you?
Eh, we’re all sick, mom. Maya had it, then I got it Friday, and it’s almost gone. Now it’s Gavin’s turn.
So, I’ve got an off-the-wall-question for you. How old was I when I started taking ballet?
Oh, I think you were about four. It was after we moved to Corpus Christi.

I don’t WANT to go to ballet!
You can’t just quit whenever you decide you don’t like something.
But I don’t LIIIIIKE it!
Life is full of things you won’t like.

How long did I take lessons?
Oh, a year at least.
And whose idea was it for me to take lessons?
It was my idea.

Please, don’t make me go. I don’t like the game running around playing like squirrels hiding their nuts in the Fall. It’s stupid.
Sigh. You really shouldn’t just be a quitter like that, but okay.

And when we took piano lessons, whose idea was that?
I think that was my idea too — at least for the first year. After that, it was up to you guys.
Okay, thanks — I’m at Maya’s school now; gotta run.

The answer was as simple as a phone call.

Ballet, piano lessons (which I took for several years before leaving), numerous activities that I *didn’t* pursue because of the attitude of, “oh, you’d just quit them anyway.” Other things I dabbled in and quit later (despite my insistence that I’d continue): skydiving, choral music after college. Things that I continued out of sheer love of it: music, extracurricular reading for personality and psychology. Devotion toward my kids and dedication to helping them grow up emotionally healthy.

After that first experience with accepting the label of “someone who quits things,” everything I’ve done has been colored by the idea that I simply can’t — or even worse, can but *won’t* — follow through. I strained against this identity in my first two major relationships, which lasted long past their consume-by date, despite the stench (I’m looking at you, JD). In reaction, most of my relationships since then have seen me as the one who’s never been willing to commit. Even as a married gal, have my emotions really ever been “all in?” To my shame, probably not.

My brother, by contrast, finished *everything.* In a household full of Judger-types, this was a virtue. I freely admit that I enjoy the initiation of a project more than the completion of it (although hitting “submit” on an assignment does feel really damned good). If you take a look at the piles of research and outline notes I have for each and every late assignment that is stressing me out, that becomes blindingly obvious. There is a place for completion drive.

But what if when I was a child it was actually *I* who did the right thing? What if my brother played soccer, not because he liked it, but because he was expected to not QUIT? What if it was okay for me to move on from activities I disliked after giving them a fair trial?

I’ll never know what the reality was. Memories are notoriously inaccurate, and mine is no exception. But, even the idea that maybe — just maybe — things weren’t exactly as I thought gives me a freedom. I have the freedom to do what makes sense to me, without regard (fear, even) of a label.

Perspective is good. Now pardon me while I complete some work. You see, despite what I was told at the age of 5, I’m not a quitter.

****Edited to add:****

I should mention — this does *not* mean that I am staying in at Walden after this quarter. What it does do is give me some psychological space in which to burn through the assignments for which I’ve had massive mental blocks (even when I HAVE had time free from baby-love). It also means that I know I’ll return. And I can do so without feeling haunted by this idea that I’m destined to fail or otherwise fall flat on my face.

Since I recently completed (okay, read, if not wrote about) the section on social psychology, I’m uber-aware of any tendencies toward self-serving bias. The reasons behind my delaying grad school for a year or so are both within the realm of personal (my fault) and external (circumstantial). The personal issues (major P-ness, perfectionism, etc — to blog about at length later) will still exist whenever I do a program. At least by waiting a bit, I’ll rid myself of some of the external issues (baby clinging at me and refusing to sleep unless held, lack of face-time with real, honest-to-goodness humans), and that will make the personal baggage easier to handle.

Grad school will recommence in a year or so, once Gavin is in some sort of childcare. Until then, I’ll sporadically write and — I hope — keep the critical thinking skills I’ve developed from getting rusty.

I write this, fully admitting that I am a parent, and that my position may be biased. That said, my four-year-old just stormed off to her room and screamed “I’m not going to be your Mommy anymore!” (I know.) My 10-month old has been whining at me as he strains and struggles with trying to break his first teeth and dealing with object permanence and the resulting separation anxiety.

Now that that’s out of the way, let the post begin.

Robin Simon and Ranae Evenson (2005) published research that rocked the popular media: parents are more depressed than the child-free. Newsweek’s “True or False: Having Kids Makes You Happy” (Ali, 2008) takes a humorous, albeit superficial, look at this study, and the pair of articles seemed perfect for this assignment. The problem is, when I read the actual research, the Newsweek article does accurately reflect Simon & Evenson’s study, at least in part. Where the Newsweek article falls short is that it only touches on one finding from an extensive analysis — that parents are, as a whole, slightly more likely to show indicators of depression than non-parents.

The bulk of this project did not actually focus on a comparison of parents and non-parents, but rather on comparisons of depression rates among various types of parents (biological, empty nest, step parents, non-custodial, etc.). That a litany of articles and interviews touched on the one non-central finding strikes me as less of an indicator of the study’s rigor, and more of an indication of one particular researcher’s search for the spotlight. This is especially true considering two pieces of evidence: the sensationalistic (and misleading) press release from the study author’s own office and the contradictory findings in research. The very title of the press release, “Depression May Be Lifelong Parent Trap,” implies a causation finding that the research does not support. Dr. Simon also misinterprets her own published research, speculating on causation where only correlation exists, saying, “Parents have more to worry about than other people do – that’s the bottom line, and that worry does not diminish over time. Parents worry about their kids’ emotional, social, physical and economic well-being. We worry about how they’re getting along in the world” (‘Depression,’ 2006, ¶4). While these comments may or may not hold truth, her research does not address the content that her press release would imply (Simon & Evenson, 2005).

Two pieces of contradictory evidence are also buried within the published study’s notes. Simon and Evenson (2005) pulled and assessed follow-up data from five years after the initial analysis sample, and discovered that those who became parents between the two surveys showed no change in their depression indicator levels. Additionally, comparisons of parents with children under age 6 at home to childless adults of similar demographic/social backgrounds also show no difference in depression levels at all.

Even how the research calculates “depression” seems suspect to me. In describing the study methodology, the authors describe the 12 items *from* the Center for Epidemiological Studies Depression (CES-D) Scale included in the data, and cite this instrument’s high construct validity and internal consistency. This is good, in theory. However, in practice, the sample Simon and Evenson used includes only a selection of the instrument, not the entire 20-question instrument. The scoring for the sample is completely different (a scale of 0 to 7 days) than the tested scaling. The questions included in the Simon & Evenson sample also excluded four questions about positive mental health from the CES-D (Radloff, 1977) and did not include other survey questions that also relate to mental health (‘Well-being,’ 1987).

With my history of depression, I was fully open to the idea that I might, as a parent, experience more difficulty than my childless peers. Instead, I found myself mulling over many questions about the research findings and the highly-selective way in which the study authors communicated their findings to the media. Additional research that focuses on the parental experience versus childlessness (and that better removes numerous third variables and issues of directionality) could be enlightening. This study does not convince me.

I chose this article and corresponding peer-reviewed study not knowing that I was going to have a [expletive deleted, rhymes with itty-bitty] evening. From my whining (I am fully aware it sounds like that), you might assume that I would agree with the study authors’ findings. Yet, I do not. Yes, my daughter is being a right pill at the moment. But, this is the same kid who, earlier today as I drove in traffic, informed me that “Move it, people!” was not nice, and that I should instead say, “Move faster, cars, please.” And, as I wrote that, she emerged from time out wearing a dress as a wig and singing about how life is like a dream. These are but two of a million examples of my daughter’s upside, which contributes to my personal happiness as a parent. Sure, there are more issues and more questions. There are also more highs and moments of brilliance.

Now, pardon me please, while I go watch the baby giggle and the princess-in-training give me a dose of happiness. According to Dr. Simon, I need it.

References

Ali, Lorraine (2008). True or false: Having kids makes you happy. Newsweek (July 7-14, 2008). Retrieved January 7, 2009 from http://www.newsweek.com/id/143792

‘Depression may be lifelong parent trap’ (2006). Press release from Florida State University. Retrieved January 8, 2009 from http://www.newswise.com/p/articles/view/517861/

Evenson, R., & Simon, R. (2005). Clarifying the relationship between parenthood and depression. Journal of Health & Social Behavior, 46(4), 341-358. Retrieved January 7, 2009, from Academic Search Premier database.

Radloff, L.S. (1977). The CES-D scale: A self-report depression scale for research in the general population. Applied Psychological Measurement. 1977; 1; 385. Retrieved January 8, 2009 from Sage Journals Online.

‘SE-2 Well-being, role performance, health, social participation, social support’(1987). Questionnaire design for the 1987-88 National Survey of Families and Households. Retrieved January 8, 2009 from ftp://elaine.ssc.wisc.edu/pub/nsfh/nsfh.wp1

From the Journal of the American Medical Association:

The highly contested premises that abortion is bad for women and that women do not know their own minds garnered the support of the nation’s highest court. In fact, there is no empirical evidence for the claimed association between abortion and mental or physical harm to women. (emphasis added) Indeed, the extant evidence repudiates the Court’s claim of postabortion trauma¹⁹; having an abortion does not appear to pose greater mental or physical risks than delivering and parenting an unwanted child or giving the infant up for adoption.²⁰ (Gostin, 2007, p.1563-1564)

References from the JAMA article:
19. Stotland NL. The myth of the abortion trauma syndrome revisited. JAMA. 1992; 268(15):2078-2079.
20. Cohen SA. Abortion and mental health: myths and realities. Guttmacher Policy Rev. 2006;9:8-16.

Oh, how I adore having a reference library of peer-reviewed literature available. Simply adore it.

Maybe I should head back over there and have a chat with this woman, article in hand and appropriately highlighted. Maybe I can share with her why I’m pro-choice. What do you think? (Yeah, that’s rhetorical, but if you have an opinion, share it anyway.)

Reference

Lawrence O. Gostin (2007). Abortion politics: Clinical freedom, trust in the judiciary, and the autonomy of women. JAMA. 2007;298(13):1562-1564 (doi:10.1001/jama.298.13.1562)

Allison your first paragraph may be the best I’ve read anywhere on this topic, and your post as a whole is as good or better than any I’ve received on this assignment.

KICK. ASS. Remind me why I was so afraid to get started on this? What I’m finding is once again, when I hit a level of flow with a project, the words just pour out. Of course, it took me several hours of research and outlining to get to flow (sheesh, for a flipping three-paragraph paper), but still…I’m feeling pretty good.

The piece in question was for this assignment: Discuss in a posting whether or not and in what ways you think scholarly psychologists (scholar-practitioners) who understand scientific methods in psychology are indispensable in the process of resolving contemporary social problems or issues and achieving constructive social change. In what ways might the future well-being of humankind hinge on greater input from psychologists and social scientists from related fields? What obstacles might there be to addressing these problems and issues more scientifically?

My response:

Chocolate, meet peanut butter.

“Scholar.” For me, this word conjures images of serious-minded academics, rising above the fray of daily minutiae, engaged in highly important (if, perhaps, irrelevant to daily life) research about their chosen subject. This (admittedly stereotypical) scholar relies on the scientific method for accurate findings, and uses proven techniques in the testing of promising hypotheses. The scholar might also be a bit removed from reality, and the discovery process may move along at a red-tape-induced trudge. “Practitioner.” A practitioner is what I have always imagined myself becoming, in some way, shape, or form. The practitioner gets things done, helps people in a real-world sense, and has a firm grasp of the issues facing society. Yet, this word, too, is not without worrisome connotations. As a practitioner, I fear I could find myself so buried in the day-to-day workings of my field that I fail to notice when the world (or proven technique) changes around me. Or, if I neglect to apply critical thinking in my practice, I may fall prey to lazy thinking and the next “big trend” in helping my clientele. By bringing together these concepts, I will have the best of both worlds as a scholar-practitioner: the scientific method matched with insight about which subjects to investigate, innovative ideas with a foot firmly planted in reality, and the ability to view from both a 10,000-foot and 10-milimeter perspective. I believe the scholar-practitioner mode of professional practice is indispensible for solving the problems that face our society.

To see the potential impact of a scholar-practitioner approach, one need look no farther than the American Psychological Association’s annual award winners in applied research. Recent winners have changed how the insanity plea applies in the courtroom (‘Award,’ 2008), quantified actual effectiveness of various forms of psychotherapy (‘Award,’ 2007), and opened avenues of government funding for further behavioral health research — funding that was previously only available to “hard” medicine (‘2006 Award,’ 2006). A scholar-practitioner doesn’t have to wait until becoming a lifetime achievement award-winning psychologist to have an impact. Even at the level of a single middle school, a counselor can employ the scientific method to determine which factors help students achieve, develop intervention programs, and assess the value of those programs (Ware & Galassi, 2006). Sometimes, change happens in great leaps; more often, the well-being of mankind is supported one student at a time.

The interplay of research and application certainly has impact; but, the road to application is not without bumps. Anti-scientific attitudes — postmodern thought, the belief in pseudoscience, and a lack of understanding of what is (and isn’t) good science — allow many unproven ideas to propagate at a much quicker rate than is possible for well-grounded research (Ruscio, 2006). In some cases, researchers encounters resistance from people who assume they already have the answers, as in educational psychology, where “just about everybody, having gone to school, thinks he or she is an expert on education—‘funding is abysmally low,’ ‘practical problems are intractable,’ the Feds don’t understand us,’ and so on” (Burkhardt & Schoenfeld, 2003, p.13). In still other instances, both the research and its application are unknowingly tainted by unconscious bias. In one English school teachers began to see special needs students where they didn’t exist. They had been given statistics of special needs students (statistics that were, in the first place, based on questionable research design) and started to unconsciously categorize their students to fit the expected ratios (Thomas & Loxley, 2005). Throughout the profession of psychology, purists to the assorted schools of thought may hinder progress with all-or-nothing approaches to the application of beliefs they hold close.

Regardless of the difficulties I may encounter, I am motivated to become what Dr. (Hard-Ass) referred to as “an eclectic applied psychologist,” someone who can recognize the value of the various perspectives and apply them as I see fit. It is my goal as a student — and future practitioner — to recognize reality for what it is and move forward accordingly, with the best information the scientific method can supply.

References

2006 award winners: award for distinguished professional contributions to applied research (2006). American Psychologist, Retrieved December 11, 2008, doi:10.1037/0003-066X.61.8.875b

Award for distinguished professional contributions to applied research (2008). American Psychologist, Retrieved December 11, 2008, doi:10.1037/0003-066X.63.8.773b

Award for distinguished professional contributions to applied research (2007). American Psychologist, Retrieved December 11, 2008, doi:10.1037/0003-066X.62.8.854b

Burkhardt, H. & Schoenfeld, A. (2003). Improving educational research: toward a more useful, more influential, and better-funded enterprise. Educational Researcher 2003; 32; 3. Retrieved December 11, 2008, from Sage Online Journals.

Ruscio, J. (2006). Critical thinking in psychology: separating sense from nonsense (Second Ed.). Belmont, California: Wadsworth , Cengage Learning.

Thomas, G. & Loxley, A. (2005). Discourses on bad children and bad schools. Journal of Learning Disabilities, 38(2), 175-182. Retrieved December 11, 2008, from Education Research Complete database.

Ware, W. & Galassi, J. (2006). Using correlational and prediction data to enhance student achievement in K-12 schools: A practical application for school counselors. Professional School Counseling, 9(5), 344-356. Retrieved December 11, 2008, from Academic Search Premier database.

I should mention here that I simply love researching, to the point where I have to MAKE. MYSELF. STOP. AND. FREAKING. WRITE. ALREADY. The flow of ideas for “Oh! I could write about this! Or this! What about this!” is a total thrill for me. Yes, I am *that* nerdy.

Why do Asperger men and Neuro-typical women get married?
AS men are attracted to strong, intelligent, compassionate women who can handle the social world for them. These same women are attracted to the unconventional nature and boyish charm of AS men. They feel he will allow them their independence. It is only later that they learn their AS partner is quite conservative. Instead of supporting her independence the NT wife realizes that her AS husband is merely disinterested in her interests. His attention is narrowly focused on his interests.

(Source)

To say that I have a lot on my mind doesn’t even begin to describe it. When I sort my thoughts out a bit more, I may write about them. Then again, considering the subject (my marriage), I may not. On the plus side, Mike is incredibly motivated to meet my needs — as long as he can actually figure them out. That’s the hard part.

Congratulations! On behalf of Walden University, I am pleased to offer you contingent acceptance to the Master of Science in Psychology with a specialization in Social Psychology program. You begin your program with an online orientation on December 1, 2008. This email will serve as your official letter.

Hoo boy. Here we go. Guess since I’ve been talking about doing this for nearly 5 years, it’s about darned time.