inner wild therapy

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Archives (page 11 of 15)

Expectant families fall into costly trap

So you have a baby on the way. How exciting!

I wonder, have you made a list of all the equipment you’ll need? All the things you must have to help baby feel comfortable and you feel organised and ready?

OK, here’s what to do.

Take a deep breath and tear that stupid list UP!

It’s a trap, I tell you. A trap expertly laid which preys on your desire to be a good parent. It’ll cost you financially and it’ll cost your family emotionally too.

When I was pregnant I got myself into a right lather over my list of things I needed to get. Cot – which kind? Sheets, clothes, hats, nappies (which ones?!) towels, cloths, baby mat, toys, mobile, monitor -¦ it just went on and on, gaining extra items from every baby website I visited. The list grew longer and longer – kind of like in preparation for how long the  till receipt was going to be at my local giant baby goods store.

The equipment list became some kind of test. It seemed to represent my level of preparedness for motherhood. Somehow it felt like the more things I had on that list, the more equipment I had, the better mother I would be.

During one visit to my midwife I told her my concerns about all this equipment I need to get. I thrust The List at her saying, “I’m worried I haven’t got everything on here and is there anything I’ve missed?”

My midwife, who had helped birth thousands of babies, smiled gracefully and without so much as a glance at The List said, “Babies only need one piece of equipment: arms to hold them.”

OMG what a relief! ‘Arms to hold them’. Em, What? Oh, OK.

But then, panic, “what about a COT?”

“Baby in the bed” she said – firmly – and that was the end of the whole equipment discussion.

Not knowing then the whole baby-in-the-bed furore, I went with my wise midwife’s advice about this and many other things – much to the benefit of myself and my baby.

So if you have a list like mine – tear it up. No, really, give yourself a break. Take the pressure off. Don’t start cluttering up your home with a whole pile of stuff that will only come between you and your baby. Don’t think it’s helping you be prepared. It’s actually having the opposite effect because you’ll be relying on “things” and “stuff” to be ‘prepared’ instead of preparing yourself and having confidence in yourself.

No matter what people say to you – you do NOT need all that stuff when you have a baby. In no way does it represent your ability to be a good mother or father. In fact, I would go so far as to say that most baby equipment is designed to replace you as a parent. All of this equipment, this stuff, somehow comes between you and your baby and creates distance. (More about that another time perhaps.)

Babies need you – their mommy and/or daddy. The most important equipment they need is someone to love them and protect them. It follows that that includes your breasts, your arms, your songs, attention, whisperings and laughter.

In fact, having seen an amazing mum who was born without arms, you don’t even need arms to be a loving parent.

I was prompted to write this post today after seeing an advertisement for the Scottish Baby Show at the SECC in Glasgow at the weekend. An event which yes, celebrates the delight and joy of having a baby and that is a beautiful thing to bask in.

But it also brings together lots of people wanting to suck the cash right out of the pockets of expectant parents. This is relatively easy to do by playing on our natural, human ‘will I be a good enough parent?’ fears.

Only with this £1,500 pram, they say. Only with this factory-produced-for financial-profit formula, plus all the sterilising kit you need to go with it. Only if baby sleeps through the night and you’ll need a baby monitor because, of course, they also need their own bed which you’ll need to buy for £200 plus mattress plus sheets and of course a bumper.’

Does it not just make you feel insecure thinking about it?

There is a gigantic baby goods industry* built around making ludicrous amounts of money from new parents – and, like people grieving or going through other life-changing events, new parents are extremely vulnerable to the refined sales pitch.

Take the pressure off yourself. Don’t fall for the commercial hype. Don’t let ‘the baby experts’ attempts to “educate” you undermine your confidence in yourself as a parent. Just get what you want, not what some company tells you need. All the other stuff distracts baby from you, and you from baby. Make like a primitive human. Be more to your baby by having less.

All your baby wants is you.

*OMG I just googled “value of baby industry US” and the first thing that popped up was “baby FOOD [so only commercially-prepared baby FOOD] globally worth $37.6 BILLION by 2014 so am just too scared to re-google to get the ZILLION dollar amount of total value of the baby goods market in the US and UK – you do it….

Image borrowed from Mary Bogdan from her series, “Re-parenting the Inner Child”. (A subject close to my heart which I’ll be discussing soon.)

Are you saving time? Shame on you

Check this out. Yesterday I saved 6 minutes while gardening, 3 minutes making breakfast, a whole 20 minutes reading the paper, 7 minutes taking a shower, 9 minutes walking the dog, (by not stopping to talk to a neighbour), 1 minute vacuuming and 14 minutes checking emails (by just deleting them all unread, what the hell – time is money isn’t it?).

Today I counted up all the minutes I saved yesterday – 60 minutes! An hour! Now I’m using this time I saved yesterday to write to you today.

I’m being facetious of course. That’s not how time works is it?

I know you’ve been told, (repeatedly) ‘time is money‘. Think about it. Time is NOT money!

Time and money are two completely different things! You don’t actually save minutes like coins, do you? What is the point of “saving time”? And yet how often have you been persuaded to buy a product or service because it “saves time”?

I’m guessing – (and since I’ve written hundreds of ads with ‘saves time’ (or worse, ‘saves time AND money‘ as the number one product or service benefit, it’s an educated guess) – very often.

I do not know why we have all bought-in to this “save time” and “time is money” rubbish. Are we just easily-led? Is it a direct result of the late 1980’s financial cavalcade?

Or maybe we just thought we needed some kind of vaguely rational-sounding idea like, “it’ll save my time, my time being so very valuable n’all so I must buy it” instead of simply admitting you want it because it looks lovely, will be fun to play with, makes you feel good or any other less logical but much more truthful reason.

Nothing saves you time. No one can save time. Not even you. As Robert Burns put it 200 years ago in his Tam O’Shanter poem

“Nae man can tether Time nor Tide

the hour approaches Tam maun ride”

So no, you can’t stop the tide turning, or time passing and you sure can’t put time in a piggy bank for later or ‘save’ it for application elsewhere.

You choose what you do when. You. You don’t save time. You choose what you’ll do and when you’ll do it.

The other myth perpetrated by marketers is the idea that everyone is “time-poor”. No-one has any time any more. Argh! What are they talking about?!

Imagine suggesting this idea to a farmer in Papua New Guinea or a forester in Sweden or a Masai warrior in Africa or anyone working close to the land: “Excuse me, I know you are time-poor so would you like this tool to save time?”

While they might, being human, take the tool, they would think you were insane. Poor of time? Time is time. No more time, no less time. Day, night, season, cycle of seasons. It’s just time.

This time-poor idiocy works for marketers because it escalates the whole frantic, running-around-thinking-you’ve-no-time-at-all hysteria, oh dear! oh dear! like the White Rabbit which then has you ping-ponging straight into the arms of the first marketer saying he or she’ll SAVE YOU TIME!

Plus, I think the present theory of being “more productive” with your time and all this buzz around “productivity” is just a new spin on the same old save-time crap.

Well, screw ‘productivity’ and ‘saving time’. I wanna live, damn it, and I do not want to be counting the minutes while I do it, (which is why I’ve never worn a watch even when traveling 14,ooo miles on various modes of transport).

How about considering this kind of scenario instead – allocate an hour for something you really enjoy. Say from 3-4pm on Saturday you’re going to do a bit of knitting, dig the garden, draw a picture, make a scrapbook, watch birds, build a matchstick house, repair a machine in your house, clean your tools, read a book, sit in a café, whatever – and in fact the more banal the better.

I am amazed at how long, languid and lovely an hour can be when you have set it aside for something in particular. We spent an hour, as instructed, counting our garden birds for the RSPB’s annual bird count. Yes, I know that sounds incredibly boring and I must admit I wasn’t really looking forward to it and suspected I might resort to counting the minutes instead. However, it felt like that pot of gold at the end of the time-rainbow: floating, stolen time.

All we were ‘allowed’ to do during this one hour period, apart from talking, making notes, doing something together and ‘being’ together was watch and count which birds visited our bird feeder – and not miss any. That’s all.

It was beautiful, stolen time. It was mindful time. Weirdly, one of the best hours we ever, em, ‘spent’. And we didn’t even have to save up that time before spending it! We just spent it. See, time is not money. It’s free and it’s all yours.

Image borrowed from Rocio Montoya

The unexpected benefits of being tiny

I am so tiny I am riding a bird! We are flying through flower beds and I can see huge, juicy caterpillars.

I remember the vivid imaginings reading Thumbelina gave me as a child. How extraordinary to feel myself so tiny. How different the whole world looked from this perspective.

Did you read Thumbelina when you were little? Do you remember seeing things differently in this way when you read fairy tales?

We learn this powerful mental technique as children. How many of us retain it for use as a grown-up?

In sweet irony, years after imagining I was Thumbelina, an ad agency paid thousands of dollars to send me on a “creative thinking skills” course designed to ‘teach’ us writers and art directors how to do exactly this!

We, as adults, were taught how to “reframe”.

‘Reframing’ is the incredibly useful creative technique of looking at ordinary things – people, situations, experiences – and, in the case of this course – products and services – from brand new angles; changing your size in relation to them, their size, how they might interact in unusual ways with the world around them.

It’s a very effective device for solving creative problems, breaking through creative dead ends and igniting fresh ideas.

If you’re working on a new product launch – maybe a natural fruit juice – one way of using reframing is to imagine the juice to be HUGE like an ocean – oh, now you have an idea of a sea of fruit juice. (How many ads have you seen using that image?!)

Now imagine it tiny – ah, a dewdrop of juice on an aloe vera plant, magnified. (Again, no doubt you’ll have seen that image selling everything from skin care to bottled water.)

I’ve found reframing to also be a great way to jolt yourself out of a groove of negative thinking.

By imagining the issue or situation you’re experiencing differently you can find new ways of responding to it. (Also, I’ve just remembered, there are great NLP techniques that use reframing by taking a ‘problem’ that’s holding you hostage and then imagining it as a tangible shape so as to see it shrinking and shrinking in your mind’s eye – or a loud sound made quieter for those more auditory than visual among us – and thereby diminishing its negative impact on your thinking.)

Many of the games you played so naturally, so effortlessly, as a child are valuable tools to continue using as an adult. Think about what games and “let’s pretends” you enjoyed and consider applying them to issues, people and experiences you have as a grown-up.

But, oh, let’s not get bogged down in too much rational thinking. Of course, one of the most entertaining applications of reframing is – imagining you are Thumbelina. Which bird are you riding today?

The Thumbelina image above is a shadowplay toy – one of a range available from Isabellas Art’s Etsy shop.

You are allowed to read comics, y’know

Jonathan Ross: Comic book hero ———————————-> Inner Wild poster boy

It’s a beautiful thing when an adult continues to adore, honor and promote an activity they’ve loved since childhood.

When they’re not too shy to admit to the whole world that they still compulsively love – let’s see – comics – for example. Indeed, they feel so ‘obsessive’ about comics that they decide to write and produce a comic book themselves, nearly forty years after falling in true love with comics aged 11.

All bow down to darling comics poster boy, maestro liberator of Inner Wildness in both himself, his talk show guests, and no doubt everyone who meets him, devoted family man and dog-hero, Mr Jonathan Ross.

Mr Ross has teamed up with famous comics illustrator, Tommy Lee Edwards, to create TURF, an all-new four-issue miniseries. ‘Set in 1920s New York, TURF offers a twist on the hard boiled crime thriller, adding vampires and aliens to the traditional mix of booze, broads and bullets’.

What struck me endearingly in my solar plexus while reading the Guardian’s interview with Mr Ross the other day was when Mr Ross talked about his desire to fulfill one of the dreams he had as a little boy and manifest something tangible:

“In a way,” Ross jokes, “this is my mid-life crisis. But rather than buy some tighter jeans and a motorcycle, I’ve said to myself, finally do some of the things you’ve always wanted to do. Because even though I’ve done hundreds of hours of TV and radio …

” …what I’m aware of always, and it’s grown to slightly trouble me as I’ve got older, is that all the shows I do are somewhat parasitical, in that I’m feeding off others. If you do a movie review show or an interview show, you’re talking to other people about work they’ve done.

“… Even though we’re creating something in the moment that doesn’t exist anywhere else, without them [my guests] I haven’t got anything.

“And so I thought I really want to make something of mine.”

Ah! I love that. What a great guy. And listen up – if you’re reading this and feeling like re-awakening your love of comics, call this your permission slip. And you might want to give Mr Ross’ TURF’ a go. You’ll find a fab interview about it with Comics Alliance here.

If anyone titters at you while reading your favorite childhood or new-found comic just smile with contentment as you remember that when talking comics, Mr Ross is able to involve intellectual debate and big concepts like ‘cultural zeigeists, textual juxtaposition, Proustian connections and narrative arcs’ Woo-hoo!

[Meanwhile, may I just say that I loved Oor Willie, The Broons, Dandy, Twinkle, Jackie et al and yes, I admit I did have a weird, insatiable appetite for Commando comics when my tomboy phase peaked during a rain-soaked holiday on a Scottish island, plus I was a teenager when Viz, but I don’t think I’m a comic person at heart. I keep involuntarily skipping the pictures which defeats the whole purpose. I have tried with Neil Gaiman‘s graphic novels, but I did the same with them … BUT I am loving reading vintage 1950’s Bunty annuals to my daughter! What-ho!]

Accelerating fast from car-less to car-free

Like many others, I’ve had to change gears from driving anywhere I want to go to being car-less. And quickly shifting up to fifth gear to feel car-free, rather than car-less.

It’s been a hard road my friend, I won’t lie to you.

Having had the dangerous thought last year that perhaps part of my stripping away unnecessary things in my life might possibly include my car – how irrational a thought that seemed at the time – the universe has responded by wrenching that car right out of my hands.

It started with not being able to afford to fill the petrol tank. Then putting repairs on to my credit card. Next, rationing petrol and journeys. Consciously not using the car, walking instead of driving. And so now, the end of the road.

A few weeks ago my car received, not an MOT certificate, but its Death certificate. The cost of repairs needed for a new MOT exceeded the value of the car.

Today my car was towed-away. The kindly vehicle wrecker, John, who took it away pressed a £20 note into my palm in sympathy.

Really, he could have charged me for taking it away because in active protest at being scrapped my car had set off its immobilizer – for the first time ever. Its flashing hazard warning lights and shrill screams of alarm going on and on, and even John not able to switch the immobilizer off, were like an external manifestation of my own tiny internal cries.

£20 for a beautiful, vintage Mercedes Elegance 180C. £20 compensation for my bubble of mobile independence and protection being burst.

I took the cash. He took the car. We walked to the local shop and used the money to buy ice-lollies, sucking them in the fresh air and sunshine.

I feel really vulnerable not having a car. But I like it. I am just another soul washed and rinsed by the recession and, like so many of us, queerly but resiliently appreciating the living-more-simply-changes a lack of funds has brought.

I feel inexplicably, wildly, excited about the prospect of living without a car.I am liking the idea of leaping on and off buses. And communing with all kinds of people on public transport instead of locked in my isolated, safe metal space. Walking and noticing things, talking with people, waiting at bus stops, hearing birds singing…

But oh my car, my dear car!

I have never lived without a car.

It’s a scary thing, especially with a child and a giant dog and um, 3 cats. Plus, I’ve almost always had beautiful cars. I love cars. As a teenager I drove two Triumph Spitfires. I drove a black, vintage 1952 Citroen Traction Avant Light 15 as my everyday car for years and years in my Thirties. I’ve had 4×4’s and oh my darling silver Subaru Legacy stationwagon with its faux walnut dash … sigh … it’s over for now.

Wait a minute! I love cars, can I just say it again? I like vans too. I love the perceived freedom they give us, the style and grace they afford us, they sheer pleasure of driving, a leather-wrapped steering wheel in my hands, and a wide, open road ahead. I love going on adventures in cars, just driving and seeing where you end up.

But it’s over, for now. And I am glad. I feel strangely relieved of a burden. How very odd.

I have just ordered our economy-bulk, multi-journey bus tickets for a full month online. Our tickets to ride will be here soon and oh, wait – another benefit – I shall regress to when I was a school girl with my school bus pass!

If you’re interested in living without a car, make it easier for yourself by reading how others have made it a wonderful experience – like lovely RowdyKitten, Tammy Strobel, with her Simply Car-free book.