Tag: Bold

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Ordinary Courage

Ordinary CourageThe energy contained in tiny humans never ceases to amaze me. We recently spent 3 days playing at Universal Studios Hollywood with my husband’s son and his family. The 2 grand kids are 6 and 4 and the energy contained within those combined 10 years is beyond description. We played in the park all day and they swam like fish at the hotel pool in the evening. No naps. I wanted a nap just watching them!

They’d never experienced roller coasters before and we weren’t sure what they’d be up for, but they are daredevils. The older one rode everything – even the Mummy – which races you at 45 mph, in the dark, with skeletons. That’s where he found his limit. After riding, he admitted it was scary and it wasn’t on our repeat list. He tried even though he was nervous about it. That’s courage.

Last week at work, I managed through a challenging moment with one of our leaders. Partway through, when it hadn’t played out as anticipated, she told me she was disappointed I hadn’t addressed the situation differently in the moment. We talked about it, I could see her perspective and we reworked our direction together. I appreciated her perspective and that she shared with me so that we could find a solution together. She expressed her true feeling in the moment, allowed us the opportunity to get on the same page, leading to a needed outcome. That’s courage.

It’s easy to roll past the ordinary moments in life where we show courage. Whenever you are vulnerable, share your heart, ride a roller coaster, those are moments of courage. When you have a tough conversation, that’s courage. It’s easy to equate courage only with moments of heroism. Where you fight a lion, battle an adversary, jump off a cliff – actions that are clearly courageous.

The ordinary moments though, those are the real deal. Brene Brown shares that the original definition of courage is to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. In and of itself, that feels hard. Putting your heart out there, not knowing or being able to control the outcome, is terrifying. But once you’ve done it, even if it doesn’t turn out like you’d hoped, there’s a sense of peace because you’ve shared your heart. Being courageous doesn’t isolate you from hard feelings. But it leads to an authentic you. If you’re constantly being and doing what you think others expect, it’ll never lead to your authentic self. That only comes from courage.

If you pay attention, you’ll notice the ordinary moments where you are courageous. And once you do, build on them. Even if sharing your heart sucks and is hard (which it can be). Do it anyways. The discomfort you feel in the moment is preferable to not living authentically. You have it in you. We all do. Be brave, be bold and be yourself. You are courageous.

 

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Layers of our heart

layersWith a bit of reluctance, I’ve begun seeing a chiropractor. I’ve been in the past to others, with degrees of success, but I sought this person out at the suggestion of a co-worker because of their methods. The doctor looks at my spinal and nerve structure from a few different perspectives, including the bone alignment, nerve impingement and muscle structure. Turns out, I’m a bit of a hot mess on the inside, and we’re on a correction plan which should lead to better overall health.

Here’s the thing about going through this type of treatment, areas where I’d experienced pain in the past are resurfacing. I thought I’d healed the pain in my hip, for example, and then, wham! it’s back. The doctor explained our body finds ways to compensate misalignment and cover it up. Those areas come back as we do the work to heal. I think about the earth’s surface. Archeologists could explain what we’d find as we dig down through the layers dirt and rock. We’d resurface all types of history as well as damage.

In a way, our emotional lives are a parallel to my body healing, and the earth’s surface. Throughout our lives, we experience joy and heartache to varying degrees. While we work to move past and through those situations, the degree to which they are healed is a different ballgame. And, not unlike the earth’s surface, when you dig in, you might accidentally come upon a landmine.

I’ve found that in my own life. Over time, I’ve experienced those joys, and heartaches, and those were generally not in isolation. Other people were often involved. And each of us heals or moves past emotional situations at our own pace, in our own way. Where we step on the landmine is to make assumptions that other people are having the same experience that we are, healing and moving past at the same rate.

I make those mistakes. For as much as I strive to keep my expectations on lock down, I develop ideas about how situations will flow. That’s when the landmines come up. Usually it’s because I’ve been operating in isolation and might believe I’m taking someone else’s feelings into consideration, or have expectations about how they’ll respond, but I’m not asking questions. I’m only looking from my perspective. Writing my own story.

Those lessons can be painful. Which, I am not a fan of. Not in the slightest. The interesting thing is that the pain reveals the area where more work is needed. But wouldn’t we all want to find another way? I’ve been pondering that this week and I believe there is.

Wait for it…

Vulnerable communication. Honestly, I think it’s that simple. Get to know and understand the layers of the people you’re closest to. The ones who share the ripples of joy and heartache with you. Ask about their experience, listen, show empathy. Be in the space with them and ask that they do they same for you. In all honestly, I’m talking maybe 1-2 people. The ones who’ve witnessed the intimacies of life with you.

Each one of us has a desire to be seen, and if we really want to be seen, we must be bold enough to show our layers. At least to those who have earned the right to be there. Start where you’re comfortable but start. Been seen for all the beautiful layers that you’re made of.

 

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A time for self-compassion

img_0106I got stuck. Honestly, the mid-winter cold firmly grabbed hold of me and wrestled me to the ground. More than once. Just when I thought I was getting better, I got cocky, went swimming and got smacked back down by the cold. I’d like to think I’m paying my debt to illness and will not be plagued for the rest of the year, but for now, I am not amused. What I did not expect is that it would propel me into limbo land.

That’s where being stuck comes in. Let me lay it out for you. I went into the Christmas holiday, marveling that I was taking 12, yes 12, days off work while only having to use 4 days of vacation. Between holidays and weekends it was like hitting the Powerball. I had plans, baby, lots of plans. I was going to map out my book writing strategy for 2019, spend time actually writing, plan out some blogs, pictures, go on an adventure, so…many…ideas.

None of that happened. In fact, my brain felt like it was on permanent vacation. Not one creative idea came to mind. I make cards for my husband and when I went to paint one during the illness, I drew lines folks. Lines on a page. In a circle, but lines nonetheless. No color. No paint. Just lines. I’ll call it art because I saw something similar on Pinterest. That makes it real, I assure you.

I started to get a little panicky. Had the words left my brain? Would they every come back? Was I destined to abandon the work I’d done. There was a lot of drama going on in my mind.

But a small voice inside of my head started speaking up. Uh…Lisa, you’ve been here before. You are not an invincible force. Although you think your superpower is being able to push through illness as though it never happened, that’s a lie. Every time you get sick, you pull out your cape, but to what end? You are a human, you get sick, sickness takes recovery time and it’s perfectly normal to not have the wherewithal to take a shower, much less write your book.

Why do I need that reminder? Oh, right, the recovering perfectionist in me. The façade part of me that tell me I need to soldier through every situation without as much as a visible sniffle. That’s living for someone else’s expectation, the idea that if I’m actually sick and down for a couple days I’m “less than,” weak, that I should be able to power through. But that’s not true, that’s perfectionist thinking.

Bold living tells me to have the courage to be honest with people, including myself. To remind myself that I’m human and need rest, that I get sick sometimes, and that although I feel puny and think all words have left my mind, they will return. It’s self-compassion. Giving myself the same grace I would give someone else in the same situation.

What causes you to spiral? To go down the wormhole and start beating yourself up? What I want you to know, to believe, is that you’re a human like the rest of us, and giving yourself self-compassion in those moments, the ones where you’d rather curl up in a ball and binge watch TV, is not only appropriate, it’s strong. It’s a time of rest and renewal.  Its being brave, and bold. That’s the path we’re on friends…arm in arm.

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Moving forward…BOLDly

Lisa ClarksburgOver the past year, I’ve been knee deep in one self-development book or another. The whole year. I’ve read about writing, the Enneagram, becoming courageous…there’s been Brene Brown, embracing my messy life, starting my day, a few different diet books, throw in a few books related to my faith and there you have it. A whole lot of learning. My desire to read ramped back up this year after a several year siesta, and I was delighted to be along for the ride.

Yet…my brain is tired. I think nearly every single book I read taught me something, stretched me, afforded me an opportunity to look at what was in front of me from a different angle. All good, honestly. But over the last week, I haven’t wanted to crack open the ones I have in progress. Instead, reading Becoming, Michelle Obama’s autobiography. A lovely diversion.

What I’ve realized is that I’ve been in preparation mode. Learning, shifting, stretching my thought process, expanding. All of which are important, and helpful for personal growth. It’s part of the change cycle. Upward growth followed by a leveling out. That’s where I am, leveled out, ready to put it into action (which of course will lead to additional growth). I’ve been making micro-shifts along the way, but now I feel a stirring inside me to do more.

The growth, the leveling factors into the word I’ve chosen for the new year. Interestingly, I didn’t work at finding this word, I feel like it found me. As I rolled into the later part of the year, I felt it bubbling up. A whisper in my mind. The thought that I have important ideas to share, contributions to make and I’ve spent a great deal of time avoiding using my voice, but now it’s time.

BOLD. It’s the word that will be a compass for me in the coming year. Challenging me. Pushing to find opportunities to use my voice without fear. I believe the time is now because I’ve done the work to figure out what my voice is. What is true to me. Over this last year, I’ve been exposed to situations where others are using their voice in different ways. At times, for productive conversations, and in other moments, speaking from a place that felt like anger. I’ve found that when others speak of causes or situations from a place of outrage, I connect less than when the conversation is approached from the perspective of finding a path forward. Yet, I know that some people might connect differently.

My BOLD represents my authentic self. The brave me who stays true to who I am. Who does not compromise myself in order to fit in. Who writes and speaks BOLDLY for the purpose of growth, and learning, and understanding. I don’t have the map of what that will look like, a little, ok, a lot, scary. I’m up for it. I don’t need all the answers to get going. That’s part of being BOLD.

Now it’s your turn. What word has been rolling around in your mind, in your heart? What will be your guidepost for the coming year? Play with it, let it live within you, and when it’s ready, the word will become clear, because it’s been there the entire time.