Keep It Simple & Sane: Freeing Yourself from Addictive Thinking (For Readers of The Craving Mind and Healing the Shame that Binds You) - Softcover

Rogers, Barb

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1573243574 ISBN 13: 9781573243575

Publisher: Conari Press, 2008

Synopsis

Inspired by the 12step saying, "Life is simple, it's people who are complicated," Barb Rogers points out in Keep It Simple and Sane that it's pretty easy to tell ourselves lie upon lie as we explain away bad behavior associated with drugs, alcohol, food, sex, work...whatever, in an attempt to feel better about our complicated lies. And of course, we can't do anything to simplify our lives because we're too busy keeping up with our complicated lives, so we drink, smoke, or shoot, to seek release in inappropriate ways to relieve the complications. But we never do. Through the telling of her own story and those of fellow travelers, Rogers encourages readers to wait, stop, and hold the phone Start with Mentally Simple (the opposite of Stinking Thinking) and just do it. Start small. "Grab a mental flashlight" and follow her lead to discover what you were thinking and how you might think differently. Offering 24 simple ideas in four sections (mind, emotions, spirituality, physicality), along with strategies and exercises to introduce them into your daily life, this book is for people on the simple path to wellness, for people who simply want to take charge -- to change the things they can change, accept the things they cannot change, and learn to know the difference without an operatic, addictive song and dance.

About this title

About the Author

Barb Rogers became a professional costume designer after beginning her journey of recovery. She is the founder of Broadway Bazaar Costumes, and author of three books about costuming. She's the author of Keep It Simple & Sane: Freeing Yourself from Addictive Thinking, TwentyFive Words and Clutter Junkie No More. Barb passed away in 2011.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Keep It Simple & Sane

Freeing Yourself from Addictive Thinking

By Barb Rogers

Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC

Copyright © 2008 Barb Rogers
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-57324-357-5

Contents

Acknowledgements
Introduction
Keep It Mentally Simple
What Were You Thinking?
Don't "Should" on Yourself
Flower Power
Changing Words
Don't Miss Your Ride
Keep It Emotionally Simple
Fight or Flee
Unintended Consequences
Time: The Great Healer?
You and Your Karma
Living Inside Out
Keep It Spiritually Simp
Spiritual Clutter
Awakening
Wandering Spirit
Embrace Uncertainty
Spiritual "Tells"
Jump In
Keep It Physically Simple
Life after Life
Beginner's Mind
The Body
Relationships
Communications
Finances
Living Space
Small Bites
Summary
The Twelve Steps
About the Author

CHAPTER 1

Keep It Mentally Simple

A ring of the bell,A knock at the door,and life can change forever.

—Anonymous

What Were You Thinking?

We are the great thinkers of the world. By that, I don't mean that what we thinkis necessarily great, but that we think a great deal of the time. No matter whatwe are doing, the mind continues to ponder, imagine, ruminate, cogitate,consider, and contemplate. It is one busy little organ. Where do all thesethoughts come from?

As far as anyone knows for certain, you enter this world with a clean slate.However, more recently, I understand there are people experimenting withinfluencing the mind of a baby while it's still in the womb. They talk to thefetus, play specific music, even try to teach it ... as if this little personisn't going to have enough to think about once he or she gets here! I wonder ifthese people consider the fact that if the fetus can hear and learn, then it ishearing and learning all the time, not just when the researcher is speaking toit. There I go thinking again.

When we first start out, how we think and what we think about the world,ourselves, and others, is formed by those who are significant in our lives. Theybring with them what they were taught, their life experiences, and theirspecific beliefs. To fit into the community of family, we tend to accept thesetruths as fact. Why wouldn't we believe them, even when they tell us negativethings about ourselves, others, the world around us? These are the people whoare supposed to love us, protect us, nurture us, and prepare us for life asadults.

School begins, and we enter a community of peers, teachers, and discover thatnot everyone thinks like we do, like our family. It can be a time whenconfusion, frustration, and conflict begin.

Having spent a great deal of my pre-school years as a river rat, barefoot andfree, frolicking in the sunshine, splashing in the cold water of centralIllinois's Kaskaskia River, playing on the old covered bridge, it wasdevastating when I began school. I was not prepared. There were rules, so manyrules, and so many strangers. It was the early 1950s, and girls were required towear dresses and act ladylike. I had no idea what that meant. However, theystuffed me into a secondhand dress, white socks, and shoes. Accustomed to biboveralls, shorts, and pants, I ended up tearing every one of the high-waisteddresses at the waist by continually pulling on them. My white socks were alwaysblack because I took my shoes off every chance I got. I was more comfortablewith boys because they didn't mind exploring, defying, or getting dirty.

By the time I entered the third grade, I believed I was a poor, black child. Ididn't know we were poor until we lived in town, on the wrong side of thetracks. If I hadn't been so dark-complected, if my mother hadn't attempted ahome permanent that turned into an afro, if we hadn't lived in an all-blackneighborhood, I could have been white trash. Back then, that was a step up. Butno, I joined my ethnic community. The problem was, I didn't belong to theAfrican American community, and they let me know it. I was a girl, but I didn'tthink like other girls. I was white, but I didn't look white. The conflictbetween what I thought and the reality that was my life grew.

As important as it is to find your place in your family, it is just as importantto have a sense of belonging to your peer community and your ethnic community.When you don't have that, you begin to think something is wrong with you, thatyou are not worthy. From that point on, life becomes very complicated.

At some point we got a television. That was a big deal in the 1950s. Little didI know the impact it would have on my life. I sat mesmerized by the small black-and-whiteshows and the commercials. Fascinated by the products and ideas on thecommercials, I began to think. Who got to have those things? Why weren't we likethe families at the table eating a special breakfast cereal together? Televisionfamilies didn't treat their kids like I was treated. They taught them lessons ina nice way. There was no screaming, no hitting, no being shunned or locked away.They didn't tell them they were lazy, stupid, or ugly, that if they had a brainthey would take it out and play with it.

My mind told me that if we could just return to the river, to the simplicity ofour lives, away from strangers with their different ideas, away fromtelevisions, electricity, running water, flush toilets, I could stop worrying,stop thinking, stop trying to be something or someone that I wasn't. It was myearliest real thought of escape.

I simply wanted to put on my baggy bibs, feel the sun on my face, the sandbetween my toes, and watch the river flow. I wanted to go back to that placewhere I knew I was safe, where I no longer had to think about how I looked, howI acted, what I should be learning, and where I didn't have to care about whatwe had and didn't have compared to others.

I blamed my parents. It wasn't my idea to change our life. I didn't have achoice. They dragged me along with them, and my misery was all their fault. Iwould never forgive them.

It's amazing how you can hold on to a thought or idea for years, and let itcontinue to affect your life, keeping you from the very things you thought youdesired most. If the thought or idea stays in your brain long enough, it beginsto atrophy, becoming a degenerative disease that keeps you sick.

By age 10, the seeds of my degenerative disease of the mind were planted. Ithought all the time, and all I thought about was myself. What was I thinking?That because I was poor, I would never have those things that made other peoplehappy. That because my parents didn't seem to like me, I was unworthy of love.That because of how I looked, I would never fit in with others. That because Iwas stupid, I would never succeed. Any attention I hoped to get would be becauseI did something bad.

The only hope I had was to escape. The problem was that no matter how far Iwent, where I ended up, or who I was with, I took my diseased mind right alongwith me into every situation, and every relationship. Each time I failed, everytime I gave in to fear of trying, when I did bad things to get the attention Icraved so badly, I nurtured the seeds and allowed them to take root.

Like the old, dirty, dusty clutter that can accumulate in a house, the stuff youdon't need but are afraid to get rid of in case you might need it someday, thoseold thoughts can pile up. Why do we keep them? The only use they have is anexcuse not to be responsible, not to move forward, not to risk facing theunknown. When fear strikes, it's comforting to know that we can go wallow inthat old stuff, surround ourselves with memories, even bad ones, and justify ourfear. After all, if we can hold on to the past, those old ideas, we can't beblamed for anything we've done, or are going to do. We can become the greatthinking martyr.

What were you thinking about yourself, others, the world around you, at age 10?How about age 16 ... 20 ... 25? What old thoughts are you holding on to? Doyou suffer from the mind clutter disease? It is a symptomatic disease that showsitself through poor self-esteem, irrational insecurities and fears, and lowself-worth. Untreated, the results of the disease may be a discontented,frustrated, unhappy human being, who is stuck in outdated, unhealthy ideas.

The brain is a miraculous organ when it is not clogged up. However, like everyother amazing machine, when there is a problem, you must identify it, figure outa way to fix it so it doesn't reoccur, and then remedy the problem. The nextstep is to keep it running by consistent use ... never letting it get cloggedup again.

I was well into my thirties when I stopped numbing my brain with mind-alteringsubstances to escape my thoughts, and decided there had to be a better way tolive, to think, to function. It was time to delve into those nooks and cranniesof my mind, to discover what was there, and to clean out the old, uselessrubbish from my past. It had been piling up for a long time. Some of it wasreally stuck. It would take some time and effort to accomplish a clean sweep.

It can take anything from self-examination to therapy to arrest the disease,depending on how far along it is and how embedded the old thoughts are in yourmind. Before you run off and pay thousands of dollars for extensive therapy,there are some simple exercises you can try yourself that may work for you.

Imagine yourself as an explorer. What you will be exploring throughout this bookare the caves in your brain. You will be shining a light on all those darkcorners to see what you can discover. Those old ideas can only affect you aslong as they can hide in the shadows; when they are brought out into the lightof day, they lose their power.

Are you ready to clear out the clutter? Grab your flashlight, take a deepbreath, and prepare yourself to delve into those areas of your mind where you'vebeen storing old thoughts and ideas that are holding you back.

Don't "Should" on Yourself

Images! They are everywhere. If you enjoy browsing magazines and catalogues,watching television, listening to the radio, and scanning the Internet, you knowwhat I mean. Even a Sunday drive is filled with signs and billboards. Every day,in every way, you are shown what you "should" look like, what you "should"strive to obtain, what you "should" think and believe, how you "should" act, tobe a successful member of society.

The use of images in this way is called, "social engineering," which isessentially calculating a scheme and manipulating or directing an enterprisethrough skillful or artful contrivance. That's quite a mouthful. Put simply, itmeans to take a person, product, or idea, and figure out a way to make itacceptable, even desirable, to as many people as possible.

You might be wondering why social engineering is something for concern. How doesit affect you? The effect may be greater than you think. People want to fit inwith the society in which they are living. What happens if they don't believethey are a part of it all, or are treated like they are not?

The fallout can be as simple as an unhappy, unfulfilled life, or so severe thatit results in mental illness, crime, suicide, addictions, and other obsessivebehavior. If you think I exaggerate, perhaps you haven't shared my experiences.Allow me to take you along, not only on my personal journey, but into thehospitals, jails and prisons, and treatment facilities that are filled tooverflowing with those who figured out what life "should" be, but couldn'tfigure out how to accomplish it.

One definition of a victim in Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary is "onethat is acted on and usually adversely affected by a force or agent." I beganlife as a victim. I was a victim of poverty, of angry parents in an unhappyalliance that resulted in neglect and abuse, of not believing I had any worth.When I got to school, the idea that I was not worthy was further pounded home byother children, even teachers, through thoughtless words and actions. I did notbelong ... not at home, not at school, not anywhere.

Before I hit puberty, I'd figured some things out in my little victimized brain.I would never look the way I "should," the way others looked. I didn't thinklike others. My life was not like my peers, not like the families I saw ontelevision, in magazines. The only power I had, the only time I felt an inklingof love, was through sex. Power came because I was the great keeper of secrets.Because I was such a victim, feeling powerless most of the time, I grabbed on toanything, many times bad things, that made me feel like I had some control.

If you think sex is not a powerful tool, pay attention to the movies andcommercials on television for one day. I'm amazed at the number and variety ofproducts, from mustard to brakes, that are still sold by using sex. Apparentlysex sells or advertisers wouldn't be using it.

I didn't like sex, but it was the tool I could use to get my needs, no matterhow skewed, met. As I've worked with others over the years who have alsoprostituted themselves, I hear the same story. They used sex for power, andsubstituted it for love. For most of them, including myself, love is either notreal or too frightening to consider. To truly care about another human being isto lose power and invite pain.

As if you think I couldn't sink any lower, because I hated what I believed I hadto do, I sought mind-numbing substances. There was a time when I would putanything in my mouth that would shut out the truth. Thank God I was afraid ofneedles, or you would have found me in some alley shooting up.

I had a baby before I had a driver's license. It seems odd now. I didn't knowhow to drive a car, but I thought I could mother a child. Talk about notthinking right. But for the first time in my life, when I looked into the faceof my child, I knew love. Babies don't know any better. They loveunconditionally. Tears are welling in my eyes just thinking about the day I gavebirth, that moment, and what was to follow.

Addicts in recovery will tell you that it was that first high that got themhooked, and that they spent years trying to recapture that feeling. For me, andmany others, having a baby was just like that. I told myself it was okay to keephaving babies because that's what women "should" do, but really I was chasingthe feeling.

My poor babies failed to thrive and died in infancy, except for my eldest son,who would live to be my caretaker until his early death at age 15. What ahorrible burden to put on such small shoulders.

Living in Your Head Can Be Dangerous

The older I got, the more "shoulds" there were. I failed at all of them. Theconflict between what I "should" be and all the failures drove me to a mentalhospital. I was 25 years old and had lost my mind. After my release, clean ofalcohol and drugs, except the ones prescribed by a psychiatrist, I spent yearsin therapy. I was shocked, drugged, analyzed, hypnotized, and later educated.

It was when I chose to go off the prescription drugs that the crap hit the fanand blew right back into my face. I "should" have been a better person,daughter, wife, mother, friend, employee, even patient. My mind would scream, "Iwant to ... I want to be part of you, to understand how I'm supposed to live,to think, to be ... I want to, but I don't know how." It was time to face themirror, and it wasn't a pretty picture. How in the world would I ever resolve mypast, forgive myself, and learn to live the way I "should"?

Living from the neck up, in avoidance of feelings, is an old trick victims usefor survival. Because I couldn't stand the truth, the memories, my thoughts, Ireturned to mind-numbing substances—and not the ones prescribed by a doctor.Although, if they were handy, I'd take them, too, whether they were prescribedfor me or someone else. Believe me when I tell you, you wouldn't have wanted menear your medicine cabinet.

I knew, on some level, that if I ever allowed my emotions to invade my mind,they would overwhelm me, and I would lose my mind again. I lived on the edge ofinsanity for years.

So often, when I work with addicts or victims of abuse, I tell them they have tostop living in their head. It's a dangerous place to be. Thoughts are like apressure valve. If pushed down and held in long enough, eventually they willexplode in unhealthy ways. This reminds me of a man I've known for many years,both during the time we were using and when we got clean and sober. A victim ofchildhood abuse, who became a raging alcoholic and drug addict, in and out ofthis institution and that, he finally sought help.

He has been clean and sober for many years now, but he still lives in his head,afraid that if he ever reveals his secrets, his feelings, it will kill him. Foryears he's tried to be what a person in recovery "should" be. However, there isconflict between his thoughts and his actions. Even though, as far as I know, hehas never used again, his life is one disaster after another.

He has pushed away everyone who cares for him, is not able to have a long-lastingrelationship, or even friendship, and others avoid him at everyopportunity. There is a hurt, frustrated, angry little boy living in his mind,in charge of his grown-up body. If he continues to live like this, who onlyknows what will happen. One thing I do know is that it won't be good.

An obsession of the mind can be as destructive as a cancer eating away at yourbody. It will clutter up every dream you have, every goal you've set foryourself, every relationship you've wished for, and any hope for peace andhappiness.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Keep It Simple & Sane by Barb Rogers. Copyright © 2008 Barb Rogers. Excerpted by permission of Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: Conari Press
• Publication date: 2008
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1573243574
• ISBN 13: 9781573243575
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 245