Learned Helplessness and Having Arrived

When I was in undergrad, I was taught the concept of "learned helplessness". Basically, dogs were placed in a room where the floor would send an electric shock. The dogs would paw and jump and try to escape by getting over the walls of their cage, but they were too high. Finally, after a while, the walls were lowered and the shock was administered. Instead of fighting, the dogs laid on the floor and whimpered. They had learned helplessness.

A trendy subject at the moment in the educational and helping fields is the "mindset of poverty". I haven't read anything on this yet, but the concept is provocative. It is something I have thought a great deal about.

My parents, according to the field in which I now work, would be considered "lower functioning". My father was not well educated and would have probably been diagnosed with some form of ADD or learning disability if he had ever been tested. He was a genius in certain things, truly a genius, but by traditional standards, he was awful at managing money or even knowing basic social cues. My mother is bi-polar, and not in the trendy, moody kind of way. She is mentally ill and it wasn't until I was an adult that I realized the world probably saw her as "off". A child's love is blind.

As for the mindset of poverty: In the home I grew up in, it was riddled with fleas due to our numerous cats and large Golden Retriever. We did not have air conditioning. We never, ever bought a car except when we could pay of the seller in installments or through bartering which meant our cars were rarely trustworthy. When my mother's glasses broke, she taped them up and pressed on. When we finally got carpet, it was quickly darkened with dirt and spilled food. I've only recently come to find the resource of steam cleaning. The furniture was worn where we sat, and the springs no longer sprung. Nothing matched because everything was found or handed down. When my clothes tore or got too tight, I added length to the waist with safety pins or fixed my hem. Everything, EVERYTHING was rigged. The antenna on the TV, the car engine, the lights, the legs of the table, everything...

I am not saying all of this for anyone to feel sorry for me. It is just one step on the way to my point. In the midst of all this, however, I did go to Christian, private school all my life. My father bartered and was shown grace in paying off my tuition. In these private schools, I was surrounded by people who made significantly more money than my family, for the most part. I went to churches where people lived in nice homes with successful, educated parents. Most of the time, in elementary school at least, I walked around feeling as though I didn't belong. I would walk into school and my head would drop. In junior high, some high school students were very kind and encouraging to me at my church. For the first time, I felt like someone saw something special in me. Making friends from then on helped out a lot.

Since then, and especially now, I feel as though the people I work with and the friends I have challenge me to be a "higher functioning" person. I remember this transition when I was in college and Tim paid maybe $150 a month for his little Ford Ranger pickup. I thought, "If a college student can do that, why couldn't my family? Why can't I?" I recently decorated our apartment. I thought about what curtains I would want and what might fill a space. These are questions I have never asked myself and felt as thought I were learning a new skill.

And finally to the point: I feel as though I am moving from one level of functioning to another. I think it has been a process that has taken the past 10 years of my life, and I have traveled it long enough to really evaluate it now. I liken it to acculturation, although I imagine my journey is not nearly as dramatic. Or maybe it is.

What I grapple with is how to maintain the aspects of my character that I like that I feel were intrinsically tied to the environment in which I grew up. For example, in the midst of our occasional poverty, my father still tithed religiously and would help anyone who asked. The "higher functioning" school of thought says that giving to all who ask is the quickest way to be among them. It is better to teach to fish via programming funded by rich people who attend champagne-fueled fundraisers under crystal chandeliers. I remember spending a Thanksgiving feeding the homeless and, that day, I felt as though we had something to give. I saw that there were those worse off than us.

My family rarely complained about anything. They accepted life on its own terms and did the best they could. They were resourceful, although others may occasionally call it shameless. They were indeed resourceful but never manipulative. Everyone around us suffered the way they did, and so it was about community, about helping out your neighbor, partly because it was the right thing to do, and partly because you would someday need their help as well. Or, perhaps, someday, you would be exactly where they are. In that environment, we all understood that we were doing the best we could. There wasn't competition. There was humility. There was also those who took advantage, but they were quickly identifiable. Mostly, it was good people who were doing the best they knew how to survive and have meaning and happiness like everyone else.

In this new place that I feel I am slowly becoming accustomed to, we complain and are entitled to everything! We grow angry so quickly. We toss things out the second a new thing is on the market. At the same time, in this new area, we speak up whenever we want something. We aren't afraid to ask. We are worthy of good things, albeit sometimes it can tip so negatively into "entitled" to good things, but our worth is not in question. In this "higher functioning" place, we aren't so tired because we spend all of our energy just trying to get by. There is time for cultivating beauty, for learning skills that bring fulfillment or joy. There is time for fun, and life isn't quite so exhausting, so serious all the time. It is easier to say "no" the needy person because they are nowhere around. We say no and no longer have to see them. Out of sight. Out of mind. Or worse yet, we blame them for their predicament when they grew up in a world of learned helplessness. The answer is clear to the arrogant because they are unfamiliar with the struggle.

Because of where I grew up, I am never "too good" for anyone. I may keep my distance from some for my own protection but I know I am no better. I feel like I look as though I no longer belong among the "lower functioning" due to the occasional pedicure and shopping trip, and I am kind of ashamed of that. At fancy benefit dinners, I typically know the wait staff's names better than the hosts. I want them to know I belong in their ranks. Because of where I grew up, I constantly grapple with what really matters. Decorating my apartment plagued me with a sense of vanity. Is the guilt enough penance to secure that I still know what is important in this life? I feel like because of where I grew up, I have a constant sense of appreciation for what I have now which fuels me with optimism. I feel like because of where I grew up, I could survive should I lose most of what I have now. I feel like it gave me strength and, more importantly, perspective.

To be clear, where I live now, I have by no means "arrived", but I feel like my children won't have the same struggle I did. This is both encouraging and saddening for me. How do I instill the depth, appreciation, and humility in them that I gained in a small wooden house? How do I raise children to appreciate the little things when they will grow up in front of a TV 3 times larger than them, an apartment with a tanning pool, and a mother who gets her hair cut at Toni and Guy? How do I teach them what really matters?

At the same time, it is possible my children won't feel out of place in any pretentious crowd, asking for what they want, or standing up for themselves. My children won't have to be sick with no doctor or feel like life is something you must survive rather than enjoy. My children may not waste time learning what the "higher functioning" grew up knowing from day one and will be able to forego the lessons it took me so much time to learn. My children may possibly grow up naturally thinking in a way that I would consider "out of the box".

It is a process of acculturation, and I feel as though I am first-generation. It is something I am trying to make sense of and yet I feel as though it is the best among the generations. I do not wish to live with the struggle my parents had and I am thankful for the groundedness my experience has brought me. So, can the lessons I've learned through the struggle really be passed on to the next generation without experiencing such a significant struggle themselves? Can I continue to live as I am and not lose my perspective? Am I "selling out" or growing? Am I being lulled into living a comfortable, benign life or am I progressing? The great figures of history did not live lives of luxury.

I'm talking like we are living in a 7 figure household, but in comparison to where I grew up, we may as well. I am fully aware there are many out there significantly more financially "successful" than we are. But for me, our home, our standard of living, is very different than anything I ever imagined for myself. If you are unimpressed with the way we currently live, then let that speak to how rough things were in my family of origin.

Despise not the day of small beginnings...

"Is Everything Well With Your Soul?"

Is everything well with your soul?

Okay, so I know the question is weird. I thought it was weird too. I was catching up an old friend, and realized much later that it was probably a reference to the hymn, "It is Well with My Soul". Anyway, it struck me oddly. People frequently ask, "How are you doing? or "How is it going?" but when is the last time someone asked how your soul is? My guess is never.

I mean it gets to the root of are you healthy/happy/content on all levels?

Well, are you?