Turning Off the Autopilot

Am I less hopeful than I was before Ben died, the congregation had a civil war, I got a different job, Anne died, and I stopped working altogether?  I know that it's almost impossible to see back through the layers of life over the last two years and make any kind of accurate assessment.  Memory is a progressive re-writing of experience rather than a hard-copy filing system.  So I cannot do that assessment on the basis of my own perceptions.

When I reflect on how I interact with people from my "old" life, I do get a sort of picture of the changes. On that basis, I would have to conclude that my "set point" has indeed been lowered a bit.  If I run on autopilot I will almost certainly head into rumination, self-loathing, and all the elements of pessimism that Seligman and his tribe describe in such exquisite detail.

The difference is that I have learned how to turn off the autopilot.  The daily opportunity is to turn that switch off and to live consciously, hopefully and joyously.

I am so blessed to have been in bereavement recovery with people who are the recovery experts.  I am so fortunate to spend time with people in twelve-step programs.  I am so honored to walk as a spectator with people who choose every day to turn off the autopilot and live life awake and aware.  I have learned that people in twelve step programs practice the principles of positive psychology in all they do in recovery.

My natural set point may be lower than it used to be.  That isn't the bad news.  That creates the opportunity to make daily choices that move my actual experiences of hope and joy much higher.  I took the optimism assessment on www.authentichappiness.org yesterday.  My score has never been higher.

The learned optimism folks propose two main strategies for turning off the autopilot and getting on with life.  They propose first of all that we find ways to distract ourselves from the pessimistic style of thinking.  Take a walk. Say a prayer.  Play a game.  Reschedule your rumination for another time.  If that doesn't work, we can use specific strategies to dispute and defeat the pessimistic chorus that fills our heads and our hearts to such a degree that we don't notice after a while.

Seligman (in Learned Optimism) notes that we do not exchange, however, one bondage for another.  We do not move from the perpetual overcast of pessimism to the constantly clear skies of optimism.  The move is not from "Eeyore" to "Pollyanna."  Instead, we can choose the strategic approach that best fits the situation.  

"The fundamental guideline for not deploying optimism is to ask what the cost of failure is in the particular situation.  If the cost of failure is high, optimism is the wrong strategy...On the other hand, if the cost of failure is low, use optimism."  (Learned Optimism, chapter 12).

Pessimists have been shown by research to have a more accurate assessment of reality.  Optimists live with a certain amount of positive perceptual delusion.  

If I am doing something that requires accuracy above all, then I should choose to see the world from the pessimistic perspective.  If I am flying a plane, doing my taxes, balancing the church budget or performing brain surgery, excess optimism may cause me to see, say and do things that will be unhelpful or even damaging.

If I am doing something (most things) that requires hope above all, then I should choose to see the world with an optimistic overview.  This is especially true of organizational leaders, parents, and others who seek to make life better for those in their care.

The point is that I can choose consciously.  More than that, I can practice the skills and tools that lead to greater optimism on a moment by moment basis.  One of the things that fascinates me is that my friends in recovery programs are taught these things every time they read the Big Book, go to a meeting, talk with a sponsor and work the steps.