*As a quick aside, I’m changing the format of my pieces so that they’re easier to read and are more visually pleasing. As much as I despise the idea of “dumbing down” the skill of reading comprehension, it’s worth a shot to condense things into formats better received. I’ve shortened the material as well as included numbered lists/bulleted sections to give you a better idea of what you’re getting into. Gurwinder Bhogal refers to these as “listicles”, or articles-containing-lists. I loved the idea, so thought I’d give it a whirl.
When Self-Control Quietly Quits
I have an impulse problem. It’s a phantom pet I’ve nurtured my entire life despite my understanding that this cuddly pet is feral. It’s a wicked game of cat-and-mouse that is alluring to people like me: the thrill of wanting but not having overrides the actual attainment of whatever it is we’ve fixated on for the day, the week, the year.
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Perhaps this is further evidence that my impulse problem is one of clinical-grade proportion. Regardless, though, my recognition of it is my saving grace and spares me therapy and psychotropic costs.
I’ve found that my impulses act up not in times of peak distress, but in times of peak enjoyment. Some aspect of joy, at least a lion’s share of the time, lacks the potency to register as joyous, as thrilling, as unfettered delight. I’ve struggled to understand this oddity, myself, as I tend to find nearly everything funny, amusing, or worthy of my curiosity.
It’s a cruel affliction to constantly feel like I’m chasing an elusive sensation, only to obtain The Thing and grow immediately bored with it. The fervor with each pursuit is what produces The Thing, rather than The Thing itself. This has held true since my childhood: I treasured practice for sports but hated competition; the throes of learning to draw were more rewarding than completion of the drawing; agonizing over a skill was more fun in retrospect than fluency of it.
My clinical education has taught me that us humans are misguided, highly-inaccurate judges of our own experiences. Despite this knowledge, I’ll proceed to take a stab at what’s going on with my psyche. I’ve come to realize that “good feelings”, or my circumstances largely meeting the criteria for “good” or “stable” or “successful”, tend to trigger my impulses more than pressure, high stakes, or distressing circumstances. Anna Lembke describes this as a baseline homeostasis, or an emotional default, that is permanently tipped toward sensation-seeking for reasons neuroscientists cannot explain. She refers to impulsive people as requiring a “higher level of friction”, and heedlessly seeking that friction in moments of boredom, when experiencing relaxation, and even in times of stability. Sameness, in many ways, is not ideal for us impulsive dimwits.
The problems which interfere most with my life are my obsessive behavior and the apparent amnesia I suffer when a shiny object, event, or opportunity lurches into my periphery. Whether or not these are clinical symptoms or just evidence of a rusty hinge on the scale of my brain chemistry, the onus is on me to decide how to lessen my impulsivity. It is on me, and nobody else, to build a robust skillset during times I’m most prone to behave inappropriately.
Self-awareness is my Swiss army knife, and it’s what has resulted in my decision to more aggressively exit any and all forms of clinical/therapeutic/psychological work... and look to recession-proof, boring-but-effective businesses to buy.
And yes, I’m serious, and yes, I loathe clinical work with the blazing fire of a thousand suns. If you find yourself skeptical that this is yet another seductive plight, I would understand. But I can assure you it’s something I’ve taken seriously, and have deemed fundamental to my long-term sanity and financial success. Why are boring businesses especially crucial for impulsive people? So glad you asked!
1. They provide predictable, external structure: regular hours, repetitive operations, predictable tasks
2. They offer clear problems and clear solutions: little room for abstract or unsolvable or unmeasurable problems of “purpose”
3. The rewards are mechanical instead of emotional: do the work and get paid
4. They provide the friction I need to keep impulses in check: no chasing fancy initiatives, pursuits that make people think more critically, or emotionally-driven goals. You’re locked into mundane systems whether you like it or not
They Tell You To Dream Big. I Say Dream In Quarters.
Cue my faceless confessional: I have not purchased a laundromat (or any small business) yet. I’ve instead researched endlessly how to acquire small businesses, learn what clues and facts to look for in a business’ financials, and quietly sift through my due diligence checklist to avoid that which is at the core of my dysfunction: compulsive decision-making. The mundane nature of business, coupled with my fear of it, are curative for my impulsivity.
When I’m not doing my mindless behavior analytic work, I’ve devoted most moments of free time to physical labor tasks----all of which are unpaid. I was always meant to be working and sweating with my hands, sweltering under the Midwestern sun, completing “real” work with a measurable result. Therapeutic jobs are directly, aggressively antithetical to those character traits I treasure. As an active person built to be moving, with a peculiar bent for mild physical suffering, sitting in a chair listening to trivial problems would never end well.
I’m gradually expanding my blue-collar tool belt, from growing my own vegetables and fruits to tilling land to caring for farm animals. My woodworking, though embarrassingly imprecise, has garnered a tenacity my professional career has repeatedly failed to bring. My childhood and teenage years were largely spent with my family and I working tirelessly in an animal shelter, and I’ve added kennel work to my growing list of pro-bono labor.
In addition to redefining myself as a hard worker (ha!), I have quite a bit of research and hands-on experience to hoard before I decide which businesses I’d like to purchase in the coming years. I’ve narrowed it down to three:
1. Laundromat
2. Vending machines
3. Anything involving animals/pet care
4. Maybe all three!
All three ventures share two core qualities:
Firstly, nobody gives a damn about my credentials, and people do not sit around in their lethargic, Western malaise acting fascinated by problems. There’s work to be done that is straightforward with minimal margin for emotion-driven interpretation.
Secondly, there’s minimal management of irrational human beings. Of course, with staff and clients being of the human brand, moments of frustration and “are you fucking kidding me?” are guaranteed. But to drastically reduce both the opportunity and frequency for such elective discourse makes for the pivot I need.
It took me a few years of being licensed to realize that I may hate managing grown adults, at least as it relates to managing their emotional outbursts. Being a psychotherapist or human service professional carries with these roles a stereotypical glow, the kind which elicits a wetness in the eyes trailed immediately with some statement as to how we’re “doing God’s work.” This is a kind analysis, but it’s highly inexact. People simply do not understand, by no fault of their own, the bureaucratic idiocy which drives nonsensical and meaningless billable hours, the political bent to nearly all of women in management positions, and how much time is spent doing busywork that bears little semblance to our role.
Signs I Outgrew My “Helping “Profession”
1. Chronic frustration with hearing problems, problems which I’d addressed for several consecutive months while clients inched toward abysmal change
2. A perverse impatience with “rapport-building”, the surface-level small talk, and being a sounding post for problems better solved with common sense
3. “Breakthroughs” became about as thrilling as traffic school
All of this to say, I want nothing to do with anything I went to school for. I’m another victim of the idiotic advice to “follow my passion”, which is largely detrimental for a normal person, let alone for an impulsive one with a new passion every month. I am a challenge-glutton, and I must be tamed by logic… not inspiration. Passion makes us betray ourselves again and again.
Impulse vs. Intuition
If you’re reading and find yourself nodding along, perhaps you can resonate with this epiphany: my professional career rendered me a martyr for systems designed to be faulty. I was first noticed in the field for my punchy criticisms of nonsensical, leftist rhetoric that I still think all of us should be critical of, but being noticed did little in terms of changing the system or even encouraging diverse thinking. I believed I held the power to modify frameworks from the inside and “make a difference” the way elder clinicians promised. None of it happened and never will happen--- at least for me. I don’t want to make a difference anymore. I want to find a gig that does not demand I make any sort of difference or find any sort of purpose.
If you’re impulsive like me, you need a container rather than a calling. Maybe boring businesses are that container.
And I do hope you follow along as I bouncily waltz away from “mental health”.
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