A Freedom Ap for My Mind

I  always thought that people who needed an external blocker to make them stop Googling or looking at Facebook had no discipline and no willpower. Couldn’t they just tell themselves, “I’m not going to look at Facebook today?” 

Yeah, that’s what I used to think until I’d “come to” hunched over my keyboard scrolling, scrolling…

And then, last week I saw my weekly summary of social media usage. 

Before the COVID -19 quarantine I was using more than two hours a day. That was pretty shocking. 

Two hours is a lot of time. It is time to write or exercise or time to spend with my husband. 

Then as we moved into the into COVID quarantine my daily usage jumped to 4 hours. That is almost half of my waking time.

 It really shocked me. I recognized the signs: I wanted to stop. I said I’d stop. “I won’t do that again tomorrow” I promised myself. It was an addiction. I needed help to stop.

So I wrote myself reminders and I put a sticky note on my laptop screen to remind myself. But I would still take a “quick peek” at Instagram and then five minutes became 25 minutes.

I asked a writer friend if she used an ap blocker and she told me about the ap called  Freedom. I took the plunge. Last week I installed Freedom on my phone. 

Now I can choose what to block and for how many hours. When the Freedom ap is engaged I can’t access my favorites: Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. If I try to look at Twitter when Freedom is engaged it just spins and I get a message that says, “Tweets are not loading right now.” Dam. It works. So, I move on.

So, at the same time that I’m adjusting my social media behavior with the help of the Freedom Ap blocker I’m aware again of a longstanding, painful habit of  perseverating, persistent thoughts that race around in my head, and make me miserable. 

The thoughts are in two categories: “What is wrong with me” and “I’m gonna tell her.” The “her” could be a him or a her but always someone I am annoyed with or made at or—yes ugh—jealous of. You know those voices.

And I thought, “What if I could turn off those thoughts like I turn off social media?” Huh.

What if I  could install a resentment blocker in my brain to shut down my fear thoughts and resentment thoughts and those long  internal conversations that go like this, “Well if she does that then I am going to say this, but if she replies with that, then I will…” They are like little plays that are excruciatingly painful and distracting.

The weird thing about these imaginary mental scripts is that they are full of things I would never actually say, but I rehearse them and repeat them as If I am the boldest, bad ass in the world.

What if I had a Freedom blocker for my mind?

I pictured what that would be like. My mind would try to go to a fight, jealousy or resentment. It would try to make me angry, envious, or resentful, but it would stall out. That little spinning wheel of hell we see on our computer would spin.

I could choose the “people in my head” that I wanted to block for one day when I want some mental freedom or block those voices for four hours when I want to have a nice evening with my sweetheart—when I want to be present, fully present.

What if I could us this new mental ap to block my coworkers for the weekend or my mother-in-law for the day before we go to her house—that’s when I do my worst obsessing about what she is “probably going to say” but rarely ever does.

I love imagining this blocker. My “mental freedom ap”.  I’d try to worry, or maybe I’d try to stir up some fear or envy, and I’d feel the urge but then --just like with real social media—I’d see the little wheel spinning, the little dots hovering in place and it might say, “resentments are not loading right now.” It just wouldn't let me go there.

It would be like my mind was saying, “No, you can’t access your  fear and anger right now. Please come back later.”

I’d make a lot with the thought-stopping Freedom ap. And I bet it would be a bestseller.

Are You Impressed?

Readers, a question: Have you ever heard—inside yourself—that little voice that narrates your daily life? I’m not always aware of mine but over the past week I’ve been able to hear it more and it’s getting my attention.

I’m not talking about the still, small voice of wisdom or the intuitive rumble somewhere between your solar plexus and belly…but more of a head (or head trip) voice that is coaching from the sidelines in a less than helpful way.

OK, let me step way out here on the end of the vulnerability diving board (Thanks Brene) and tell you that this little persistent voice of mine offers a pretty consistent commentary on what “they” think or worse, might, think of me. Sort of like this, “Well, when they see this, she’ll think that..” OR “If you have that (bag, book, dress, degree, credit …) he’ll see that….”.

The thing is that it’s a really soft but persistent voice…maybe cultural, maybe familial, maybe psychotic. Not really sure. What I am clear on though is that it’s consistency makes it hard to hear though its very subliminal nature makes it a powerful influence.

Now here is the counter-intuitive part: We are often told to get more quiet to hear our inner voice and I think that applies to the inner wisdom “still small voice” but this more active but low-toned nag (and it is a kind of nag) is heard best when I am busy—probably because that is when I am most worried and distracted. And its arsenal is distraction. In the same strange way I’m sure its intention is some kind of help. I do think that our character defects or quirks are all trying to help us in some way but this one grabs any form of insecurity and pumps it up.

So I’m trying to listen in more and see what this “are they impressed?” voice is all about. This is part of me—likely a strategy of a younger me—something to soothe the girl that felt so terribly, dangerously invisible years ago—but now? At 60? Really, who is it exactly that I want to see me?

And the spiritual remedy for this? Believing that a Higher Power really does see and care.

Unchain My Heart

 The idea that our perceptions determine the reality that we perceive is quite old. In the classic story, known as "Plato's Cave", Socrates describes how a group of men who are chained facing a wall observe shadows dancing across the wall in front of them. They have never known that these shadows are projected on the wall from figures near the entrance to the cave that are moving behind them in front of a candle. To the men chained in the cave, the shadows are reality.

One day one of the men turns around and sees that there are figures moving behind him casting their shadows across the wall. From that day on, the "reality" of the shadows no

longer exists.

Changing my thinking; challenging it, testing it--is my attempt to unchain myself and to see the reality of what is outside the small cave of my mind. I have believed the shadows on my “wall” all of my life. I have made decisions about people and situations, about work and especially about love based on what I saw in the shadows. Now I want to know what’s real.

If my thinking and perceptions can change I can slowly unchain my heart.

Cognitive Therapy--The Books

This is a follow up to the last post about Cognitive Therapy and how we can change our moods and feelings by changing our thinking. There are many therapists trained in a variety of cognitive therapy techniques. The name you’ll see over and over is Aaron Beck, MD—kind of the modern “pioneer”, (even though the thought-mood connection this is an ancient idea). Beck has done the most to breakdown the “how” of cognitive change.

There are two terrific books that I have read-and returned to again and again—that are a good introduction and that have really helped me. I go back to them repeatedly because in this, as in everything, change happens in layers and stages so I go back to get more help for the next layer. (Not unlike working the 7^th Step.)

Here are the two books on Cognitive Change that I have found useful:

“Reinventing Your Life” by Jeffrey E. Young and Janet S. Klosko

“Mind Over Mood” by Dennis Greenberger and Christine Padesky.

These books are available at your library or local independent bookstore.

Thinking--That's What It's All About

“I came for my drinking but stayed for my thinking.” That saying is true for me.  Thirty years after my first 12-step meeting I still wrestle with my thinking. But then, what else is there? And doesn’t all personal growth, all change and all self-improvement grow from changes to the way we think, and what we think about?

A couple of years ago I began working with a Cognitive therapist. After years of insight-based therapy I knew that I knew my story so well I could recite it. And I had baskets full of insight, but I still needed to change behaviors, and I was still undone by my feelings.

Cognitive work helped me to understand that feelings are always preceded by thoughts. Not always obvious and often hard to catch but there they are. But cognitive work is work…it’s less fun than story therapy or insight therapy. It’s a lot like doing Boot Camp at the gym versus  Zumba or Ballet.

It seems like some very old advice is new and fresh and real. Marcus Aurelius wrote a book about thinking called, “To Himself” where he sorted out his thoughts and the way they made him feel. And Shakespeare said, “Nothing is good or bad but that our thinking makes it so.”

I know, nice for them to say, but the more time I spend on the cognitive work the more I see this really is so.

I Think I Can

I’m getting ready to present a workshop for family caregivers on “Finding a Spiritual Center” and so I am going thru many files and all my library of spiritual books for ideas and exercises. I came across a very old book that, on reflection, must have been my first self-help and spiritual book "The Little Engine That Could” by Watty Piper.

I had that book as a very little girl, and the version that I had first came with a 45rpm (remember those?) record that played the story as you read the book). I was five years old when I first became attracted to the little engine that didn’t have enough power—or belief—on its own but then learned the mantra—and cognitive practice—of saying “I think I can; I think I can.”

It was all there then.

The Chonological Cure

We know what a “geographical cure” is. It’s when we imagine that when we move to another place we will be a different person. It’s evident in thinking that goes like this: “I’ll always be on time at my new job” or “I’d be civic-minded in a small town.” or “I won’t be depressed in Denver” or “When we move to our new house I’ll be organized and keep the house clean.” Before recovery we might have tried a geographic cure that included, “I’ll stop binging or drinking or using or needing him—when I move to the new city.”

And then, as the joke goes, “I moved to the new city, and a few weeks later, I showed up”.

Yep, I’ve had my share of geographic cures. And the same me always showed up. But this week I realized that I still have a version of that thinking well into recovery. But now it’s my “Chronologic Cure”.

I have been putting events and projects in my new (Letts of London, 35x, leather) 2012 calendar. And today when I recorded plans for two long distance trips in the same month I realized that I was still fantasizing that a new me that will show up later. I was picturing myself as a calm, happy, go-with-the-flow, write-on-the-road, get-everything-done-with-ease kind of gal. Now, I do get a huge amount done in any week but not without cost to self and loved ones nearby. But here I am jamming an international conference, two presentations, writing deadlines and a recovery workshop over a six week period.

We do change and grow in recovery –but that would require a radical personality make-over.

Yes, it is the allure of a new calendar and a new year. All those clean, blank pages. (In the Letts those blank pages are the creamiest paper). But look at that illusion that I will be so changed in 60 days. No, not even 90. A year from now? OK, I’ll be different but still me.

But there in my new calendar is the evidence of the “ism” that we speak of. Long past taking a drink my thinking remains that of a woman who can imagine herself completely transformed by an occasion or an experience or a dress or a new calendar. That’s my “chronologic cure”.

Melt Down Day

A melt down this morning. Not pretty. Computer is frozen. Voicemail won’t record. I’m running late. I’m furious about work and deadlines. Streams of colorful language. Slapping my hands on the desk. Like I said, not pretty. And I think, “This is what we don’t tell the newcomer.”

And then I think, “Pray”. And I think, “You can change this thinking”. And I think, “Move a muscle, change a thought.” So I go in the other room (After I snap at my husband--Like I said, not pretty.) And I pick up a reference book and it falls open to a page with this quote:

“One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important.” Bertrand Russell wrote that. And I laughed—sort of. But I knew it was no accident to see that quote. That is what we tell the newcomer.

Waking Up

I love early morning AA meetings. For the first 15 years of my sobriety my home group in Baltimore was a 7am meeting that met every day and I got there most days. I don’t have a meeting like that now in upstate New York, but on vacation on Cape Cod I go to a 6:30 am meeting and I love it because I’m awake before my ego is. I can hear the messages. What I heard this morning was this line from the Big Book, “Upon awakening we ask God to direct our thoughts.” There it is again. Thinking.

Stay for the Thinking

I came for my drinking, but I stay for my thinking. It’s true. And what really hit me this week is that “Change Your Thinking” is a constant message from every self-help movement and every faith tradition that I know about.

When I look at my calendar or the books on my coffee table, the articles in yoga and spirituality magazines, or the CD's in my car there’s a constant theme: Change your thinking; change your beliefs.

In Cognitive Therapy I’m learning to identify my “schema”— false thoughts --and to test old beliefs and change my thinking. In the car Pema Chodron tells me about Buddhist practice—get more quiet, listen to my head yak, and ever so politely say, “thank you—go away” to old thoughts. In my morning meditation practice I read a lesson each day from A Course in Miracles: my thoughts create the world I see, a miracle is changed perception, so change my thoughts. A friend recommends Richard Bartlett on energy and beliefs and yes, changing your thinking.

Jesus helped the blind to see. Maybe he helped them change their thoughts. Then they saw the world differently. It’s so obvious. But not so easy. Change my thinking. Simple. Not easy.

New Tapes

In the rooms we talk about the “tapes” in our heads: Letting go of old tapes; changing the tapes; and erasing old tapes to change our thinking.

Something that has worked for me is to apply this metaphor quite directly. I have found that when I need to change a behavior or way of thinking that if I can find a recovery or self-help audio tape or CD that addresses the issue and listen to it over and over I can sometimes rewrite the tapes in my head. The speaker’s voice –kind of like a good therapist’s voice—gradually becomes part of me and the new idea or belief can also –over time—integrate into my thinking.

It does take lots and lots of repetition so it only works with teachers and speakers that resonate for me.

In early recovery I listened to AA speaker Bob E. from New Mexico. I bought tapes and CD’s of his conference talks and I must have listened to some of them hundreds of times. I got so much from him about caring for the wounds we carry as addicts and for genuine progress not perfection as he detailed his many relationships and jobs and geographic changes over 30 years of sobriety. I also laughed out loud at the good and bad of his recovery life and early on it gave me a frame that ours is a journey of discovery.

Later I discovered the work and audio tapes of Ellen Kriedman, a California psychologist and trainer whose bestselling book is called “Light His Fire”. I know, I know it sounds like some Cosmo Girl how to catch a guy title but it’s not. The book and audio workshop is about communication in relationships. Again, this one has lots of humor so it never feels old or stale. I still listen to Ellen and continue to learn from her.

Recently I’ve been listening to “Codependent No More” by Melody Beatty. Beatty has written a dozen or more books detailing her recovery from substances, grief and codependence. This one, “Co No Mo” --is one of the first books she wrote. I keep these cd’s in my car to give strength to the new messages I want and to gradually weaken the old ones my brain has played for me all the years before and even in recovery.

Dogs, Drugs and Doing Good

Here is an excerpt from a news story from Santa Fe, New Mexico. I’ve known Chris for years and I’m celebrating her appointment to the National Advisory Council on Substance Abuse. Sober 25 years Chris is clearly “out of the woods” but still and always able to tell a story on herself. You just have to love dog people and addicts!

“Chris Wendel hasn't touched a drop of liquor or smoked dope or snorted cocaine or "tripped" in 25 years. Instead she has made it her mission to help others who are still struggling with drug and alcohol addiction. "My passion is my sobriety and other people's sobriety," Wendel said. "That is my passion."


As chairwoman of the state Behavioral Health Planning Council, Wendel has spent the past three years organizing and directing the group of consumers, family members, advocates and providers who advise the state Behavioral Health Collaborative on how best to spend millions of dollars worth of federal grant money earmarked to address Behavioral Health issues in New Mexico. Soon, she'll have even wider influence. She was chosen to sit on the advisory council for the national Center for Substance Abuse Treatment.


Wendel feels her experience as an ex-addict is one of her greatest qualifications for the work the she does.


When Wendel's dog had surgery a while back, the vet prescribed a narcotic similar to Valium for the dog. Wendel said she immediately started calculating her weight compared to the weight of her dog and figured she could probably "get off" by taking four times the dose prescribed for her pet.


"I'm 25-years sober and I'm thinking about stealing meds from my dog," Wendel said. "My first reaction to every situation will always be that of an addict. But now I wait for the second reaction."