Internal Robot Thoughts

I love second hand books. The more random the place I buy them from and the cheaper they are, the better they are. A bought a book in Yamba (a surf bum town on the NSW north coast) for 50cents. It was written by a American business/self help guru over 25 years ago (Dr Denis Waitley) and I carried it with me throughout North, South and Central America.

Why? Because it has a concept in it that I love.

Most self help gurus believe that self image is made up of two parts, the conscious level of thinking and the subconscious. The conscious level collects information, makes decisions and moves this information to the subconscious. The subconscious controls body functions, stores memories and controls goal seeking. Denis named the subconscious his "Robot" and even wrote a little poem about him. 

The problem comes when the conscious level of thinking tries to make a decision that doesn’t correspond to the robots programming, (the robots memory bank.) The robot will then override the conscious mind’s decision. Effectively our subconscious is in control. Our robot is in control of our thoughts and actions. 

Biologically it makes sense. I imagine this was developed from cave man days when some beefy, testosterone fuelled Neanderthal was trying to convince himself he could take on a sabre-toothed tiger single handedly to impress some cave chick. The robot subconscious would take control of the situation and the beefcake lived to see another day. Darwin took care of those without the overriding robot.

Bungee jumping is a good example of how this can be used to our advantage. Our conscious mind knows that the rope will catch our fall, however the subconscious knows that heights are dangerous (information gathered from past experience and learnings), that ropes fail (information gathered from news articles) and surmises that generally this isn’t a good idea. However, the subconscious only knows what it’s fed from the conscious mind, past and present. If your conscious thoughts are strong enough to convince your robot that bungee jumping is fun (you may need evidence to convince him, such as watching other people bungy and live to tell the tale,) you may be able to jump. If your conscious mind cannot convince your subconscious mind then the robot is in control. Your past will dictate your future. 

My stubbornness kicks in here and I say: "No, no one tells me what I can and can't do, take this robot!" And I jump off the cliff. My subconscious is always kicking and screaming, sometimes it even has a slight breakdown, but I tend to beat it into submission, or try to. Honestly it is a constant struggle to be able to live your life how you want to, not dependant on past experiences and how people from your past have influenced your thinking. E.g. If you've never had anyone in your life that you can trust, how does your robot trust the next person? If you don't think you deserve happiness, how does your robot embrace happiness? 

So who's in control of your mind, your current thoughts or your Robot? 

I'll leave you with Denis' Robot poem that he wrote the year I was born. "I have a little robot,That goes around with me.I tell him what I’m thinking,I tell him what I see,I tell my little robot,All my hopes and fears.He listens and remembers,All my joys and tears.At first my little robot,Followed my command,But after years of training,He's gotten out of hand.He doesn’t care what’s right or wrong,Or what is false or true.No matter what I try now,He tells me what to do!"

My Warning

Here's an exert from one of my (unpublished, unfinished) books, 'Susan Gilmore' - Heavy but hopefully OK writing :) Thanks to Scarlett for the line. (GWTW fans anyone?) 

I came with a warning, my Aunts warning, “She’s not as strong as she thinks she is.” That’s what she said to him. That’s my one warning, it was supposed to make him protect me, but in essence all he heard was "she is weak."

I could smell the alcohol on his breath, I could see the fury in his eyes, yet it all seemed like a dream, like something that was happening to someone else. I felt numb. I felt nothing. It was as if I was watching it all from the corner, watching the girl backed against the door, watching the man stand over her, watching him strip her confidence, her trust, her strength.
I stood and watched her face. Her confusion showed through a vacant gaze, confusion between wanting to love this man and being scared of him.
He didn’t seem to notice. She shook her head in confusion and took a step closer to him, reaching out to embrace him, help him. Her movements were slow, gentle, radiating with compassion. He stood rigid against her touch. His mouth pulled tight. As she stepped closer he violently pushed her back against the door. With a swift movement his hand closed around her neck, pinning her against the door.

Instantly I was back.

His hand crushed around my throat, my airways constricted. I felt my feet lift off the ground. He banged my head against the wooden door as he lifted me. The pressure on my neck increased. I gasped for air. My eyes wide with fear, I stared at his face. His eyes were black with rage. His brow furrowed into a deep crevasse. His teeth were gritted yet as he yelled little droplets of spit flew from his mouth. My hands were around his wrist, half pushing him away, half still stupidly wanting to embrace him.

My mind was racing, the lack of air was making me panic. I could feel my face going red. It didn’t seem to bother him. He raised his voice and my ears hurt from the assault. He clenched his eyes shut, he raised his fist, I shut my eyes, I flinched as much as his grip let me, Turning my face away from the impending blows. But his fist shot past my face, it hit the door next to my head. With each blow the wood reverberated from the force.

The instant headache was enough. This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be doing this. Not again.
I was sick of it. But was this enough to walk away? Technically, he still hadn’t hit me.
If he did hit me at least then I could leave. At least then there would be reason enough to walk away. The realisation slapped me across the face and before the words had even crossed my lips they had already spread a smile across my face.
“You missed” I gasped with a wry grin.
He pulled back, confusion etched across his face but he didn't dare let go of my throat.
Im not weak, I thought to myself, Im stronger than you think. Stubborn determination and strength coursed through my veins, "I said you missed." my voice came out cool and calm. I stared directly into his eyes,"C'mon hit me, isn't that what out want to do? Wouldn't that make you feel like a man?" I was shaking, with fear and adrenalin. Half of me wanted to get it over and done with, wave the red flag and then deal with the fallout, just so long as this was over. The other half just wanted to give him a hug and tell him everything will be OK.
His eyes searched my own, for a moment I thought he would call my bluff. I needed to stand strong, I needed one last push. "Get your hands off me you drunken fool!"

I couldn't help but flinch when he moved his hand. His eyes dropped from mine, his hand released my neck, he turned away. I hesitated for a second, poised for another fight. But it was over.
I dropped to the floor, rubbing my neck. I sat frozen, still shaking. I had stood up to him, I had found my strength. My warning had been proven false and this felt like only the start, the start of the end.

Jaded

Apparently I'm jaded. I was told this recently and it didn't bode well. After much analysis I understood why people might think this. I tend to give my all in relationships and I'm often the one left with nothing in return and hurting. Which doesn't strike me as fair or just. I have often given the opinion "such is life" or "ke garne" because life isnt fair, it just is. I often tell my friends, Don't worry, it will probably happen again, soon enough, so don't be too concerned. Easy to see why some may think I'm jaded. 

Buddhism teaches the 4 noble truths, which states that suffering is an unavoidable fact of life and realising that, freeing yourself from wanting and accepting this truth is the only way to happiness. 

I'm not sure that I've freed myself from wanting but I have realised and accepted that I will be hurt again and again and again. All relationships must come to an end one way or another, whether by blood splattered walls, mutual decisions or simply by death. And there is every possibility that a wonderful relationship will prelude the demise. I prefer to see this as being a realist than being jaded. 

So what to do? Opt out all together or dive in head first and hope for the best. To quote a cliche, Id rather have loved and lost than never loved at all. So chances are I'm going to keep diving head first into shallow pools... but this time round I might stop and look first, or even put a helmet on. 

As for me being jaded, surely if you break a heart often enough it will still have some sharp edges when you tape it back together. :)

How to: Survive a breakup

My friends will often stop, look at me and ask if I'm OK with the engagement being called off. It's almost as if they think I'm pretending to be ok, holding it in and at any moment I'll suddenly break down and be a mess.
No thanks.
It's not that I'm being stoic, numb or I haven't realised what's happened yet, it's just that I'm over it.
When I have to talk to him it doesn't make my heart jump, my mind think back to the good times or any of that guff. I wish him all the best but I'm glad we're not together. Shrug.

So how did I get to my happy place?

Firstly, I'm really good at breakups (potentially a lot better than relationships). I have 20/20 hindsight, an innate belief that I can deal with anything that comes my way and not a spiteful bone in my body. Combined that with legendary friends and a single life that rocks and I'm left with absolutely nothing to feel sorry about. (Especially when compared to some of the amazing people I've met on my travels who deal with a lot bigger stuff than me.) To be fair I was sad for a week or two and crucially, I did a lot of my grieving before we broke up. Two occasions spring to mind, both when I was very much alone.

The first was when I left London:

I’ve never heard of Scott, Columbus or Cook freaking out at the beginning of an adventure, and I’m fairly sure that guy who paddled a kayak from Australia to New Zealand didn’t cry his first night away from home, but I like to think that maybe they did, just a little.

He took me to the airport and even helped me with my bags, but I was a mess. I was bawling before I left home and when it was time to say goodbye I was close to having a panic attack. He was fantastic and said all the right things, but I didn’t believe it. I was a complete blubbering, snotty mess and kept asking him to say “it will be alright” again and again, like a mantra.

I felt stupid that I had booked a trip without really thinking it through. That I had assumed I’d be able to deal with whatever came my way but quite simply, I was scared. Scared of the unknown, scared of being apart from Adam, scared that I had once again torn apart my nest, thrown my life out the window and all I had was the bag on my back. I wasn’t quite sure where that left me, or where that left Adam and I. Adam told me that it is just a holiday, that in two months time we’d both be back in Australia. All I wanted at that moment, as shameful as it is, was to fast forward.
I was scared and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this would be the last time that I would see him, that I had booked this trip and put it ahead of him, ahead of us and that I had done so happily without much thought. Did this mean my subconscious had made a decision for me? Was our relationship that meaningless to me? Had I really just abandoned Adam again because of my travel lust? Only now faced with the consequences did I really analyse what I was doing. Why did getting on this plane feel so finite?

I told him to walk away so I could go because I didn’t feel strong enough to walk away from him. But when he turned to leave I didn’t wait to watch. I turned and headed for the gate with the thought in my mind “don’t look back.”  

I contemplated asking the nice man at passport control if I was doing the right thing.

The second was my last day in the hills of Nepal:

I was utterly exhausted. My legs hurt with every step, my back ached and my blisters rubbed. I was out of breath. I struggled to keep my breathing constant but at the same time I was chocking on the cold air. I had started off full of anger but less than an hour of hiking up this steep hill my anger had turned to an emotional mess. Outside was a physical struggle, inside was an emotional one. The conversation with Adam this morning had made me confused. Had I made the right decision in going on this trip? Had I completely destroyed out relationship? Did he still love me? Did I still love him? It was hard to answer as the picture of Ads in my head had gone blurry. Who was he now? I couldn’t remember the man I had loved and now there was a cranky guy on the phone, who didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach made me stop answering the phone when he did actually call, which was becoming less and less. Yesterday was the anniversary of his proposal. I didn’t have phone reception for most of the day and hadn’t bothered to call when I did due to time zones and exhaustion. I had left him a card but he had done nothing for me. Worst of all, that didn’t bother me in the slightest.

I was sad for leaving Phuleli, not a normal leaving sad, a complete saturation of emotion, a sadness combined with awe inspiring proudness and pity and envy. I was confused with how I felt about Nepal, let alone with Adam dramas on top. I needed support, not conflict and I needed to be warm, clean and resting. My toes were numb, my arms were red, my heart was racing, my mind was muddled and my legs burned. I couldn’t hike anymore! My body knew this, my throat closed up and I started wheezing and gasping for breath. Tears sprung to my eyes, my airways closed, I couldn’t breathe. I’m going to die, I thought. The altitude, the rural location, I’m going to suffocate from stress!

I dropped to my knees clasping my throat, sobbing, wheezing, convinced that this was it. Uttraman, my guide, came running over. He held me, rubbed my throat, gently warming it up and told me everything was ok, I wasn’t alone, He was here for me, it will all be ok. “It will be alright.” That’s what Adam had said at Heathrow.

My stubborn mind kicked in and refused to let this situation escalate. You will not have a panic attack here Corinne, that is completely ridiculous and out of the question! Stop sobbing, start breathing. You are in control. You will NOT have a panic attack. You will not suffocate in the Himalayas!

That bitch had saved my life more than once and she had a point. This was ridiculous. There was nothing actually wrong with me. My breathing slowly returned to normal, my throat opened up and I had calmed down to a quiet weep. I hugged Uttraman who was now rubbing my numb legs to keep them warm. He had dressed me in all of my layers and I was now rugged up warm. I looked around the amazing snow covered forest. I was OK. My trekking pride was bruised but what’s new? My last trekking injury still hadn’t healed from falling into a river.

At some point before the summit my tears finally stopped. At the top instead of a view of Everest there were clouds. We ambled along the clouded mountain top, hoping for a brief view. I realised that this area somehow resembled the British Moors. Boggy marshes, cloud blowing through, short shrubby grasslands and bitterly bone achingly cold. I knew how the Bronte sisters felt, alone in their boggy wasteland. It suited my mood perfectly. There I was, standing on a precipice in life, no way of seeing what lies ahead, wandering tentatively forwards, hoping not to drop off a cliff.

So here's my 6 step guide:

1. Feel: Allow yourself to feel whatever it is that you’re feeling and get it all out. If someone shoots you with an arrow, don’t ask why, pull the damn thing out!

2. Hindsight: Think about it, you knew it was going to happen sooner or later and it really is for the best isn't it?

3. Confidence: Think about all the awesome stuff that you've done and now all the awesome stuff that you can NOW do! FREEDOM!

4. Perspective: Do you really have anything to complain about? You have clean water, that’s more than billions of people in the world have!

5. Compassion: Be kind to yourself, but also be compassionate to your ex. Remember, no one wanted it to end like this when it first started. You have good memories, don't spoil them with spite.

6. Ke Garne? Such is life. You’re not the first, you won’t be the last.
  

Divorce Porn

The divorce porn industry is lucrative and growing... No, not that type.. I'm talking about the hoards of memoirs, novels and articles giving gritty details of the final stages of a relationship breakdown and what happens next. 
Elizabeth Gilberts "Eat pray love" is a key example and testament to just how lucrative an industry it is.
Why?
Because everyone loves to find out what happened between two people that made them stop loving each other or caused them to simply throw their hands up in the air and say it's all too hard. Often after a breakup even random acquaintances will ask what happened and probe for gory details of the relationship aftermath.
"Were other people involved, do you think he's lying, did you ever love them, did you see the signs?"
Or add very unhelpful, uneducated analysis, such as 'I bet they never loved you' or 'You could have fixed it if you'd really wanted too' or my favourite 'I bet he was fucking that slut the whole time.' Did I mention these are not helpful remarks? 


But who can blame us? Our eyes cannot help but linger a little longer on breakup speculations splashed across the covers of glossy mags, our tongues cannot help but ask strangers how their marriage dissolved and we cannot help but analyse and speculate. Why do we do this? Perhaps we think there might be a thread of truth somewhere in the post mortem that gives us insight into our own relationship. A warning sign, a green light or a key learning that we should take away. Something that will prevent the pain next time or maybe give us an indicator that our plane is in a downward spiral and to "BRACE, BRACE, BRACE!"


As for my breakup, and I know those who haven't asked are dying too, it was all quite uneventful. No gory scenes, no blood splattered walls, no lawyers, not even phone calls in the night. Sorry. 


To quote myself,  "I'm of the belief that relationship success is not dependant on how it ends...A relationship that is/was happy, filled with treasured memories and learnings is a successful one. If it ends because it had stopped fitting that criteria, despite all attempts, then kudos to you for being honest. If you managed to get through the breakup without throwing objects at each other or hiring a lawyer and you still remain friends, even greater kudos to both of you!"
(http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/08/seagulls-and-relationship-success.html 2011)


We haven't thrown objects or involved lawyers and frankly I'm of the belief that distance and no communication is best for all concerned. I always liken it to cutting an arm off, would you rather do it quickly or have it hanging there half severed for a few days/weeks/months, slowly going septic? And you wouldn't carry it around with you after you hacked it off would you? Well maybe you would if you were still trying to stick it back on.. But after you knew it was dead you'd probably let it go..  Gory I know, but it makes sense to me. 
But despite our machete end, Adam and I did make many treasured memories in our time together....
http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/11/titanic-without-bad-ending.html 
http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/07/surfing-santa-teresa-costa-rica.html
http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/07/full-moon-party-koh-phanang.html
http://cosrandom.blogspot.com/2011/07/waikiki-dreaming.html
So I think we deserve some kudos.




I'm off to clean the blood from my machete but don't worry, I won't leave you without some divorce porn cause I know you need your fix. Here are a few pieces of constructive criticism that  I have received over many years of dating from the most honest source of feedback, ex-boyfriends! When collaborated they really are a wonderful source of information.. Enjoy.

• Women aren't supposed to be engineers, they aren't as good at that stuff as men 
• I love that you earn a good wage
• I hate that you earn more than me
• I love that you surf, we can spend time together this way
• You shouldn't surf, it's not feminine
• You shouldn't call your stomach your guts, it's not feminine
• Your arse is too big, you should work on that and get the meat off
• Your arse is too small, you should work on that and put some meat on
• You should wear nice clothes to work, not king gees, maybe a dress?
• You shouldn't burp, it's not feminine
• You should wear clothes more often
• You should sleep naked more often
• I like how confident you are
• I wish you were less outgoing
• Dresses suit you better than pants
• Pants suit you better than dresses
• You should wear heels all the time, they're so feminine
• You shouldn't wear heels, you're too tall, it's not feminine
• I liked you better when you didn't like me, you should go back to not liking me 
• Maybe you should clean your car, or at least remove the old McDonalds rubbish
• Your jiggly bits jiggle
• You should learn how to cook so you don't poison us again

Seagulls and relationship success - Relationship choices 2

In my last post I talked about our evolution of mind over biological urges and relationship choices. The choice to stay together.
Seagulls have a biological urge to be in a monogamous long term relationship. I'm not sure how much of their tiny brain decides which partner they pick, but I'm sure it makes sense to them at the time.

However, like humans, not all relationships last. Sometimes you bicker too much or cant agree where to make your nest, or he never finds his share of the chips. So what do you do when society, your biology and your mind are telling you to try to make it work, when it just isn't?

Seagulls have a 25% divorce rate.

Numerous psychologists use this research to help people accept that divorce is OK. That you tried but it just wouldn't work, and that's OK.

I'm of the belief that relationship success is not dependant on how it ends, or lack of an ending.

Is a marriage where both parties are unhappy, but stay together successful? I think not.

A relationship that is/was happy, filled with treasured memories and learnings is a successful one. If it ends because it had stopped fitting that criteria, despite all attempts, then kudos to you for being honest. If you managed to get through the breakup without throwing objects at each other or hiring a lawyer and you still remain friends, even greater kudos to both of you!

Divorce is common and becoming more so. It is accepted in society, even though those undergoing a divorce can often struggle to accept it. I hope I never have to find out what a divorce is like. If seagulls can accept that they need to get a divorce, do so and happily move on to find a successful relationship, then maybe there is hope for all of us, and our souls...