Image copyrightNICOLE MARTINImage captionNicole was not part of the trial, but hopes that by sharing her experience she can help support other people who have lost a baby to miscarriage
Women who have recently had a miscarriage are at risk of developing post-traumatic stress disorder, doctors at Imperial College London have said.
At their early pregnancy loss clinic, a third of the women have PTSD symptoms.
Nicole Martin had three miscarriages in a year, her “dark days”.
“Everyone thinks because you’ve already got a child it’s easier. In a lot of respects it definitely is easier than not having a child, but I wanted another child for [my child’s] sake.”
Nicole and her husband, Ben, started trying for their second child just after their first, Eva, had turned one.
“I was 38 years old and fully aware of the risks associated with having children a bit later in life,” she says.
“It took me longer than expected to fall pregnant, and when I did I felt very anxious because many of my friends had suffered at least one miscarriage.”
Image copyrightNICOLE MARTINImage captionNicole and her family – husband Ben, daughter, Eva, and son, Joseph
She was carrying twins, but both died – one at five weeks and the other seven weeks into the pregnancy.
Nicole had to have an operation under general anaesthetic to treat the miscarriage.
Although shell-shocked by the experience, Ben and Nicole continued to try for a baby.
Two months later, Nicole was pregnant, but had another miscarriage at seven weeks.
“The scan showed there was no heartbeat,” she says.
“We had to have medical management this time.
“You get given a tablet which breaks down the lining of your womb and you just get sent home to miscarry.
“It’s really not pleasant.
“It’s your baby, and you have to flush it down the loo.
“It’s horrendous.”
Pregnancy loss and PTSD
Post-traumatic stress disorder can develop after a very stressful, frightening or distressing event, or a prolonged traumatic experience.
As many as one in four pregnancies is thought to end in a miscarriage – loss of a pregnancy during the first 23 weeks.
An ectopic pregnancy is when a fertilised egg implants itself outside of the womb, usually in one of the fallopian tubes.
It is not possible to save the pregnancy. It usually has to be removed using medicine or an operation.
Her subsequent third miscarriage a few months later left her a nervous wreck.
“I was a mess,” she says.
“Everywhere I went mothers were asking me, ‘When are you going to have another child?’
“I never ask a woman now about whether she’s having babies, or having a second baby, because you never know their story.”
Nicole says she nearly gave up all hope.
Image copyright THINKSTOCK
“I found it just unbelievably cruel,” she says.
“I remember phoning my consultant who was great.
“I said, ‘Just tell me what I should do.’
“I really wanted someone from the medical profession to say, ‘Just give up.'”
Instead, the consultant told Nicole to keep trying if she had the emotional strength because there was still a good chance she would be able to have a healthy baby.
Two months later – just after Nicole’s 40th birthday – she was pregnant with her son, Joseph, who is now nearly two years old.
“I still worry a lot, and I’m having cognitive behavioural therapy to help me cope with that,” she says.
“Even though we have two beautiful children, I still feel anxious to this day because I can’t quite believe it’s all over.
“I feel that something’s going to spoil our lovely family unit because it was such a struggle getting there.”
Dr Jessica Farren, who carried out the BMJ Open study on nearly 90 women attending the pregnancy clinic at Imperial College London for a suspected miscarriage or ectopic pregnancy, says although only a minority might have full-blown PTSD, many will suffer from moderate-to-severe anxiety.
“It’s the tip of the iceberg really,” he says.
“There will be a huge number of women who would still benefit from some support. But the NHS isn’t geared up for it.
“Once we’ve looked after these women clinically and discharged them, there’s no real opportunity to check how they are coping emotionally.”
After a healthy pregnancy, all women get screened for depression at their six-week check. But following a miscarriage, there are no routine emotional checks.
Dr Farren and her colleagues are studying more women at their clinic to see if they can better spot those that will need the most support.
In the meantime, they say help is out there if you know where to look.
“There are some really good charities and organisations that can offer counselling, and your GP is a good place to start if you want some help accessing support,” says Dr Farren.
My mother died when I was 10. Writing about it after decades of silence, I see now how important it is to discuss bereavement
Death and taxes, as the saying goes, are the only certainties in life. So why then is one of these things still so hard to talk about? Not taxes, that’s just zzzzz, but death. Always death.
As inevitable as dying may be, talking about mortality remains taboo. How strange this is when it affects us all – not just our own deaths of course, but those of our loved ones, as shown by Prince Harry’s recent admission that he regrets not talking sooner about how his mother’s death affected him.
Harry was 12 when Diana, Princess of Wales, died. At 31, he was hosting an event at Kensington Palace for the mental health charity Heads Together when he admitted that he only began opening up about her sudden death three years ago. That’s a lot of years of sweeping a defining life event under the carpet.
I was 10 when my mother, Jane, died in 1985. And it has taken me all this time to open up about it. Last year, I wrote a piece for the Guardian’s A Moment that Changed Me series about her death. I had recently started a new relationship, and my boyfriend asked me what had happened. I realised I had never really talked about it before, and that I needed to.
The piece struck a chord. In the first few days alone it had more than 225,000 views online. I had comments from readers all over the world – and not just in the comments thread beneath the piece, but from strangers who tracked me down via social media.
Even now, a year later, people I know vaguely come up to me and say they have read the piece, and that they were moved, or that they too have been bereaved. Maybe it was their father, their sister or their friend – but they have been bereft, broken and lost, and they too have rebuilt themselves, and their lives. The message is clear – this is a universal feeling.
And even if you have never been bereaved, have rarely contemplated your own mortality or that of your nearest and dearest, talking about death can be liberating. An old school friend got in touch after I wrote the article. To think that I was going through all of that at school, she said. She didn’t have an inkling. How could she? My new life had begun and I was not to look back on my old one. This was the message that resonated throughout the rest of my childhood.
After my mother’s death, I was looked after by a friend of hers, who had three older children – two were young adults, aged 20 and 18. They didn’t understand how a 10-year-old could be grieving. On the first Mother’s Day that rolled around – less than four months after she died – they pressured me into giving my new foster mother a card. “She’s done a lot for you,” they said. How could I possibly say this woman wasn’t my mother? That I had but one mother, and that she was dead. I was a shy child. I kept my mouth shut and handed over a card. They did not mean to be cruel. They were protective of their own mother. And I am sure they genuinely did not know how I was feeling, or think to talk to me about it.
I understand. Talking to a child who has lost a parent is particularly difficult, and heartbreaking. But bereaved children are not rare. The charity Child Bereavement UK estimates that 23,600 parents of children under 18 die every year, and that one in 29 children has lost a parent or a sibling – that’s one child in every class.
There’s a mistaken idea that children forget, and that they adapt. Yes children can be resilient and adaptable – as can adults. But children grieve. We need to acknowledge this, and learn how to talk about death.
It has taken me 30 years to realise that my story isn’t over – and that talking about my mother’s death doesn’t mean I am stuck in the past, but that I am moving forward. I have started writing about her more, and about the multifaceted aspects of bereavement. And because of this opening up, not only have strangers been in touch, but also people who knew my mother. I have even met some of them – a moving, strange and surreal experience. So I will continue to talk about death, to open up, to throw off my Britishness, because it feels right. And you should too.
The singer told Vanity Fair magazine that she felt, at the time, like she had made “the worst decision” of her life.
The 28-year old goes on to say that she “loves her son more than anything” but admits she really struggled adjusting to motherhood.
“I was obsessed with my child. I felt very inadequate,” she says.
Angelo is now four and Adele’s only child with partner Simon Konecki.
He advised her to talk to other mothers about her concerns. She says she refused at first but the depression “lifted” once she confided in a friend who had a child and realised she wasn’t alone.
She goes on to say that taking an afternoon a week to herself improved the situation.
“A friend of mine said, ‘Really? Don’t you feel bad?’ I said, ‘I do, but not as bad as I’d feel if I didn’t do it.’ It makes you a better mum if you give yourself a better time.”
The interview comes as Adele reaches the end of her 10-month tour to mark her album 25. She admits she still feels uncomfortable spending time away from her son.
“I’m enjoying touring, but at times I feel guilty because I’m doing this massive tour, and even though my son is with me all the time, on certain nights I can’t put him to bed.
“I never feel guilty when I’m not working,” she adds.
“You’re constantly trying to make up for stuff when you’re a mum. I don’t mind, because of the love I feel for him.”
The singer also spoke of how her stage fright is so bad that she may never tour again.
“I’d still like to make records, but I’d be fine if I never heard [the applause] again. I’m on tour simply to see everyone who’s been so supportive.”
Looking ahead to new material Adele reveals that she thinks she “will never write songs as good as the ones that are on 21”, admitting “I was completely off my face” while writing the second album.
She says the success of tracks like Someone Like You were largely down to drinking two bottles of wine a night and chain-smoking on a regular basis.
“A drunk tongue is an honest one,” she said. “I’m not as indulgent as I was then, and I don’t have time to fall apart like I did then.”
If you want help or advice on depression, visit BBC Advice.
Patients with Pseudodysphagia complaint about the inability to swallow but they do not have any physical symptoms to account for their condition. The word Pseudodysphagia comes from GreekPhagophobia where “phagein” means eating and “phobos” means deep dread, aversion or fear. Other names for this phobia include sitophobiawhere sito is Greek for food.
Pseudodysphagia is an unnatural and irrational fear of choking or swallowing that causes a person to believe s/he will become ill or die if one tries to eat solid foods. The nature of difficulty these patients face when it comes to swallowing varies depending on the level of their fear: some people can only eat very small pieces of well lubricated foods, while others are afraid of drinking liquids or swallowing pills or tablets. Naturally, there is substantial loss of weight in this phobia and it is a debilitating condition that can interfere with one’s day-to-day life.
What are the causes of fear of choking phobia?
As with most specific phobias, Pseudodysphagia also begins with a negative experience related to swallowing food. As a child, the phobic might have choked, vomited or had an “embarrassing response” after swallowing certain types of foods. The brain then creates the same response as a defensive mechanism each time one is confronted with the thought of eating. For example, a patient recalls choking (as a child) on a quarter after it got lodged in his throat. He lost consciousness and turned blue and recalls fearing eating solid foods like steaks, meats, capsules, pills (anything hard or chewy) after the incident.
Psychiatrists also believe that most people with the extreme fear of choking are usually anxious or suffering from other psychiatric disorders like depression, Hypochondriasis, Agoraphobia or have a general predisposition to panic attacks.
The fear of choking is also often listed in conjunction with Globus sensation-(a condition that comes and goes wherein the patient feels there is a lump in his throat that prevents him from eating). However, the two conditions are different; Globus sensation is more common and occurs when patients are typically suffering from ear-nose-throat infections that cause them to fear they might choke or vomit after eating.
Symptoms of Pseudodysphagia
Psychogenic Dysphagia leads to many psychological symptoms, the most important one being inefficient ordisorganizedswallowing. Other symptoms of the fear of choking include:
Avoidance of food, especially swallowing pills, tablets, hard and chewy foods
Abnormal oral behavior is also seen including deviant tongue movements, feeling the throat pressure, and complaint of globus sensation.
Malnutrition and weight loss are common side effects of this phobia
General difficulties in breathing, swallowing and other issues like elevated heart rate, feeling dizzy, having fearful thoughts of dying, passing out or embarrassing oneself in front of others are common symptoms of Pseudodysphagia.
Nightmares about choking on candy, peanuts or indelible objects also tend to keep these patients awake at night.
Some refuse to eat in front of others thinking that swallowing makes “unpleasant noises”.
Needless to say, this phobia is a debilitating condition that affects the normal life of the patients.
When I was young, my dad would come to my high school campus, yelling out my name. I remember feeling shame and embarrassment. I would crouch down in my desk hoping someone would get him to leave before my friends would see him, but they always did.
My dad had schizophrenia. His dream was to be a professor, but when he was an English graduate student at the University of California at Berkeley, his illness got so bad that he could not finish the program. Dad was often off treatment and in a state of psychosis. During these times, he would look all over for me, saying how only I could save him.
Things escalated when I was in medical school. I remember the first time dad suddenly appeared at my doorstep, 400 miles from where he was living. I was shocked that he had just appeared like that, and sadly not shocked by how disheveled, irrational, and desperate he looked…I was used to that. I took him into the Stanford ER where I was a student, happy that I would be able to get him care, but that did not happen. Dad returned several times, and eventually I realized that to finish my medical training, I would have to disconnect from him. I moved and unlisted my new phone number.
When I became a doctor for the underserved, I kept seeing families torn apart. I discovered this was happening not because of the illnesses, but because getting loved ones the right services and treatments was so difficult. This reality, I realized, was so rarely discussed.
So once Dad began receiving consistent care and I wanted to reconnect with him, I decided to bring my camera along. I hoped that documenting this could help spark a dialogue on what many families were dealing with in our country. And quite honestly, having the camera with me gave me a sense of purpose that helped me face things I didn’t want to face.
One of those things was my guilt. I hated myself for having disconnected from Dad. One day during filming, Dad said to me, “You did not invite me to your graduation from medical school. You did not invite me to your wedding. What does an invitation look like?” You could see his pain and you could see my pain. It was a really hard moment to expose, but so many people told me that seeing that exchange somehow motivated them to come forward with difficulties they experienced around mental illness in their families.
Inspiring Story Sharing
When the film, “Unlisted: A Story of Schizophrenia,” was released in communities throughout the nation and on PBS, I was amazed by the number of people who told me how seeing the film inspired them to talk more openly about mental illness, and that through these discussions they were learning how to better access mental health care or pass on such information to others. The whole goal of my film was being realized – and I was hooked to share more stories.
It was during the launch of “Unlisted” that I learned something that stunned me and would lead to the next stories – 450 million people in the world are living with some type of mental health problem. It stunned me on two fronts: first, the magnitude of the problem; and second, how rarely we hear about mental illness in different countries. What obstacles did families face abroad?
I began looking for mental health stories when work or family life took me abroad. What I found by filming in China, South Africa, India, and France is that when it comes to experiences of mental illness, we are much more similar than different. This reality was in stark contrast to the few stories that ever make it to the press – that somehow mental illness is culturally defined and thus so different globally.
Why do I say that we are much more similar? Take stigma, very much present in all the countries I visited. Imagine, for example, the challenge of getting an Indian family to participate when they had not even revealed the truth about their daughter’s schizophrenia within their own extended family. They had spent many years telling the rest of the family that their daughter was home studying, and that’s why she couldn’t come to any of the family activities and family engagements.
I also discovered the similar challenges pertaining to mental health care access. The extent of these challenges frankly overwhelmed me when I went to India and South Africa. In these countries, upwards of 80 percent of people do not receive mental health care that could improve their lives.
With the release of the resultant film, “Hidden Pictures: A Personal Journey Into Global Mental Health,” I have happily witnessed what I experienced with “Unlisted” – the power of a film to get people to open up, share stories, and work towards getting needed mental health care to individuals and to families. A highlight occurred on World Mental Health Day on October 10, when 140 organizations across the globe joined me in screening “Hidden Pictures” and held in-person and online discussion events.
I have been making films on mental health topics for a decade now, and in that time I have seen an increasing level of discussions, internationally and nationally, around improving mental health care. Globally, for example, the 194 member countries of the World Health Organization (WHO) recently pledged to increase efforts to improve mental health care in their countries. I was honored to be asked to screen stories from “Hidden Pictures” at the WHO’s launch event for this historic moment.
Most exciting is the large-scale collaborations between committed organizations that have begun. In November 2013, I was invited to share stories with a talented group of mental health experts, patients, and caregivers at the Connect 4 Mental Health Community Collaboration Summit, part of the new Connect 4 Mental Health nationwide initiative. Led by the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) and the National Council for Behavioral Health, working together with Otsuka America Pharmaceutical, Inc. and Lundbeck, the campaign is bringing together industry, advocacy, and communities throughout the United States to work together and inspire widespread discourse to improve access to care around serious mental illness. I know firsthand that getting the right access to services and treatments for those with serious mental illness can be such a challenge, and this initiative seeks to empower leaders from both the mental health community and other community-focused organizations – such as emergency services, law enforcement, and public housing – to recognize how unaddressed serious mental illness may be connected to other local challenges they face.
I was able to reconnect with my dad in a truly meaningful way because he was finally receiving adequate treatment, supportive housing, and much more. I think that is the story that is told time and time again – when that level of support is there, families can thrive. Sharing our stories, I have learned, is how each of us can help families find the support they deserve.
Delaney Ruston, MD, lives in Seattle, Wash. For information about her award-winning films, “Hidden Pictures: A Personal Journey Into Global Mental Health”and“Unlisted: A Story of Schizophrenia,” visit www.hiddenpicturesfilm.com.
Would you describe your life with your significant other as a routine? Nothing is more boring than monotony. Here’s five easy ways to give your relationship a little OOMPH!
1. Make time for each other.
Absence is rumored to make the heart grow fonder, but that doesn’t mean your relationship can thrive without any time devoted to it. Life gets busy, especially if you have kids/school/a job/a second job and OMG, ALL THE THINGS; but your relationship is a priority no matter how full your plate may be. Have a daily, 10-minute mini-date where you snuggle up with a silly YouTube video, take a quick walk, have some ice cream, or whatever you both enjoy.
2. Switch up date-night.
Dinner-and-a-movie is a staple for a reason (because it’s fun), but it can grow stale without the occasional mix-up. For example: You could grab coffee or hot cocoa, go to a park on a breezy day and find yourself with a perfect excuse to cuddle.
3. Take an adventure.
Do something exciting together! You could take a cruise, go on a road-trip, jump out of a plane, visit a rain forest, or climb Mt. Everest.
4. Learn something new.
Tackle a hobby of mutual interest with your partner. Whether you want to learn to speak Italian, become a Jeopardy contestant or create handmade jewelry is up to you. Challenging yourselves to grow will strengthen your bond and shake-up your ho-hum love life.
5. Create a Bucket List.
Make a list of all the crazy, ambitious, and wonderful things you want to do with your partner. Be happy you have someone to share your life with. Take small steps to make your Bucket List items happen.
ANGRY?
There is no reason to bottle up our feelings in relationships. I know you might be intimidated by conflict, but there is no hiding from it. Sure, you could just keep saying “nothing is wrong,” but that would only delay the inevitable. Feelings that are held in have a way of intensifying. Pissed off? Take a deep breath and let’s deal with it:
6. Count to 10.
If you find word vomit escaping your lips, one of those hurtful things you know you’re going to regret saying later, hold it in and count to ten. Breathe in. Breathe out. Still want to say it? Go for it. Not so much? Crisis averted.
7. See it from the other side.
“It was a great surprise to me when I discovered that most of the ugliness I saw in others, was but a reflection of my own nature.” -Anonymous
Before you criticize another person, take a second to look at the scenario from their perspective. Most people act the way they do for a reason. See yourself in their eyes to make sure the problem doesn’t reside in yourself.
8. Give and receive.
Did you get a wonderful back rub after a rough day at the office? Return the favor (or surprise your partner with a tasty dessert or coffee at work). A perceived imbalance in who puts the most into your relationship can make a person upset in a hurry. Split chores and housework fairly, take turns deciding what to have for dinner, and aim for equality in your relationship.
9. Express yourself with no filter.
You can’t expect your partner to know something is wrong if you don’t tell them. Express your feelings without filter (especially if you’re being asked “What’s wrong?” repeatedly). Confrontation isn’t fun but it’s also unavoidable. Dragging out a fight is just going to place unnecessary strain on your relationship, so get it over with and express yourself.
10. Appreciate each other.
What do you find sexy or handsome about your partner? Do they have any quirks you find wonderful? What is the sweetest thing they ever did for you? Sometimes, we’re so busy focusing on our partner’s negative traits that we forget to appreciate what we have and what made us fall in love with them in the first place.
Well, it might not feel like it when you’re in the middle of perimenopause, but the answer is yes. Yes, there is life after menopause – and it’s not so bad.
A reader shared with me recently the grief and emotional struggles she is experiencing as she comes to terms with the fact that she is no longer (at least in her mind) an attractive, desirable woman, since she began to go through perimenopause.
Having walked that road, I know exactly how she feels, and the kinds of questions she is likely asking herself about this profound, mid-life transition called menopause. I mean, let’s face it. You’ve spent 40-something years defining and cultivating a life and personal identity, only to have it obliterated all to hell and back by hot flashes, mood swings, and night sweats.
And that’s just the short list.
But life transitions aren’t easy for anybody. I have a 22 year old son who often laments the loss of his carefree childhood as he is now dealing with grown-up realities like expensive car repairs, health insurance costs, college loan debt, and just the day-to-day, non-sexy, no-fun decisions, grown-ups have to make every day of their life.
I don’t have the heart to tell him that just when he gets this part of his life figured out, it changes all over again.
I think what makes the menopause transition so difficult for women is that we are beginning to face the reality of our own mortality. Sure, we talk about our sagging breasts, our lagging libido, and feeling so oldwhen we start going through perimenopause and menopause. But, what we really mean, is that we realize we are closer to death and dying than we’ve ever been before – and it’s scary. It’s sobering. It’s existential.
But, there’s a funny thing about facing death and dying. It makes you realize how much you should live.
Perhaps that is why many women become so fierce once they reach menopause. They realize without equivocation that the number of years they have left on this earth are ticking down fast, and if they don’t get on with living them they are gone.
The thing I personally love about menopause is that it forces your hand. There’s no place to run, no place to hide. You’re past middle-age and you’re facing down death whether you like it or not. It’s crunch time. Yes, it’s uncomfortable and difficult. Sometimes it’s damn well excruciating. But it’s a crossroad of life, and you get to choose the road you’re going to walk.
I don’t know about you, but I find that rather empowering. I can’t control the fact that I’m dying. But I can control how I live. I don’t have to “go gentle into that good night” so I won’t. I don’t know that I want to“rage, rage, against the dying of the light” either. I had enough of raging and mood swings during perimenopause, thank you very much.
I would much rather just “live like I am dying.” Because we all are, menopause sisters. We all are.
Magnolia Miller is a certified healthcare consumer advocate in women’s health and a women’s freelance health writer and blogger at The Perimenopause Blog.
Why do we do the things we do? Despite our best attempts to “know thyself,” the truth is that we often know astonishingly little about our own minds, and even less about the way others think. As Charles Dickens once put it, “A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.”
Psychologists have long sought insights into how we perceive the world and what motivates our behavior, and they’ve made enormous strides in lifting that veil of mystery. Aside from providing fodder for stimulating cocktail-party conversations, some of the most famous psychological experiments of the past century reveal universal and often surprising truths about human nature. Here are 10 classic psychological studies that may change the way you understand yourself.
We all have some capacity for evil.
Arguably the most famous experiment in the history of psychology, the 1971 Stanford prison study put a microscope on how social situations can affect human behavior. The researchers, led by psychologist Philip Zimbardo, set up a mock prison in the basement of the Stanford psych building and selected 24 undergraduates (who had no criminal record and were deemed psychologically healthy) to act as prisoners and guards. Researchers then observed the prisoners (who had to stay in the cells 24 hours a day) and guards (who shared eight-hour shifts) using hidden cameras.
The experiment, which was scheduled to last for two weeks, had to be cut short after just six days due to the guards’ abusive behavior — in some cases they even inflicted psychological torture — and the extreme emotional stress and anxiety exhibited by the prisoners.
“The guards escalated their aggression against the prisoners, stripping them naked, putting bags over their heads, and then finally had them engage in increasingly humiliating sexual activities,” Zimbardo told American Scientist. “After six days I had to end it because it was out of control — I couldn’t really go to sleep at night without worrying what the guards could do to the prisoners.”
We don’t notice what’s right in front of us.
Think you know what’s going on around you? You might not be nearly as aware as you think. In 1998, researchers from Harvard and Kent State University targeted pedestrians on a college campus to determine how much people notice about their immediate environments. In the experiment, an actor came up to a pedestrian and asked for directions. While the pedestrian was giving the directions, two men carrying a large wooden door walked between the actor and the pedestrian, completely blocking their view of each other for several seconds. During that time, the actor was replaced by another actor, one of a different height and build, and with a different outfit, haircut and voice. A full half of the participants didn’t notice the substitution.
The experiment was one of the first to illustrate the phenomenon of “change blindness,” which shows just how selective we are about what we take in from any given visual scene — and it seems that we rely on memory and pattern-recognition significantly more than we might think.
Delaying gratification is hard — but we’re more successful when we do.
A famous Stanford experiment from the late 1960s tested preschool children’s ability to resist the lure of instant gratification — and it yielded some powerful insights about willpower and self-discipline. In the experiment, four-year-olds were put in a room by themselves with a marshmallow on a plate in front of them, and told that they could either eat the treat now, or if they waited until the researcher returned 15 minutes later, they could have two marshmallows.
While most of the children said they’d wait, they often struggled to resist and then gave in, eating the treat before the researcher returned, TIME reports. The children who did manage to hold off for the full 15 minutes generally used avoidance tactics, like turning away or covering their eyes. The implications of the children’s behavior were significant: Those who were able to delay gratification were much less likely to be obese, or to have drug addiction or behavioral problems by the time they were teenagers, and were more successful later in life.
We can experience deeply conflicting moral impulses.
A famous 1961 study by Yale psychologist Stanley Milgram tested (rather alarmingly) how far people would go to obey authority figures when asked to harm others, and the intense internal conflict between personal morals and the obligation to obey authority figures.
Milgram wanted to conduct the experiment to provide insight into how Nazi war criminals could have perpetuated unspeakable acts during the Holocaust. To do so, he tested a pair of participants, one deemed the “teacher” and the other deemed the “learner.” The teacher was instructed to administer electric shocks to the learner (who was supposedly sitting in another room, but in reality was not being shocked) each time they got questions wrong. Milgram instead played recordings which made it sound like the learner was in pain, and if the “teacher” subject expressed a desire to stop, the experimenter prodded him to go on. During the first experiment, 65 percent of participants administered a painful, final 450-volt shock (labeled “XXX”), although many were visibly stressed and uncomfortable about doing so.
While the study has commonly been seen as a warning of blind obedience to authority, Scientific American recently revisited it, arguing that the results were more suggestive of deep moral conflict.
“Human moral nature includes a propensity to be empathetic, kind and good to our fellow kin and group members, plus an inclination to be xenophobic, cruel and evil to tribal others,” journalist Michael Shermer wrote. “The shock experiments reveal not blind obedience but conflicting moral tendencies that lie deep within.”
Recently, some commenters have called Milgram’s methodology into question, and one critic noted that records of the experiment performed at Yale suggested that 60 percent of participants actually disobeyed orders to administer the highest-dosage shock.
We’re easily corrupted by power.
There’s a psychological reason behind the fact that those in power sometimes act towards others with a sense of entitlement and disrespect. A 2003 study published in the journal Psychological Review put students into groups of three to write a short paper together. Two students were instructed to write the paper, while the other was told to evaluate the paper and determine how much each student would be paid. In the middle of their work, a researcher brought in a plate of five cookies. Although generally the last cookie was never eaten, the “boss” almost always ate the fourth cookie — and ate it sloppily, mouth open.
We seek out loyalty to social groups and are easily drawn to intergroup conflict.
This classic 1950s social psychology experiment shined a light on the possible psychological basis of why social groups and countries find themselves embroiled in conflict with one another — and how they can learn to cooperate again.
Study leader Muzafer Sherif took two groups of 11 boys (all age 11) to Robbers Cave State Park in Oklahoma for “summer camp.” The groups (named the “Eagles” and the “Rattlers”) spent a week apart, having fun together and bonding, with no knowledge of the existence of the other group. When the two groups finally integrated, the boys started calling each other names, and when they started competing in various games, more conflict ensued and eventually the groups refused to eat together. In the next phase of the research, Sherif designed experiments to try to reconcile the boys by having them enjoy leisure activities together (which was unsuccessful) and then having them solve a problem together, which finally began to ease the conflict.
We only need one thing to be happy.
The 75-year Harvard Grant study —one of the most comprehensive longitudinal studies ever conducted — followed 268 male Harvard undergraduates from the classes of 1938-1940 (now well into their 90s) for 75 years, regularly collecting data on various aspects of their lives. The universal conclusion? Love really is all that matters, at least when it comes to determining long-term happiness and life satisfaction.
The study’s longtime director, psychiatrist George Vaillant, told The Huffington Postthat there are two pillars of happiness: “One is love. The other is finding a way of coping with life that does not push love away.” For example, one participant began the study with the lowest rating for future stability of all the subjects and he had previously attempted suicide. But at the end of his life, he was one of the happiest. Why? As Vaillant explains, “He spent his life searching for love.”
We thrive when we have strong self-esteem and social status.
Achieving fame and success isn’t just an ego boost — it could also be a key to longevity, according to the notorious Oscar winners study. Researchers from Toronto’s Sunnybrook and Women’s College Health Sciences Centre found that Academy Award-winning actors and directors tend to live longer than those who were nominated but lost, with winning actors and actresses outliving their losing peers by nearly four years.
“We are not saying that you will live longer if you win an Academy Award,” Donald Redelmeier, the lead author of the study, told ABC News. “Or that people should go out and take acting courses. Our main conclusion is simply that social factors are important … It suggests that an internal sense of self-esteem is an important aspect to health and health care.”
We constantly try to justify our experiences so that they make sense to us.
Anyone who’s taken a freshman Psych 101 class is familiar with cognitive dissonance, a theory which dictates that human beings have a natural propensity to avoid psychological conflict based on disharmonious or mutually exclusive beliefs. In an often-cited 1959 experiment, psychologist Leon Festinger asked participants to perform a series of dull tasks, like turning pegs in a wooden knob, for an hour. They were then paid either $1 or $20 to tell a “waiting participant” (aka a researcher) that the task was very interesting. Those who were paid $1 to lie rated the tasks as more enjoyable than those who were paid $20. Their conclusion? Those who were paid more felt that they had sufficient justification for having performed the rote task for an hour, but those who were only paid $1 felt the need to justify the time spent (and reduce the level of dissonance between their beliefs and their behavior) by saying that the activity was fun. In other words, we commonly tell ourselves lies to make the world appear a more logical, harmonious place.
We buy into stereotypes in a big way.
Stereotyping various groups of people based on social group, ethnicity or class is something nearly all of us do, even if we make an effort not to — and it can lead us to draw unfair and potentially damaging conclusions about entire populations. NYU psychologist John Bargh’s experiments on “automaticity of social behavior”revealed that we often judge people based on unconscious stereotypes — and we can’t help but act on them. We also tend to buy into stereotypes for social groups that we see ourselves being a part of. In one study, Bargh found that a group of participants who were asked to unscramble words related to old age — “Florida,” “helpless” and “wrinkled” — walked significantly slower down the hallway after the experiment than the group who unscrambled words unrelated to age. Bargh repeated the findings in two other comparable studies that enforced stereotypes based on race and politeness.
“Stereotypes are categories that have gone too far,” Bargh told Psychology Today. “When we use stereotypes, we take in the gender, the age, the color of the skin of the person before us, and our minds respond with messages that say hostile, stupid, slow, weak. Those qualities aren’t out there in the environment. They don’t reflect reality.”
“Your sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again. ~ Joseph Campbell
There’s a lot of talk online and in the spiritual community about “sacred space”. But if you’re new to this world, or just haven’t ever explored this concept, it can feel unattainable and maybe even a bit scary. So I’m gonna break it down for you.
WHAT IS A SACRED SPACE?
A sacred space is your sanctuary. A place where you can meditate or pray, work alchemy, relax, practice yoga, dance, or even just check-in with yourself and your dreams. It’s a space where you prepare yourself for the day. And a place for you to come home to, to recharge your body, mind and spirit. Knowing that when we care for our space in this way, we are more clear, open, grounded, magical – creating sacred space facilitates this and restores us to our best selves.
How and where you decide to create your sacred space is really up to you. It’s very much a personal thing. It does not have to be grand or “Pinterest ready”. It just has to feel good. And while I’m fascinated by Feng Shui and other methods of spiritually designing our spaces, for some (myself included) our homes are not “Feng Shui” friendly, nor do we have the time, space or money to create a mini temple at home. What to do? Keep reading on and I’ll show you.
WHY WOULD I CREATE A SACRED SPACE?
It may be that I am a spring baby or the fact that my rising sign is in Virgo, but the act of spring cleaning and creating sacred space lights me up. This ritual is almost like an active meditation for me, and very cathartic. Just the act of making sacred space can make me feel like Beyonce before a performance. Bring it!
Having a sacred space of our very own gives us permission to just be. We don’t have to meet anyone else’s needs but ours. And for that single moment, we feel more deeply present. To hear nothing but the sound of your breath or a song that will break your heart open is everything. Our sacred space is a place for our intuition to sit and converse with us without the chaos of everyday life.
Designating a space and declaring it sacred – there is power in that my darlings.
WHAT DOES A SACRED SPACE LOOK LIKE?
Personally, I have several different spaces. I chose to create them in places I spend most of my time on a daily basis. It’s where I create, hustle, practice self-love and care, organize thoughts & feelings, exhale, make magic and center myself.
Here are examples of my sacred spaces:
HOME
I love my nook at home. When everyone is asleep, I swear it’s the most magical place in the world. It is my workspace / boudoir / altar. When I am home, that is where you will find me. My walls have pictures, art, words and images that inspire and express who I am. I have textures, fabrics, crystals, decks of cards, oils and candles. Everything in there is intentional. I romance myself and my space with incense and fresh flowers. I created it next to a balcony, where I am bathed by the light that radiates through my sheer white curtains hanging. It is heaven.
WORK
As a creative / designer, I make sure my workspace is infused with visuals, the perfect playlist, the right pens, planner and my headphones. It’s all part of my weaponry at work, my metaphorical “do not disturb” sign. In a workplace environment, you have to protect your space and set your boundaries. I have Palo Santo and rosewater to clear and bless. Crystals for creativity, hustle and energy protection (black tourmaline protects my computer, gadgets and myself, especially when Mercury goes retro). I’m grateful to be next to a window where the sun hangs out with me in the afternoon. My work space thus becomes a perfect place to recharge whenever I need it.
MY CAR
I have a long commute to and from work. I could easily let the crazy of rush hour take over, but I choose not to. My car is my space to prepare for work. And to release everything from my day and recharge before I come home to my family. I light Palo Santo to clear space, talk to my guides, angels, ancestors, and my intuitive voice when it wants to be heard. I have playlists, classes or audiobooks ready to accompany me on my drive home. And then there are also times that I just drive in silence. Silence is truly golden. On the really heavy work days, I always take a 20 min nap right in the car before I walk into my home. This mama loves a nap!
MY BODY
I decorate my body with patterns, jewelry, metallics and textures. I cleanse & heal it with coconut milk or salt baths. I wear talismans (my turquoise pendulum, my Frida pin, my “Tribe” pendant) to remind me of my purpose and who I am. My arms and hands are adorned with ink of Goddesses & deities who I connect with (Erzuli & Kali Ma), my daughters’ names (my loves), personal symbols, etc. I wear oils on my skin, honey on my lips and crystals in my bra to heal, expand, protect & awaken all of me. I am my very own altar.
HOW TO CREATE SACRED SPACE
Now that you’ve seen how I do sacred space, let’s talk yours. Remember, this is your space and personal expression. Drop any over-thinking or judgment. There is no right or wrong way to do this. Here are a few starting points to help…
PICK A SPACE
If you’re wondering what space to choose, I suggest starting at home first. Choose a space in your home, preferably one where you can have some privacy. It will probably be a place that you already tend to spend most of your time in. You’re bringing energy and intention here so choose what connects to your Soul. Know that your space will always be changing – it evolves as you do.
SO FRESH & SO CLEAN (CLEAN)
The goal is to reclaim some sacred space for yourself, so you want to make sure it’s fresh and clean. Ditch (or donate) anything that no longer serves you. And be very selective about what you bring into the space once it’s clean. Try clearing and blessing your space with sage or palo santo (they even make spraysif you’re sensitive to smoke). Cleansing brings clarity. And clarity, both physical and mental, is a beautiful gift to give yourself. So do this on a regular basis.
ADORNMENTS
This is my favorite part. What are your desires? How do you want to feel? It’s time to awaken your inner child and get creative. Explore colors & textures. Collages, books & art pieces. Pillows, tapestries, lighting, fresh flowers, music, incense, oils, dark chocolate, whiskey. Collaborate with your senses here!You can create an altar that hold objects of deep meaning, candles, statues of deities, tarot cards, love letters or crystals, that are fully charged, to help you handle some spiritual gangster business. Whatever you decide, this space needs to make you feel good and raise your energy. This is where you start and end your day. This is your space, so run wild with it.
SET YOUR INTENTION
What is your intention for this space? We can sit in an empty room with nothing but you and that intention – and that right there is sacred power. Pray, connect, ask, open up to receive, be grateful. Bless your space with this intention whenever you step foot into it.
And there it is. A sacred space to call your own. Now, just be. Close your eyes and soak in the beauty and magic of this magical place you just created all of yourself. Enjoy it!
This week, I’m attending an arts conference and creative think-tank. A lot of the attendees are calling themselves “creatives.”
Now if you don’t work in marketing or advertising, you may not have realized thatcreative can be a noun.
So, what is a creative?
A creative is an artist. Not just a painter or musician or writer. She is someone who sees the world a little differently than others.
A creative is an individual. He is unique, someone who doesn’t quite fit into any box. Some think of creatives as iconoclasts; others see them as rebels. Both are quite apt.
A creative is a thought leader. He influences people not necessarily through personality but through his innate gifts and talents.
And what, exactly, does a creative do?
Good question; sometimes they don’t even know.
A creative creates art. Not make a buck, but to make a difference. She writes to write, not to be noticed or to sell books. She sings to sing, for the pure joy of making music. And she paints to paint. (And so on…)
A creative colors outside the lines. On purpose. In so doing, she shows the world a whole new picture they never would have otherwise seen.
A creative breaks the rules. And as a result, he sets a new standard to follow.
Why we need creatives
The truth is that we need more creatives in positions of influence — to color the world with beauty and life.
Creatives craft poetry in a world that is otherwise content with prose. They bring art to areas where there is only architecture.
Creatives help us see life in a new light — to perceive a new dimension, a deeper way of encountering what we know. And we need more of those kinds of leaders.
Don’t you agree?
Are you a creative? What’s your definition for a creative? If you’re on Twitter, use the hashtag to #acreativeis.
Symptoms of Pseudodysphagia
Death and taxes, as the saying goes, are the only certainties in life. So why then is one of these things still so hard to talk about? Not taxes, that’s just zzzzz, but death. Always death.
As inevitable as dying may be, talking about mortality remains taboo. How strange this is when it affects us all – not just our own deaths of course, but those of our loved ones, as shown by Prince Harry’s recent admission that he regrets not talking sooner about how his mother’s death affected him.
Harry was 12 when Diana, Princess of Wales, died. At 31, he was hosting an event at Kensington Palace for the mental health charity Heads Together when he admitted that he only began opening up about her sudden death three years ago. That’s a lot of years of sweeping a defining life event under the carpet.
I was 10 when my mother, Jane, died in 1985. And it has taken me all this time to open up about it. Last year, I wrote a piece for the Guardian’s A Moment that Changed Me series about her death. I had recently started a new relationship, and my boyfriend asked me what had happened. I realised I had never really talked about it before, and that I needed to.
The piece struck a chord. In the first few days alone it had more than 225,000 views online. I had comments from readers all over the world – and not just in the comments thread beneath the piece, but from strangers who tracked me down via social media.
Even now, a year later, people I know vaguely come up to me and say they have read the piece, and that they were moved, or that they too have been bereaved. Maybe it was their father, their sister or their friend – but they have been bereft, broken and lost, and they too have rebuilt themselves, and their lives. The message is clear – this is a universal feeling.
And even if you have never been bereaved, have rarely contemplated your own mortality or that of your nearest and dearest, talking about death can be liberating. An old school friend got in touch after I wrote the article. To think that I was going through all of that at school, she said. She didn’t have an inkling. How could she? My new life had begun and I was not to look back on my old one. This was the message that resonated throughout the rest of my childhood.
After my mother’s death, I was looked after by a friend of hers, who had three older children – two were young adults, aged 20 and 18. They didn’t understand how a 10-year-old could be grieving. On the first Mother’s Day that rolled around – less than four months after she died – they pressured me into giving my new foster mother a card. “She’s done a lot for you,” they said. How could I possibly say this woman wasn’t my mother? That I had but one mother, and that she was dead. I was a shy child. I kept my mouth shut and handed over a card. They did not mean to be cruel. They were protective of their own mother. And I am sure they genuinely did not know how I was feeling, or think to talk to me about it.
I understand. Talking to a child who has lost a parent is particularly difficult, and heartbreaking. But bereaved children are not rare. The charity Child Bereavement UK estimates that 23,600 parents of children under 18 die every year, and that one in 29 children has lost a parent or a sibling – that’s one child in every class.
There’s a mistaken idea that children forget, and that they adapt. Yes children can be resilient and adaptable – as can adults. But children grieve. We need to acknowledge this, and learn how to talk about death.
It has taken me 30 years to realise that my story isn’t over – and that talking about my mother’s death doesn’t mean I am stuck in the past, but that I am moving forward. I have started writing about her more, and about the multifaceted aspects of bereavement. And because of this opening up, not only have strangers been in touch, but also people who knew my mother. I have even met some of them – a moving, strange and surreal experience. So I will continue to talk about death, to open up, to throw off my Britishness, because it feels right. And you should too.