For a person who makes her living essentially helping people to thrive in or at least cope with change, it might be surprising just how mixed up I myself can feel when change happens in my life - even good change. Or little changes that can bring with them some weird baggage.
Case in point: we live in a really old house - it was built in the 1860s, and though many updates have been made by various owners over the years (thankfully, we have indoor plumbing), we don't have a 'master suite', unlike many newer homes. The four of us in our family all share one upstairs bathroom. Even though we have a downstairs full bath, it's more convenient to shower by the bedroom.
Yet, the kids are getting older. My son and I have had a couple blood curdling (for him) run-ins when our downstairs toilet was broken and I was in the shower upstairs. The kids don't neatly fit around the sink to brush their teeth at night and the screaming and shoving matches at tooth-brushing time are more frequent and ridiculous. So over the weekend, my husband announces that he thinks the guys in our family should start using the downstairs bathroom. And I'm like, "Great idea!" But, then a little part of me gets sad (I know, it's weird). A little part of me is sad because the kids are growing up. What if spreading apart in physical space means growing apart? Listen, I know it's crazy. I'm just saying that that one little change, which is really a good thing and shows an acceptance of our family reality, has it's own little moments of grief.
Another bigger change occurred in my life in the past couple of weeks. For twelve years, since I became a mom, I've worked part time Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and two Saturdays a month. My weeks had a consistency and rhythm. It's just what I did and how I did it. Recently, I was given the opportunity to change my days to Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday and two Saturdays a month - and suddenly it seemed like this amazing opening of time. I hadn't realized how much I needed it until it was offered to me - a way to feel a sense of being more present - both present at home on my home days and present at work on my work days. A way for me to organize and compartmentalize my time. What an opportunity. And last week was my first week of that change. It felt great! But it also felt uncomfortable. It felt uncomfortable because it made other people uncomfortable. My change impacted my office mates in some good ways, in some ways they didn't like, and in some neutral ways. It made me kind of itchy on the insides because one of my issues is not being an issue to other people. It made me itchy on the insides because I'm a person of routine and my routine is shaken up.
I've been thinking about changes in our community/public life too - what change is happening, what it will look like, what part do I want to play? I am thinking today about my church and minister which is taking an active role in allying with the Black Lives Matter movement, and the football players at Mizzou. Something is changing in our racial culture and St. Louis and Missouri are an integral part of it. There is conflict, discomfort, burnout, dread. There is great discomfort on the part of both black people and white people. Change is happening, we just don't have the perspective of time to know what these changes really mean and what they will look like - it's not as simple as changing your workdays.
Most of us don't make changes in our lives until way past time. That's how hard change is. Most of us go about our days, not realizing that the feelings of discontent or burnout or lack of energy or creativity, the negative relationships, or the dread, are all indicators that change is wanting to happen. Change starts telling us it's needed or imminent, if we pay attention and are willing. Change can be internal (how we think about something) or external (how we do something). Change will happen whether we want it to or not, whether we are ready or not. Sometimes we know exactly what needs to change, sometimes, we don't know what, but something needs to change.
Listen to your life. Look at what's happening in your life as if you've never seen it before. It's not right or wrong, better or worse, to make a change happen versus let a change happen. The real wisdom is accepting the change. Just accepting it.
My mom will sure love the title of this blog, because she raised us on protest and folk music of the 60s - it probably shaped the deepest parts of my brain in ways I'll never fully know - so I might as well leave you with a little Bob Dylan, who talks in his own way about acceptance, too:
Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'
Read more: Bob Dylan - The Times They Are A-changin' Lyrics | MetroLyrics
Monday, November 9, 2015
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
My Cure for Loneliness
It seems to me that most of the things that I've done 'right' in life (my criteria for 'right' is that so far they seem to have worked out well and had positive results over a period of time) have been mostly an accident. I tried something and it worked and I kept doing it and it kept working. So here's something: I feel connected to other people and I really like most people. I count myself lucky in that way because I sometimes hear from others that they feel lonely and disconnected and don't want to feel that way and wonder what they can do to change it. It's made me wonder what it is that I've done 'right' - why don't I feel that way? So here's what I'v come up with...
Utter helplessness. I feel connected to and caring for and liking and loving most people I encounter as a practiced response to utter helplessness in the face of death. I guess this means I'm getting ready to tell another hospice story -
When I worked in hospice, I often listened to the Be Good Tanyas while I drove around the city, county, and rural Missouri - a cover of the Neil Young song, For the Turnstiles. The line that just got me in my guts was this - 'Though your confidence may be shattered - it doesn't matter.' I came into social work like most good-hearted sorts of people - naive and probably a little irritating in our naivete or hubris - "I just want to help people,' But in the face of suffering, death, poverty and grief, I often felt helpless to help people. I quickly felt small.
So I went into Observer Mode - like noticing what helps and what doesn't as if I were gathering information for a research project. And what I saw was not every situation was bleak - sometimes things made a positive difference, even if it wasn't me. I wanted to find a pattern in that - what alleviates suffering, what helps?
I think of a man with late stage Alzheimer's, whose daughter came to the nursing home to have lunch with him literally every single day. He couldn't even remember her name and if you asked him about his daughter, he would say, "She never comes to visit me" in a bitter and lamenting tone. When he was finally dying, his daughter was stricken at his bedside. The nurse, an outspoken little Peruvian lady commanded the daughter - "Tell him you love him! He is waiting for that." When the daughter said, I love you, Dad, he sat straight up in bed after not having been able to sit up for days, and looked her right in the eye. In a few hours, he died.
I also witnessed less dramatic moments - another patient who had lost an adult child and had been on the receiving end of generally bad luck. In her late years she had become a lonely person, a hoarder, and lived in conditions that were quite overwhelming due to all the papers and junk in the house. Yet she was a sweet, gentle spirit and the hospice team really cared for her because she was with us a fairly long time. I don't think she had a very happy life, but I think the tenderness and care she received from extended family and hospice caregivers made a true difference in her quality of life and thought there was no pivotal moment of healing or change, I think she died feeling cared for.
So, what I began to notice was that love makes a difference. Some form of love that in Christian or Western tradition is called 'agape' - which means, the highest form of love, especially brotherly love, charity; the love of God for man and of man for God." (that's from Wikipedia) You might not be able to do much to change people or circumstances, but what happens, what opens up for someone when they feel your openness to them? When they feel heard and seen? When they feel liked?
I started saying to myself before I went to go visit a new patient - try to find something to love about them. When someone looks or feels like you on the outside, that kind of connection or love isn't that challenging to find, but if someone is very different, it can be harder. One patient that comes to mind is an African American man living in North County - his home was in disrepair and he had a fish tank overgrown with green slime, a big dead fish floating in the tank. I was challenged to not judge these circumstances, but what I found in being open and not judging was that he and I had something important in common. He shared with me that he had been a 'go go go' person in his youth and health - he was a do-er and his illness had robbed him of that. I felt I was a go go go person too and I wondered what illness and lack of financial resources would do to me. I felt connected to him because I looked for what we had in common, not what separated us. And he was kind enough to be open to that. After lots of hardship in life, not everyone is willing to be open to others - so I am grateful for that experience.
I think this started to become a habit for me - instead of worrying about whether other people like me, I flipped it almost all the time. What do I like about them? What do I see that's wonderful about them? The result, for me, has been a feeling of welcome in the world. I don't mean that I think everyone likes me because I like them - there very well may be people who don't like me at all, don't care if I like them, and God knows what else.
But again, what happens when your confidence is shattered? What happens when you are willing to be vulnerable, as Brene Brown http://brenebrown.com/ so often talks about. What happens when you're willing to give up trying to create an impression about yourself. I'm speaking only from my own experience when I suggest that instead of worrying about what others think of you, think about welcoming someone else, seeing something unique and beautiful in who the other person is. You can almost always find that thing if you look for it and when you see the unique and beautiful thing in another person, you don't feel alone or disconnected - you feel all the things most people want to feel - gratitude, joy and delight.
So I went into Observer Mode - like noticing what helps and what doesn't as if I were gathering information for a research project. And what I saw was not every situation was bleak - sometimes things made a positive difference, even if it wasn't me. I wanted to find a pattern in that - what alleviates suffering, what helps?
I think of a man with late stage Alzheimer's, whose daughter came to the nursing home to have lunch with him literally every single day. He couldn't even remember her name and if you asked him about his daughter, he would say, "She never comes to visit me" in a bitter and lamenting tone. When he was finally dying, his daughter was stricken at his bedside. The nurse, an outspoken little Peruvian lady commanded the daughter - "Tell him you love him! He is waiting for that." When the daughter said, I love you, Dad, he sat straight up in bed after not having been able to sit up for days, and looked her right in the eye. In a few hours, he died.
I also witnessed less dramatic moments - another patient who had lost an adult child and had been on the receiving end of generally bad luck. In her late years she had become a lonely person, a hoarder, and lived in conditions that were quite overwhelming due to all the papers and junk in the house. Yet she was a sweet, gentle spirit and the hospice team really cared for her because she was with us a fairly long time. I don't think she had a very happy life, but I think the tenderness and care she received from extended family and hospice caregivers made a true difference in her quality of life and thought there was no pivotal moment of healing or change, I think she died feeling cared for.
So, what I began to notice was that love makes a difference. Some form of love that in Christian or Western tradition is called 'agape' - which means, the highest form of love, especially brotherly love, charity; the love of God for man and of man for God." (that's from Wikipedia) You might not be able to do much to change people or circumstances, but what happens, what opens up for someone when they feel your openness to them? When they feel heard and seen? When they feel liked?
I started saying to myself before I went to go visit a new patient - try to find something to love about them. When someone looks or feels like you on the outside, that kind of connection or love isn't that challenging to find, but if someone is very different, it can be harder. One patient that comes to mind is an African American man living in North County - his home was in disrepair and he had a fish tank overgrown with green slime, a big dead fish floating in the tank. I was challenged to not judge these circumstances, but what I found in being open and not judging was that he and I had something important in common. He shared with me that he had been a 'go go go' person in his youth and health - he was a do-er and his illness had robbed him of that. I felt I was a go go go person too and I wondered what illness and lack of financial resources would do to me. I felt connected to him because I looked for what we had in common, not what separated us. And he was kind enough to be open to that. After lots of hardship in life, not everyone is willing to be open to others - so I am grateful for that experience.
I think this started to become a habit for me - instead of worrying about whether other people like me, I flipped it almost all the time. What do I like about them? What do I see that's wonderful about them? The result, for me, has been a feeling of welcome in the world. I don't mean that I think everyone likes me because I like them - there very well may be people who don't like me at all, don't care if I like them, and God knows what else.
But again, what happens when your confidence is shattered? What happens when you are willing to be vulnerable, as Brene Brown http://brenebrown.com/ so often talks about. What happens when you're willing to give up trying to create an impression about yourself. I'm speaking only from my own experience when I suggest that instead of worrying about what others think of you, think about welcoming someone else, seeing something unique and beautiful in who the other person is. You can almost always find that thing if you look for it and when you see the unique and beautiful thing in another person, you don't feel alone or disconnected - you feel all the things most people want to feel - gratitude, joy and delight.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
To a**hole or not - how I spend my time and words (after a thought-provoking question from a friend)
A dear friend wrote me recently after reading my last blog post and asked me this question:..."what about the people who don't care if they do wrong and aren't looking to correct or make amends for their mistakes?" I wrote back and said something like, "well, now you're asking me about a**holes and I need to think more clearly about what I think of them or how I deal with them." So this post is my take on that.
It seems like it's timely because there have been several of them in the news lately. Donald Trump and Bill Cosby come to mind. But before I say anything more about that, I hope you'll indulge me in a little story.
About two years ago, I was driving down my street, which happens to be a pretty busy thoroughfare. My kids, who were in 2nd and 4th grades at the time were complaining loudly - it was after school, they were hungry and we were heading to therapy. And despite being children of a therapist, they look at therapy like most kids who have to go to therapy look at it - basically as torture. But the reason we were going was that our family was in a terrible crisis. My husband and I were separated and it looked like we were heading for divorce. I was working, taking care of them, and thinking that my marriage and life as I had hoped it would be was over. I was almost at my wit's end.
So the kids are complaining (maybe one of them was crying even?!) in the backseat and we were running barely on time for therapy. And there was longstanding street construction on our road that entailed a detour, which was totally a nuisance at that moment. I knew the construction project was almost complete and it was around 5 pm on a darkening October day. I noticed the truck in front of me going straight down the road rather than taking the detour. Multi-tasking, I continued to encourage and/or berate my kids in the backseat while making the split second decision that the construction zone must be re-opened and that since the truck in front of me was going through, I could too and thank God, because that will shave 2 minutes off my drive time and be ever so much more convenient for me.
But I was wrong. The truck was a construction truck and in fact, was entering the work zone to work. An older gentleman from one of the neighborhood homes happened to be out in his yard as I realized my mistake and began the process of a 10-point turn to get myself out of the work area. I soon saw that he was screaming at me from his yard, something like, "Don't you read?!? The road is closed! I'm sick of you people who think you're above the rules!!"
"I'm sorry!" I sheepishly grin, using my cute lady persona. "I'm just doing the best I can."
"No, you're not. You're not doing the best you can!" he yells back, face contorting in rage.
Now, I'm offended. Screw him. Doesn't he know I'm probably getting divorced, my children are miserable and I'm driving them to therapy after a full day of work?!
"I'm sorry you're such an angry person." I retort indignantly, as the kids are hiding on the floor of the backseat totally embarrassed by my talking back to this man.
(Most of you know, the larger picture ends happily because my husband and I were able to reconcile and not only repair but renew our marriage. And our kids are wonderful and goofy like kids are supposed to be and we all get support from friends, family, therapists and community and we are all in a much stronger place to give that support to others too. But this is not a story about reconciliation and renewal.)
This is a story about being an a**hole. So, when I think about being an a**hole, I think it means saying or doing whatever you want, whatever feels good or easy in the moment without care or concern about how it impacts others. In the story above - I was kind of an a**hole, even though I felt justified in the moment. Though my neighbor could have been more gracious toward me, and must less a**hole-ish himself, I did not take into account what it must be like to have construction in front of your home for 6 months, or what it must be like to have the confusion and noise of unheeding drivers right next to your home. I felt that my personal misery gave me the right to do what I wanted without regard to him. Or hoping I wouldn't get caught. I don't beat myself up about this, I feel compassionate toward myself in that moment. And I also feel compassionate toward him.
So, here's where I come down on "What about people who make mistakes and just don't care. What about people who do wrong again and again and hurt others?": Spend as little time focusing on those people as possible. If I focus too much on people who are doing wrong, maybe I feel temporarily superior. Maybe I feel good because I'm on the side of being 'right' and they are on the side of being 'wrong.' But chances are, if I think too much about them or my rage about them, I start to become more selfish, more intolerant, more cruel.
In many ways, I am one of the least naive people I know. I have worked with children who have endured terrible cruelty at the hands of people who were supposed to take care of them and love them. I have seen people kill themselves with drugs and witnessed the wake that leaves behind for their families. I've been in homes where people don't have enough money for food or medicine for their children. I cannot deny the existence of bullies like Bill Cosby or Donald Trump in the world.
But, I don't even like the word a**hole, though I guess I've used it for some effect while I've written this. It reduces people to objects. Even a person who embodies the worst of humanity is still a person. If I reduce them to a stereotype or a slur, I make them an object in the same way that I am pained that women, children, and in our society, non-white people are made objects. When people are made objects, all sorts of heinous things are done to them. I don't want to add to that. It's all inter-related, so I must do my part
Here's my answer, Friend, long though it is: Let's think more about the front end than the 'back end'. If I am kind and you are kind, love grows bigger in this world. I think that's the best we can do.
It seems like it's timely because there have been several of them in the news lately. Donald Trump and Bill Cosby come to mind. But before I say anything more about that, I hope you'll indulge me in a little story.
About two years ago, I was driving down my street, which happens to be a pretty busy thoroughfare. My kids, who were in 2nd and 4th grades at the time were complaining loudly - it was after school, they were hungry and we were heading to therapy. And despite being children of a therapist, they look at therapy like most kids who have to go to therapy look at it - basically as torture. But the reason we were going was that our family was in a terrible crisis. My husband and I were separated and it looked like we were heading for divorce. I was working, taking care of them, and thinking that my marriage and life as I had hoped it would be was over. I was almost at my wit's end.
So the kids are complaining (maybe one of them was crying even?!) in the backseat and we were running barely on time for therapy. And there was longstanding street construction on our road that entailed a detour, which was totally a nuisance at that moment. I knew the construction project was almost complete and it was around 5 pm on a darkening October day. I noticed the truck in front of me going straight down the road rather than taking the detour. Multi-tasking, I continued to encourage and/or berate my kids in the backseat while making the split second decision that the construction zone must be re-opened and that since the truck in front of me was going through, I could too and thank God, because that will shave 2 minutes off my drive time and be ever so much more convenient for me.
But I was wrong. The truck was a construction truck and in fact, was entering the work zone to work. An older gentleman from one of the neighborhood homes happened to be out in his yard as I realized my mistake and began the process of a 10-point turn to get myself out of the work area. I soon saw that he was screaming at me from his yard, something like, "Don't you read?!? The road is closed! I'm sick of you people who think you're above the rules!!"
"I'm sorry!" I sheepishly grin, using my cute lady persona. "I'm just doing the best I can."
"No, you're not. You're not doing the best you can!" he yells back, face contorting in rage.
Now, I'm offended. Screw him. Doesn't he know I'm probably getting divorced, my children are miserable and I'm driving them to therapy after a full day of work?!
"I'm sorry you're such an angry person." I retort indignantly, as the kids are hiding on the floor of the backseat totally embarrassed by my talking back to this man.
(Most of you know, the larger picture ends happily because my husband and I were able to reconcile and not only repair but renew our marriage. And our kids are wonderful and goofy like kids are supposed to be and we all get support from friends, family, therapists and community and we are all in a much stronger place to give that support to others too. But this is not a story about reconciliation and renewal.)
This is a story about being an a**hole. So, when I think about being an a**hole, I think it means saying or doing whatever you want, whatever feels good or easy in the moment without care or concern about how it impacts others. In the story above - I was kind of an a**hole, even though I felt justified in the moment. Though my neighbor could have been more gracious toward me, and must less a**hole-ish himself, I did not take into account what it must be like to have construction in front of your home for 6 months, or what it must be like to have the confusion and noise of unheeding drivers right next to your home. I felt that my personal misery gave me the right to do what I wanted without regard to him. Or hoping I wouldn't get caught. I don't beat myself up about this, I feel compassionate toward myself in that moment. And I also feel compassionate toward him.
So, here's where I come down on "What about people who make mistakes and just don't care. What about people who do wrong again and again and hurt others?": Spend as little time focusing on those people as possible. If I focus too much on people who are doing wrong, maybe I feel temporarily superior. Maybe I feel good because I'm on the side of being 'right' and they are on the side of being 'wrong.' But chances are, if I think too much about them or my rage about them, I start to become more selfish, more intolerant, more cruel.
In many ways, I am one of the least naive people I know. I have worked with children who have endured terrible cruelty at the hands of people who were supposed to take care of them and love them. I have seen people kill themselves with drugs and witnessed the wake that leaves behind for their families. I've been in homes where people don't have enough money for food or medicine for their children. I cannot deny the existence of bullies like Bill Cosby or Donald Trump in the world.
But, I don't even like the word a**hole, though I guess I've used it for some effect while I've written this. It reduces people to objects. Even a person who embodies the worst of humanity is still a person. If I reduce them to a stereotype or a slur, I make them an object in the same way that I am pained that women, children, and in our society, non-white people are made objects. When people are made objects, all sorts of heinous things are done to them. I don't want to add to that. It's all inter-related, so I must do my part
Here's my answer, Friend, long though it is: Let's think more about the front end than the 'back end'. If I am kind and you are kind, love grows bigger in this world. I think that's the best we can do.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
what I learned from Boy Scout camp
My son recently got back from a rain soaked week of Boy Scout camp. When I went to go pick him up, besides being disgusted by the smell of soggy pre teen boys, I was impressed that he'd toughed it out for a week under the 1960s type conditions. In fact, I think the camp has been relatively unchanged since the 1960s. The tents were canvas "A-frames", about 5 and half feet tall, with canvas 'doors' that don't zip shut. There are 2 to 4 cots per cabin, situated on a 1-inch tall wooden platform. When it rains, the water just flows under the little platform and the current carries the water through the tent and out the other side. When I say that everything my son brought to camp was wet, that is no exaggeration.
So we loaded up all that stinky, wet stuff in my car and we were off.
Driving home from camp, I was also quite impressed when he piped up, philosophically, "Mom, I made a realization yesterday." (He is not a very philosophical type. Though in my mother's heart, I harbor the secret hope that he is philosophical and just doesn't share that part with me).
He went on to say, "I've just realized that is takes a lot of blunders and mistakes before you get something right."
(Ah ha! I thought. Wisdom! This is a side benefit I was hoping he'd get from camp, in addition to leather-working). "Do you think you made blunders and mistakes this week?" I asked.
"Hundreds of them," he answered. "I just takes so many mistakes before you get a good system."
"What would you do different next time?" I asked.
"I'd zip my bag shut every time I opened it," he said. "Even if I didn't want to. Because I ended out with cockroaches in my bag."
That made me want to throw up, but he assured me that he'd killed them all. And I assured myself that not one item from camp would come in the house until it had been dumped on the back patio, any vermin killed and then the item would go straight to the washing machine or trash.
That all being said, I thought a lot about what my son said about blunders and mistakes over the past week or so since he got home. There is something both innocent and wise about knowing that life is just going to take a lot missteps on our part. It's nothing awful. It's nothing devastating to make a mistake. Just learn from it. Rework your system. Try a new system and maybe that will be a mistake too, but you can make some little change to that and try yet again.
As adults, we tend to fall into two camps: some of us take our mistakes really seriously and beat ourselves up for hours, days and weeks about them; others of us pretend we didn't make a mistake or blame somebody else for the mistake. I'd venture to guess that even people who seem to act as if they didn't make a mistake are really quite hard on themselves and that's why they're working so hard not to accept responsibility.
So maybe we could all gain from this practical/Boy Scout approach. Here we are everybody and we've got this life we're living We are doing are best. We really want everything to be good and right. But it's not always going to be. We're going to mess up. We're going to take the 'wrong' job, we're going to discipline our kids the 'wrong' way, we're going to make a bad investment, we're going to hurt someone's feelings, we're going to turn left when we should have turned right, we're going to judge someone unfairly. We are going to all of those things and more...sometimes.
Not all our mistakes are as obvious as cockroaches in our clothes, but if we slow down, ease up and know blunders and mistakes are just part of life, I bet that makes it easier to try again - do some little thing differently - and see what happens.
So we loaded up all that stinky, wet stuff in my car and we were off.
Driving home from camp, I was also quite impressed when he piped up, philosophically, "Mom, I made a realization yesterday." (He is not a very philosophical type. Though in my mother's heart, I harbor the secret hope that he is philosophical and just doesn't share that part with me).
He went on to say, "I've just realized that is takes a lot of blunders and mistakes before you get something right."
(Ah ha! I thought. Wisdom! This is a side benefit I was hoping he'd get from camp, in addition to leather-working). "Do you think you made blunders and mistakes this week?" I asked.
"Hundreds of them," he answered. "I just takes so many mistakes before you get a good system."
"What would you do different next time?" I asked.
"I'd zip my bag shut every time I opened it," he said. "Even if I didn't want to. Because I ended out with cockroaches in my bag."
That made me want to throw up, but he assured me that he'd killed them all. And I assured myself that not one item from camp would come in the house until it had been dumped on the back patio, any vermin killed and then the item would go straight to the washing machine or trash.
That all being said, I thought a lot about what my son said about blunders and mistakes over the past week or so since he got home. There is something both innocent and wise about knowing that life is just going to take a lot missteps on our part. It's nothing awful. It's nothing devastating to make a mistake. Just learn from it. Rework your system. Try a new system and maybe that will be a mistake too, but you can make some little change to that and try yet again.
As adults, we tend to fall into two camps: some of us take our mistakes really seriously and beat ourselves up for hours, days and weeks about them; others of us pretend we didn't make a mistake or blame somebody else for the mistake. I'd venture to guess that even people who seem to act as if they didn't make a mistake are really quite hard on themselves and that's why they're working so hard not to accept responsibility.
So maybe we could all gain from this practical/Boy Scout approach. Here we are everybody and we've got this life we're living We are doing are best. We really want everything to be good and right. But it's not always going to be. We're going to mess up. We're going to take the 'wrong' job, we're going to discipline our kids the 'wrong' way, we're going to make a bad investment, we're going to hurt someone's feelings, we're going to turn left when we should have turned right, we're going to judge someone unfairly. We are going to all of those things and more...sometimes.
Not all our mistakes are as obvious as cockroaches in our clothes, but if we slow down, ease up and know blunders and mistakes are just part of life, I bet that makes it easier to try again - do some little thing differently - and see what happens.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
hilarious vs. armageddon
So, my kids are in various weekly summer camps right now and I discovered (rather brilliantly) last week that I could carpool with other parents to summer camp. (I am a slow learner sometimes). Thanks in large part to the deft organization of another mom - this week I have an emailed schedule of each morning and afternoon pick up/drop off and who in our group of parents is to do it. Monday was a designated pick up day for me. At 3:15 in the afternoon I got in the long line of cars waiting for sweaty children. Still waiting at 3:25 I got a text from one of the other moms in our group, who coincidentally, was ALSO in line for pick up. Here's a little play of my interior monologue and the texts.
Katy gets text from Other Mom, which says: "Don't worry if we're late, the line for pick up is long."
Katy thinks: "Oh shit. I'm a screw* up. I probably read the email with the schedule wrong. I'm probably not supposed to be here and now I messed the whole thing up."
Katy sends text : "I'm in line too."
Other mom texts back: "Hilarious. I didn't read the schedule and was going by memory."
* Full disclosure - it was really the F word.
Here is why, even though I'm a therapist, I still have work to do on my Self. There is an ocean of difference between your first thought, after making an error (or possible error) being - Oh shit. I'm a screw up and that first thought being, Hilarious.
For those of us prone to perfectionism (and hence, anxiety), the smallest glitches in the system can feel horrific. When I am stressed or rushed or feeling highly responsible, something happens to my subconscious mind. It gives me instantaneous emotional feedback that my 'error' will cause Armageddon and/or the lifelong misery of my children. If I were doing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy on myself I'd say that my perfectionism causes me to Catastrophize.
Now, my logical brain knows this is not true. But my body feels like it is true and I have to go through a process of talking myself down from the ledge.
One of the great things about being a therapist, is that you talk to so many people about their inner lives, that you realize whatever it is you yourself struggle with, millions of other people struggle with it too and this is why I like to write about my life. If you are a perfectionist or a ORP (Overly Responsible Person), your first thought is not reality.
I talk all the time about compassion and self-compassion. One piece of that is also being humble in a good way (not self-deprecating). The truth is, it's okay to make mistakes, to cause other people inconvenience, to say something awkward, because we are human. Because we all make mistakes. Because our mistakes don't really add up to much in the scheme of things. How we talk to ourselves about those mistakes does add up though.
Because of this smart mom I know, I now have something better to say to myself next time I make a mistake - something wise and true and humble: Hilarious.
Katy gets text from Other Mom, which says: "Don't worry if we're late, the line for pick up is long."
Katy thinks: "Oh shit. I'm a screw* up. I probably read the email with the schedule wrong. I'm probably not supposed to be here and now I messed the whole thing up."
Katy sends text : "I'm in line too."
Other mom texts back: "Hilarious. I didn't read the schedule and was going by memory."
* Full disclosure - it was really the F word.
Here is why, even though I'm a therapist, I still have work to do on my Self. There is an ocean of difference between your first thought, after making an error (or possible error) being - Oh shit. I'm a screw up and that first thought being, Hilarious.
For those of us prone to perfectionism (and hence, anxiety), the smallest glitches in the system can feel horrific. When I am stressed or rushed or feeling highly responsible, something happens to my subconscious mind. It gives me instantaneous emotional feedback that my 'error' will cause Armageddon and/or the lifelong misery of my children. If I were doing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy on myself I'd say that my perfectionism causes me to Catastrophize.
Now, my logical brain knows this is not true. But my body feels like it is true and I have to go through a process of talking myself down from the ledge.
One of the great things about being a therapist, is that you talk to so many people about their inner lives, that you realize whatever it is you yourself struggle with, millions of other people struggle with it too and this is why I like to write about my life. If you are a perfectionist or a ORP (Overly Responsible Person), your first thought is not reality.
I talk all the time about compassion and self-compassion. One piece of that is also being humble in a good way (not self-deprecating). The truth is, it's okay to make mistakes, to cause other people inconvenience, to say something awkward, because we are human. Because we all make mistakes. Because our mistakes don't really add up to much in the scheme of things. How we talk to ourselves about those mistakes does add up though.
Because of this smart mom I know, I now have something better to say to myself next time I make a mistake - something wise and true and humble: Hilarious.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Postlude to Mother's Day: Not all mothers have children
As pretty good, fun, loud movies go, I can recommend The Avengers: The Age of Ultron , which we saw over the weekend. Here's a link to a funny review from The New Yorker and I'm really only linking it because it's funny http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/05/04/fighting-on.
In the movie, Black Widow (Scarlett Johannsen) shares a tender moment with Bruce Banner, in which she tells him she was sterilized as part of her assassin training graduation. She says something like, "you still think you're the only one who's a monster?" I am taking the quote somewhat out of context, but we certainly see the character grappling with what it means to not be able to be a mother. And implying that not having children is something at best 'other' and at worst, disgusting.
Notably, a number of women I know in real life recently have spoken about what it means to them to be childless in our culture. One woman said there is a way of feeling, 'anonymous' as a childless woman. Another, who has chosen not to have children, continues to get family pressure - her parents make remarks like, "There's still time for you to give us a grandbaby."
I do have children. I also have a mother. I also have other women in my life who have acted as mother's to me at different times. And I've thought a bit about what it really means to be a 'mother.'
There are mother archetypes we all draw on (I just Googled Jungian archetypes: mother), but I'll just define the most basic core of motherhood as I see it: I feel that the best of mother is 'nourishing life.' Not just literally feeding life, but creating and supporting an environment where life thrives.
You definitely don't have to have a biological children to do this. Expanding what 'mothering' means is good for all women. I see women I know 'mother' in many ways - we cultivate imagination, we encourage dreams. We nourish these qualities in ourselves and in others. We are mothers when we create businesses or mentor employees. We tend life when we garden, when we read to our nieces and nephews, when we get up at 5:30 a.m. and walk our beloved dogs.
I want to give a shout out to all the non-mother mothers. I also want to point out that every woman has a story beyond what you see on the outside. A woman without children does not mean that she hasn't literally or figuratively been a mother - I know women who have lost children, who have lost pregnancies, who have chosen to end pregnancies (no one I know has done this carelessly). I know women who had parents who were ill and took care of them from a very young age and therefore decided not to have children. I know women who just didn't want to have children. I know women who very much wanted children, but their lives took turns that didn't allow that to happen.
As a recipient of lots of love on Mother's Day, I appreciate being honored. I also honor all the women I know - their rich stories, their loving hearts, and their friendships that nourish all the variety of life.
In the movie, Black Widow (Scarlett Johannsen) shares a tender moment with Bruce Banner, in which she tells him she was sterilized as part of her assassin training graduation. She says something like, "you still think you're the only one who's a monster?" I am taking the quote somewhat out of context, but we certainly see the character grappling with what it means to not be able to be a mother. And implying that not having children is something at best 'other' and at worst, disgusting.
Notably, a number of women I know in real life recently have spoken about what it means to them to be childless in our culture. One woman said there is a way of feeling, 'anonymous' as a childless woman. Another, who has chosen not to have children, continues to get family pressure - her parents make remarks like, "There's still time for you to give us a grandbaby."
I do have children. I also have a mother. I also have other women in my life who have acted as mother's to me at different times. And I've thought a bit about what it really means to be a 'mother.'
There are mother archetypes we all draw on (I just Googled Jungian archetypes: mother), but I'll just define the most basic core of motherhood as I see it: I feel that the best of mother is 'nourishing life.' Not just literally feeding life, but creating and supporting an environment where life thrives.
You definitely don't have to have a biological children to do this. Expanding what 'mothering' means is good for all women. I see women I know 'mother' in many ways - we cultivate imagination, we encourage dreams. We nourish these qualities in ourselves and in others. We are mothers when we create businesses or mentor employees. We tend life when we garden, when we read to our nieces and nephews, when we get up at 5:30 a.m. and walk our beloved dogs.
I want to give a shout out to all the non-mother mothers. I also want to point out that every woman has a story beyond what you see on the outside. A woman without children does not mean that she hasn't literally or figuratively been a mother - I know women who have lost children, who have lost pregnancies, who have chosen to end pregnancies (no one I know has done this carelessly). I know women who had parents who were ill and took care of them from a very young age and therefore decided not to have children. I know women who just didn't want to have children. I know women who very much wanted children, but their lives took turns that didn't allow that to happen.
As a recipient of lots of love on Mother's Day, I appreciate being honored. I also honor all the women I know - their rich stories, their loving hearts, and their friendships that nourish all the variety of life.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
assertiveness for kids and adults
I haven't written for awhile and am feeling frustrated with myself about it. It's not that I haven't been inspired or touched. It's not that I haven't been sad or angry or joyful. It's not that I haven't been creative.
I've been living my life, which in the past month has included the death of a friend from high school. Reconnecting with an old friend from high school. Trying to reignite my poetry mind and writing poetry about housework (of all things), giving a presentation that I started out very apprehensive about (it went great!), and being a wife, mother, friend and daughter. A buyer of birthday presents and planner of birthday parties, a Target shopper and meal planner. A therapist. A media consumer. And probably 50 other things I'm forgetting.
But I know that if I don't write a blog, it's going to hang over me. So I'm going to start simple with what's right in front of me this week and here's the theme: learning to be assertive and teaching our kids assertiveness.
Two different people in my life in the past two days have told me stories about four different children they know who are being bullied and/or harassed at school. The kids range in age from first grade through high school. For all these kids (the ones being bullied) - the question I am being asked, I assume because I am a therapist, is, 'how do we empower them? ' 'how do we help them find their voice?'
I love these questions, and it makes me wonder - what does it even mean to 'have a voice.' I could probably wax on in a number of philosophical ways about this, but what I think might be more effective and simpler is to tell you what one of my best friends said. And the reason I listen to this friend is because she comes from a paternal line of straightforwardness that might make some people's toes curl, but which has enabled her to be one of the best managers I've ever heard of in an industry known for it's eccentric (to say the least) characters (restaurant).
So what does said friend say about finding your voice?
"It's nothing personal, but don't touch me again."
"I've got nothing against you, but that's my seat. Get out."
I could extrapolate this out to adult life to:
"It's nothing personal, but I can't talk now."
"No, I can't do that."
"That won't work for me."
"I'm leaving now. I'm willing to talk when you calm down."
"No."
So, I'm the first one to say, there are nuances. There are times when it's good to push our boundaries or to say, yes. I'm not talking about these times. I'm talking about the times when we know. When our kids know. When we are being taken advantage of physically, mentally or emotionally.
Finding your voice and being assertive is being okay with someone else's discomfort. Why are we all so worried if someone else is uncomfortable? I believe we mistake hurting someone's feelings with making them uncomfortable. We also want to avoid our discomfort at their discomfort. It's hard for us 'nice guys' to think - 'I caused that.'
But what if we stopped distracting ourselves by thinking that we are hurting their feelings? What if we stopped taking responsibility for other people's discomfort? They can deal with their discomfort just like we deal with our own discomfort. Maybe they won't be uncomfortable, but they'll just leave us alone knowing we stand tall, look them in the eye and say, unflinchingly, NO.
I've been living my life, which in the past month has included the death of a friend from high school. Reconnecting with an old friend from high school. Trying to reignite my poetry mind and writing poetry about housework (of all things), giving a presentation that I started out very apprehensive about (it went great!), and being a wife, mother, friend and daughter. A buyer of birthday presents and planner of birthday parties, a Target shopper and meal planner. A therapist. A media consumer. And probably 50 other things I'm forgetting.
But I know that if I don't write a blog, it's going to hang over me. So I'm going to start simple with what's right in front of me this week and here's the theme: learning to be assertive and teaching our kids assertiveness.
Two different people in my life in the past two days have told me stories about four different children they know who are being bullied and/or harassed at school. The kids range in age from first grade through high school. For all these kids (the ones being bullied) - the question I am being asked, I assume because I am a therapist, is, 'how do we empower them? ' 'how do we help them find their voice?'
I love these questions, and it makes me wonder - what does it even mean to 'have a voice.' I could probably wax on in a number of philosophical ways about this, but what I think might be more effective and simpler is to tell you what one of my best friends said. And the reason I listen to this friend is because she comes from a paternal line of straightforwardness that might make some people's toes curl, but which has enabled her to be one of the best managers I've ever heard of in an industry known for it's eccentric (to say the least) characters (restaurant).
So what does said friend say about finding your voice?
"It's nothing personal, but don't touch me again."
"I've got nothing against you, but that's my seat. Get out."
I could extrapolate this out to adult life to:
"It's nothing personal, but I can't talk now."
"No, I can't do that."
"That won't work for me."
"I'm leaving now. I'm willing to talk when you calm down."
"No."
So, I'm the first one to say, there are nuances. There are times when it's good to push our boundaries or to say, yes. I'm not talking about these times. I'm talking about the times when we know. When our kids know. When we are being taken advantage of physically, mentally or emotionally.
Finding your voice and being assertive is being okay with someone else's discomfort. Why are we all so worried if someone else is uncomfortable? I believe we mistake hurting someone's feelings with making them uncomfortable. We also want to avoid our discomfort at their discomfort. It's hard for us 'nice guys' to think - 'I caused that.'
But what if we stopped distracting ourselves by thinking that we are hurting their feelings? What if we stopped taking responsibility for other people's discomfort? They can deal with their discomfort just like we deal with our own discomfort. Maybe they won't be uncomfortable, but they'll just leave us alone knowing we stand tall, look them in the eye and say, unflinchingly, NO.
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