The Goggles We Wear

There is something we all have in common: From all the childhood experiences we had inside and outside the home, we came to certain conclusions about ourselves.  Some people call these core beliefs, others call them silent assumptions.  It helps me to think of them as the childlike conclusions we make about ourselves without the help of an adult. Like, we wouldn’t conclude now as grownups, what we would have concluded then about the bully down the street, or our parent’s depression.  We can only see partially as children. When something happens to a child, she most often considers it to be her fault, because that is how children understand the world most naturally.  And when these conclusions in our little minds go unquestioned, they can develop into our core beliefs about ourselves.

These core beliefs are very different than our values. For example, “I believe in taking care of my family and helping people in need” are values. Core beliefs are the beliefs we have about ourselves and our relationship with the world around around us.  They’re the thoughts we mull over in the silence of a car ride home from dinner: “Why did I say that? They probably think I’m too dramatic.”  They’re conclusions we make about ourselves regardless of the situation.  They’re automatic, and we may never have been taught to question them.

One of the ways I like to think about these beliefs is like a pair of goggles.  If I’m wearing a pair of green goggles, then everything I see through those goggles will look green.  There will be a green filter to all I see and experience.  Say you have a hard conversation with your boss.  If your core belief sounds like, “I’m not good enough”, your conclusion after the conversation may be, “Yep, I knew it: I am NOT good enough”—even before you realize you’re processing the conversation. You may even come to this conclusion before walking into your boss’s office, regardless of why your boss called you in to talk. 

You may say, “Well yeah, I’m anxious about talking to my boss. That’s normal.” But what do you see through those goggles when your good friend cancels dinner because she’s too tired? Filtering your response through the “I’m not good enough” lens could easily lead you to think that you’re not good enough for your friend or your friendship, and that’s the real reason she cancelled. Or if your child is throwing a tantrum in the parking lot, this lens would make that behavior your failure for not being a good enough mother.

Imagine a marriage, in which both parties are wearing goggles and one person drops the ball. I may think, “I knew it! You don’t think I’m good enough.” And you may think, “I knew it! I can’t count on anyone. EVER.” These feelings can escalate into a fight that gets so far off the rails that we both forget why we’re fighting at all. In marriage, fights are often not about the event, but our interpretations of events. And our interpretations of events are often filtered through the goggles we brought into the relationship, those goggle formed by our early experiences and conclusions.

So, what should we do with our goggles? This seems like an unfair fate. The first thing to remember is that they’re on your face; they’re not part of it. It may seem simplistic, but it’s a gentle reminder of the freedom of choice that can come with self-understanding. We started wearing the goggles when we were very young, and we filter so many negative experiences through them that we may even find ourselves looking for evidence in our experiences that they are true.  Like, “I wrecked my car because something is wrong with me”, or “My partner must be stupid or flawed if they love me so much because I am unlovable.”  

I’ll give you an example.  The “I wrecked my car” hypothetical is not so hypothetical.  I once rear-ended someone in a car I had just purchased after saving so patiently for it. I hadn't even gotten my license plate yet! All three of my kids were in the car, and of course, it was also my daughter’s birthday.  I mean, my mom shame at that moment was like a buffet of awful conclusions. The accident, in retrospect, was really quite understandable, and the person I rear ended had stopped on the road illegally.  Everyone was ok.  It was scary, but ok. 

My goggles, however, made me interpret the story very differently. I felt like a failure as a person and a mom. But I had spent enough time with my goggles, noticing them, understanding them, that I cold feel it happening. I told my husband the story the green lens were laying on top of this accident and mistake, I told my best friends the story I was tempted in shame to see.  And I was able, because of familiarity with what my goggles tell me, and the power of authentic connection with safe people, to take those goggles off as I processed the events of the car accident.  The relief of just processing the accident, my part in it, without the shaming green tint of the goggles, was almost physical.

Now take a moment and feel the clothes you have on. Feel your feet in your shoes. We can practice our awareness of ourselves physically first. I can feel that my sweatshirt is very heavy and at this point in the day, a little annoying with its thick turtleneck.  My shoes feel snug around my arches, but a little short in the toes with these socks. You see where I’m going?  It is amazing what you notice when you change your focus—we can start to gently practice this same awareness about what we often assume about our internal world as well.

Now, back to those goggles. We can shift our awareness to them as well.  Think about the story you most often tell yourself when you’re disappointed, hurt, or nervous. What do you say? What do you think about when driving home from an event by yourself, or in contemplating a big risk, or when fighting with your partner? It may be, “Something is wrong with me”, “It’s always my fault”, “I’m not enough”, “I’m too much”, or “I can’t count on anyone”. 

Catch it. Feel those goggles on your face. What if those goggles aren’t giving you a true picture of reality? What if you’re more than enough? What if you’re not too much? What if there’s nothing actually wrong with you?  How strange those green goggles would start to feel. 

Now imagine taking them off. Ah, that’s better! You can see that disappointing, hurtful,  or nerve wracking moment more clearly. It is still hard, but you’re not likely the sole shameful villain of the story.  

The more we practice naming, recognizing, and feeling the goggles we wear, the more natural questioning them and taking them off will become. We’ll make progress toward not automatically believing the green picture we see through them. And slowly over time, as we’re tempted to put them on we’ll realize how restricting and inaccurate they are—and practice taking them off, until it starts to become a little more natural to see what's really happening, and who we are, without the green tint of those goggles.  

Read More:

Feeling Good, David D. Burns, M.D.

5 Days to a New Self, Terry Hargrave

Mindsight, Daniel Siegel, M.D.