Tag: relationships

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What is anger telling you?

I wasn’t sure what it was at first, the fire inside me that at first, I thought was anxiety. But, as much as I wanted to dismiss it, I didn’t. I’ve noticed it for a few months, a shorter temper, annoyance, at times feeling overwhelmed. Still, I couldn’t name the emotion I was having. After listening to a Brené Brown’s interview with Emily and Amelia Nagoski on her podcast, Unlocking Us, and subsequently buying the Nagoski’s book, I have a name for it. I am fired up, angry, pissed really. And for once, I’m not ignoring the anger. I’m listening to what anger is telling me.

Emily Nagoski, PhD and Amelia Nagoski, DMA collaborated to write the brilliant book, Burnout – The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle. What jumped out and caused me to take stock of my own anger was a deep recognition of my own experiences within the pages. Likely because it was targeted for women. My anger was telling me to pay attention.

Anger doesn’t come naturally

As a tried and true Enneagram 9, I am usually not aware of my own anger. Though smack in the middle of the anger Triad, it stays deep inside me and as odd as that may seem to someone who finds it easily, quickly. I get…frustrated…snippy…but I wouldn’t normally call it anger. A friend once encouraged me to try yelling or screaming at full volume alone in my car. I did. I did not like it, not one little bit. Reading through the pages of Burnout, it was as though the factors that have played a role in shaping me were narrated so that I wouldn’t miss the message.

After finishing the book, I a) wanted to crush the patriarchy and creates an imbalanced system for women, and b) knew that I was angry. Still, what was the anger telling me?

What we’re experiencing

The truth is, women face different expectations than men. In fairness, men could say the same about their own gender. But while men have historically marched off to the office each day, women were expected to keep the kids, house and outside life in order. But for my generation, well, we’re the children of the 60’s whose mothers’ fought for our right to break the norm and work outside the house. Not all, but most women my age did take the career track.

Except, keeping the kids, house and outside life in order was still our job. It’s no wonder we’re burnout! And, if we’re honest, we’d say we’re resentful.

But by and large, we’re not honest about our resentment because, when we do, we’re accused of being unhinged. We must do all the things and do them with a smile on our face and remain happy and cheerful, supporting the rest of our family. As those pages opened before me, what got unlocked in me was anger. And it was telling me to pay attention.

Anger is a guide

The coaching program got my certification from uses what’s called an Energy Leadership Index. Comprised of seven levels of energy, the index ranges from catabolic energy such as apathy and anger to anabolic energy, connection with others and self-actualization, for example Since catabolic energy is destructive, it’s not healthy to remain at those levels for long periods of time. But, while anger is catabolic, it also speaks to us and is a catalyst for action.

Anger tells you what you’re passionate about. Makes sense since, it’s said, there’s a fine line between love and hate. So those areas where you find yourself angry (or frustrated for my Enneagram 9 comrades) pay attention. What is the anger telling you? What emotion is underneath it.

In my case, once I stopped ignoring my anger and started paying attention. When I did, it wasn’t surprising what I cared about, but the level to which I’d fight for it was unexpected.

I’m passionate about integrity. And while that’s not knew, for me it’s more than doing what I say I’ll do. It’s that, and it’s acting on it. If I say I believe in something, that means more than a bumper sticker. Which is scary because it can upset the apple cart, which this peacemaker is not a fan of. I’m passionate about family, my children, and my nuclear family. Passionate about supporting the LGBTQ+ community. About supporting the BIPOC community. Passionate about examining my faith and asking questions…knowing God isn’t going to disappear because have a different perspective than I once was.

What is your anger telling you?

Reading Burnout confirmed my passion to come alongside other women. The anger I feel is at the inequities we’ve faced and the false narrative we’ve listened to so that we keep the peace (I am not alone in that camp). We were told we’re the one causing a problem if we merely spoke up for ourselves, or, wanted to have a seat at the table…at our own dinner table at times. I have a passion to build up those women. My anger is telling me that it’s past time. Just as it’s past time for the BIPOC community or LGBTQ+ community to want a seat at the table.

When I finally acknowledged I had any anger at all? I word I’ll borrow from one of my favorite seasonal movies, The Holiday, I found gumption. Just as it’s explained in Energy leadership, anger is a catalyst for action. And finally…FINALLY…I’m listening.

As you finish reading, I want you to be still with yourself for a moment, breathing slowly, emptying your find. Ask yourself, what is your anger telling you? What passion is it pointing to? Now’s your opportunity to find your own gumption and follow the path. We’re in this together. Be Brave. Lisa (and, P.S. go buy the book!)

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What happens when you open your eyes

Unraveled, that’s what I thought as I glanced down at the hem of my shirt. For an unknown reason, my new shirt’s hem had decided to let go, unraveling and leaving string hanging for me to see as evidence. And I thought about how that fray may have been present when I bought the shirt, but I hadn’t noticed. What happened when I opened my eyes was that not only was it frayed, any attempt to break the string without scissors resulted in rapid unraveling. Leaving a raw hem for me to contemplate…determining if I liked the shirt enough to fix it. Because that’s how I roll.

Unraveling in life

The journey from A to Z is rarely, if ever, straight and with certainty I’m sure I’ve taken the most complex path. But over the last four or so years, the pace at which life clicks into place has been rapid, like the unraveling of a hem. In the moment, it doesn’t seem that fast because of the labor pains it takes to get there, but there’s no other way to describe it. When I opened my eyes to what was happening around me, I couldn’t help but see.

Once you see though, you can’t unsee. And it unravels faster than you imagined. The realization that I’d made choice, gone down a path personally that I believed I needed to walk (and honestly, I may have needed those steps) led me to a stalemate was unexpected. And at the same time, the awareness I’d gained about my experience was the result of having my eyes opened. Resulting from clarity around the fuzziness I’d had for years. But as we’re becoming clear, there’s no guarantee those on the journey with us are doing the same. Or better yet, no guarantee that their clarity is the same as yours.

Making daring choices

It seems to me that when your eyes are opened – to whatever the circumstance is in your life that you’d turned a blind eye to – you can’t unwind it. In those moments, you might find that what you believed to be true was only in your mind. And that’s heartbreaking. But if you remain engaged in what you’re noticing, you might find heartbreak is a catalyst.

When you open your eyes, you might not find what you thought would be there. In those moments, you make decisions. Choose to be daring or choose to retreat. I chose daring. And while we’d like to think that we’ll emerge from daring choices with newfound energy and zeal, that’s not always true. You might emerge with your heart in tatters, or your system of beliefs on shaky ground.

Daring to be in the wilderness

And you know what? That’s ok. It is. When you make daring decisions in your life and the result is time in the wilderness, that’s ok. You know who else spent time in the wilderness? Jesus. It could be that the wilderness is where you needed to go to find yourself. To find your own power. To ask yourself what is true…for you. I know that when I’m in the wilderness, I’m never alone. Because I’m there with myself, and I know Jesus is alongside me.

Those daring choices bring you back from the wilderness too. The wrestling you did while you were out there, that only strengthens you. It sparks your inner fire to continue exploring what is true for you. Your eyes are opened in the wilderness.   You find your true self, free from expectations others layer on you. You find freedom.

And you find that you can breathe. Fully in and fully out, without wondering when the other shoe will drop. It already has. I know it had for me. And now, my eyes are opened, and the unravelling, what I thought would end, it hasn’t. There’s so much more I see which I accepted as true and now I find myself wondering why. So it goes when you’re being daring. You lose parts of yourself but find the ones you were always supposed to have.

Where are you finding your eyes opening? Is it leading you to the wilderness? Hey, that’s ok, necessary maybe. But this is a journey we’re taking together. I’m brave, you’re brave – stronger together. Lisa

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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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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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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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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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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.

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Truly seeing one another

I see youThroughout the day, we walk by mirror after mirror so you would think that when asked if we see ourselves clearly, the answer would be yes. But it’s not. Yesterday, I was polishing a handheld mirror that belonged to my great grandmother Marjorie and as the silver became brighter, I thought about the times she would have gazed into it. Wondering the thoughts that went through her mind as she reflected on it, if she saw herself clearly.

If I’m honest, looking at myself in the mirror, truly seeing myself, isn’t at the top of my list. It’s task oriented. At my hair while I’m drying it, at my face so that I can apply makeup, or pluck the persistent whiskers that have joined me in midlife -what is even up with those?!?!?! But to truly ‘see’ myself? Generally, it’s a hard pass.

Yet, in each of our faces, there’s a story, a lifetime, that yearns to be told. And when we’re seen by another person, we often feel stripped naked, unsure of what to do in that moment. People who can reach in and see our struggles and who we are at our core are rare.

That’s where Mr. Rogers comes in. Yes, Fred Rogers.

In the last few years, there’s been a resurgence of interest in Mr. Rogers and A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is the most recent. With Tom Hanks as Fred Rogers, it was set up for success. I spent the afternoon immersed in Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood yesterday and walked out with the understanding that he was one of those rare people who could see into your soul.

Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood was one of the few shows I was allowed to watch as a child. That, Sesame Street, an occasional Romper Room…not the diet of television children have today. Because of that, there’s a warm fuzzy feeling, the memory of those days, which washes over me when I watch anything about him.

What solidly hit home for me was how he reached into people’s lives and met them where they were. He tackled many of the “unspoken” issues which continue confront children today. Divorce, racism, anger, sadness…he looked at real life, not a candy-coated version. His kind, gentle approach appealed to children then, and now. The emotions that arise within children, and adults for that matter, are often brushed aside. They don’t have the words to explain them and adults may not ask.

But Fred Rogers did. By speaking the unspeakable he normalized children’s feelings. They were seen by him. That’s the warm fuzzy, the memory of how he reached into my home and created the feeling I was seen. Thank you to Tom Hanks for bringing the feeling back.

What if we could do that for each other? See people, enter their space and assure them that their feelings, their emotions, are valid, and normal and worth exploring. We can, you know, but we must move in. Get closer, ask questions and be ok sitting in the uncomfortable space that comes next. He wasn’t using ninja mind tricks, he simply asked questions…and waited. We’re so quick to rush and fill in the quiet space we don’t let the question linger. People are seen when we wait. Like children, it takes us a hot second to identify what’s going on inside us and name it.

Who needs you to be the one who sees them today? Are you willing to ask questions and wait…letting the answer come when it’s ready? In those moments you’ll see another authentically, the true self that wants to be seen, to be known…to be reassured that their feelings are valid. Choose to be that person. Get closer…what you’ll see will be beautiful.

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Help me understand

UnderstandingIf you have children, or have been a child, you’ve heard the words, “why?” Literally one thousand times a day. Why is the sky blue, why is ice cream cold, why does my finger hurt, why won’t Sallie play with me, why do I have to take a bath? From our earliest childhood we have a desire to understand the complexities of life around us. We ask why to fill in the blanks.

As we get older, the path to understanding is not always as simple, and not within our own power to navigate. Our minds are programmed to fill in the blanks, making the gaps that much more difficult. Brené Brown writes and speaks about just that. She explains that in the absence of fact, our minds are hard wired to fill in the blanks. We create stories, usually far more dramatic than the actual truth when we don’t know the other person’s reasons. Their ‘why.’ We tell their side of the story.

And the result doesn’t paint the other person positively. They become the villain.

But I’m slowly realizing that there will be gaps in my understanding that I can’t fill in. Areas where I simply don’t understand why a series of events led to an unanticipated outcome. I naturally want closure, but it’s not there. Make no mistake, I’ve created a Pulitzer winning novel around the reasons, because I’m a normal human person. But that story is probably part fact, part fiction. I’ll never know.

The absolute truth is that the life journey I’m on requires me to keep taking the next step. I don’t have to understand it, but I have to take it. I’ve realized that when it comes to other people, I must understand that I won’t always understand. I could continue to wrestle the information I have into a cognitive story, but that’s all it would be, a story.

So what do you do with that? How do you shift your mind past a difficult situation when you don’t know the full story and never will, when you don’t understand? There’s no magical answer, but that doesn’t mean you’re powerless in your own narrative. There is value in processing your existing information and emotions.

Get curious about your own ‘what’s’ and ‘why’s.’ What is the emotion you’re feeling, what was your experience, why did you make the choices you made? Examine those feelings and ask what you can learn from them. Understand your own perspective and current narrative. And then? Either you continue to retell your negative narrative, or you create a new one. Take the information and emotions you have and use those to create a story for yourself that extends grace and love, to yourself, and another person.

Hard things happen, relationships fail, and we don’t always understand. But we can make choices to move forward. To frame our experiences from a different mindset. To let ourselves and another off the hook. Not understanding, unresolved feelings, we process them and let them go. Imagine pulling against an immovable object and suddenly you let go. The rush of lightness that overcomes you, that’s what letting go and moving forward is akin to.

There will be things in life we simply don’t understand. What you do with that? It’s your choice. Be brave my dears. We’re on this journey together.