Tag Archives: Psychology

The Chaise Lounge War: STRESS in PARADISE, Episode Two

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The Chaise Lounge War: Stress in Paradise. Episode Two

Dateline: The Giggling Marlin. Cabo San Lucas International Branch Bar. I don’t think the people in here are normal. I also think if they realize I’m listening to their conversations for national publication, things could get dangerous.

In order to appreciate the dangerous waters stirred up by the Chaise Lounge War, you must have joined up earlier with Stress in Paradise. Episode One: Revolution on the Beach.

Revolution is part of the vocabulary of Mexico. There are almost daily public demonstrations in Mexico City demanding better pay for agricultural and services workers. And here in Cabo San Lucas, another desperate cause has driven the oppressed to rise up. The Ultimate Supreme Superlative Fabulous Luxury (see previous confession) Hilton Resort where we’re staying simply does not have enough ultimate supreme chaise lounges in superlative fabulous locations. And the non-natives are restless.

Strictly speaking there are enough chairs so that every guest has a place to plant his or her soon-to-blistered body in the sun. There are loads of chaises—around the pools, on the overlooks, on the sand next to the water, everywhere–and the helpful guys in white will gladly adjust an umbrella to suit your needs. Each chaise is a little piece of heaven…you’d think. But here’s the rub. Some chaises are preferable over others. The ones on the overlook nearest the pounding surf are favored, unless you have children and are thus forced to set up camp nearer the many pools. Also, there are a dozen or so king size chaises, those are big ticket. The most precious are the ‘private’ king chaises with stacks of fresh pillows and surrounded by white muslin drapes. You know the kind, you’ve seen them—billowing white cotton, blue sky, turquoise water in the background–in those travel magazines hawking resorts intended for Wall Street superstars and their trophy wives. 

A day spent hanging out in a super chaise lounge suite is a day of luxury for the regular guest and a day of fantasy for a Hilton Points casher like me.

And there are not enough of these super lounges, not enough chairs on the big ticket overlook for every guest who thinks he or she should be able to dictate their life experiences. And, just as the Potato Famine of 1845 in Ireland resulted in a million immigrants and maybe the rise of unions in Chicago, the lack of premo chaise lounges has resulted in increasingly disturbed behavior.

The first acts of the revolution were harmless enough, unless you were picky about the speed with which you were served breakfast at the restaurant over-looking the waves and the jewel chaise lounges. The initial response for resort pros had been to get up early, finish breakfast first, and take chase lounge possession before those with more ordinary habits made it to the battlefield. Unfortunately, this tactic was so popular alarms were being set earlier and earlier each day until the bars were losing night time money and slackers like me didn’t appreciate the pitter patter of anxious feet and guests hollering, “Run, baby, run! I saw a couple break from the elevator! Bring six magazines!”

There was an upper limit to early riser tactic.

 Resort life was about to get ugly.

Next: Resorters Gone Wild!

Stress Holiday Encore: Make Money Off Your Body Scans!

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ENCORE POST:

Dateline:  (Encore) Willie’s Place, Carl’s Corner, Texas. Whole bunch of people sang here.

Setup:  I’m in hiding.  Ever since I offered my Body Scan for public consumption…the reporters, the cameras…Geraldo…

Remember John Lennon’s line, “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans?”

What a chunk of truth.  There I was, in a pretty normal life, planning more normal life….when my world was turned upside down.  You guessed it.  My Body Scan distribution company …BS,Inc… has been successful beyond my wildest dreams.

Note: What do financial success and fame have to do with the goal of this program?  Which, in case you’ve forgotten, is for each of us professed emotional weenies…to muddle toward…just a wee bit toward…improved emotional functioning. Or, simply…to not have every second of every minute of every hour of every day….decided by our emotions.  To do more in our lives than run around wasting time, spending money, falling for fad diets, worrying what other people think…comparing ourselves, our kids, our house, our car, our education, our butt size, our creative talents….

Thus, the story of my Body Scan business (BS. Inc.), is but one example of the seduction of the Pseudo Self (see previous on doughnuts and doughnut holes), one more attempt to manage anxiety by propping up my image to the world.  If you’d rather go the consumer route, the commercials during one half hour (okay, an hour and a half) of Prison Wives last night, told me a Dodge Ram means I’m confident, staying at a Holiday Inn means I can “be myself”, buying your wife diamonds or an expensive car shows you really think she’s grand… (Using money from the family budget…but, hey, it’s the thought.  The thought in this case is, “See, I love you so much I didn’t consider your input when spending this huge amount of money…”)

One way to break the hold “image making” has on us is to laugh at ourselves.  Again, if you don’t believe you have any reason to laugh because you are completley emotinally put together….well, Dr. Laura can still be found on the radio.

Back to the real BS, Inc. and whining about the demands of success.  Those of you…wiser in the world than I…who lacks even one cell of entrepreneurial expertise…probably spotted my first error in announcing my Body Scan availability. Right. Christmas.  Biggest shopping season of the year.  How could I foretell the thousands rush orders?  So many years of training in human behavior.  And, yet I hadn’t predicted the clamor when people recognized my Body Scan products as the perfect present for relatives, officemates, and military serving overseas.

And as is true with lottery winners, I found myself battling an onslaught of business opportunities.

First came the television cable channels in a bidding war for my reality show.  “Body Scans Around the World” which had great promise, but is now on hold due to artistic differences…The producer is insisting on a variety of what she calls “outfits” for the various airport venues…while I think to upgrade from black jeans and polo shirts would be a tragic error.

Next, of course, here came Hollywood.  Could I write a screenplay?  Who did I think should play me in the film?  Which ended up in another artistic dispute.  I know they think Julia Roberts is perfect, and, probably that’s true if you just go for face and body.  But, we’re talking scrutiny by Homeland Security and, right away, it’s going to be glaringly obvious that I am not as tall as Julia Roberts.  My suggestion was Heather Locklear.  The production will have to wait until some sort of Julia Roberts-Heather Locklear compromise actress can be found.

Where Hollywood goes, can Heff be far behind?  Yes, next came the plea for my Body Scan Playboy centerfold which is an obvious choice when you think about it. That offer is also on hold as I am gripped trying to decide if I can bear to have my family see my BS exposed.

To make some sense of my BS bonanza, I’ve decided the best way to go is through selling franchises.  I simply cannot keep up with the BS demand around the world on my own.  If you see the potential in your section of the world, send me your credit card number.  Franchise are, of course, FREE…just pay shipping and handling, and, if you call in the next 24 hours, you can try BS RISK FREE…all you have to do is check the box where you are a member of BS International and will have fifteen dollars deducted from your credit card account for as long as we both shall live. 

And, you know how they say…. “The sky’s the limit!”

Well, that’s not true for BS, Inc.  I’ve received a down payment and a pint of blood from a man in Quartzite, Arizona, who, thinking out of the box…well outside the trailer….He recognized my Body Scan as proof of alien inhabitation of Earth.  The silvery hue. Of course!  He wants my BS to make a personal appearance at his grand opening, but I’m afraid coverage in Quartzite will leave me over-exposed.

Body Scan Clearance Event! End Holiday Stress.

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Best of Mysteryshrink.

Dateline: The North Austin Medical Center International Branch Office. Everyone’s here.

Not wanting you to miss a giggle, as I recover (been two and a half weeks, so recovery’s still a far away dream), I’m sending Christmas Cheer from Christamas Past.   Yeah, still, with all that’s going on, you gotta giggle to make Christamas work.

Scuse me. Must pause for ten minute fit of death-arousing coughing.

Here ya go in three parts.

Clearance Sale. Body Scans for Everyone on Your List!

How Much Would You Pay for a Photo of a Woman Changing Clothes at Target?

If you named a figure, you haven’t spent much time checking out the bodies of me and my fellow shoppers roaming the aisles at Target.

Timing is everything when it comes to cashing in on windfalls. Remember the infamous military pilots association Tailhook Convention at one of the major Las Vegas hotels? Probably not. You don’t remember…because being a much nicer person than I am….You didn’t immediately start searching the globe for a similar convention where you could “accidentally” show up and hang out in the hall in your seductively trimmed Snuggy.

I’d set my sights on winning the lottery, but I can’t keep up with the rules. Thus, my fortune must come from another clever ploy….When I read about the woman in the hallway where the Tailhook conventioneers loaded up on booze started in inventing party games…the woman who claimed someone had shaved her legs…was awarded several million dollars from the hotel to assuage her wounded sense of self…and quiet any further mention of the hotel’s name….

You see where we’re headed here. Yes, I’m hawking full body scans from my various airport security adventures. The best value will be the boxed set. The premium box set includes Scans Around the World and Psychologists Go Wild.

Apparently, “the world some of us are responding to” has in it hordes of Transportation Safety officers thirsting to drool at shiny outlines of travelers at the rate of hundreds per hour….See above comment regarding the erotic potential of me and my Target friends…those porn-crazy body scan voyeurs…are bad enough. But then for people like my special person whose torso contains a medical device…there are those super-bad TSA perverts falling all over themselves to pat him and other similar bodies past their prime.

Hey, what a way to save money in the federal budget. There must be tens of thousands of people who’d pay to have these fantastic, exciting, and indeed exotic jobs. So, no more salaries.

And that’s just the beginning of how the feds can reduce the deficit. If you’ve been on a cruise, you are familiar with the “boarding photograph” tradition. A professional photographer takes a shot of you on the stairs giving a movie-star wave. These photos are displayed for purchase on the wall of the ship opening to the dining room. Yes. Now you see the potential. TSA officers can display two or three hundred body scans a day for sale on the walls of the airport….The money will be pouring into Washington, D.C.

I’m picturing bidding wars here.

What I’m really picturing is myself at fourteen being driven by my mother to my first gynecologist appointment. I’m nervous, of course. Until my mother asked me a question landing me back in reality. “Barbara, do you have any surprises for the doctor?”
“No.” “Then I don’t see you have much to worry about.”

Today’s paper is loaded with stories of people so worried about body scanning and pat-downs they are considering canceling their Christmas plans. That would be sad. Why not have two security lines? One is for those of us who have no surprises for
the security personnel and don’t mind the scanning or the patting-down, and a
second line for those folks “terrified” of the process. And, oh yes, two planes. One for those people who feel “invaded”, allowing them to fly with other people who didn’t want to be scanned or patted. The other plane will be for those of us who’d prefer to travel with people who have gone through security.

My body scans from upcoming flights will be made available for purchase. Better yet, your copy will be free…just pay shipping and handling. Larger versions suitable for framing will be available on that table in Walgreens offering for sale all the items advertised on television as not available in stores.

I know. I promised the tale of the man who moved a mountain to prove he was right. Still to come. I just had to dive into the body scan-pat down hysteria. So mañana….Part Two. Sunburned Chap in the Fishing Hat.

 

How Much Would You Pay for a Photo of a

Woman Changing Clothes at Target?

If you named a figure, you haven’t spent much time checking out
the bodies of me and my fellow shoppers roaming the aisles at Target.

Timing is everything when it comes to cashing in on windfalls. Remember
the infamous military pilots association Tailhook Convention at one of the
major Las Vegas hotels? Probably not. You don’t remember…because being a much
nicer person than I am….You didn’t immediately start searching the globe for a
similar convention where you could “accidentally” show up and hang
out in the hall in your seductive cut-up Snuggy.

I’d set my sights on winning the lottery, but I can’t keep up
with the rules. Thus, my fortune must come from another clever ploy….When I
read about the woman in the hallway where the Tailhook conventioneers loaded up
on booze started in inventing party games…the woman who
claimed someone had shaved her legs…was awarded several million dollars from the hotel to
assuage her wounded sense of self…and quiet any further mention of the hotel’s
name….

You see where we’re headed here. Yes, I’m hawking full body scans
from my various airport security adventures. The best value will be the boxed set. The premium box set includes Scans Around the World and Psychologists Go
Wild.

Apparently, “the world some of us are responding to” has in it
hordes of Transportation Safety officers thirsting to drool at shiny outlines
of travelers at the rate of hundreds per hour….See above comment about
regarding erotic potential of me and my Target friends…those porn-crazy body
scan voyeurs…are bad enough. But then for people like my special person whose
torso contains a medical device…there are those super-bad TSA perverts falling
all over themselves to pat him and other bodies past their prime.

Hey, what a way to save money in the federal budget. There must
be tens of thousands of people who’d pay to have these fantastic, exciting, and
indeed exotic jobs. So, no more salaries.

And that’s just the beginning of how the feds can reduce the
deficit. If you’ve been on a cruise, you are familiar with the “boarding
photograph” tradition. A professional photographer takes a shot of you on the
stairs giving a movie-star wave. These photos are displayed for purchase on the
wall of the ship opening to the dining room. Yes. Now you see the potential.
TSA officers can display two or three hundred body scans a day for sale on the
walls of the airport….The money will be pouring into Washington, D.C.

I’m picturing bidding wars here.

What I’m really picturing is myself at fourteen being driven by
my mother to my first gynecologist appointment. I’m nervous, of course. Until
my mother asked me a question landing me back in reality. “Barbara, do you have any surprises for the doctor?”
“No.” “Then I don’t see you have much to worry about.”

Today’s paper is loaded with stories of people so worried about
body scanning and pat-downs they are considering canceling their Christmas
plans. That would be sad. Why not have two security lines? One is for those of
us who have no surprises for
the security personnel and don’t mind the scanning or the patting-down, and a
second line for those folks “terrified” of the process. And, oh yes, two
planes. One for those people who feel “invaded”, allowing them to fly with
other people who didn’t want to be scanned or patted. The other plane will be
for those of us who’d prefer to travel with people who have gone through
security.

My body scans from upcoming flights will be made available for
purchase. Better yet, your copy will be free…just pay shipping and handling.
Larger versions suitable for framing will be available on that table in
Walgreens offering for sale all the items advertised on television as not
available in stores.

I know. I promised the tale of the man who moved a mountain to
prove he was right. Still to come. I just had to dive into the body scan-pat
down hysteria. So mañana….Part Two. Sunburned
Chap in the Fishing Hat.

 

How Much Would You Pay for a Photo of a
Woman Changing Clothes at Target?

If you named a figure, you haven’t spent much time checking out
the bodies of me and my fellow shoppers roaming the aisles at Target.

Timing is everything when it comes to cashing in on windfalls. Remember
the infamous military pilots association Tailhook Convention at one of the
major Las Vegas hotels? Probably not. You don’t remember…because being a much
nicer person than I am….You didn’t immediately start searching the globe for a
similar convention where you could “accidentally” show up and hang
out in the hall in your seductive cut-up Snuggy.

I’d set my sights on winning the lottery, but I can’t keep up
with the rules. Thus, my fortune must come from another clever ploy….When I
read about the woman in the hallway where the Tailhook conventioneers loaded up
on booze started in inventing party games…the woman who
claimed someone had shaved her legs…was awarded several million dollars from the hotel to
assuage her wounded sense of self…and quiet any further mention of the hotel’s
name….

You see where we’re headed here. Yes, I’m hawking full body scans
from my various airport security adventures. The best value will be the boxed set. The premium box set includes Scans Around the World and Psychologists Go
Wild.

Apparently, “the world some of us are responding to” has in it
hordes of Transportation Safety officers thirsting to drool at shiny outlines
of travelers at the rate of hundreds per hour….See above comment about
regarding erotic potential of me and my Target friends…those porn-crazy body
scan voyeurs…are bad enough. But then for people like my special person whose
torso contains a medical device…there are those super-bad TSA perverts falling
all over themselves to pat him and other bodies past their prime.

Hey, what a way to save money in the federal budget. There must
be tens of thousands of people who’d pay to have these fantastic, exciting, and
indeed exotic jobs. So, no more salaries.

And that’s just the beginning of how the feds can reduce the
deficit. If you’ve been on a cruise, you are familiar with the “boarding
photograph” tradition. A professional photographer takes a shot of you on the
stairs giving a movie-star wave. These photos are displayed for purchase on the
wall of the ship opening to the dining room. Yes. Now you see the potential.
TSA officers can display two or three hundred body scans a day for sale on the
walls of the airport….The money will be pouring into Washington, D.C.

I’m picturing bidding wars here.

What I’m really picturing is myself at fourteen being driven by
my mother to my first gynecologist appointment. I’m nervous, of course. Until
my mother asked me a question landing me back in reality. “Barbara, do you have any surprises for the doctor?”
“No.” “Then I don’t see you have much to worry about.”

Today’s paper is loaded with stories of people so worried about
body scanning and pat-downs they are considering canceling their Christmas
plans. That would be sad. Why not have two security lines? One is for those of
us who have no surprises for
the security personnel and don’t mind the scanning or the patting-down, and a
second line for those folks “terrified” of the process. And, oh yes, two
planes. One for those people who feel “invaded”, allowing them to fly with
other people who didn’t want to be scanned or patted. The other plane will be
for those of us who’d prefer to travel with people who have gone through
security.

My body scans from upcoming flights will be made available for
purchase. Better yet, your copy will be free…just pay shipping and handling.
Larger versions suitable for framing will be available on that table in
Walgreens offering for sale all the items advertised on television as not
available in stores.

I know. I promised the tale of the man who moved a mountain to
prove he was right. Still to come. I just had to dive into the body scan-pat
down hysteria. So mañana….Part Two. Sunburned
Chap in the Fishing Hat.

Reduce Stress Instantly, The Flying Lawn Chair Incident

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Stress. The Flying Lawn Chair Incident. How to Save Time Instantly.

Dateline: DFW Airport International Branch Headquarters, chair in the corner, face to the wall.

First, I’d like to apologize to those unfortunate passengers on flights with me this weekend. If you are thinking, “Maybe I was on a plane with her and I didn’t know it,” you were not. If you recall a short blond woman, her agonized face mashed into the window, who seemed determined to cough up her lungs, or heard one side of the 737 you were in crackle and thunder, just maybe you were. I’m very, very sorry.

Want to save yourself a lot of stress and lower your personal “annoying-to-others” score? It’s really not that tough. Technically. Technically, like jumping rope for five minutes a day can change your life—technically.

To save time and stress, all you have to do is pass out a little permission and decide:

Other people get to do what they do. They do not require my agreement. My opinion is not important, nor does it make any sense for me to insist on telling people what I think of what other people do. To comment takes time and it’s annoying, except to those very few godlike beings who agree with everything I think about people who aren’t like us. Okay, enough with the sermon.

The following account is true. A retired weatherman had an idea how he could make use of several weather balloons cluttering up his garage and change the face of aviation as we know it. First he tied four balloons to an aluminum and plastic weave lawn chair. Next he strapped himself in. Then he popped the launch cords on the balloons. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . LIFT OFF!

Yeah, baby. We are flying now. Mostly we are tumbling end-over-end through the first ten thousand feet. “Oh, what a beautiful blue sky–whoa, there’s my house! Oh, what a beautiful blue sky–whoa, there’s Chicago!” The view went from spectacular to, well, nauseating. But the Man Who Launched His Lawn Chair (MWLLC) was having a ball. Airport radars spotted an unidentified blip on their radar screens. News syndicates were alerted. Planes were diverted. Non-believers were converted. (Sorry, like the MWLLC, I couldn’t stop myself.)

The MWLLC’s wife wrung her hands, though when reporters asked her if she was surprised at her husband’s antics, she admitted such projects on slow summer afternoons were nothing new for her husband. She also admitted the MWLLC had stopped telling her his plans since she’d taken to calling the police and asking the procedures for getting a spouse committed.

What’s the point of this tale? As you read, did any part of you think…What kind of crazy person does something like that?

To instantly reduce stress, let go and let other people have fun. Enjoy their enjoying. You’d think we’d all be savvy on this strategy, but such is not the case. At least not for me and, unless you are Dr. L from the radio who makes no wrong moves, like me, you fall into the boring trap of questioning why other people enjoy activities and possessions you do not. And, if you are like me, when you ask this question, your tone informs listeners that, unlike myself, people are crazy and not as wise as I am if they:

Get up at 2 a.m. on Black Friday. Deep fry their turkey. Don’t deep fry their turkey. Salt their food before tasting it. Buy expensive cars. Spank their kids. Don’t spank their kids. Put up an artificial tree. Spend a day finding a real tree. Watch that stupid television show. Enjoy mincemeat pie. Watch NASCAR, golf, basketball, baseball, fake-real television families, or prison shows. Try to buy love by giving expensive Christmas presents. Are too cheap to give expensive Christmas presents. Are foolish enough to take out a second mortgage to send their child to private college. Are selfish enough to refuse to take out a second mortgage to send their child to private college.

You’ve got the picture. I know. Ouch. Ouch. Guilty. Guilty. One of the elements of psychology that continuously amazes me is how hard and complicated something as simple as enjoying the moment really is.

About the promised Triple Stuffed Turkey Recipe? Next year when I can breathe like a normal person again. Coming: Unique Gifts Only You Can Give.

Stress. Perception and “The Case of the Well-Shaved Woman”

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Stress and Anxiety at the Pool

Dateline: San Antonio MiTierra International Branch Office. Home of most beautiful bar and an incredible bakery. Working with mariachis and tacos. Life is good.

The paper this morning had a letter from a woman who was appalled, very appalled. Appalled enough to take some serious action.  Those of us in Texas have suffered a drought over the summer leading to watering restrictions of various sorts and lots of conversation.

The Appalled Lady (AL) was writing to inform the city of a natural resources problem that, perhaps, the rest of us didn’t know about. Austin, Texas is the home of a fabulous natural swimming area amid the granite—Barton Springs. AL happened to be in the showers at Barton Springs when she spotted the . . . Degenerate Water Wasters (DWWs).

AP was actually on her way home when the dastardly deed was thrown in her face. Well, not exactly “thrown.”  Okay, to be honest, AP only overheard the crimes committed against humanity.

As AP reported, one woman took seven minutes shaving her legs in the shower.  Another woman flushed twice. Something must e done!

What we pay attention to in our world, can make life lovely or just kind of constantly irritating. But, you say, while it’s true that a person can change her interpretation of what she sees, but not what she sees. Actually you can. What you “see” is a reflection of your thoughts, the mindset you bring to the situation.

This can get scary in a hurry when it comes to family and marriage. What happens if you decide your spouse is lazy?  A control freak?  Not as smart as you?  Isn’t capable of love? Is selfish?  Who will be the person who sits down to supper across the table from you?  Which characteristics of your spouse are likely to grow?

What happens if you decide a family member is hopeless?  A political nut?  Pushy? A loser? Stuck up? What happens when you sit down to Thanksgiving dinner surrounded by these troublesome people?

What happens if Appalled Lady isn’t looking for Degenerate Water Wasters?  What happens if she notices the culprits, then decides to pay attention trying to remember the lyrics of Delta Dawn as she shares her passion as a shower singer?

Stress and the Man-Woman Thing

One study had college females pass out exams to large auditoriums of graduate students. Each participant first took a test that showed the female’s level of comfort with men. After she had handed out the exams, the researcher simply asked her to
estimate the percentage of men and women in the class. The young women who were
fearful of men or thought that men were mysterious and very different from women regularly over-estimated the number of men in the class.

Yeah, yeah. I get it. I realize that by pointing out the Appalled Woman…I’m put her in my world when I didn’t have to pay attention.

Next: The Man Who Tried to Train the Gardener.

Word to Dr. Drew: Don’t think you have to run the line, “Do Not Do This At Home” when showing the acrobats of Cirque Cirque du Soleil.  I’m pretty sure we’d figure that out 25 seconds into our plan to practice for a big show tryout.

Stress, Addiction, Humility, and the “Stolen Identity Incident”

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Stress, Addiction, and the “Stolen Identity Incident”

Dateline: San Antonio River Walk International Branch Office. One block over, on March 6, 1836, all the well-armed and well-dressed Mexicans in the world, stormed the Alamo killing everyone inside.  Newspapers in the weeks following ran stories encouraging settlers to “Come on down!” As one of those news articles in the Texas State Library says, “Texas is still a great opportunity for you and your family. The report claiming that the men in the Alamo were killed is a false rumor, propaganda sent out by politicians.”  Sigh. Things haven’t changed much.

In thinking about stress management and addiction, I realized it was time for the periodic pledge, the pledge that can eliminate loads of stress right off the top.

The pledge: I can be as big an idiot as anyone else. Even as big an idiot as the people I’m calling idiots. Whew. What a relief not to have to go through the world upset when people don’t do things the way I do, or more honestly, the way I think they should do them.

My special person and I were married in Mexico City and before you pull up lofty visions of the “destination” weddings where the couple or parents rent a hotel for a weekend and fly in two hundred of their closest friends to Paris or Tahiti, the event included the Registro Civil, the two of us, and the taxi driver as a witness.  He was a graduate student and I was a college junior though not the typical age of that group due to several spectacular detours.

In other words. We had no money. Before our big adventure,we embraced our American citizenship and took out a Mastercard. The trip was great, Acapulco, villages, historicalcities. A good time was had by all. The trouble started when we received our Mastercard bill which was a huge amount way beyond our own frugal spending.Clearly, the credit card number had been stolen and whoever took it charged everythingin sight knowing once they were caught the party was over.

Incensed, we marched down to the bank issuing the card and met with the head of the fraud department who was very sympathetic and assured us the bank would help find the culprit. All we had to do was sit down at the computer screen and review the charges marking the ones we did not make. Much relieved we set to work. Thirty minutes later we waited until the fraud director was away from her desk, then we ducked our heads and sneaked quietly to the elevator and out of there.

Repeat after me: “I can be as big an idiot…”

For those who honestly believe they are not subject to all the craziness of being human, there’s always Dr.Laura who knows all.

For me, it’s a comfort to recognize we’re all nuts.

Addiction, It Takes Two…Stress and Addiction, Final Episode

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Dateline: San Antonio River Walk Patio Branch Office. Jennifer Lopez stood on the nearby bridge during the making of Selena.

If you are new the story of Mr. and Mrs. Travis, Catch up with Episode One, Episode Two, and Episode Three. When the next football season came around, Mrs. Travis was the one with symptoms. She’d gained thirty pounds in the past year, had trouble sleeping, and was short-tempered with the children. Mr. Travis didn’t know what was wrong with his wife.

The cell phone in the garage and weekend depressions returned. Five days before Mrs. Travis came into my office, she had discovered a second mortgage had been taken out on their house without her knowledge and a piece of lake property had been sold. The phone rang all day with people either hanging up when she answered or demanding to speak with Mr. Travis. The mailbox was stuffed with gambling tip sheets for sale.

At the time of her appointment, Mr. Travis had been in Los Angeles for a week for continuing education and was due back in three days.

Mrs. Travis asked what she should do. I looked up at the stars. We put a family diagram together including three generations. As it turned out Mrs. Travis, one of four children, had grown up next door to her maternal grandparents, an important detail. When Mrs. Travis was around ten, her father landed an incredible job opportunity tripling the family income. After several years with extra money, the family had a chance to move from the cramped and falling down house they’d bought from the wife’s parents. Everyone was excited and when an ideal house was found, the family bubbled with plans.  Then, Mrs. Travis’s mother told her parents about the plan.

Mrs. Travis, then a young teen, did not know what was said at her grandparents’ house, but heard the all night discussion of her parents. Mrs. Travis’s position was that she couldn’t move away from her parents, that her mother had been hysterical and crying with the “good” news. Her father was angry and said he felt trapped, that the little house was supposed to be temporary and, by the way, he wanted out from under the thumb of his mother-in-law. Mother countered with crying and desperation, admitting she also wanted to move. Her father pleaded with her to “for one time in her life” stand up to her mother and stick with the plan to move.  She didn’t and the family was never quite the same. Her father died of lung cancer several years later. While Mrs. Travis didn’t know if the stress of staying under her grandmother’s thumb contributed to the cancer, but she did know that his last months were unpleasant and sad with his mother-in-law constantly butting in to his treatment. Mrs. Travis remembered her father saying, “Your grandmother finally gets what she wants. She has her little girl back one hundred percent.”

When asked what might have turned out differently if her mother had been able to tell her mother “no,” Mrs. Travis let out a long sigh. “I’ve got some things to do,” she said, and left.

Having a Self and Stress

Here’s what she did, all her own plan. The next day she halved all assets and debts the family had in all accounts, including retirement funds. She called the mortgage company and arranged a re-finance for the next week. She applied for and landed a job as a manager of a pizza franchise blocks from the house.

She met Mr. Travis at the airport and suggested a drink in the airport bar to hear about his trip. She wasn’t angry at all. She was calm and greatly empowered by letting go of her crusade to get her husband to change. In fact, as she told Mr. Travis, from here on out she wasn’t going to interfere with his freedom at all. He could gamble or not, not her business anymore. She wasn’t anxious because she’d taken care of herself. She told him what she’d done with their accounts and that she would be paying the mortgage, leaving him responsible for the mortgage. She told him she had a full time job, but knowing she needed some money to start, she had accepted the penalties and withdrawn several thousand dollars from her IRA.

Mr. Travis spoke up angrily with the IRA news. He said, “That was a horrible financial decision. Paying early withdrawal fees is throwing money away!”

Mrs. Travis simply stared quietly until he picked up on the irony. She explained she still loved him and hoped they would be back together some day, but, for now, he was not welcome in the house. Mrs. Travis said, it was not personal, but she did not want to live with someone who did not tell the truth.

Maybe he would one day be a man true to his word, maybe not. Up to him.

She closed saying Mr. Travis would have to make do with what was in his luggage for tonight. He could collect whatever else he needed tomorrow. Mr. Travis said, “Hey! How am I supposed to get home?” She told him again how much she loved him and that she was sure he could figure out a way.

Mrs. Travis kissed her husband, smiled, and was gone. She wasn’t alone though. She had her “self” back.