World Mental Health Awareness Week - Saturday - Real Self

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I often state, “When I’m in the outdoors, I can be my true self.” It is true I am most comfortable with myself when I’m in my kayak out the sea or wandering the wild hinterlands. This is why I attach so much importance on my connection with the outdoor realm to my mental health recovery process. I believe I gain greater insights into who I am and how I can move beyond my discomfort when I’m outdoors than I ever do in the more normal aspects of my lifestyle. I remember once being challenged by a therapist during group therapy when I stated this. He wanted to know why it was I could be ‘myself’ out doors and not ‘myself’ at home or anywhere else. At the time this intervention stumped me.

#1

Many folks are familiar with the psychological concept of the ‘true self’ and the ‘false self’ and may have seen this theory explained in a variety of forms. Because I find my relationship with the outdoors to be a simple one, I like the simplicity of this concept. There is no point for me to analyse the process any more complicatedly than need be. It follows, I am happier with myself in the outdoors than I am in more regular settings. Therefore, when outside I am who I truly am. I return to my core individuality, unencumbered with various strategies to cope with a life where I expect myself to be viewed in certain ways. The simplicity of this concept is best described through Diagram #1.

This is my interpretation of the concept. The inner circle denotes ‘My Self’, who I was born as and who my core attributes are. This is the me without the impediments I employ to enable me to exist in the manner I do. From a very early age I began to adapt my personality to meet what I perceived was required of me, or which helped me feel the most comfortable for my existence. This ‘Adapted Self’ is denoted by the outer circle in the diagram. The adaptations of my personality are not the true Nick. For example, I have a tendency to want to please people, not to disappoint them, and to do so even if this means I feel unhappy doing so. The pay off for me doing this will be what I think to be recognition and it is this psychological reward I am seeking through my behaviour. Delving further into this particular example, I may become self-critical of my perceived lack of being ‘good enough’ if I believe I’m unable to please others or I think I let them down. What is happening, I’m searching for this outer circle of my existence to be soothed through my adapted behaviour rather than feed my true self, my core, with genuine responses to my genuine capacity for compassion, kindness and generosity. In fact my outer circle is so powerful, it prevents any genuine recognition for my core capacities from getting through meaning I will forever be self-critical.

When I am outdoors however, my relationship with myself is far less complicated. Out ‘there’ so to speak, I do not feel I have to adapt myself to relate with the natural world. Nature will never judge me and indeed has no expectations of me other than who I am. Within minutes of paddling from the shore, away from the normality of my onshore life, I feel the weight I place on myself dissipating and the many masks I wear drop away. In doing so, crucially, the relationship I have with myself becomes less fraught and noticeably less critical. I continue to mull things over in my mind and of course I replay many memories where I’m unhappy with my conduct. However, in these I am able to rationalise them without laying huge amounts of blame on a personality I dislike and wish would disappear. As Nature does not judge me, neither can it forgive me. This is what I do for myself. I can achieve this balance though with Nature’s guidance, where my immersion in the natural realm feeds the healthy psychological hungers my core self desires.

#2

In Diagram #2, there are six psychological hungers as determined by Eric Berne, the originator of the Transactional Analysis Psychological Theory of Personality. Again there are variations on a theme with this particular theory and this is the one which makes sense for me. In fact, this particular model is at the forefront of my mind when I’m contemplating the processes at play when I’m outdoors. The key word when describing these psychological hungers is, healthy. It’s possible for these hungers to be addressed through unhealthy responses which will not feed into my true core but only serve the outer circle and sustain the critical view I hold of myself. Sometimes I may not be aware of this differentiation and follow a course of action where I feel I am healthily meeting my core needs but end up harming them.

  • Contact. This hunger is determined by Berne to be our human need for physical contact, our healthy desire for touch in whatever form this may be. Hugging, caressing, a kiss, handshake or a simple pat on the shoulder. Through this healthy contact our sense of identity is enhanced. Of course, since much of my time outdoors is enjoyed solo, I do not have others around me to fulfil this for me. However, I have determined Nature is a perfect substitute. Through the physical contact I receive from the wind, the waves, the rain, the sun and sounds and smells, I gain a strong sense of my identity with a realisation I am human and there is an importance for me to receive physical contact.

  • Recognition. This refers to our psychological need for healthy acknowledgement from others. Again, although much of my outdoor activity is conducted in solitude, I enjoy being recognised because of this. I recognise myself as a person who is comfortable with my alone-self where solitude is a healthy aspect of who I am. It is helpful for me to have this validated by others who respond with warmth to my accounts of my solitary outdoor experiences. Likewise too, when I do share the outdoor realm with others, I receive recognition for the ease with which I am related with in this environment because of the ease I am with myself.

  • Incident. This is the hunger which feeds our healthy need for a frisson of excitement in our lives. This is a strong reason for my propensity to seek adventures in the outdoors. I knowingly seek risk and challenge because through these, I feel alive. I do not set out to place myself in harms way where my life will be at risk but the challenge is such that there is a perception this may be the outcome. It is always the case I assess these risks within the context of my personal ability and skills. At a very basic level, living with incident in my outdoor life enables me to move beyond my comfort zone to where I learn more about myself.

  • Stimulus. This is the healthy fulfilment of all our senses being healthily aroused and soothed. It goes without saying being outdoors assails me with myriad stimulations which feed my senses of sight, sound, smell, touch and taste. Nature provides all of this without any cost to me apart from my investment of my time and energy.

  • Structure. There is a psychological requirement for frameworks within our living which provide a sense of purpose and meaning. Nature provides me with the natural rhythms of life which I easily form into a structure within which I exist. From sunrises to sunsets, the times of tides, the seasons and other more subtle considerations such as weather lore. I choose to frame the structure of my time so it fits with the natural order and by encompassing this, I am able to achieve the personal goals I wish to attain. When I’m on a long kayak journey, the structure of my life is entirely natural, determined by my understanding of Nature and my non-combative relationship with it.

  • Sexual. This is the natural healthy fulfilment of our human desire for procreation and pleasure in doing so. We are sexual beings. Nature is awash with procreation, displaying a vibrancy for life which is joyously inspiring. As a human male, I am forever reminded of my own sexuality when I am in the outdoors and my capacity for passion and romance. This psychological drive is not only completed through the act of copulation itself, but through a healthy awareness of my desires, my ability to love, to experience passion and to enjoy sensuality. All of these can be fulfilled by my awareness of the fecundity of the natural world.

My recovery from depression is best served when I healthily address my psychological needs. I know how do to this when I venture into the outdoors. The experiences I enjoy ‘out there’ provide me with innumerable metaphoric anchors with which I’m able to reference when they are needed most. I have a healthy and vibrant relationship with Nature where I’m not judged or where I overly judge myself. The benefits for me in undertaking regular meaningful immersions in the natural world are tangible to say the least. Equally the outcomes from these are helpful within my relationships with others, in particular my wife. By regularly gaining insights into the healthy core of me, I am more at ease with who I am.

As stated in my previous blog entry, this journey is far from complete. What I am certain of is my fundamental relationship with my healthy ‘Self’ when out in Nature. By embracing this and transferring this awareness to my life outwith Nature, I will develop the ability to live more from my core being rather from the perception of the protection of my outer circle, my ‘Adapted Self’.

The story continues to be written.

Solo - Not What I Expected

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Solo, I thought it would be a doddle, maybe slightly boring, but nothing too difficult to cope with. I was wrong.

The moment Karen wished me well, kissed me goodbye and turned away, I felt a distinct wave of lonely discomfort sweep through me. I didn’t want to be alone and certainly not out there in the sun dappled woodland overlooking the Doirlinn of Tobermory Bay. I was shocked at the strength of my negative response to finding myself alone on my ‘solo’. After all, I had made a big deal about how much I was looking forward to my solitude over the next couple of days.

I immediately gave myself a stern telling off for my immediate quavering and somewhat chagrined, I sat down on a nearby moss quilted log to assimilate my situation. I needed to reign in a strong desire to shout after Karen and catch up with her before she reached where we had parked the car. Twenty minutes later and feeling much calmer, I rose from the log and set about making camp, ensuring I would be comfortable through the night and felt a sense of outdoor homeliness. It took me less than ten minutes to set up my tarp, unpack my rucksack and get a pot of water on the stove for a mug of tea. I grimaced ruefully to myself. Sometimes it isn’t helpful to be so efficient. I had hoped to eke out the task of establishing camp to eat away at empty time. With my scalding tin mug of tea, I sat down on the log once more and attempted to ease myself into my solo experience.

I was perplexed. What had come over me? I normally relished challenges such as this, especially since the weather conditions were absolutely perfect for a comfortable time out of doors. I am used to solitude, seeking the condition over companionship for many of my outdoor experiences. Now though, I realised with a shock I was not enjoying myself at all. In fact I was feeling decidedly fearful, of what, I couldn’t be certain. I tentatively sipped at my lemon and ginger tea, searing my lips as a result. This jolted me out of my internalising reverie, causing me to once again rebuke myself for not wholeheartedly throwing myself into this unique opportunity I had before me.

The woodland above the Doirlinn.

The hours dragged by. I had my note book and pencils by my side and from time to time I managed a few desultory lines of prose. My hoped for inspiration for writing did no materialise. Instead, I was filled with a deepening disquiet which was expressed through capricious behaviour and thinking. I couldn’t settle on any train of thought or action. In situations like this I attempt to sit with my discomfort to see if I’m led towards any insights through this approach. On this occasion though I simply couldn’t sit still long enough to give myself an opportunity for any self-enquiry. The one thing I was certain of was my deep tiredness. Weeks of insomnia had worn me down and in the warmth of the bright spring sunshine, my eyes drooped heavily.

Late in the afternoon (without my watch I couldn’t be sure of the time), I allowed myself to succumb to my fatigue and I stretched myself out on a comfortable solar heated bed of bright green sphagnum moss. I fell asleep almost immediately.

I woke with shivers wracking my body. The sun had arced across the sky, it’s warmth now directed elsewhere. I had no idea of the time but assumed it must have been close to eight thirty in the evening. Groggily I set about readying myself for my sleeping bag under the shelter of my nearby tarp. I was looking forward to more deep and dreamless sleep. Having sleepily cleaned my teeth and changed into warmer clothing, I snuggled into the cosy familiarity of my sleeping bag and experienced with horror a wakening mind. Tiredness persisted but sleepiness had well and truly dissipated. Try as I might, shuffling around with grunts to find the optimal position of comfort, I couldn’t fall asleep. Neither too did the night time darkness arrive as I assumed it would. It must have been a lot earlier in the evening than I thought. With a deep sigh, I resigned myself to a long night of wakeful rumination.

The dark eventually arrived, the night gradually becoming inkier as the hours dragged by. Strangely my mind was now empty of ravaged thinking. I found it comfortable to lie on my back with my hands behind my head, eyes wide open and my hearing accentuated. As usual when I turned my attention towards auditory stimuli, I cursed my intrusive tinnitus, the left ear much louder than the right. It was difficult to distinguish between the chirruping in my inner ear to that of the nuthatches flitting through the Beech tree branches above me. Despite this I found myself feeling a lot calmer than I had a few hours earlier. My mind was at last open to curiosity.

It was therefore quite a shock to discover the underlying emotion driving my thinking was sadness. My internal sadness I know from experience, is a reflection of deep level change occurring within me. I was experiencing loss in some form and I was curious to know what this might be. It was evident to me, I was affected by the changes wrought by COVID-19. I was angry too. Last year I had lost most of the summer to my psychiatric hospital admission and I was looking forward to this year celebrating my recovery through plenty of sea kayaking and other wild adventures. With the lockdown and requirement for isolation, I see another summer of joyful activity disappearing before my eyes again. This realisation though didn’t satisfy me. I sensed my sadness was rooted deeper than this.

What was changing for me? I cast my mind around in the gloom, attempting to land on a glimmer of insight but none was forthcoming. After what seemed a considerable length of time I must have drifted off into a fitful sleep where I would regularly wake with my body in violent shivers of cold.

It was with considerable relief when the promise of the dawn crept into the sky. I was able to relinquish any hope of worthwhile sleep and instead focus on the emerging day. I clambered out of the snug warmth of my sleeping bag and sat once more of the moss covered log. A pot of water came to the boil and I treated myself to a few warming mugs of tea. As the orange hues of the sunrise deepened, my thoughts once more returned to my sense of sadness. Then, it suddenly struck me, I realised why was I not enjoying this solo experience. I was attempting to complete an activity I had long wanted to achieve with the mindset of the twenty-something Outward Bound Instructor I once was. I had placed myself out on my solo with the aspirations I once held in my younger adult years and I expected myself to respond accordingly. I realised with a shock that this was a “Hungry Caterpillar” moment for me. The instance where I shed an important part of my old-self to emerge into a bright and colourful new-self.

It was clear to me I was grieving the loss of my youth in preparation for an acceptance of advancing age. For months I realised with some excitement, I had been aware of a change within me but couldn’t put my finger on it. Ever since capsizing my kayak after my island bivouac in January, I’ve had a nagging doubt about my ability to undertake challenging outdoor activities. I put this down to a knock in my self-confidence which would soon bounce back, but this hadn’t. Instead, I increasingly found myself questioning my competence. I saw myself becoming more and more physically uncertain and unbalanced. Clumsy even. Sitting there on the ancient log in the breaking hours of the morning, I marvelled at how I had stumbled onto this enlightening realisation. This didn’t lead to a resolution of my sadness and in fact I now felt more unhappy. I knew I had to let go of the expectation my body was still that of a thirty year old and not that of a man nearly now twice that age.

Well after the sun had climbed into the sky I finally concluded there was no reason why I had to force myself to continue with my solo experience. I decided to return home even though it felt a failure to do so. My disquiet caused by my night time revelations meant the following twenty four hours would be an endurance and there was a danger this may lead to harmful introspection. Content with having reached the point I had with my self-awareness, I packed my camp away and walked back to the house. After all I told myself, as an instructor I never placed shame on any of my course participants who couldn’t complete their solo experiences. There was no reason I should do this for myself and anyway, I had spent twenty four hours out in full ‘solo’ circumstances.

In the days since my shortened solo, I have given much thought to the insight I came to. I recognise a need for my acceptance of the fundamental changes in my aging body. I also recognise, and this is important for me to understand, these changes do not imply a cessation of my adventurous aspirations. Quite simply I need to alter these to account for my natural frailty and as always, focus more on the enjoyment I gain from my encounters with the wild outdoors in whatever shape or form these may take. I’m not through this process of change yet. I suspect there is a way to go, but I’m much happier now I understand where my disquiet has been centred.