Tag: brene brown

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Making your way on a bumpy path

Resiliency – my focus for the month. It’s top of mind and I’m noticing what adds to and what detracts from building joyful moments to bounce off when life becomes life. The aspects of day to day living that are, honestly, a drag. Because we all have the tough parts, even if we don’t want to acknowledge it.

I get in my own way

Much of my time is spent in my head, which is good and bad. On the plus side, it allows time for introspection. Thinking about ways in which I can continue to grow in life. Stretching, reaching. The downside? It allows time for introspection. Quickly moving past the good to look at the bad and the ugly. It takes little to get the downward spiral going. Before I know it, I’m in the phase of, “My body is gross, I’m ugly and nobody loves me.” A friend I used to spend hours and hours cycling with and I coined that phrase. It 1000% describes the woe is me state that knocks on my door at least once a week.

And look at what she’s doing!

Here’s the deal. Moseying along, living my authentic life, but that pesky comparison creeps up on me. I’ll start to notice the amazing work someone else is doing, in the SAME space I want to be doing it. The nerve. Well, actually, the amazing nerve because they are nailing it. And if they’re nailing it, why aren’t I? No really, why aren’t I?

In this moment, there is no joy, no bounce, no resiliency. Pure and simple, there is woe is me. Lasting anywhere from 2 minutes to a day, I ponder why I haven’t gotten off my butt and gotten my groove going. Instead here’s what happens. The workday ends and I head home thinking I’m going to work on the project, whatever that is. It might be a class I’m facilitating, painting I want to do, reading a great book that’s gathering dust beside me as we speak, the list goes on.

But instead of working on the project I make dinner, sit in my chair, feet up, and turn on Netflix. Learning about Mary Queen of Scots via Reign is a real thing people. Rather than making an impact on my world, even if only in a small way, I watch Mary, Francis, and Catherine…wondering what possible potion she’ll come up with next. Seriously people, this is my life.

I try and remember self-compassion. Maybe it’s what I need in the moment. Yes, it must be because it happens 5 nights a week.

Unexpected Resiliency Boost

My desire to create a space for women to step into their authentic self has percolated inside me for over 4 years. I take baby steps, but don’t see it to fruition. Staying in my space, my known, seems so much more peaceful. But the desire doesn’t go away. Which is why seeing other people nail it creates angst. I want to be doing it to. The other day, I was talking to a coach friend who shared this quote with me…

If you can see the path laid out in front of you, step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path. Joseph Campbell

The joy it brought me to frame what I’ve been doing as part of my own path, one I truly don’t see clearly, which is why I double back so often. My path might have needed Netflix, or not. But it has its own timing. Reframing brought me resiliency.

Stay on YOUR path

Resiliency brings you back. For me, it helps me remember I’m my own authentic person with my own path. I’m not walking down someone else’s. And mine will not only look different than someone else’s, it’ll be in my timing, not there’s. Instead of comparing, I can stay in the space of being inspired by what’s being created by others and not care about the when. Joy and appreciation for my own journey can win. That’s the wholehearted space.

What about you?

Are you walking down your own path, or chasing your ball down someone else’s road? Take a minute and think about it. If the path isn’t familiar, it’s probably yours. Stay on it. Don’t let the shiny things on someone else’s distract you, because you have your own journey to walk out. We’re in this together, friends, choosing a wholehearted existence. Be brave.

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Wholehearted living – Guidepost #3 – Resiliency

We’ve arrived at month three of my year of wholehearted living. The third guidepost is letting go a numbing and powerlessness and cultivating a resilient spirit.

Defined, resiliency is “the ability to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.” Reading this I thought, well, shoot, I’ve been resilient throughout my life! Thinking back, I recall the medical challenges with my foot amputation, moving homes several times as a child, family drama – like anyone else, broken teenage hearts, and I don’t even want to examine adulthood. But was I resilient in those moments or was it something else?

Think about your own life and the challenges you’ve faced. Capture them in your mind for a moment. What was your approach? At a glance, I would say that I was resilient. But this isn’t a glance, it’s a stare down. The honest truth is I numbed myself. Continuing to look forward, pushing aside pain or sadness. I’m certain I felt, or told myself, I was powerless to make any impact, so the easier choice was to numb, to tune out. Yes, I moved forward. Yes. I bounced back. But at the cost of not processing or sitting with the emotions I was having. Which is why, at 52 years old, I’m still working to identify my emotions and what I want my voice to be in the world. Does any of that sound familiar?

Finding your midpoint

Resiliency, bouncing back, does not involve numbing, or powerlessness. Imagine a line in your mind. The midpoint is how you show up in life from day to day. Your normal, everyday, self. When life knocks the crap out of you, in varying degrees, you fall off that midpoint. If you choose to numb, via whatever your tool of choice is, alcohol, television, shopping; or if you tell yourself you’re powerless, you stay down. We can’t live in the low lows or the high highs 100% of the time. Instead, we need hover around the midpoint.

Resiliency gets us there

The healthy way to return to our midpoint is via resiliency. Through practicing joy, collecting it, over time. Cultivating a jar of happy experiences that serve to right our ship when we’re out of sync. When I think back to those early years, that wasn’t my practice. Hence, the numbing. As we grow in life, we learn to choose joy. Think back to the line for a minute. When you fall away from your midpoint due to the inevitable pain that comes with life, the joy we’ve cultivated is like a trampoline. We bounce back faster because we know that even though we’re in pain, we can face it. There will be joy in our lives again. That doesn’t mean we avoid it, but we recognize our emotions and bounce back.

And it takes practice

To truly cultivate joy and build resiliency, we must practice. When difficult times come, and they will, practice identifying your emotions. Recognize them. Validate them. Acknowledge how you’re feeling and practice self-compassion, self-kindness. Remember that joy will return and take a breath. Hard times happen, but we can safely acknowledge and work through them. We can choose not to numb ourselves, to believe we’re powerless. Every single one of you has the power within you to be resilient. To choose the wholehearted way. It’s our journey, friends, and I’m on it with you.

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Lessons learned after a month of self-compassion

Within the so called ‘month of love,’ my wholehearted journey led me down a path I’d heard of, taken classes on, but avoided. Self-compassion, which is a type of self-love. Think of it like a hiking path that you see climbing the side of what appears to be a gentle, sloping hill. Around what feels like halfway up, you glance back to your progress, only to realize you’ve barely left the parking lot. And the hill gets steeper, pebbles and rocks threaten to trip you, sending you tumbling down, bruised in body and pride.

All that and more was the month of focusing on self-compassion. I’ve written about it in prior weeks, but as I near the end of the month, as you would with any project, I’m taking stock the distance traveled on the path. When you tune in and listen to your natural thought patterns about yourself, it can be astonishing. In a million years you would never utter the words to another human which you speak to yourself.

Why is that? Perhaps that no one hears it but us? It’s not an isolated problem. To the degree that you can find coffee cups and pictures with the phrase “talk to yourself like you’d talk to someone you love.” With certainly I can assure you Etsy could deliver you the object of your choice with the phrase, if you so desire. The negative chatter in our heads is incessant. I spent time getting curious about it this month and flipping the equation to look at what self-compassion would say. The negative talk? That’s generally perfectionism related and likely tied to comparison.

Ain’t nobody got time for that (or Ain’t nobody got thyme for that – if you’re follow my new kitchen towel – small pleasures friends).

Seriously, comparison is nobody’s friend. Self-compassion is kindness. Compassion and perfectionism tear us down. When we pay attention, we can catch ourselves in the act and switch to self-compassion. I did, all month, mostly consistently, and learned a few things.

Lesson 1

  • Listen to your body – The last few years, ok, more than the last few, but let’s not get distracted, specifically, the last few years, I’ve beat myself up because my body decided to drum up an autoimmune disorder. And sleep apnea – yes, I’m looking sexy in my CPAP each night. I’m now that person. Doctors can tell you only so much. What self-compassion told me is, “of course your tired, that’s part of the condition.” And when I offered self-compassion, my body whispered, “you can trust me.” That’s the element many of us miss. We can trust our own bodies. They know how to heal themselves and when they don’t? They let you know. And they also know when you’re throwing down buckets of negativity, and guess what, they don’t like it, and they get your attention. Self-compassion is being soft with yourself.

Lesson 2

  • Healing takes time – Physically and emotionally. Emotional wounds didn’t get there overnight and they’re not going away that quickly. My podiatrist told me the other day as I lamented about the continual discomfort in my foot… if you’d broken your foot, six weeks later you’d be healed. Soft tissue takes longer. And so do your emotions. Self-compassion is giving yourself space to heal. Knowing that your healing path may not look like someone else’s. Which is probably good because you don’t need to heal from their wounds.

Lesson 3

  • You can trust yourself – Perfectionism constantly looks for the ways you’re failing. A crack in the armor to seep in and crumble you. Self-compassion reminds you that there is no right or wrong way to approach your life. You can trust the path you’re on, and still, they’ll be mistakes. That’s normal. Everyone makes mistakes. Mistakes don’t mean you can’t trust yourself. You can. Mistakes mean you’re human.

Lesson 4

  • It’s ok to not have all the answers – Earlier in the month, I would have responded “are you sure?” Having answers for each possible contingency seems logical. Wise even. It allows you to reduce risk. But self-compassion reminds us that it’s ok not to have all the answers. The answers may come in giving yourself time and grace to discover it. It doesn’t make us weak, or less not to have answers. It’s another way we’re human.

Cumulatively, the lessons from self-compassion make me think about Brené Brown’s quote, “Strong back, soft front, wild heart.” She talks about it related to getting close up with people, being civil but speaking truth to BS, and holding hands with strangers. I’d extend these principles to yourself. Your self-compassion allows you to get up close, to speak truth to the lies you’ve told your heart and mind and hold hands with yourself – because we can be a stranger to ourselves.

Consider your own self-compassion journey this month. Perhaps you’ve followed along with mine, and if so, I hope you’ve been reflecting on what you’ve learned. We’ll shift next month, but we’re always on the journey together. Be brave my friends.

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Why should we choose love over fear?

On Valentine’s Day, my co-workers and I walked the halls, handing out Valentine cards and candy to staff (perks of being in HR). At the same time, we held a contest. I carried a thick glass jar filled with Hershey’s Kisses. Whoever guessed the number of kisses (303 to be exact) won them. Maybe halfway through, I balanced the jar on the corner of two cubicle walls to write down a couple guesses. Before I even knew what had happened, the jar tipped and plummeted to the floor, shattering and sending kisses in every direction. The weight was enough to turn the bottom of the jar, which hit first, into sand.

Needless to say, the kisses were in a Ziploc bag the rest of the contest… and while no one guessed the exact amount, a one person was close at 300. Congratulations! You’ve won an insulin swing (yes, this is where my brain goes in midlife).

And then, there was my response. There was a time in the not too distant past, when I would have beat myself up endlessly. My internal dialogue would have included, “stupid, stupid Lisa. You’re clumsy. Can’t be trusted, you always make mistakes.” Sound familiar? It would have continued to surface for days.

While I’m happy that didn’t happen, my immediate response was to rush to clean it up. Small glass shards are weapons, the cuts on my hands attest to that fact. The desire was to make everything right again.

In those moments, my curiosity rises, wondering about the emotions that bubble up. Was self-compassion coming into play? Perfectionism?

What’s the driving motivator?

Truthfully, the answer was a bit of both. As the incident rolled around in my head, the other words that arose were love and fear. Now my curiosity was genuinely peaked. Self-compassion is an expression of love while perfectionism is based on fear. Fear of shame, disappointment, embarrassment… the whole gamut. Both are motivators, one positive, the other not.

What’s interesting is the prevalence of fear as a motivator. In business, in relationships, in religious institutions. Fear is used as the driving force to move people towards a desired goal. At work, people may perform out of a fear of penalty. In relationships? Fear of abandonment or other forms of loss of love. In religious institutions? Believe a certain way to avoid an eternal penalty. We could easily extrapolate endless examples of fear used as a motivator. Think about the examples in your own life.

But when love is in play, such as with self-compassion, it’s another ball game. In relationships, when we approach another with loving intent, including our approach to ourselves, the outcome is expansive. Not limited by fear. At work? People flourish when given space, encouragement and trust. And in religious institutions? I’m not a religious scholar, so in my opinion only, approaching people from the standpoint of the love of Jesus, which was His greatest command, “love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself,” the outcome is different than fear. The commandment is love. That’s it. Him your neighbor, yourself. Not, go out and terrify people into following me. Love.

Making a choice to love

Making the choice to love over fear, self-compassion over perfectionism, it’s moment by moment. Get curious this week and notice your own thought pattern. Notice when fear is in the driver seat instead of love. When that’s the case, reframe your thoughts from a place of love. It’s practice, friends, reprogramming ourselves. But choosing love is choosing expansiveness versus the limiting nature of fear. Imagine if each of us choose love regularly? It’s our brave journey to a wholehearted life. Let’s make the choice together.

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Using creativity for self-compassion

When I committed to spend this month focusing on self-compassion, I may have bitten off more than I anticipated. The flip side to self-compassion is letting go of perfectionism and it’s possible that’s posing the larger challenge. Possible? More like, probable. I listened to a Tim Ferris interview with Brené Brown on his podcast this morning and perfectionism was, not surprisingly, one of their topics. One comment has left me thinking.

How do you let go of perfectionism and not become complacent?

You’ll have to listen to the podcast to hear their answer, which was honestly a non-answer. More so it was consideration, the lens that you’re gazing through. Looking at how we talk to ourselves about our behavior and activities in different situations. Focusing on being kind and curious instead of critical. It’s not saying, “I’m only doing a mediocre job in life but I’m not going to do anything differently.” That’s complacency.

Perfectionism is armor, it gets in the way of being wholehearted. I talked about it in last week’s blog. It’s less about doing well than avoiding blame and shame. Self-compassion is the antidote.

Ok, so conceptually, I can make the leap. But I have a confession, I’ve been focusing on this for more than a month. More like a couple years. The deep dive this month is with the laser focus of a little kid with a microscope pointed at a bug, but I’ve been noticing. Noticing the pattern of my self-talk. My internal narrative. Once riddled with “you’re an idiot,” shame when I made a mistake, calling myself “clumsy,” or “stupid,” it’s mellowed a bit.

Sheer determination is one reason for it, but I’ve also practiced. Crazy as it might sound, one of the ways I practiced was by taking up watercolor painting. I’ve mastered being inspired by something on Pinterest and then trying to freehand paint it myself. Around the same time I started dabbling with painting, my mom took a watercolor class, learning higher levels of technique. I have zero interest in that.

Here’s why. For one, I am not, nor do I intend to become, a professional painter. I have people in my extended family who are and admire their work. My painting is a creative outlet and allows me to make my own greeting cards. Secondly, a component of watercolor that I enjoy is not knowing how it’s going to turn out. Sure, you know what you’ve painted, but you don’t have the full picture of what it will look like until the paint dries. Painting has forced me to stay in a space of creativity and curiosity. I know and accept it’s not a space where precision is my goal.

Simply speaking kindly to yourself, letting go of the internal narrative of “not good enough” or “you did a crappy job on that,” is a step in the direction of self-compassion. The way I look at it, self-compassion takes an ABUNDANT amount of practice. I mean, a LOT. Taking up a hobby you know you’re ok at but not a master, and being OK with that, it’s practice. Staying in the space of “huh, that’s a bummer,” when you drop a glass tile from your bathroom remodel instead of beating yourself up about it, that’ self-compassion. (Incident purely fabricated…ok…not really, I dropped the tile…still finding glass chards in the garage this morning)

In and of itself, self-compassion isn’t perfection. It’s the opposite. So, the fact that we must practice it, that we don’t always do it well, that part of the deal. But we need to let go of perfection give ourselves a break. Usually we’re the toughest on ourselves, but at the end of the day, that’s a choice. As we continue working on shifting our midlife journey, we can choose otherwise… let’s choose self-compassion.

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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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Better Boundaries

BoundariesIn the midst of an argument a few years ago, the phrase “drawing a line in the sand” was used towards me. Smack.in.the.face. The phrase conjures division, separation, black/white, a dualistic mindset. It feels like “you’re either with me or against me.” Not a phrase that builds relationships.

So, when I’ve thought about boundaries, line in the sand came to mind. But Brené Brown writes about boundaries and during Dare to Lead™ training, she spoke about them being one of the elements of Daring Leadership. Ok, fine…I’m paying attention. Turns out, boundaries are not only necessary, they’re part of authenticity and courage.

Yet, being an Enneagram 9 a people pleaser in recovery, boundaries feel difficult. How will I keep people happy, keep the peace, if I have boundaries? Don’t boundaries create distance between me and another person?

Turns out, yes and no. Boundaries are essential to our own authenticity. They tell people what is ok and not ok. When Brené talked about it in training, she made it sound like a piece of cake. “It’s ok for you to be frustrated about XX,” “it’s not ok for you to yell at me about it.” Huh. Sounds straightforward to me.

Except.

When I think about setting boundaries, it’s less a “piece of cake” and more a melted mud pie. So messy. But the flip side of not creating boundaries is resentment. If we don’t have a boundary around what’s ok and not ok, we give a “dirty yes,” the yes you regret, and resentment ensues. Not a recipe for successful relationships.

Boundaries are not a “line in the sand,” let’s be clear about that. They aren’t intended to keep people away, rather, they’re rules of engagement. For me, for you, to remain authentic, what is ok behavior and not ok behavior.

In order to create healthy boundaries, we first need to get clear on our values. What’s important to us, what guides the way. And from there, determine what behaviors allow us to stay within those values. I’ve learned from experience (and therapy!) that people pleasing only sets you up to lose track of your values, to operate outside of them so that you can keep someone else happy (which doesn’t really happen anyways.)

Once you’re clear on your values, operationalize them. Decide what they look like in practice and what will keep you authentic around values and what won’t. You could create a mantra to remind yourself. For example, integrity is one of my values. A mantra could look like, “integrity takes courage.” In the case of boundaries, courage because someone might be disappointed with me. And that’s ok. It rubs up against my peacemaking self, but peacemaking shouldn’t come at the cost of accepting behavior that pushes against my integrity and authenticity.

I often write about what I also need to learn and this is no exception. So, along with you, developing boundaries is a work in progress. But in order to stay within our own values, they’re necessary, and courageous. What they’re not is a “line in the sand,” challenging us to either be with or against someone. Instead, they encourage healthy relationships without resentment where we are our authentic selves. If you feel they’re hard, just keep practicing. You are courageous and bold, and beautifully authentic.

 

 

 

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Permission to feel

feel the feelingsWhile waiting for a flight recently, I struck up conversation with the guy next to me. Turns out, we were on the same journey, a quick weekend in Boston and now headed home. But our reasons couldn’t have been more different. Both were with family, but while mine was fun and adventure, his visited his gravely ill grandmother. He told me he didn’t think he was going to be able to go, but his cousin helped at the last moment. When I asked how she was doing, the answer was not well. It appeared she was going to pass away soon. Without a second breath, I found myself saying how fortunate it was he got to see her. “At least you got to be there.”

And then immediately caught myself. I’d rushed to sympathy instead of sitting with him in the emotion. Instead of empathy. Quickly, I changed course. Leaning in and talking about how hard it must be. Staying with whatever emotion this 20ish guy might be feeling about losing his grandmother.

It’s human nature to rush past emotion. To skip past empathy to get to the place where everything is better. “Look on the bright side,” “Something good will come from this,” “You’re better off.” The list could honestly go on forever, the variations having morphed over time to fit the situation.

Yet, we need to feel emotion, and, when the situation presents itself, to be side by side with others as they feel, if for nothing else to give them time to feel. Feel the highs and the lows.

Another tactic we use, a personal favorite, is to stay busy, productive. Nobody can fault me for that. I’m getting crap done. Except what I most need to do at times, which is to wrestle through the feelings. I know I’m not alone in this tactic, Brené Brown wrote about it;

“Crazy-busy is a great armor, it’s a great way for numbing. What a lot of us do is that we stay so busy, and so out in front of our life, that the truth of how we’re feeling and what we really need can’t catch up with us.”

Ouch.

Armor is nothing more than the defensive tactics we use to protect ourselves. From emotion, from what we need to feel, from up close life with people, including ourselves. You may be getting a tremendous amount done, hiding behind the socially acceptable guise of productivity, but it’s protection.

When we avoid the feelings, they don’t go away, the burrow down inside of us and wait for the most inopportune time to emerge. It’s because we haven’t looked at them face to face and wrestled through what they’re telling us.

Depending on the circumstance, they can run the gamut. Everything conceivable and even some we don’t want to own up to. I had an interesting conversation with a professional in these matters the other day who told me that societally, women are given permission to feel everything but anger, yet anger is the only emotion men can safely feel.

I found that fascinating but have seen it play out time and time again. I, for one, am quite anger adverse. It feels unsafe to me. Not a rational thought, but it’s the story I tell myself. In fact, I’m quite unaware to any anger I feel. And when faced with anger in another person, it feels more abrasive than it likely is. I feel it in my body, as though my center is being thrown off kilter. But anger is only an emotion. One that each of us can and do feel. The sooner we acknowledge that the better.

So, what of all this? What do we do with the emotions, the feelings?

Get down in the mud and wrestle with them. When we avoid, we defer. The feelings, emotions, will not go away. They lie dormant and until we process through, we might feel stuck.

And to the degree we can support another through the same journey, all the better. Feel the feelings and put down the armor that you think is keeping you safe, but in reality is doing nothing except allowing you to be numb and stuck, and distant from true self and others.

Our journey to authenticity is bumpy, and messy, and emotional. Be brave my dears, we’re on the path together.

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Worthy now

WorthinessAt the time I was having my children, I lived in Yosemite, aka, the woods, for those not familiar. I’d grown up there and through serendipitous situations, was living and working there as an adult. Somehow, I got it in my head that I’d have my kids naturally, without pain killers. Maybe it was that I had friends having their kids at home, sometimes in the bathtub. No pain killers seemed like a good middle ground. By and large, I did it. I had a little something with the first, because, well, he was nine pounds and a little complicated. But number two, nada. In truth, I think my body was well designed for it.

I remember my Dad commenting that I was a mountain-women for taking the no pain killer route. I wasn’t sure how to take that, but maybe it was a nod to the natural, mountain living, way of doing it. Either way, I’m not going to lie, having them without drugs was a personal badge of honor. Not the first or last time I went for the badge.

Many years later, I decided to walk a marathon. Walk because I’m not a runner and make no excuses about that. Again, my Dad said, “don’t you think you could walk 26 miles?” I did, so he asked me why walk the marathon? To prove to myself I could do it. Ahhhh, there it is.

Proving it. It’s not for the so-called glory. It’s to prove to myself that I can do it. And it’s a path I go down all.the.time. But why? It’s not so other people will notice, or comment. It’s the internal driver. Part of why I used to go out and ride 200 miles on my bike. The company, friends I was with, were a huge plus.

But there’s something about proving it to myself. In my mind, I equate it to a child, adamant in saying “I can do it myself.” I could hypothesize that it’s partially because of my foot amputation at 4 and a drive to show I was like anyone else. But I wouldn’t conclusively say that’s it. In Brené Brown’s work, she talks about it in respect to worthiness.

“Belonging starts with self-acceptance. Your level of belonging, in fact, can never be greater than your level of self-acceptance, because believing that you’re enough is what gives you the courage to be authentic, vulnerable and imperfect. When we don’t have that, we shape-shift and turn into chameleons; we hustle for the worthiness we already possess.” Brené Brown

When we don’t accept ourselves, we work to create the narrative. She’s tough. Persistent. A fighter. You take on the world to show that you’re worthy. Even if you’re only doing it subconsciously.

Truth is, and this is no news flash, I’m far from perfect. Most days I’m a hot mess. And this is nothing new. The difference is that I’m at an age where I understand and accept it. Less inclined to have the urge to prove I’m something other than the person standing in front of you. In the middle part of life where we look long and hard at ourselves and at long last start the process of acceptance.

But there still times my internal “prove it” narrative comes up. It’s my subconscious taunting me. Doubt. The false narrative. And we all have that nagging voice. The work is coming to terms with our own worthiness. Believing that we are worthy, even if we’re a hot mess. When we hustle, when we believe we can’t show up as our true self, we’re not leaning into our authenticity. Only when we’re being authentic are we our full, true self.

What’s your narrative? What are you doing instead of simply being your true self? You’re no worse for accepting your true self. In fact, you’re stronger. We have to stand in our truth, in our authenticity, and believe that we’re worthy. People will either accept us or not, but if they don’t, they’re not our people.

You are worthy. Now. As is. Worthy of love and belonging. Start with accepting yourself and lay down the belief that you need to hustle for your worth. You are perfectly and wonderfully made.

Sending you all the love. Be Brave.