Tag: kindness

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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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Moving past differences to get to love

SneetchesWho remembers the children’s book clubs that existed at the same prevalence as Columbia House records? When my children were babies, I aspired to build a vast library of books for them and joined one of the clubs where I could quickly acquire my library for a low, low price. Many of those first books were from Dr. Seuss. In fact, they were many of the same books I read as a child.

The other day I was thinking about those books, in particular, the Sneetches. I’m not sure why The Sneetches came to mind, but it stuck. Dr. Seuss had a way of teaching children societal lessons in subtle ways. The Sneetches was written in 1961 about a society of bird like creatures. Some of the Sneetches had stars on their bellies and the others had plain bellies. In the Sneetch society, social class lines were firmly drawn based upon whether they had “stars upon thars…” (A line that sticks in my head more than 45 years later!) The star bellied sneetches fancied themselves better than the plain bellied ones. Along came Sylvester McMonkey McBean who, with his magical machine, was able to put stars upon the plain bellies. Of course, he could also remove stars, and, as you can imagine, the original star bellies wanted to continue being different, and had their removed. What ensues is stars on, stars off, until no one can remember if they had a star when it all began! It’s then that they begin to see they were never that different in the first place and a peaceful, unified society is formed.

Dr. Seuss’ book was a message about what was happening in society at the time. The 1960’s were tumultuous as the country struggled toward legislation providing equality. Yet, piece of paper the legislation was written upon did not magically change people’s views, only in Dr. Seuss’ magical Sneetch land could that happen. More than 50 years after that legislation, the country continues to struggle among lines of distinction, race and otherwise.

In no way would I suppose to suggest a magical solution for the systemic issues some face every day. It seems to me though that if we could remember that each of us is fundamentally the same that we could influence the conversation around it. In so many ways we look for and draw lines based on difference, and we need to seek out better ways to approach each other.

I particularly look at the church and the language many within those bodies have adopted. If we strip back to the original message, it’s love God and love others as yourself. It’s not, love others if they also happen to believe the same as you. It’s not love others if they fit your demographic…if they follow your faith tradition…if they are straight…if they serve, and give, and memorize scripture. One could easily keep going on the list that is created around what has sometimes become more a membership in a club than a demonstration of the love God intends for each and every one of us. But look at the commandment again, love God, love others as yourself. That’s it. No if’s, and’s or but’s. No stars on your belly or not. Love.

Every person you encounter has a piece of that love within them. Irrespective of what they look like on the outside. Every.single.person. It may be hidden with hurt, and pain but it’s there. We may not be in relationship with every person, but we can choose to love. And to seek to understand their experience, their world, so that we can draw closer.

We can show up as our authentic self, boldly showing that the love God has for us and instills within us has no boundaries. Can you imagine? It’s what we’re created to do, to be, and it would be a magical society indeed.

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Why have an anthem?

Vulnerability 2For as long as I can remember, I’ve gravitated to music that is big. Ballads, big female voices, dramatic crescendos, swells…think Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, lately a little bit of Lady Gaga. BIG. Songs that fill a room and might leave you crying in a puddle on the floor at the same time. Throughout the years, I’ve found myself drifting away, but always returning to a song, or finding new ones, to put on repeat. When my kids were young, I’d blast it in the car, we’d all be singing along and then…I’d turn it off…catching them mid-song each time…and then we’d laugh and laugh. But even today, they know the words to all the songs. You’re welcome.

The songs I’ve put on repeat over the years have changed, again, Celine Dion is always a leader, but there’s always been one. Lately, This is me, by Kesha has been on the playlist. It’s from The Greatest Showman movie, which, I literally only saw last night. I’ve caught the song, here and there, mainly at women’s events, not surprisingly. It has all my required elements, big swells, compelling lyrics, a dramatic finish. I can’t get enough of it. For the first time, I’ve decided to call a song my anthem.

Anthem’s are nothing new. They arise to provide people with an anchor, something to hold tight, to rally around in unity or in protest at times. But an anthem defined is “an uplifting song identified with a particular group…or cause.” This is me rallies for the underdog, the marginalized, those who are cast aside. While that’s not my story, my heart hurts for people who are overlooked, or marginalized for being who they are.

Maybe it’s because of my own beginnings. As a child with a prosthetic leg, you stand out. Before you think I’m going down a traumatic tale, I’m not. But, you stand out. People look at you, other kids, adults. And they ask questions. Today, I roll with all of it, but as a child, or a young teen, all you want to do is fit in, and you don’t.

I wish I could understand the component of human psyche that explains why some people struggle to be in proximity with different. We are all different, to varying degrees, some of our differences are simply visible. But whether internal or external, different is only different. It’s nothing else. It’s not less.

That’s what I notice, the tendency to hone in on less, to pinpoint the difference and label it as bad, or wrong, or weird. This can be viewed as a form of deflecting, we judge in others what we are uncomfortable or unhappy with in ourselves.

My heart breaks for people who find themselves in the margins. I could say “because I’ve been there,” but only from the standpoint that I know the feeling of having people stare. I’ve been fortunate to have people remind me I’m loved, but that’s not always the case. That is where my heart hurts. Maybe that’s why I love an anthem. It’s a rallying point. This is me was a rallying point in the movie for the sideshow, people who were in the circus solely for their difference. Even then, despite the draw, they were kept in the shadows, until they weren’t.

The song, my anthem, embraces the individual, just as they are. Just as God created them, created you, created me. Will you be bold enough today to do the same?

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Preparing for Christmas

Christmas PrepOver Thanksgiving, I was visiting family in Florida and over the weekend, we started the process of decorating the house. More like, it was our job to bring the decorations and tree up from downstairs in preparation for my stepmother’s decorating extravaganza. By the time she’s done, the house will be photo shoot ready – Christmas coming out of every nook and cranny in an explosion of holiday cheer. H Her decorations are elaborate and worthy of many Pinterest holiday inspiration posts.

And then there’s my house. For the past few years, if I get a tree up at all, it’s a miracle. I want to, but then I don’t, and I procrastinate. But this year, I am patting myself on the back that my Christmas tree is up and decorated earlier than ever. The house is getting close to done, yet…not Christmas home tour worthy, the tree is up, lights are on the outside of the house (thanks to my hubby), and there’s only a small explosion of decorations lying in my living room. I already have Christmas cards in the mail and most of my shopping done. I’m honestly not quite sure how I made so much progress so early. I must be missing something…

We often get so caught up in decorating, and parties, and the cookies, oh…the cookies, that we lose sight that Christmas is a time to come together as families. One of the challenges that comes with adulting is splitting up time so that you can spend the maximum time with the maximum number of people. This is not a new challenge for me. My parents split up when I was young and hence I began the balancing act at holidays.

All in all, we balanced the holidays well, but it always involved a back and forth. Now that I’m a grown adult, with full grown adult children, the balance becomes like a Jenga game. I will say that their father and I have navigated sharing the kids on the holidays well, but what would they say? One of my boys is not a fan of the juggle. I get it. In an ideal world, it would be easier if everyone were in one spot, at least one city. But even when they are, there’s still a mad dash. Breakfast here, dinner there…if we’re not careful we start to lose the point.

Which is connection. Maybe a different way to look at where you spend your holiday time is, who do you want to connect with? Do you want Christmas to be a logistical nightmare, or do you want to connect to your people. For some of us, that’ll be family, for others, it’ll be close friends. Whoever it is, the connection is what matters. Not having a perfectly decorated house or making an amazing meal – although food is always a plus – it’s about the time spent together.

Who will you connect with this Christmas? How can you make a choice to dial down the crazy in exchange for peace and heart connections? Will you create your own traditions that create peaceful celebrations and a time to reflect on why we celebrate Christmas in the first place, Jesus. Because if you could ask Him, I’m certain He would want us to have connection and love for each other this Christmas. If we focus on that, the rest of the details will fall into place.

 

 

 

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I have questions

church in portlandDear God, It’s me, Lisa.

I have a lot of questions, and I often wish that I could ask God the questions that linger in my mind. Those matters of the heart I don’t understand, social injustice issues, why my heart hurts so much at times it’s palpable. Why people are mean to each other, at a fundamental level, which really boils down to why are we so inclined to be up in each other’s business. Why it can be so difficult for us to appreciate people as they are and love them. I’d also want to know how my family is doing. Those who are hanging out in Heaven. Is my Nana dancing to Frank Sinatra? I hope the answer would be yes. And could I also ask what the deal is with Brazil nuts? What was the point with creating those?

There are ways I can look for answers to my many questions. I have prayer. Sometimes I feel I get answers but others I don’t. So, I live in a space of trusting, believing. That’s what faith is about for me. Trusting in what I cannot see. I also have the Bible, which I regularly read and seek to understand, but I’m not one to push the Bible in your face or ask “do you know where you’re going when you die?” Honestly? I know that’s one that some Christians love to lead with. For me? Straight up turn off.

And since I’m putting it out there, I wrestle at times to understand what I’m supposed to do in life, like anyone does. I know I don’t have to figure it all out, that I can rely on God for that. But I still try sometimes. That feels normal. Any one of us wrestles, whether it be about why life can be hard lying awake at 3 a.m. or how to understand areas of the Bible that just don’t make sense to me, in today’s times. I am a woman, I’ve cut my hair, I’m still fairly certain that doesn’t condemn me in the end. And I like bacon. I eat it on occasion and have no plans to quit.

I was thinking about all of these matters the other day and was reminded of some of the ridiculous schemes I carried out in my younger years. Plans in my early 20’s I thought were brilliant that more accurately looked like a train about to run off the tracks. But I also look at the context. What was happening at the time. My age, my life experiences to date, what was going on around me, the social context, what was happening in the world – the challenges we faced. All that impacted what was important to me. Those factors impact anyone, at any time, including today. Looking back with the lens I have today is like comparing apples to a watermelon.

That’s where some of my questions come in. If the context and what was going on 30 years ago is so vastly different than now, what would it have been like thousands of years ago when the Bible was written? Different. Looking at it with the lens of today isn’t just apples to a watermelon, it’s apples to, say, a boulder. And that’s where I have questions. Those things are worthy of having conversations around. What is not helpful is to sit around judging each other. That’s not my job, and really, who am I to judge? All that does is create walls and I’d rather look for ways to break those down. The authentic pieces of me are continually being shaped and formed and asking questions to understand is part of that. To bring out and completely understand what I believe, because at the end of the day, my faith is my own. No one else’s. I am responsible for it.

At the end of the day, I have found answers and at the same time, I still have questions. But I know this. Jesus said to love him and love one another. Period. Not if they abstained from bacon or were perfect (none of us have that claim to fame), but simply love each other.

I can do that. No questions asked.

 

 

 

 

 

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Lessons from Mr. Rogers

Mr. RogersI’m late to the game. I know the Mr. Roger Neighborhood documentary/movie came out months ago, but it came to my home screen the other night. I can remember watching Mr. Rogers when I was little as it was one of 2 shows my mom approved me to watch. I will admit to sneaking in a little Wonderful World of Disney and their weekly movie on my little 13 inch black and white TV in my room. But on a more regular basis, Sesame Street, followed by Mr. Rogers.

Here’s the truth. I can remember watching Mr. Rogers and thinking, “move…it…along.” Seriously. Was I 5? 6? Not sure, but not much older and I can remember it seeming slow to me. Get to Make Believe Land already! These were the early years of Mr. Rogers, it aired the first time when I was a year old. But I don’t think it ever lost that pace.

Looking back, I wonder if my little self was either missing, or didn’t want to hear the message he was sharing. I’ve read, and now watched in the movie, about the messages he shared with children. It seems to me that his greatest desire was to listen to children and to normalize what was going on in the world around them. He tackled racism, death, divorce, fear, not being like other people…topics that as grown adults we shy away from, not to mention the multitude of others that he talked to kids about day after day, week after week.

And I wonder why that is? Why is it so difficult to have conversations about certain topics? Particularly with children. Imagine as a child feeling like you’re not like other kids, or that kids don’t like you, or make fun of you. I think that’s every child’s experience to some degree or another. I actually think it’s many adult’s experience as well. But instead of talking about it, we try and make it go away. We try and fix it. We dismiss it. With adults, we tell them to get over it, or to not worry about what others think.

But that doesn’t make the feelings go away. In my mind, what assuages feelings is acknowledging them. Normalizing them. Conversations that help people see that they are not alone. That someone else has felt the way they do.

I have coffee every Saturday morning with a girlfriend. We’re both early risers and are at our local Starbucks by about 6 a.m. We’re the same age and met a couple years ago when I was intent on meeting other women and making friends. It all started over a shared love of Athleta workout pants. She had a brightly colored pair and I commented. The rest is history. And yes, there was coffee that day.

One of the aspects I love the most about those mornings is that we share experiences and it’s confirmation that we’re not alone. We’ve had similar experiences and if one is wrestling with something, the other has probably been there and normalizes it. Having people in your life who can relate to what you’re going through is critically important. I believe for both men and women, though I can only talk about my experience as a woman.

It’s a lie that we have to go through life on our own. And, honestly, there are some areas where we need to talk to other women (or men as the case may be). I think my husband is thankful I have my coffee talks, I work through a lot of the craziness in my head over a Venti. Plain coffee for me, you didn’t ask, but I’m offering…nothing fancy.

Back to Mr. Rogers, that’s who he was for children. Every day. He’d tackle topics that adults are often hesitant to talk about with kids in a gentle way. He made them normal. He used Daniel Striped Tiger, King Friday XIII, Lady Elaine, and others on the show to talk through real issues children were facing. And he did it all while acknowledging kids for who they were and loving on them. That’s what we all want, to be known and loved.

If you haven’t watched this movie, it’s worth it. And the brave step I’d encourage you to take today? Love each other. Just as Mr. Rogers did, just as God calls us to do. It doesn’t have to be complicated, or over intellectualized. Just…love…each…other.