Category: Coaching

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The first step towards self-compassion

Wholehearted. The word itself is simple but the meaning, expansive. With wholehearted as my guiding word, I’ve chosen to focus each month in 2020 on one of Brené Brown’s guideposts for wholehearted living. January was the month to Cultivate Authenticity and let go of what other people think. Nothing like starting off with a bang.

Focusing on this guidepost proved interesting. When you capture your thoughts and take a moment to consider where your internal chatter comes from, at least for me, there were loads of other voices. Past authority figures, people I have relationships with, voices influencing my actions.  Up to the last day of the month, I was aware of it. On January 31st, I received a text from someone providing a piece of information. A simple piece of information. Next thing I know, I’ve added in inflection, backstory and motive and am responding to the story I created! The thing is, from an intellectual standpoint, I could see I was doing it. I later talked it through with a trusted friend and we called B.S. on the story I’d created.

Enter Self Compassion

Given letting go of what other people think (or at least the story of what I believe they think) was going to be ongoing as I grow in authenticity, February’s focus arrives just in time.  The second Guidepost for Wholehearted Living is ‘Cultivate Self-Compassion – let go of perfectionism’. Boy howdy, do I have more than a few things to say about that.

On the surface, perfectionism sounds innocent, an ideal, a quality to strive for. That’s a straight up lie. Yes, striving to do our best is a good thing. What’s not a good thing is believing that our worth is tied up in exceeding in all that we do. Brené Brown describes perfection as a “self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect, and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgement, and blame.”

If I think back to the text that threw me off last week, it was not only tied to what someone else thought (or at least the story I created about that), I fell into the perfectionism trap. Had I failed? Done something wrong? I inflected judgement and criticism into the words. The ‘addictive belief system’ of perfectionism does just that. It fueled the belief that I wasn’t good enough, that I’d failed, and the familiar shame spiral showed up like a summer tornado in Kansas.

Which is why self-compassion is so important. First of all, I created that spiral all by myself. The words were pure information, nothing else. I inflected judgement, blame and invited the shame to park in my mind. When I talked to my friend about it, said it out loud, named it, and the feelings began to diffuse. My amygdala calmed down. No longer was my mind flooded and I returned to seeing the words for what they were, information. She spoke kindly to me, acknowledged how I was feeling, and together we spoke about the facts.

Don’t miss this point. The kindness and acknowledgement she spoke to me? That’s what we can, and must, do for ourselves and when we do, it’s self-compassion. Speaking to ourselves the way we’d speak to a friend. And we need it, desperately. In a culture that provides endless opportunities to compare, to strive for perfectionism and avoid blame, shame and judgement, self-compassion is the antidote.

It’s going to happen. You’re going to start down the perfectionism path at some point this week. You may not even name it, but it’s inevitable. Yet, not insurmountable. Catch it. Name it. And talk to yourself like you’d talk to a friend. Because you are your closest friend, worth love, worth compassion. Be brave friends, we’re on this journey together.

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How to listen when intuition nudges

I can be a little over the top when it comes to cleaning. Last week was no exception. Staring mindlessly at the carpet, vacuuming, and I notice the filter looks gunky when I emptied it. EW! Easy remedy, I’ll rinse it off in my tub. I take the first step with the filter in hand, and next thing I know, my forehead is hitting the door, breaking my fall. As I lay there, dazed, my immediate attention went to my recently operated on foot. Miraculously, as the ground quickly approached, I managed to instinctively protect it. Small miracles. But my head…I paid for that for a couple days with a headache, and a clean vacuum filter.

You’d think I’d be treading lightly after that, and I thought I was. Sunday night, I was doing at home physical therapy. Using an exercise band around my foot, flexing against it. La-de-da, two, three, four, SNAP! Band off my foot and before I even knew it, smacked it in the face. What lesson was I missing that twice I’d narrowly escaped death?? (ok, maybe not death, but come ON!)

A few days later, facilitating a class at work, resting my leg on a chair while folks got organized for an activity. I go to take a step forward. Yep, say it with me. My toe caught on the chair and down I went, face first, knee then foot, stretching it farther than I had since surgery. I jumped up, shaking it off like a soldier but inside feeling rattled for hours. Again, what the heck??

Life gives us lessons

Isn’t that the way life goes sometimes? In my case, I was earnestly trying to be ultra-careful and baby my foot while it recovered. Yet my stumbles were not little. I was reminded of something my great grandmother used to say. I was fortunate to have her until my late teens and she’d visit a couple times a year. She was well known for remarking, “If you don’t listen, you’re going to have to feel.” Reminiscent of the times she grew up in. The last week had given me my fair share of “feel.”

But what was the “listening” I was missing?

Setting aside my week of painful reminders that I’m still in recovery and need to slow down, what do we do when those repeated nudges keep coming up in our lives? Think about it, you’re in a season of asking God, the Divine, what exactly the discontent that rumbles around in you means. You’ve put it out there, asking for guidance. Maybe you find an interesting opportunity reading a magazine you’ve never picked up before. Or you meet someone who happens to be going down the same path you want to walk. You have lunch with a friend you haven’t seen in ages, and the conversation opens new doors.

Why listen to our nudges?

What do we do with those nudges? All too often, we give a cursory, “oh, that’s interesting,” and mosey on with our life. Um, hello God, the Divine, why aren’t you giving me the down low on what to do? Chances are, it already happened, but you were too busy and missed the sign.

So now you get to feel. Growing discontent. Stress. Your body telling you to wake up and pay attention. Ok, fine. I’m sitting down. Done feeling.

Every single one of us can choose to listen. Open up to the nudges we’re looking for coming from the most unexpected places. We have a choice. When a thought pops into your head and you think, “I’m not smart enough to have dreamed that up,” yeah, that’s a nudge. Trust it. The Divine ‘speaks’ to you in unconventional ways, so long as you’re paying attention. Your authentic self knows the way, because that wisdom, the nudges, they’ve been inside you percolating for years. Trust you. It’s our journey, friends, and I’m on it with you. Be brave.

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Following your inclinations

pro·cliv·i·ty /prōˈklivədē,prəˈklivədē/ a tendency to choose or do something regularly; an inclination or predisposition toward a particular thing.

Within the English language there are regular words and ten-dollar words. For reasons unbeknownst to me, my mind gravitates to ten-dollar words because, in that moment, they make the most sense. More than likely, it’s at work. Other times, they fit a scenario perfectly, as was the case early this week. In what seems to have become a daily phone call with my friend, I said, I think I have a proclivity to entropy. Her response? What are you talking about – or close to that – a bit saltier.

Reluctant to abandon not one but two ten-dollar words, I explained, I’m inclined to inaction. A surprise, I’m confident, to people who know me. It’s not that I am unable to get it done, whatever it, is. Instead, my initial response to a new direction, or change in my routine is to slowly grind to a halt. I procrastinate. I’ll talk all day long about the new thing, how great it will be, the depth of my desire to pursue it. All the while, using the time I should be working on the “thing” sitting around drinking green tea and watching Netflix. Once I kick it into gear, I’m going, but reaching that point? Procrastinate, delay, clean a cabinet, reorder my CD’s and DVD’s – wondering when I’ll actually cut the cord and get rid of them. There are endless options to distract you, without lifting a finger to look for them.

Inclined to… Since I gave you a definition, let’s try one more. Incline: feel willing or favorably disposed toward (an action, belief, or attitude). You’ll find several more in the dictionary, including an uphill, but let’s stay with number one for the moment.

Think back to a time when you felt willing or favorably disposed toward an action, belief or attitude. What did you do with the inclination? Did it float by like a cloud? Maybe you examined it from all sides, getting a close look. It may have been the subject of your Saturday morning coffee date. But what did you do with it? That’s a good question.

And the answer for a vast majority of us is, nothing. Entropy. Inaction. We’re inclined to move in a direction, pursue a dream, follow a calling, but that’s where it stops. The inclination might come up against a light breeze of resistance, that slight hill, and we decide it’s too much. Too risky. Too much work. Scandalous.

Instead of following the inclination, remaining curious, we behave as though we’re looking at the sheer granite face of El Capitan in Yosemite. We can’t possibly continue because it would cause disruption in our lives. Perhaps positive disruption, but disruption nonetheless. So, we stop. Leaving what might have been the next New York Times Bestseller rolling around in our mind. Or staying in a job because it’s paying our bills and provides benefits even though the alternative brought our soul alive. But it was unknown. We stay in the status quo.

The status quo is not where we’re meant to be. While not terrible, it can be a plateau. A place in our life that is “fine.” And fine is ok for a short term, but if we live there, what are we leaving on the table? What if, instead of staying in the status quo, we follow our inclination? We put aside the warnings of our friends or the naysayers (which likely speak to their fears, not ours) and we follow the breadcrumbs. Where would our inclinations lead us?

I’m willing to find out. My ‘proclivity towards entropy’ needs to step aside while I stay curious and follow what unfolds. How about you? Where in your life do you need to follow your inclination? Dream, and where your heart is leading you…give it a chance. You’ll be inclined love the journey.

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Unexpected lessons from rest

While I was outI basically approached the idea of time off after foot surgery kicking and screaming. Certain that I’d be fine to return to work the following week, until my doctor said I’d be out two months. What?!? Are you not aware of my superhuman ability to soldier through? Yes, and not this time. Sigh.

My desire not to make my surgery an issue for anyone else even went so far as considering not having anyone stay with me post procedure. Not wanting to be an inconvenience. Until the hospital required me to name who would be my caretaker the first 24 hours. Apparently…surgery is a real deal.

Despite my initial reluctance, the aftermath was far more than I anticipated, and I began to understand the wisdom of rest. Honestly, the first few weeks, I was still mentally attached to work. Concerned that I wasn’t doing my part. Somewhere around week four, that began to melt away and I settled into actual rest. The physical rest had been non-negotiable. Mental rest doesn’t happen as automatically. Stick your foot in a boot and call it non-weight bearing, checkmate, but the mind kept working.

We don’t realize how tightly wound we are until the impetus for the stress is removed, for more than 48 hours. Yet, rarely do we have the time to genuinely unwind. Once undone, our minds reach a point where we can objectively look at our life and ask questions. Wonder if we’re simply following a rut rather that forging our own path.

Maybe it’s the stage of life I’m in that prompted the reflection, but it smacked me head on. What do you do with all that? All the ‘stuff’ that starts coming up, the questions, the considerations? Me? I started asking myself questions. Looking at the assumptions and limiting beliefs that were getting in the way of a broader view. Different areas of life, not under a microscope, but given scrutiny. The nudges I’d been feeling in my heart, they wove together and were all singing the same song.

And the bigger question that arose, that may arise for you, is “how do I want to live out this one beautiful life that I have?” Whereas this question had been in the back of my mind, after a few weeks of rest and letting go of the autopilot which drove me, it sat right in front of me. The benefit of having extended time for healing was that it happened on more levels than one. The physical healing was obvious, but the state of mind was unexpected.

I wouldn’t have thought I’d be saying it, but it was a gift. I can understand now the benefit of sabbatical. Of a day of rest, except it took more than a day to achieve it. That we all don’t have the opportunity (sans foot surgery) for genuine rest is a shame. Other countries mandate long periods of vacation, they acknowledge and accept the need for personal rest and structure business around that principle. Considering the whole person before the business. Rest shouldn’t be a luxury, it is necessary, healing. And I have, both my foot and internally. With a clear awareness of what I want in life.

What other lessons can you learn in rest?

  • It’s possible to grow tired of wearing yoga pants every.single.day.
  • A rediscovered love of reading, and a new passion for the work of Sue Monk Kidd.
  • Crutches are not as awful as they’re made out to be, but the calluses on my hands can go away now, please.
  • You can live without showering every day, the world will not end (same goes for shaving your legs…the horror).
  • Asking for help is a strength, not a weakness. People want to help.
  • Time off is a gift. Don’t refuse to take it.
  • You are worthy, independent of what you do.
  • People are kind. Period. Generous and helpful.

I could go on but want to land on the last one. People are kind. The number of friends and strangers who were generous and kind in their help astounded and humbled me. I inherently believe in the good in people and it’s there, on display in small and big moments.

My friends, I hope you find rest, time to reflect and the gift of the lessons that arise from it. You have but this one life, learn and live it well.

 

 

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Asking yourself, who ARE you?

Decide who you areBe a good girl. Words likely spoken to every little girl at one point or another. While I don’t specifically recall the moment the good girl message sunk into my conscious, it’s as attached as a small child is to an all-day sucker. While a “good girl” is never specifically defined, the message is clear. And the message starts with don’t.

Don’t get in trouble. Don’t stay out late. Don’t associate with the wrong crowd. Don’t get bad grades. Don’t be irresponsible. Don’t, don’t don’t. Depending upon who your parent was and their ideal for a “good girl,” you received variations of that message.

And they stick. Like the sucker. I never saw the external message as external to who I was. While slip-ups happened, on occasion, I followed the good girl model. Conceptually, it’s a solid model. The idea was to keep us on the straight and narrow so that we would become responsible adults. Which I am.

Yet, if we’re not careful, the good girl message becomes like a piece of Velcro in the dryer. Everything sticks to it. Descriptors that we may not want but which close enough to “good girl,” that a pile on effect happens. While we’re preoccupied with marriage, kids, career, other people narrative of what life “should” look like we stay in the rut. Honestly, it’s easier than bucking the system.

Perhaps you stay in groove. Or, if you’re like me, you reach the middle part of life and get curious. You expose yourself to different ways of thinking, approaches that challenge your status quo. Brené Brown was my gateway. In simple terms, her books opened my thinking and asked me to give the “good girl” a break.

In the pursuit of a wholehearted life, I’m using Brené’s Guideposts for Wholehearted Living, starting with Authenticity – Letting go of what other people think. The good girl is a byproduct of following what other people think. But if you don’t ascribe to the good girl, does that make you bad? It does not.

The truth is, when you drop the expectation, the label, you have the chance to look at who you are at your core and what you believe. It takes some work, digging around in your heart and mind, because other people’s expectations are entwined with your own by midlife.

It’s not a one and done activity. It’s a journey. Letting go of what other people think doesn’t mean abandonment of every last expectation you’ve adhered to. It means asking if you hold that ideal as one of your own. You might. Or you may not. It’s your choice. Your journey is not creating a new you, it’s discovering who your authentic self is, at your core. What you believe, how you want to show up in the world.

Don’t be surprised if others in your life notice that you’re changing, with mixed reception. You’re allowed to change. It’s healthy and it’s normal. Wholehearted living requires you to have courage, but each of us have that courage within us. YOU have the courage within you. Ask yourself today if you’re living wholeheartedly, or if you need to take time for reflection and sorting out who you are and what you believe. It’s our journey, friends, and I’m taking it with you.

 

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The path to a wholehearted life

IMG_2268For the past few years, I’ve chosen a word to guide the year. Not so much a new year’s resolution as a guiding light. My guidepost for the coming year. There’s been brave, authentic and last year was bold. December was winding down and I hadn’t spent much time thinking about the word I’d chose for 2020.

How do you get to that place, the one where you know that you know, you have clarity on what you need to do next? 2019 was one hell of a year, to put it mildly. Let’s just say that I had many opportunities to consider who I am and what I stand for. The clarity in that arena led to long thought out, tough decisions. Ones that left me with a picture that was different than the way I started the year.

Admittedly, I spent a solid portion of the year feeling a bit numb. And while that didn’t feel bold, the word I’d chosen, maybe it was. I made tough, bold choices, and now, days away from 2020, I find myself considering how the coming year could play out.

There was a time when I’d jump on the resolution bandwagon, knowing that if I didn’t have one mapped out, I’d be left behind. I’d reach the end of the year and have nothing to show for it. First of all, who even started the resolution business anyways? A likely culprit is Hallmark. Love ‘em, but there is a holiday for nearly every possible thing you can think of. All promoting the purchase of another card. Maybe a pitch guy thought resolution cards sounded like a winner of a plan. While the card may not have taken off, geez, the resolution idea did.

You can find posts and pictures, and everyone under the sun committing to their resolution at this time of the year. Bravo! I’m honestly not anti the resolution game. I do think, however, that there’s no reason to wait, start the plan when you think of it. But if marking it with the beginning of the year helps, more power to you.

In this season of midlife, the time of ditching what I thought was important, what the outside world may have told me, and instead looking within, I’ve found that focusing on a word for the year was more valuable. That’s what led me to brave a few years ago, memorialized by my first ever tattoo on my wrist. Be brave – it reminds me each time I look at it. The past few years, especially this one, have been filled with introspection. Considering where I am and how I want to live out these years of my life.

Within moments of contemplating my 2020 word, I had it. Influenced, I’m sure, by my trajectory in 2019 and what I’d brought into my life. Without blinking, I knew, WHOLEHEARTED. Yes, a nod to my girl crush Brené Brown, and a word that encapsulates who I want to be. Brené defines the concept:

Wholehearted living is about engaging in our lives from a place of worthiness. It means cultivating the courage, compassion and connection to wake up in the morning and think, No matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough. It’s going to bed at night thinking, Yes, I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn’t change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging.

Yes. Wholehearted. For me, there is no choice. If you follow me and keep reading throughout the year, you’ll see the journey. I suspect it will be like the Russian nesting dolls. Going deeper and deeper into what my wholehearted life looks like.

And while wholehearted perfectly captures my journey, what about you? Have you considered how you want this one, fabulous, life to look? What you’d focus on if you stopped listening to the outside world and listened to what your heart is whispering when you slow down enough to hear it? The answer is within you, it always has been. I hope you’ll join me on this journey. The wholehearted journey. Happy New Year my friends.

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Lessons in Mindfulness

IMG_2165Everybody’s dream come true is a trip to the Social Security Office. Am I right? Seriously, what could be more fun that whiling away a morning waiting with your fellow citizens to tend to whatever it is that brought you there. This was my exact thought process, with a few detours, as I made my way to our local branch to tend to some business the other day.

I made my way in, got my number, and quickly saw there were at least a dozen people before me, well, if my determination of how the numbers were called was accurate. Settling in for the long haul, I read a magazine – I’ll admit, it was the AARP magazine, honestly there are good articles! – and the time ticked by. After what seemed like a short time, more like over an hour, my number was called. Proceeding to the window, I knew the adventure was nearing an end. But it wasn’t. I didn’t have the correct version of the document needed to do my business. Sigh.

Julia, my helpful clerk, told me what to do and off I went. A trip to another government office. Another hour plus wait, document secured. Back to Social Security, where Julia allowed me to skip the line. Fifteen minutes later, done.

The whole adventure took close to 4 hours with waiting and driving.

Normally, I would be highly agitated at what I’d consider to be a waste of time. But I wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

Surprised, I thought about why this time was different. One glaring fact presented itself. I was off work, still in the recovery period from foot surgery. If I wasn’t there, I would have been sitting in a chair at home, reading a magazine. Same plan, different environment.

I was in the moment without a pressing expectation that I should be somewhere else. ‘Enjoying’ it for what it was. Knowing the staff was moving us through as quickly as they could. And isn’t that what mindfulness is? Staying in the moment, experiencing what is, rather than projected expectations of where you want to be, or what you want to be doing? Anything other than what you’re doing in that moment?

Staying present made the experience just that, an experience. Nothing more, nothing less.

Why, then, is mindfulness so difficult to live out day by day? I get antsy. I think I can multi-task, although I’m learning that’s a scam. When I multi-task, I’m not paying 100% attention to either activity, and both show the result. I’ve read about, been taught about mindfulness over the last couple of years and not until my Social Security experience did it hit home so squarely.

Seeing how mindfulness changed my mindset was a game changer. Yes, I know mindfulness has been all the rage. Believe me, I’ve been on board conceptually. But really experiencing it? That made all the difference. My body and mind were in sync.

Raise your hand with me if you also need to experience before you jump on board. Anyone? Everyone? Yep, while I know there are the unicorns who can hear, understand and adopt, I’m not one of those people. The unexpected lesson in mindfulness may have been there prior to last week, but I didn’t see it. Wasn’t paying attention, which I suppose is part of the lesson.

While we move through the end of the year, with enormous amounts of competing priorities, what if we simply paid attention? The lessons are there. The mindfulness that leads to deeper engagement in our lives. It’s there. You likely don’t have the hinderence of your foot in a boot, which, by its nature slows you down, but you can make a choice. Slow down. BE in your experience, feel it, and fully enjoy it and, more importantly, those around you. You can do it friends, I’m right there with you, it’s our mindful journey.

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Game ChangerThe instructions for the exercise read – describe yourself in five words. Without hesitation, I wrote ‘responsible’ as the first, followed by other descriptors that essentially supported that characteristic. I’m hard wired for responsibility from an early age and orchestrate my life around it.

I suspect that’s influenced my overall approach to life which is to issue spot and resolve problems in order to eliminate risk. Responsibility resolves risk, rather than allowing it to fester. Because, let’s be real, if risk is unpredictable it could easily cause you to slide off the rails into a myriad of problems. Nobody has time for problems, particularly not the responsible person.

But.

Should responsibility come before all other emotions or experiences? It’s certainly my go to. When presented with a situation at work or home, my first response is to look for the problem to solve. I’ve noticed a few pitfalls to that approach in recent years.

  1. Looking for the problem presumes there is one. Oftentimes another person is simply talking through the situation rather than asking for a solution.
  2. Problem spotting may look like criticism. Despite an intent to help, to solve, when you look for a problem, you (ok, I) can appear critical.
  3. Continually looking for what needs to be done in an effort to be responsible can result in missing the opportunity to be present.

Of course, the list could continue, but there’s a big number 4 that came up for me yesterday. I was watching Where’d you go Bernadette? on Amazon and was introduced to the concept of discounting in the brain. Derived from a neuroscience study, it’s a scientific way of saying that the more effort you put into something, the less valuable the reward associated with the effort.

After having the concept introduced, I did additional research and, apparently, there are a lot of ways to go with brain discounting. Related to my outlook, it would appear the result of the effort I exert is more than the reward I receive from being seen as “responsible.”  Hmmm. Basically, the result is less and less satisfying.

The other idea presented in the movie was that as our minds focuses on the “effort,” it can become consuming to the point where we can lose sight of why we’re doing it in the first place. Bernadette lost sight of her core self, the part that found joy in the journey. I can relate.

Responsibility in and of itself is awesome. But when your focus narrows to solving the problem, eliminating risk and ensuring you’re seen as responsible, you can lose sight of the joyful parts of life. Responsibility starts to feel heavy, more a burden than the result of a life lived well.

And it’s currently a 100-pound weight. Don’t be mistaken, it’s not something to forsake, but, for me, I’m questioning its hierarchical place. Maybe I can let it be the after effect rather than the focus? Because, as I slog my way through mid-life, I’d prefer more joy, delight, play, and freedom than carrying around the constant feeling that I have to be responsible for everyone and everything. It’s something I brought on myself, via what life dished out, but I’m ready to be the fun one. I lost sight of that side on the path to responsibility.

As we enter the time of year where new intentions are created, I’m adding joy to my list. Inviting more joy and lightness into my life. What have you lost sight of along the path to your point in life? What’s been discounted because you were focused on the effort to get there? Take a moment to reflect create an intention around it. You’re not alone. It’s a shared journey, and I’m right there with you. We’re brave, bold and authentically walking through life together.

 

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Looking at change differently

Flame to ChangeI LOVE CHANGE! Said no one, ever. Admittedly, my friend said it to me the other day, but she’s an anomaly. A lovely anomaly. Truth is, change can be difficult. In order to get to the new state, whatever it may be, you must end another. Oftentimes we approach change as though it’s a train. Everybody on board, into your new seats and away we pull from the station. Leaving behind the old way. No time for long, emotional goodbyes on the platform. It’s on to the new we go, looking back is for suckers.

Except.

Inherently change results in the ‘death’ of what was, and that comes with emotions that, if ignored, may have a damaging effect.

Change is often associated with business. The notion that ‘without change, we will perish.’ While there is truth to that, we encounter change in a wide array of places in our life, but don’t tie those to the word, hence we treat them differently. But they’re still change.

Your first, and then last child leaves for college.

You face a change in job.

After living in one place for many years, you move somewhere that’s altogether different.

You enter the middle of your life.

A relationship shifts…and then ends.

On the surface, we may not look at those instances as change, but they are. And with all certainty I can say they produce emotions that are far reaching. Until recently, one emotion hid in a corner. There, but I couldn’t quite identify it until someone else named it for me.

Grief.

Change results in grief. The closer the change is to us, the more significant the grief yet, we rarely take the time to acknowledge it, sit with it, process it.

I’m amid a change that, on the scale of 1-10 is an 11. It hurts, is raw and painful. In the several months I’ve been going through it I’ve often wondered if it should feel differently. In some respects, it felt like the wind got knocked out of me and I can’t quite catch my breath, and in others I feel relief. The conflicting emotions were confusing, and I wasn’t sure what to do with another one, numbness. Feeling nothing. New to me and arose as a defense mechanism, most certainly.

After the continuous swirl confusing emotions had continued beyond the point where I thought I could soldier through them any longer, I sought professional help. And exhaled. Within a short time, a new word surfaced that made sense to me and which I hadn’t considered. It was the one hiding in the corner, grief.

As though a light bulb had illuminated a previously dark space, I could see it. Of course, it was grief, yes! But now what? Oh, you mean I have to actually do something with it? Indeed. I was handed a tool that walked me through emotions I experienced, some named, others unnamed, all valid. And isn’t that the case for any of us in times of change? Sometimes we can’t put a name to the emotions we’re feeling, but once we either figure it out, after long suffering, or another person names it for us, it’s as though the final puzzle piece clicks into place.

Grief is normally associated with death, yet, when we think about death expansively, isn’t that what happens in change? One state ceases? Unless we acknowledge the ending, the new is tainted. Stained with the unresolved emotion we carry forward. We must grieve the loss and that phase may be brief, or it may span a longer time. But we must give it the time and space it warrants, or we’ll experience the aftermath.

Over a couple months, I worked through the grief exercise which culminated in reading it aloud. Yep, instead of simply having the thoughts in my head or on paper, I spoke them. As much as I wasn’t looking forward to that step, there was something cathartic about it. The exhale, feelings returning to my core. But once it was complete, I knew that holding on to those papers, what essentially was a letter, would only result in my returning to them. And there is no value in that. In any change, continuing to return to the emotions we feel during transition result in being stuck there. Which is counterintuitive to the process of moving through the grief cycle, feeling the feelings, in the first place. You don’t need to keep picking that scab.

So, I burned them. Ceremoniously, yet without fanfare, I placed them in the fireplace and lit a match. What I’d spent a couple months processing was ashes within minutes. When we go through change, whether personally or in business, we need to give grief the time it’s due. If we don’t, it’ll hide in the corner and come out in unhealthy ways. Destructive to you and the people around you. While not an easy process, one that is entirely worth the effort.

What change do you need to process? Give more time to? Realize the grief that is hiding, waiting for you to finally see it’s face? Friends, that’s the journey. Believe me, we’re in it together and my heart is for you. Sending you all the love. Be brave.

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Accepting help brings us closer

Miracle of helpingDeep breaths. Last words I heard the anesthesiologist say to me shortly before I drifted off to la-la land for surgery. Anesthesia is the closest thing to time travel we have these days. One minute you’re in an operating room and the next? You hear your name through a fog, slowly clearer and clearer, until you’re wide awake and looking at the aftermath. I’ve had a few surgeries throughout my life and remember the fading off and waking up from each. Something cemented in my mind.

You listen to your discharge instructions, yeah, yeah, got it. The implication of “non-weight bearing,” only sunk in after I got home and realized the full scope. Particularly in light of the fact I can’t balance on my other leg. I had the uncomfortable feeling of being helpless. Not completely, but most definitely dependent on others. There’s only so much you can do when you’re told to not have your foot unelevated for more than five minutes at a time. Five minutes? Two of those today were spent brushing my teeth! Three more isn’t enough to do much of anything.

So, I have to ask for help. There’s something that happens when we ask for and receive help, for us and the other person. It’s disarming, neutralizing. Especially when the help is needed for physical assistance. Whatever baggage might exist between you and the other rapidly fades as you work together towards a common goal. If you had a conflict, it fades in favor of peaceful co-existence.

But why? If we can erase, or at least diminish, conflict with another person when they are helping us or visa-versa, why won’t it come sooner?

I don’t suppose to have the magical answer, but there’s a common interest, a shared humanity, when you’re in the situation to help someone. Particularly if you both lean in. Being in a position of needing help is a vulnerable place, one where the mere act of asking itself is courage. And when you’re meeting another person’s need for help when they’re in that vulnerable place, you see them differently.

You’ve moved in.

That’s when we see people. In the moments of vulnerability. No masks, no pretense. Raw. Open. Unguarded.

Which may not be what we normally see. We’ve been programmed to be tough, to handle our own challenges. So, when we can’t, it might be a different side of us than people are used to. It’s your authentic self showing up. But those can be the best moments. With someone you trust, sharing an experience.

What if we could recreate the feelings that arise when we’re helping or being helped in everyday life? If we could see people as their true self? Unmasked and leaning in. We’d find ourselves in deeper relationships and healing hurts that keep us apart. That’s where we’d find a miracle. One worth seeking in this journey of life we’re navigating through. Day by day. Moving in to closer relationship. You may not need the help I do right now, but please, let your authentic self be seen. It’s worth the risk. You can do it, your brave my friend, and we’re doing it together.