Successes Remembered
“Dad, I’m going to remember today as one of my best days,” said my son William cheerfully, as he prepared to head off to bed.
I was pleasantly surprised to hear him say anything like this. Though he’s in Grade 3, closing in on his ninth birthday in a few weeks, he seems more and more capable of the ennui of a junior high school kid these days. It seems like only a few weeks ago that he was a relentlessly cheerful and compliant little boy, but more and more he’s testing us, complaining more stridently about homework and chores, pushing the limits of acceptable family behaviour. Bedtime is one of his favourite areas of protest, and I was braced for a moderate amount of sulking, stomping, and grudging acceptance.
“I’m really glad to hear that,” I replied. “What made it such a good day?”
“Well, I got my green belt at karate today, and my school sweatshirt arrived, and it was Cub night and we’re working on our Kub Kars. And at recess my friends and I played some really fun games.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “It really has been a pretty great day.”
What I enjoyed more than anything about what William said was how quickly and easily he was able to recall them, and to acknowledge that today really had been a bit above average. And while not all of the good things that happened were entirely of his doing, a couple of them sure were: the karate belt was the direct result of his steady practice, and recess turned out well when it was his turn to “lead” the games he played with his friends. He doesn’t always do it this well, but today, without prompting, my child recognized his own successes.
Most of us could certainly do a bit more of this. We live in a culture that is driven by fuelling unrealistic aspirations, for wealth, health, beauty, and a well-organized laundry room, and we’re constantly invited us to confess our failure to meet the standards of the day.
Many of my clients have experienced this sense of failure a great deal. Having lived with ADHD all their lives, they’ve heard a lot about where they’ve fallen short of expectations. They’re messy. They’re aways late. They don’t focus at school. They make impulsive decisions. They’re disappointing. The accumulated weight of all the unmet expectations is so great that they often don’t know how to begin to describe their successes. Finding ways to mend this wounded sense of self-esteem is at the root of healing the damage of ADHD.
I often ask my clients to create what I call a success log. I used to use the term success diary, but I found that the notion of keeping a diary seemed to elevate the level of stress many of them felt about recording their successes. Maybe diaries seem too overwhelming an idea. So my clients can call it whatever they like, put it in any format they like, and use the medium of their choice, but they have to use it regularly — daily if possible. I urge them to document all their successes, even those where it might seem they “didn’t do anything to deserve it.” In fact, it’s often those successes that at first blush appear to have simply happened that turn ou to be of the greatest interest, bringing connections to light that they hadn’t considered before.
My success log is a simple point-form list that I make on each week of my Moleskine 18-month Weekly Notebook planner. I try to make entries every day, and I keep them short. The point here is to capture the information, not to analyse it.
Where do you record your successes?
Reframing Redux
In my last post I wrote about the value of reframing as a technique for redirecting pessimistic and harmful perspectives on difficult situations by striving to view every situation - even those that might be seen as failures - as opportunities to learn and improve. Of course, there’s nothing new or magical about reframing; at its most basic level, it’s just another version of an extremely well-established principle, espoused by grandmothers the world over: always strive to look for the good in things (and people). Anyone who’s ever been reminded by a teacher or workshop leader about the most effective ways to give and receive feedback has learned it too: offer several positive observations for every one that might be seen as negative.
Most people find this remarkably easy to do when evaluating others. But many of us struggle to look as hard for the positive in ourselves. People with ADHD often find it especially hard. They’ve rarely heard much supportive, constructive feedback, and many have experienced a lifetime of largely negative criticism. No matter how beautiful the ‘pictures’ of their lives are, the ugliness of the ‘frame’ distracts them, and they fail to appreciate it.
I recently had a chance to visit the Art Gallery of Ontario, recently reopened after a breathtaking renovation by renowned architect Frank O. Gehry. Maybe it’s not surprising that an art gallery should get me thinking about reframing; pictures and frames are their stock in trade, after all. But I found myself thinking about the gallery itself. During its planning and construction, the renovation was sharply criticized by many commentators as a lipstick job, limited and superficial rather than substantial. My experience was entirely the opposite: I found it spectacular. And while many of the collections in the gallery were the same as they had been before the renovation, the “frame” of the gallery made it possible to experience the artwork in entirely new ways. I was able to look with fresh eyes at paintings and sculptures that I had seen many times since my first childhood visits to the gallery. The change to the frame enabled me to enjoy powerful new perspectives.
My reframing at the art gallery happened completely by chance, and the extra enjoyment I got from the act of reframing was an unexpected bonus. Most of the time it needs to be a more deliberate act, initiated to put a negative circumstance (or at best, a neutral one) into a new light . While there are countless ways to initiate, or trigger, the reframing process, my aim is to find the simplest most reliable cue that I can. Since my style of learning and retention responds well to words, music and sound, I looked for a sonic cue that I could trigger when faced with the need and opportunity to reframe. For the moment, I’ve settled on the hook of a popular song from the ’80s: “Freeze Frame,” by the J. Geils Band. I replaced the opening words to the song - the same two words as the title - with the word “RE-FRAME!”, sang it to myself in the urgent, explosive way that the song begins… and it resonated perfectly for me. I’ve never really liked the song, or the band, but their valuable contribution to my arsenal of helpful self-talk has helped me to reframe their place in my memory.
A Reminder to Reframe
My fragile, aging body reminded me yesterday of the importance of reframing difficult situations as worthy challenges. I’m signed up to race the 20 km Fischer Loppet at Hardwood Ski and Bike tomorrow, and despite my limited training this season, I’ve been feeling pretty good about it. I have fast new skis, I know the race course well, and I’ve been focusing a lot on good technique. But when I woke up yesterday morning, I knew right away I’d have at least one unexpected challenge on my plate: a bunch of muscles in and around my lower back were in agony. I herniated a lower back disk three years ago, and despite a nearly complete recovery, I’ve had to live with an injury-prone back ever since.
I was furious with myself. The strain was almost certainly a result of pushing too hard on my bike on Wednesday. I haven’t been to yoga - great for my back - in months. I could see a really race result slipping away.
As is so often the case, it was my wife who triggered the reframing. “You’re doing this to have fun, right?”
Yes, I agreed. I’m almost 43 -I’m not trying out for the Olympic team.
“And you can always withdraw.”
True. And if it keeps hurting like this, I will. I have a whole season of bike riding to look forward to, and I don’t want to risk that.
It’s often difficult for people with ADHD to see the positive side of things. Our attention has so often been called to what’s wrong that we have a hard time acknowledging what’s right. Certainly that’s how this flare-up in my back made me feel.
Peter Jensen, a superb motivational coach who works with elite athletes, taught me about the concept or reframing. Reframing involves taking the “picture” of your life, and taking it out of an ugly (negative, pessimistic) frame, and replacing it with a beautiful (postitive, optimistic) frame. The “picture” does not change, but the context changes completely.
Here’s how I reframed my back flare-up:
- I acknowledged that I race for fun, and that if I have to withdraw, I can.
- I took the injury as an opportunity to visit my friend Ed Tonus at Active Healing Centre. He’s the best massage therapist I know. I hadn’t seen him for a while, and he did a fantastic job working out the worst of the discomfort.
- I made a commitment to myself to devote more of my workout time to strengthening my core and improving my flexibility - both of which should reduce the chance of another injury.
- I reminded myself that my family and I have made the race a chance to get out of town for a couple of days and enjoy a hotel pool, sauna, and hot tub. My kids are thrilled.
Reframing isn’t always easy. But when you can make it happen, it’s a powerful way to turn a difficult situation into an opportunity for growth and positive change. I’ll be blogging more on techniques for managing personal change soon.
