Tag: Vulnerability

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Unpacking life, box by box by box

Weeks before moving across the country, thoughts of packing my life into boxes engulfed every portion of my mind. I’d wake in the middle of the night playing Tetris, packing version, in my mind. Thinking about which small piece would fill this mostly full box. And one day, after toiling away at it for untold hours, it was done. Everything packed, at least everything I wanted to transport to the next phase. After saying goodbye to the moving truck and meandering my way across the country, here I am. Unpacking life I tenderly packed up and brought with me.

Life that’s in a box

Whose life can honestly be placed in a box? That’s the reality. We pack things in a box. Silverware, dishes, books, books and more books, clothes, décor, my grandma’s Kitchen Aid mixer and china, pictures…the deeper you go, the closer to your heart the contents become. I have boxes of pictures because, well, back in the day…when you actually clicked a picture and didn’t know how it would turn out until developed…I captured my children’s youth.

And still, these are things. Things with memories attached. Or maybe better, they’re things that spark memories. Making the event return to life. Triggering the emotions and feelings that surrounded the origin. What’s within the boxes is the evidence of the string of events that comprise our lives.

Unpacking life, over and over

Therapy. That was the first place I unpacked life. Upon entering the middle phase of life, I found myself swirling with emotion.  It may have been all the hormones shifting in my body, or my ovaries deciding it was time to rid themselves of all the eggs, but the culmination was tears and emotions I was ill-equipped to navigate. I found myself sitting on the proverbial couch for months.

Making sense of the fragments of my life, the ones that resisted moving forward smoothly, that caused jagged edges. Unpacking our lives can be a fragile process and one which is best navigated with the assistance of a professional. Or as I like to call my past therapists, a paid friend.

Close to one hundred boxes of life to sort through solo? A daunting task. Yet what do you do except dive in? There is no other way but forward. With boxes and with your life.

Different but the same

Despite the fact that moving involves boxes and packages and things, unpacking evokes similar emotions to therapy. A fact that goes unacknowledged in moving guides you find online, or in the numerous blogs providing ‘Best tips for a smooth move.’ Not even a week into it, emotions flooded me the other day. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of decisions, Tetris in reverse.

Unpacking life requires decision after decision to determine where all those things belong. Where they fit. Revisiting the decisions to carry forward items in your new life, navigated without the help of your paid friend. While packing is an emotional journey in and of itself, unpacking may be the harder task.

You get to choose what carries forward. Only you. The things are simply that, things. The overwhelm? Part of the process I’ve decided. Your life is laid out in front of you ready to re-launch. It’s your move.

Truly, it’s your move

Metaphorically and IRL. In real life, the move is physical. You experience it physically. New surroundings, rooms and hiding places. Metaphorically, you’ve provided distance. In my last moments standing in my empty home of nine years in California, I pondered the life I’d lived there. If those walls could talk…I said a silent goodbye to that phase.

What carries forward is entirely up to you, to me. The memories, the decisions, who I am, I am the only one deciding what resurfaces. As I think about it, all of life is like one big move. Whether physical or not, you’re in charge of what comes forward. You can recreate your life over and over. You can. It’s your move.

As for me? Well, you’ll have to stay tuned. I’m still unpacking.

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Overcoming decision indecision

Upon stepping foot into the office, aka, my living room, these days, I am called upon to make decisions. Not mamsy pamsy decisions either. No. How much to pay people, should someone else be disciplined, another might need to go to the doctor, do we need to deep clean because of a COVID…and then flip a switch…how to reward someone, what to order, how do we do it, what’s the policy, do I really have to follow XYZ? On average, people make 35,000 decisions a day, using a wide range of techniques. Mental gymnastics throughout the day. By the time it’s 5 p.m. I’m cooked. Zapped. Nothing left in this brain of mine.

Not surprisingly for an Enneagram 9, the Peacemaker, I want to keep everybody calm and conflict free. Which means I hold space for whoever needs it.

Except me.

Someone else make the decision

Perhaps it’s making all the decisions in the course of my workday, but when it comes to my personal life, I’m decidedly indecisive. I’ll fret over what to order when I go out to eat to such an extent that I’d rather not go. I literally eat the same thing at home nearly every single day. I’ve wanted to redo my fireplace for a couple years, but can’t decide how I want it, so it remains whatever you called décor 20 years ago. I call it unsightly and drab. I drink the same coffee, black with Stevia, no need for fancy.

When I was married, I’d drive my husband nuts because he would ask where I wanted to go out to eat and I typically deferred. Truly, anywhere, I don’t want to decide.

What if it’s the wrong decision???

Literal fret fest. I had a moment today where I stepped outside myself and realized I was going down a wormhole picking out a new desk. I ordered one and when I set it up yesterday, my son told me it looked too small. Dammit, he was right and until I determined how to return it and what the replacement would be, my mind was on auto drive. If I make the wrong decision…what a waste…of time, of energy…possibly of money.

There was no peace, which I crave with all my soul, until I had restored order…in my house and mind.

Anxiety much?

All this decision indecision does nothing except produce anxiety. Exactly the opposite of what I desire. It winds me up inside like a top and although I endeavor to keep it at bay, the pinging won’t stop until I resolve what’s out of order. My son laughed at me the other day when he heard me on a call asking “is that something you need to share with me?” Not yet…”when will you share that with me,” When I can, “when will that be?” (new angle) “is there anything I need to prepare for?” He came downstairs and found much hilarity in the fact that I couldn’t get an answer.

Because too often when he and his brother were teenagers, I could tell something was wrong. “What’s wrong,” I don’t want to talk about it, “you’ll feel better if you talk about it,” I don’t want to, “I can help you if you talk about it,” No, “it’s not good to keep it bottled up. Talk to me about it,” sigh…fine. Akin to when my little brother would sit on my chest, pinning me down, when we were kids and poke, poke, poke my chest bone. Stoppppp.

It’s really not that big a deal

Granted, the desk situation literally happened today. Overall, though, here’s what I’ve learned. I offer this to my kindred spirits who may also struggle with indecision. I’ve realized that asking ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ puts everything into perspective. The tough decisions? 75% of those I make at work. And I assure you, I can make a decision like nobody’s business at work.

It’s when the decision relates to us, that’s when the struggle bus shows up at the door and says, “jump on in.” But we don’t have to. It helps to simply start making decisions. They might be wrong, and that’s ok. The anxiety and fret that otherwise ensues is 1000% not worth it. Not one little bit. Or you can simplify areas of your life that would otherwise require an overabundance of decision making. That’s me and food. I no longer have the attachment to food I once did, and it is worth the peace of mind I have resulting from a repetitive menu.

If we give ourselves space and time, we can overcome decision indecision. Making the shift from choosing a lifestyle of anxiety and shifting to calm and stillness is part of the journey to Wholehearted Living. When we let go, peace and calm will flood in and anxiety will flow out. I’m on the journey with you my friends. Be Brave. Lisa

 

 

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Do you need to dance like nobody’s watching?

Are there moments within your ordinary life that are mundane, but which bring you joy? In COVID-life, I’ve been paying closer attention what feels like play. Particularly so this month as I focus on the Wholehearted Living Guidepost “Cultivating Play and Rest: Letting go of exhaustion as a status symbol and productivity as self-worth” I had one such experience this morning. And thank the good Lord in heaven no one was watching.

Dance like nobody is watching

Here’s the buildup. I’d been fussing around my house since 7 a.m. Precariously climbing a ladder to trim a tree with my newly acquired tree lopper (oddly satisfying – I have to admit it) and cleaning, and cleaning, and cleaning. No one was home, ideal situation for cleaning. Headphones in, my jamming tunes going, singing at the top of my lungs, frightening the dog. Seriously, she was confused. And then, my power ballad came on. Whitney Houston belting out One Moment in Time. There was singing, there was dancing, there were arm movements. It was a thing. Probably looked more like one of these things, the bad ones, than Whitney. But it wouldn’t have happened if anyone had been home.

Why don’t we dance like nobody is watching…when someone is?

As I was gloriously enjoying Whitney, and one, maybe two repeat performances, I wondered if there were people who, in their moments of play, of relaxation into their true selves, could honestly let go enough to dance and sing like I was if other people were around. I’d thought about that before, when I was married and it wasn’t going well, wishing he would walk in and see that part of me with hopes that would show a different side of me.

Instead of showing that soft underbelly of ourselves – oh, I am the only one who feels like that? Unlikely. Letting someone see that playful, silly, secret, inner Whitney side of myself doesn’t happen, nope, because it feels risky. In the context of the Guidepost focus for this month, it undermines the front we might be striving to create, one of productivity to the point of exhaustion if we allow someone to see us while at play.

Dance party for one is a start…but…

For those of us who lean towards the serious side like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, yours truly included, incorporating a dance party for one is a place to start. But what would it take to open yourself up to involving others in your play? What would that look like for you? Believe me, I get that it’s not easy, any why is that? Let’s cut to the chase, vulnerability. When you play, you might look silly. Or better yet, when you play, 9 times out of 10, you will look silly. So what? Vulnerability defined by Brené Brown is uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure. Do those components exist when you invite someone into your private dance parties, your private play?

100%.for. sure.

Vulnerability gets you to courage

I had someone comment the other day that you have a choice to be vulnerable and surrender or retreat…and that courage is the bridge. You can choose to surrender to the moment and let someone into to your inner world, invite them to share you play time, or you can retreat and keep yourself apart. I’m not going to tell you one is better than the other. But what I am going to tell you is that I believe there is a time for both, and if you listen to your heart, you will know when that time is.

My friends, I know you are courageous. If you’ve been with me for any length of time, you know we’re on a vulnerable, courageous journey to a wholehearted life. It is one step at a time and at moments feels like a slog-fest, which is normal, I’m sure of it. But Wholehearted Living, bringing our whole self, including play and rest, letting go of exhaustion, know that self-worth is within us every moment, not externally derived, is our path. We’re on that brave path together my friends. Sending you all the love. Lisa

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Where comparison has a place

Wholehearted living has been my focus for living in 2020. And I’ve noticed it’s one of those attributes you don’t necessarily notice, until you do. And over the past few weeks, I have to say that I’ve noticed. Primarily with respect to a desire to show up authentically in each and every situation. Lest you believe I was faking it before this year, let me explain. The daily situations in which we find ourselves require a certain…evaluation. For example, you don’t show up to the office as your Saturday night self. You compare the two and determine exactly what impression Saturday self will leave in the strategic planning meeting you have at 9 a.m. Saturday self stays in bed and Monday morning self heads to work.

June has been focused on choosing creativity over comparison. I’m 1000% on board from the perspective on my creative life. And comparing any success I have to someone else’s? Fool’s errand.. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. They will be lying, straight up lying. Our lives our uniquely ours and lived out best when we don’t compare to others.

A different way to look at comparison

But…the last few days I’ve been pondering that. Because I’ve noticed that when I am in situations where my perception – whether it’s stated or not – is that to fit in, to belong certain behavior is expected, I have a lower and lower tolerance. The tendency is to blame that on the other people. “They” – the infamous they – shouldn’t expect that you will conform. You should be accepted as you are. Ok, well, maybe.

At the same time, groups of people form their normative behaviors that essentially govern the group. When an individual in the group changes, the group tries to ‘bring the back.’ Attempts to cajole their behavior back to what had been ‘acceptable,’ and garnered belonging. If that doesn’t work, they’ll resort to shame, or ridicule and may even expel the person if the behavioral change is dramatic. It’s a process known as tribal shaming. And if you find yourself in that experience, run, don’t walk.

When comparison leads to change

As I’ve pondered, compared my evolving confidence in my wholehearted authentic self, I find myself feeling like a fish out of water in certain situations where the behavioral norm is strong. And I’ve ‘compared,’ that norm, it’s the one example which I believe is not off limits. Because as your authentic self comes through – and it’s always there, it may simply take a while to feel comfortable emerging – to engage in any other way pushes you outside your values.

The comparison led to a realization that I’m engaged in a few situations where the norm is inconsistent with my authentic self. And I am of the belief that the decisions we make in our lives should be weighed against our true self, considered in terms of will it keep us within our values or push us outside of our values. Authenticity is one of my values, along with integrity, equality, inclusion, family, love.

Creativity and living your wholehearted life

Enter creativity. You can’t always walk away from every situation where you realize your wholehearted self has changed as you’ve shown up for yourself. That’s simply a fact. But you can influence, you can use your voice, impact your sphere with your authentic self. Your creative, unique, individual self.

Wholehearted living is not for wimps, and it’s not a cat poster. It’s not as simple as “Hang in there.” It’s digging in and doing the work. It’s hard and it hurts. But…it is worth it. This is your one and precious, beautiful life. I’m on the journey with you, lovlies. Be brave. Lisa

 

 

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Help me help you

please and thank you“I can do it myself!” If you’re a parent or have spent any time around small children, it’s a frequently uttered phrase. It must be around age 3 or 4 they start to push on their independence. It’s part of every childhood and, honestly, necessary as they learn how to operate in the world apart from their parents.

As children grow up, they occasionally revert back, and start relying on mom again. My hypothesis is that they have so many other things occupying their minds, they don’t forget, but they don’t want to be bothered. My boys finally confessed to me in their late teens that it was easier to ask me than to figure it out themselves. Basically, they busted themselves. Now, I’m on to them.

I’ve never lost that independent piece of myself, my desire to do things myself. Each time I figure out how to do something around my house, the sense of satisfaction is worth it. I mean, I fixed a toilet leak recently, where’s the Girl Scout badge for that? Yet…I’ve been to told being self-sufficient is a sin. And although I couldn’t wrap my brain around that idea, it still bothered me. Here’s what I have to say about that. If you’re in my camp and are self-sufficient, I’m fairly certain Moses didn’t inscribe that one on the tablets. If anyone tries to tell you that, my answer is ‘nope.’ Moving on…

What is it about asking for, or accepting help that proves challenging? I’ve wrestled with the idea for a few years now, never quite putting my finger on it. For a while, I wondered if it had something to do with not wanting to make the ask, not wanting to rely on others. Maybe. It can be risky, a lot of unknowns. The funny thing is that I love helping people. I’m more than happy to jump in and lending a helping hand or find a solution. I often say that I could be a concierge. Putting together the pieces for people so they can have the best experience possible.

But yesterday, I had an ‘a-ha’ moment. I’d decided to replace the light fixture over my kitchen table. I know a couple of guys, one of whom is an actual electrician, who told me they come over and help. Nah…I can figure it out. I got the old one down, no problem. As I stood on the ladder staring at the wires, not gonna lie, I was a little perplexed how I was going to fit it all together. Obvi, white to white, black to black, but there was the grounding wire, the bracket…so many pieces. I contemplated YouTube solutions, or puzzling it out.

Instead, I asked for help. My friend came over, literally took him 15 minutes. Done. Light hung. Ta-da!

In my ‘a-ha’ moment I realized, it wasn’t that I had to do it myself, it’s that I don’t want to inconvenience others. I don’t want to be a bother. For me to ask for help feels tremendously vulnerable. It’s not the act of asking for help that causes hesitation, it’s the mental tape of ‘am I enough.’ Each time I was told I was overly self-sufficient; all it did was drive home the not good enough message. When I was teased for the independence? Same thing made me feel like I was doing something wrong, not enough.

Taking steps to be vulnerable, to ask for help, may not seem like no big thang, but, if you get this at all, it is. And I know there are many women out there who share my wiring. How do we overcome it? By doing the next thing. Yesterday, the next thing was asking for help with my light. Next week? Ask. That’s all that needs to happen. Whatever it is, make the ask.

The truth is, my friends, you are worthy, you are enough. All the messaging that gets in the way of that, it’s noise. I get that it’s hard, I’m right there with you, but you can be vulnerable. You are brave and courageous and I believe in you.

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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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Layers of our heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait for it…

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

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