Tag: wholehearted living

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Giving yourself permission to dream

Dream big! The lesson of childhood. Embrace the unknown, explore, wander, daydream. My neighbor, Sarah, and I regularly gathered underneath the apple tree growing in the meadow in front of our houses. I have vivid memories of detailed planning for an apartment we were going to construct. First, in an underground bunker we’d dig in the bare dirt patch at the base of the tree. Second, in the branches of the tree, which we regularly climbed. We envisioned the separate living spaces and ‘fancy’ layout of our magical dream pad. Barbie’s dreamhouse paled in comparison. We couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5 years old.

Though we valiantly dug in that dirt, and gazed skyward, our outdoor living spaces never came to be.

Why our dreams fade

But we had the dream, and we stuck with it. In the end, someone likely told us the infeasibility of our plan and it faded out of our minds. Children dream big. They can see what adults view as impossible because they haven’t been conditioned to believe otherwise. With the intent of protecting our kids from the heartache of disappointment, we gently squash their plans and keep them safe.

Slowly, year by year, we’re guided to reduce risk. Gently nudged towards a mindset of certainty. I’ll raise my hand and acknowledge that’s where I landed, in the sea of certainty. Trained to consider risk and minimize it in my decision making. Though I’ve rebelled against that thought pattern in some respects, my athletic pursuits for example, I’m staunchly in the camp when it comes to decisions that involve my own entrepreneurial spirit and stepping to the side of a traditional career.

Whose voice is squashing your dreams?

During a meditation and mindfulness workshop this morning, it dawned on me that the frustration I felt about my glacial paced activity to grow different aspects of my career wasn’t frustration at all. At the root of it was the judgement I imputed upon myself. The voice in my head wasn’t my own, it was the voice of authority telling me how foolish it would be to branch out. To step into a space of trusting my intuition and having faith in the process. Judgement for stepping outside of certainty.

And it made me think about how often we kill our own dreams before they have a chance to fully develop. Before they are ready to fly. When we have uncertainty about the outcome the tendency is to revert to planning. To engineer the risk out of the dream, making it benign enough that the risks are minimal. We wait for unspoken permission to pursue our own dreams. We shift from big sky dreaming to vanilla…and not even Madagascar vanilla…boring, plain vanilla.

What’s the fun of that?

Making space for dreaming

Embracing Brené Brown’s Wholehearted Living Guidepost of letting go of certainty and embracing intuition and faith, touches more than one area of our lives. It permeates throughout. We are not meant to be kept on a shelf, wrapped up neat and tidy. Think about a dream of your own, one that you set aside because you had to be “responsible.” Or that was risky. What did you gain by postponing or dropping it? What would you have gained by pursuing it? And…if you pursued it and it didn’t work out, what’s the worst that would have happened?

Imagine you allowed yourself to play through a dream or desire that churns inside you. What would be different in your life a year from now? Don’t get stuck in how to get there, dream. Allow your mind to go to the natural conclusion. Once you have that dream fully formed? Do it. Seriously. Stay focused on the end goal and move forward, one step at a time. The truth is you might only know the first couple steps. That’s ok. Start there and the rest will unfold at the time it’s supposed to. Be open, be curious, trusting your intuition.

I believe in you. The voices that tell you otherwise can take a hike, they are not living your life. You can keep waking up each day with unlived dreams or you can embrace them. Give yourself permission to pursue your dreams! We’re on the journey together friends. Be brave.

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Beginning to unravel certainty

Within our lives exist deeply personal journeys that can only be taken one step at a time. There are no shortcuts, no ‘Collect $200 and advance to GO.’ Slowly, painfully at times, I’ve worn holes in my shoes pacing and scuffing the floor as a distraction, a hesitation. At the same time, this particular one has brought me to a place of peace within myself. Wrestling with how I walk out my faith.

And while I’m not entirely ‘there’ yet, considerable ground has been traversed. And the not knowing yet is a component of the peace. Focusing each month on one of Brené Brown’s Guideposts for Wholehearted Living has resulted in a journey of its own thus far. But this month’s is timely, “Letting go of the need for certainty and Embracing intuition and trusting faith.” Buckle up.

Raise your hand if you were raised “in church.” Me too. Each Sunday we’d make our way to the little chapel in Yosemite Valley – picturesque really – to sit for an hour on hard, wooden benches and listen to our conservative pastor share the Word. I was even baptized in the Merced River that meandered through the meadow across the street.

Looking back, church was the event. Being a Christian was simply who we were in my family. Like many, once I was out of the house, regular church attendance became a sporadic event. That was, until my kids were on the scene and a nagging moral obligation to return to the chapel poked at me long enough that I listened.

Certainty enters the picture

Fast forward to early midlife when I was ‘all in’ at church again. Attending a hip, cool one that met in a movie theater, I drank it in, meeting supportive, loving people. Over the years, I recall hearing about something called Apologetics, which sounded boring to my non-analytical brain. Here’s how the internet defines it: reasoned arguments or writings in justification of something, typically a theory or religious doctrine. In my words, it’s a way to ‘prove’ your beliefs about God, Jesus and the Bible. Apologetics is rooted in certainty.

Which is why I never grabbed on to it. My faith was never about certainty. It was about trusting the knowing in my heart, still is. Never did I feel compelled to argue for it. Some would say that’s part of my Christian “job.” Ok. That doesn’t change anything for me. Still not going for it. When you let go of certainty, you open space to wonder. A space to ask questions, to listen to what the whisper of your heart is telling you.

Letting go of certainty

And I have a LOT of questions and wonder. Maybe you do to. Or not…and if that’s the case…cool for you. Throughout the month, thoughts which brew in my mind I’ll be throwing out for consideration, but not all at once. Letting go of certainty may be a journey you’re also on. Perhaps it’s about your faith, or maybe about an aspect of your life you held as true but now you wrestle with it. In case no one else has told you, you’re allowed. You can have questions, you can challenge popularly held beliefs, you can wonder. The world will not end.

Trusting your intuition

Because whatever you believe, about faith or something else, it’s honestly no one else’s business. What is your intuition telling you? The rumblings of your heart? Those nudges that push you towards asking questions, that’s your intuition, it’s the still small voice. And if you’re scared? It could be a sign that you’re on to something big. Something within you than needs to be explored. Go there. Know though that your exploration may not be popular. And still, it’s ok. As we explore this subject and we’ll also talk about the cost. But not today. Today, simply wonder and trust your intuition. I’m on the journey with you. Be Brave.

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Looking for stillness within scarcity

Rarely do we see scarcity on the wide scale basis we are today. Beyond day to day niceties, eating out, shopping in a physical store, getting my nails done (that struggle is real), the sense of ‘lack’ is a shared reality.

We lack human interaction, spending time with friends or family, we lack connection…shared experiences. We lack physical touch from another human person. Social distancing put an end, at least for the moment, to human to human life. For our own, and others, safety, we stay at home. I live alone at the moment and other than talking to people at the grocery store or drive through at Starbucks from six feet away, I have no in person connection. But lack is not limited to me because I’m single. It’s pervasive. Across socio-economic boundaries, regions, personal circumstances. We’re spending abundant amounts of time alone, or with one or two other people.

Scarcity becoming stillness

When I was 35, I was newly divorced and living in a new city – alone. My children were with their father and I unexpectedly found myself grappling with an empty house. I can recall being profoundly miserable. Lonely. Sad. Unable to sit in that house alone and simply be. I created background noise 100% of the time. The television became my roommate. I didn’t know what to do with myself, how to be with myself. The lack I felt was guttural. Deep waves of melancholy would wash over me on any given day. Scarcity in terms of connection was palpable.

35 was a long time ago. I’ve lived half that much life since then and look back on the time as transformative. Because within the lack, within that space of darkness, I instead found stillness. I was forced to get to know myself. To become comfortable with me and learn more about my own thoughts and desires. It wasn’t the path I dreamed of as a little girl, but it was the path I was on. And I survived. I found different ways to have connection, mainly within the stillness of my mind. It was a time of discovery. Of letting go of what was and deciding who I wanted to be. Somewhere in the middle of the alone time, I got comfortable with me. With being alone and making friends with myself.

It’s something I’ve done cyclically since that time. Peeling off outer layers to see what’s underneath. What I wanted to shed, and what I wanted to explore.

Stillness leads to transformation

Periods of stillness provide space for transformation. I’m writing this on Easter and my mind goes to Jesus, in the tomb, and His transformation. The love and hope He promised to the world.  Our stillness can be our time of transformation. It’s our choice. Isolation doesn’t have to be lonely. While we lack connection with others, we can find inner clarity and connection. Use this time to examine our hearts and explore what brings us joy, what we’re grateful for, where we have love and hope. Those elements that cannot be taken from us. We can look within ourselves and ask if there’s an area that feels like a splinter. Festering, needing to be removed, leaving us relieved that it’s gone. Maybe you need to consider what you thought was essential but that you are finding stillness without and see the joy in that new space opened inside you.

Yes, we’re experiencing scarcity, but that mere fact can bring us joy and gratitude because we have room to breathe. Slowly, intentionally. Time to ponder, to consider, to dream. We’ve slowed down, not by choice, but here we are. What we choose to do with the abundance of time, yes, abundance, not lack, is personal. But it’s a choice we’re all making. Make a brave one. I’m on the journey with you.

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Wholehearted living requires letting go of scarcity

It may go down in history as the great toilet paper shortage of 2020. People unexplainably acquiring massive amounts, envision entire shopping carts full, of toilet paper, as we prepared for the unknown virus facing our country. While buying toilet paper is seemingly benign, it’s indicative of the underlying message many believe, which is that there is not enough, a symptom of a culture of scarcity.

In an interview with Gwyneth Paltrow, Brené Brown shared, “Scarcity thrives in a culture where everyone is hyper-aware of lack. Everything from safety and love to money and resources feels restricted or lacking.”  Our fear of scarcity thrives in the dark. It thrives on blame, shame, pointing outward instead of getting curious about what’s happening within our hearts and minds. Instead of sitting with the knowing that there is enough.

Letting go of scarcity – the fourth guidepost

My year of wholeheartedly living has brought me to the fourth guidepost which is letting go of scarcity. The timing is nothing if not serendipitous as the world around us has come to a hard stop and collective fear is the name of the game. Beyond the lack in material supply, we’re seeing a lack of employment, of face to face interaction, of connection. And while you can find news outlets talking about the human connection element of this crisis, it’s generally not the leading story on the nightly news.

And we remain in darkness, the breeding ground for the elements Brené defines as scarcity: shame, comparison and disengagement. Our roles at home have quadrupled. As women, if we’re working from home, we may also be homeschooling children, keeping the house clean, preparing not one but now three meals a day, and holding space for all the emotions swirling around our homes.

Never ____________ enough

The competing demands within our homes may lead us to feel depleted. With nothing left to give. The competing demands lead us to fill in our own blank;

Never good enough

Never perfect enough

Never confident enough

Never feminine enough

Never active enough

Never organized enough

Never…enough

The feelings multiply in the darkness. We may feel a chasm of darkness within us because the one who is keeping ‘all the things’ moving within our home has no space for her own feelings. She pushes them down and they swirl as a drop of color into otherwise clear water…soon losing their clarity.

The antidote – Cultivate Gratitude and Joy

Combating scarcity requires curiosity…questioning our experience, what we’re feeling. It requires we step into that uncomfortable space of vulnerability. Honestly, living with vulnerability is a day by day journey. But when we choose to talk about what’s happening within us, we can view our feelings as data. Providing us with information about what we need, desire…our hopes, our strengths. We can shift from scarcity, and instead, remember that, even in our current circumstance, we can cultivate gratitude and joy.

Joy that we’re spending more time with our families. Grateful to have the space to take a breath. We have time, what normally may feel like the scarcest of all resources. To believe we must do it all leaves us depleted. We may not have toilet paper, but we have time. Time to get curious about our feelings. Time to see joy in the moments spent with family. Gratitude for our own health.

We have enough. And for that, I am grateful.

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Why we need to get curious about our emotions

Is there a stronger word than unexpected? Unpredicted, startling, unforeseen… With a decent amount  of certainty I can say that what we’re collectively experiencing is all of that. And a bag of chips. In all seriousness, did anyone foresee within our lifetime that the United States would essentially shut down and tell nearly every person to stay at home?

Without forethought that the end of March would look as it does, I’d chosen to focus on the wholehearted living guidepost of resilience this month. Resilience is cultivated by getting curious about the emotions we experience during an adverse experience. Brené Brown wrote about resilience in Rising Strong. She boils it down to one primary attribute in this Business Insider article. Exploring your emotions.

Getting curious about your emotions

Anybody else want to join me in the collective desire to squirm at the idea of exploring your emotions?? As I walked out this work, it readily became apparent that I may have skipped that class earlier in life. Sure, I could name mad, sad, glad, and throw in disappointment…I have that one down pat. With near certainty I can say that disappointment has hit every one of us in the last month. What I’ve experienced over the last few weeks pales in comparison to those who are losing jobs, facing illness, business closures…devastation more accurately describes the collective emotion around the condition of the country today.

Write it down

On more than one occasion I’d have to raise my hand and admit that emotion has taken the wheel and driven me near the edge of a cliff. Not helpful.

What is helpful is to write down what you’re feeling. Brené Brown calls it the SFD. The shitty (or stormy for the more delicate reader) first draft. The equivalent of the verbal vomit. Think about what you’re experiencing right now, write it all down. The good, bad and ugly. The blame, shame…the everybody sucks and you’re dying version, unedited. Nobody else is going to read it, and probably shouldn’t…you’re not looking to bring others down with you…it’s about understanding what you’re feeling, how the emotions have taken hold.

Look up

Once we understand our emotions, we’re in a stronger position to see how they’ve taken hold of our thoughts. Emotions are feelings, they’re valid. But they’re not what’s actually happening. I one thousand and twenty percent acknowledge I’ve been fuzzy about the distinction between the two…maybe more than once…or ten times.

We get stuck and are not resilient when we jump into the emotional pool and feel powerless to do anything about it. That is not truth. It’s not the fact of the situation. Understanding our emotions allows us to rewrite the narrative. We choose what to do with the emotions, to look up and see the truth of what’s happening. Often, we’ve taken that truth and added on layers of emotion that take on a life of their own. The SFD gets us back to facts. It’s a way of speaking what we’re feeling and bringing it into the open so that the emotions no longer hold power. We do. We will move forward from this moment because we are resilient.

Connect to others

Understanding we’re not powerless, naming our emotion and seeing truth allows us to return to the present rather than feeling alone. Especially amid what we’re collectively experiencing, we need connection. More than ever, it simply looks different. It looks like Facetime, Zoom calls, texting…from our living rooms. Collectively we can choose to band together and build resilience. Yesterday morning, my weekly coffee was converted to a Facetime call, and it felt like we didn’t miss a beat. Yes, the emotions suck. In the blink of an eye we could be circling the drain. But that’s not what I’m seeing.

I see families…including both parents…taking walks, or bike rides together. Outside enjoying a beautiful spring day rather than looking out the window from a car. I’m told of people working in their gardens, shopping for elderly neighbors, sewing masks for health care professionals. Getting creative around staying connected. Building resilience.

Resilience makes us strong

I have a coaster on my desk at work, “Beautiful girl, you can do hard things.” Friends, you can do hard things. Facing the invisible enemy of COVID-19 is a hard thing. Those emotions you’re feeling, they’re normal, they’re valid. Write them down. Choose what you’ll do with them instead of handing them the reigns. Would you let a two-year old drive your car??

Choose your narrative. The one in which you have peace with our, yes, our situation. Stay connected and find joy in moments ‘together’ and in the simple pleasures of everyday life. We are strong, we’re brave and we’re resilient.

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Why we need other people, now more than ever

Months ago, we sent out the announcement. “Join us for a weekend of Dare to Lead™ in the cozy living room of my friend” (and partner) in this venture. I prepared for weeks (months, really), refining my material, combing over my PowerPoint and notes, preparing the materials. I’d spent the week reviewing and walking through the weekend of training in my head.

Unexpected Changes

And then, COVID-19 blew up. There’s no other way to describe in, in my opinion. What began as an easily spread, potentially serious depending on your existing health, virus in China now impacts every single one of us to some degree or another.

Yet, I was healthy, my friend – healthy, we were a go. I casually sent her a text early in the week to see if anyone had expressed concern, and the answer was no. When travel bans and “social distancing” became everyday vocabulary, we had a new landscape before us.

I got the call on Thursday morning, for class starting Friday, three hours from where I live. After much angst about it (by me) we decided to switch to a virtual class. Honestly, it’s playing out 100 times better than I’d even hoped for.

But there were a few people who dropped off. 16 hours looking at your computer isn’t for everyone. Disappointed not to participate but understanding.

More Impact from Social Distancing

I’ll be honest, when I say there was angst about the switch, it was more like a whisk stirred around all the thoughts I had in my mind about the weekend and I had to sort it out again, in 24 hours. And during those 24 hours, I also learned that a trip I had planned to Florida to celebrate a major milestone in my Dad’s career, was postponed. Along with my sister-in-law’s baby shower. And a likely celebration of my Grandpa’s upcoming 94th birthday. We Williams don’t mess around when we’re all together.

I felt the disappointment in my gut.

Along with millions of other people worldwide who are experiencing the cancellation, or virtualization, of training, conferences, weddings…school is being cancelled for weeks. Throughout the U.S. life is grinding to a standstill as we grapple with a solution to this virus.

And while I have mixed feelings about the literal standstill we’re experiencing, I am keenly aware of the immense change and disappointment millions are feeling. We’re watching the economy shift as a result of the cancellations. People are watching their retirement accounts plummet, and businesses are feeling the impact. Which trickles down to the workers, many of whom are sent home during closures and while some are paid, not all are so fortunate.

We need other people

We’re also being encouraged to stay away from others to stop the spread of the virus. So, on top of disappointment, many are shifting to isolation – a combination easily leading to depression. We need to be building resiliency.

If all goes according to plan, the virus will die out in 4-6 weeks and we’ll be given the ‘all clear’ to resume life. In military terms, we’ll be given the “As you were.” But as you were may no longer exist. We’ll be faced with recovering from the widespread impact of “social distancing.” Bouncing back may feel like starting from a dead stop.

Which is why we must stay connected to other people. While my class this weekend is virtual, we’re all on video and talking with each other, seeing each other, experiencing emotions together. We need to perpetuate those experiences with other people. Imagine if you were undertaking a complete house remodel. You may take the house down to the foundation as you begin your efforts. But you rebuild from that strong foundation.

Pour into your connections

It’s critical that we maintain and strengthen a strong foundation with people in our lives. Passivity won’t cut it. We need to actively maintain connection. Create moments for joy, shared experiences, a new way of “doing life together.” Nearly everyone is experiencing disruption and disappointment to one degree or another and the absolute worst thing we can do is isolate. We need other people, even if those people are at a distance.

We don’t stand a chance of being resilient and bouncing back if that foundation isn’t maintained. Not a single chance. People need us, we need each other. We’re facing a new normal, at least for the time being, and we owe it to each other, to our shared humanity, to step it up. Make extra efforts to connect with those you love, and those who may be alone. We’re cultivating resilience together. Distancing doesn’t have to mean disconnection. We’re literally on this journey together my friends, let’s be brave.

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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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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.