Tag: women supporting women

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Why is change so difficult?

In preparation for an upcoming series of articles my company plans to publish, I headed to the great encyclopedia of Google earlier this week. My business partner had shared the phrase, “Nothing is certain but change.” Our conversation centered around that idea and the question we continued returning to was, if nothing is certain but change, why is change so difficult for the vast majority of humans?

Change has been with us since the beginning

I wanted to get my hands on the origin of the concept of the certainty of change. I had to look way back to 500 BCE philosopher Heraclitus of Ephesus. Thank goodness someone had boiled down his philosophies so that I could understand them because it seems he has known as the dark philosopher… his writings were that difficult to understand. My eyes would have glazed, I’m quite confident of it, if I’d reviewed his original manuscripts. Beyond the fact that they were probably in Greek. Greek to me. (I couldn’t resist that one…low hanging fruit.) Heraclitus’ claims are summed up as:

Panta Rhei (“life is flux”) recognizing the essential, underlying essence of life as change. Nothing in life is permanent, nor can it be, because the very nature of existence is change. Change is not just a part of life in Heraclitus’ view, it is life itself.

We see Panta Rhei played out in the world around us. As I write, it’s late fall and my yard is covered with leaves. If I wait long enough, say, around March, the trees will again be covered with leaves and flowers. It happens around us every single day, this process. Yet, so often we’re resistant to change. Not surprisingly, there are underlying reasons why change is so difficult.

The devil you know

Consider a situation you continue returning to despite the fact it’s uncomfortable, or even painful. A job that you show up begrudgingly, day after day, because while you are miserable, it’s a familiar misery. Or the relationship you fight to maintain despite the fatal flaws you know are not going to heal. A habit you maintain because, without it, you feel unanchored and lost. That’s the root of it. We stay in a situation that’s unhealthy, or unproductive, or miserable for us because we know it. In junior high, we even wrote in yearbooks, “Don’t go changing.”

Think about it. At that job. You know what’s expected of you, how to perform successfully. Without the job, you’d be unanchored. Turns out, humans hate uncertainty, and change creates uncertainty. When we’re unanchored, or in a state of uncertainty, our brains trigger a threat response in our limbic system. Instead, when we find the answer, complete the equation, our brains are rewarded with hits of dopamine, that familiar, feel good, hormone. Brené Brown equates it to story, in that, our brains are wired for story. We look for the beginning, middle and end…certainty. When we don’t have one of the elements, we move to story…complete the cycle, get the hit. Usually, that story is the one we’re making up.

We want to know what’s going to happen next. And since life doesn’t always give us a roadmap, hence, change is so difficult.

We must choose to take the first step

Back to the job, the relationship, the habit… we know when something needs to be different. We do. If we’re listening to our guts, they speak to us plainly. But that first step is terrifying. We meet our friend uncertainty on that first step. Damn, not that guy again. Temptation to retreat to our safe existence is strong. So strong, if fact, often we do. Often, what you’re taking is the 470,256th first step. But, when you’re uncomfortable enough, you’ll keep trying.

And although change is difficult, once you take a step, you might find you keep moving forward. You can start to see the light in your situation. I’ve heard from dozens of people who’ve shared that they spent years in a job, or at a company they didn’t like. Too afraid to change, to lose what sense of certainty they had in that situation, because even negative certainty is certainty. But once they left, the feeling of “Why did I wait so long???” washed over their entire body.

It’s not easy, but worth it

I’ve shared snippets of a former relationship before wherein I was told, “You’ve changed,” and it wasn’t a “Yay you, awesome, you’ve changed.” Instead, it was an accusation. In fact, I had changed, because, we’re allowed. And the woman that was emerging as the change took hold was different. More assured, confident and willing to be in a space of uncertainty.

Liz Gilbert described a sensation that happens when we make a change that causes us to leave our former beliefs (amongst other things). The group, whether family, friends, colleagues, church, that you’ve been part of will fight against your change. They’ll use any means to draw you back into to the ‘safe’ place with them. You might hear comments such as, “you’re making some dangerous decisions,” or, “you’ll miss us,” or, “you are straying from the path.” You might even be told that you won’t survive outside the group. Liz calls that “tribal shaming,” and unfortunately, most of us have experienced it.

When do you feel that resistance, maybe from a person or group, in the form of tribal shaming, or other strategies, or the resistance within yourself the most? When you’re on the right path. Truly. So, when you feel that pull, keep going. Even when you’re afraid, keep going. Why is change so difficult? Because science. Because other people. But when you feel the pull to return to the old ways, in the immortal words of Dori, in Finding Nemo, “Just keep swimming.” You’re brave my friends. Keep swimming. Lisa

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Living a daring life

Four days a week you can find me happily cruising back and forth in a pool lane at my gym. It’s a little trickier now because you must reserve lanes given the social distancing restrictions. 100% worth it because water is my happy place. But the other day. Boy oh boy…it was a hotbed of drama. I’d spent time before I headed over journaling and pondering my word for 2021. It landed in my lap really. I’ll be focused on living a daring life.

Everyday opportunities to be daring

With that fresh in my mind, I was presented with the opportunity to be daring that morning. To be clear, as I unfold what it means to me to be daring, the dimensions will expand. I’m rooted in Daring Greatly by Brené Brown, but not that day. My swim pals and I had reserved our lanes days before and were 30 minutes into our swim. When I paused at the wall, a guy informed me that I was in his lane and I needed to get out. I explained I’d signed up for it and he said he’d already checked with the front and I was wrong. Confused, I looked at my friends and we adjusted, shifting so we could share two lanes. He was in the pool maybe 15 minutes and then got out.

When we finished our hour-long swim, we fumed over the situation and I reiterated that I’d reserved the lane. They agreed, after all, we’d done it together. In those moments, I realized that I hadn’t been daring at all! I didn’t stick up for myself, presuming I was in the wrong and, classic Enneagram 9, didn’t want a fuss, and acquiesced. As I left the gym, I asked the attendant up front, and the guy did not have the lane and hadn’t even checked. He lied to me. Honestly, it was gaslighting, making me question my own memory. And still, I was not daring.

Wake up to your life

As plain as day this situation showed me that I had missed an opportunity to be daring. But isn’t that always the way? We have clarity in hindsight. Being daring would have been saying he was wrong, and swimming away. Oh wait, excuse me for a minute while I untie the knot in my stomach. Not even kidding. Does anyone else have that response to personal confrontation? Anyone?

My limbic system, my body, genuinely feels the emotion resulting from the thought of being confrontational. And for those of you who identify, how are we to live daring lives when we can’t hold our ground? Being daring requires that we’re awake to our lives. That we listen to our bodies and hearts and are vulnerable in pursuing our desires. It could look like telling someone close to you that their behavior makes you uncomfortable. Or telling someone that you love them first. Saying no to a family member’s request, without giving a reason. One way that we’re living a daring life is speaking up for ourselves, and that takes vulnerability.

It always comes back to vulnerability

And here we are back with our friend vulnerability (said no one ever). Vulnerability, according to Brené Brown, is uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. All of which the situation with Mr. Pool Liar presented to me. Even with someone I didn’t know, I wasn’t vulnerable. But you know what? That blatant reminder slapped me across the face. Really. It reminded me to be daring. Reminded me that it’s ok if someone else is upset with me – which is a mountain sized risk to an Enneagram 9. But it’s ok.

To be clear, scheme of things, the pool scenario was no big deal. But at the same time, it was. It reminded me I can stand up for myself. Even though I didn’t do it in the moment. And I’d ask you, where are you missing opportunities to be vulnerable? To be daring with your life? What would be different if you chose to be daring, more often, to the point where you are living a daring life? It’s becoming my journey and I hope you’ll come along with me. Be Brave friends, it’s our one and only life. Lisa

 

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Why empathy is essential to daring

Being a Brené Brown groupie, I read, listen and peruse all the things she releases to the world. On her new Spotify podcast, Dare to Lead, the conversations with business leaders are rich and full of nuggets. This week’s conversation with Guy Raz was no exception. Guy hosts the popular show, How I Built This, on NPR,  amongst other accomplishments. Much of the conversation centered around the qualities of an accomplished leader, a central tenant of which was empathy. Given that Brené herself preaches at length about the power of empathy, my ears perked up to hear what was coming. In a nutshell, empathy is essential to daring leadership.

The idea kept rolling around in my head

As is typically the case, once an idea grabs me, I roll it around like playdough in my head and, just like playdough, as it travels, it picks up bits and pieces of interactions I’ve had throughout the week. One of which was with one of my best friends. We have an ongoing, what I’d call argument and she would probably say a mild conversation, around diversity.

In truth, at the core of it, we agree, but our approach varies. She desires to treat each person as an individual, without race or sex, for example, being the central issue. If people would engage from that standpoint, they’d learn about the person, their experiences, or hardships. In premise, I don’t disagree, in fact as I write this, I wonder why we have arguments. But after a conversation the other day, I sent a text, because I think better in writing.

I think what I was getting to in my long narrative is that we each have unique experiences and I want to make sure that I recognize the unique experience someone else may have because of their color, or because what they believe, or their sexual orientation…I want to understand their experience and understand that mine may be different and not make assumptions that they would have gone down the same path as me because they are different. Not that they couldn’t have gone down that path, but to not assume they’ve experienced life as I have.

(Miraculously, Siri translated that text accurately. Soooo, the run on sentences are on her.)

When I listened to Brené and Guy, my brain clicked, I want to engage with empathy.

Empathy as a way of life

Honestly, my friend has oodles of empathy, I experience it with her all the time. What I’ve learned about myself though is that I’m an Empath. I can’t turn it off. I feel emotions in my body, like physical blows. Those of myself and others. It’s one of the reasons conflict is difficult for me. But this year, I’ve felt a heightened sense of connection to others, even amid a global pandemic. Connected to their emotions, which I also feel. So, when it comes to social justice issue, its empathy compelling me to stand in the gap, to stand alongside people, because I desire to understand their experience and sit in the feelings with them. And they may be hard feelings, but important.

And as the playdough of my mind continued to roll around, I extrapolated the comments about empathy in leadership to empathy as a way of living with other humans. What if we were curious about each other’s experience and strove to come alongside instead of peer over the edge at someone’s suffering? Brené’s The Power of Empathy short demonstrates empathy vs. sympathy. I’d encourage you to check it out. I wonder, what if empathy is essential to a daring life?

Lead with empathy

No better way exists to determine if empathy is essential to a daring life than to live it. And I intend to. But… like you, I’m a human person and experience other feelings that occasionally cloud my view, making empathy take a back seat. If it does, we can come back to it. You see how I did that?? I’m suggesting that we endeavor to exercise empathy throughout our daring lives. I’m convinced it’ll lead to richer, deeper and more engaged relationships, which we all crave. I know we can do it my friends. We’re brave. Sending love. Lisa

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The messy middle – it’s unavoidable

Pancakes and a girlfriend, is there a better combo for Saturday morning breakfast? No. Because while lingering over gluten free pancakes and eating ‘just one more bite,’ I’m fairly certain we solve the world’s problems. At least our world. During a recent breakfast, at the end of a particularly windy trail of topics, she made a comment,

“I’m not who I was then.”

Bam, Elvis has left the building. We paused for a moment realizing all the work we’d done from starting points that were ugly at best, but we wouldn’t have gotten there without the messy middle.

The part we want to skip

Already on my mind, the messy middle poked me earlier in the week during a book launch call. I’m on a team helping author Allison Fallon launch her upcoming book, The Power of Writing it Down. Honestly, being on the team is a gift because we spend an hour each week with Allison talking about the book, one chapter at a time. And the questions that arise are powerful. This week, we spoke about the question authors pose at the onset of a book that keeps the reader turning the pages, waiting for the answer, which doesn’t come until the end. Answer the question any sooner, you lack a compelling reason for the reader to continue.

But that middle part, it’s where all the juicy stuff happens. While I am not one of these people, I know there are some who skip ahead to the last page, jumping past the building suspense because they want the answer now. If only we could follow achieve answers that easily in our own lives.

The middle is where we narrate the answers

Thinking back to four years ago when my girlfriend and I began our pancake ritual (not every week mind you, we’d be diabetic by now from the syrup), our lives were like a yard sale after a tornado. I’d reached a point where tough choices needed to made and although painful, they launched me into a phase of self-discovery. Otherwise known as reaching midlife. Believe me, if I could have read a book or downloaded the answers that came to me during that phase, I would have. I was smack in the messy middle. The tears, heartache, learning, discovering, growth, joy, struggling, heartache… all brought me to today.

You see, the messy middle, or, the middle space, is where we think it through. At the onset, like the beginning of a book, we don’t have the answers yet. Experience is the road to the answers. The middle space is where we have time to examine and learn so that we can have a different answer. We’ve had time to think, process, feel the shift in our bodies and hearts and understand what our intuition is telling us.

It takes time

Depending on your reading speed, a day, a week, a month later, you reach the end of the book, and get your answer. Hopefully, if the author has done their job, it’s one that satisfies you, or perhaps provokes you – both are reasonable outcomes. If only we could zip through life’s lessons like we would a compelling novel. But we can’t. And if that’s not enough, we can’t project plan it out, setting the end date where we’ll put down our pen and be done. We cannot predict the duration of the messy middle. And truthfully, if we took a shortcut, we’d miss necessary lessons.

And then one day…

You have a situation, one which brings back the familiar guttural feelings from the beginning. But this time, you choose differently. Instead of listening to your thoughts as though they are truth, you ask yourself questions. You have new skills. You’ve developed new insights you understand yourself more completely. So, when you feel your throat tightening (in my case), or your stomach knotting (also in my case), you ask why. And you make a decision that reflects who you are today.

If you think about your own life and who you were four years ago compared to who you are today, are you the same person? Change is part of life and in fact, if we’re not changing, we’re stagnating. And the people around us, especially the ones who’ve been there awhile, they’ve had the privilege of witnessing our change. But I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that you might lose some of those people along the way because they aren’t comfortable with your change. That’s ok. Hard, but ok. Borrowing from Glennon Doyle in her newest book Untamed, we can do hard things, you can do hard things because, “You’re a goddamn cheetah.”

You have to go through the messy middle and know that I’m in it with you. One day, you’ll wake up and think, “I’m not who I was then,” and you’ll know it was worth it. Be brave my friends. Lisa

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Do you want to be well?

I’ve had a migraine for 3 days…and I’ll probably have it another 10. The migraines I experience are food triggered and although I do my absolute best to avoid the deadly culprits, I had a salad this week. Without fully thinking it through I ate the delicious take-out creation and upon finishing it realized the dressing likely had red wine vinegar. Dastardly. You see, alcohol in any and all forms, triggers the migraine.

It was said to me (and has been said before) “you should be more careful.” To which, I want to scream. This zero-conflict Enneagram 9 wants to lash out. Because in absolutely zero way do I want the migraines. They are level 10 awful. I AM careful. Yet mistakes still happen.

Is it “mine” or simply “the” [fill in the blank]

Earlier in the week as the headache was curling up with a good book and tea in my head, settling in for the long haul, calling a few buddies over, I thought about the notion of referring to it as ‘my migraine.’ I remember reading in a holistic health guide (or read on the internet…who knows anymore), that one should avoid personalizing a health challenge. The concept, which I think is valid, is that personalization embeds the symptoms, the diagnosis, into our bodies.

I’ve thought about this idea in combination with a sermon I heard years ago entitled, “Do you want to be well?” The degree to which we personalize our medical problems, as a for example, they become our identity. In our minds and narrative, we are the person with…migraines, fibromyalgia, cancer, arthritis, extra weight, thinning hair…not all of those are mine, I borrowed, but fill in your own. But a few of them are and when we identify with a hinderance, are we not further hindering ourselves? Could we just as easily be the person who is filled with joy, gratitude, beautiful hair, a positive body image at any size and whatever positive characteristic people ascribe to us that we ignore?

Why we hold on to what we’re fighting

Yes, we could. Yet… There’s something we get from being the person with the affliction when we’re including it in our narrative. We allow it to hold us back, or use it to explain X, Y or Z.

Do we want to be well?

These thoughts flooded my mind this week as the U.S. watched the presidential election play out. I’m thrilled we can now exhale from this week. But all week, the negative narrative associated with the entire race continued. The fight. And I thought for a moment, “Do we want to be well?” Is our country so engrained in the fight that we’d rather stay in that space than move towards a peaceful existence? What are we gaining from ‘the fight’?

And believe me, I’m not naively espousing the idea that there is nothing to fight for. There are groups of people who continue to this day to be treated as if they were less than. Our BIPOC brothers and sisters, our LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters, the marginalized groups who we deserve protection and equality because of the sheer fact that they are human beings. To correct the injustices that many have faced, we have that responsibility.

What would it look like to be well?

But do we want to be well? It seems that many identify with the fight more than what is being fought for. A broad statement? Maybe. But what would it look like to associate less with the fight and more with the desired outcome? Being for equality instead of fighting against injustice. That’s a much different mindset. How would our collective lives change if we shifted the narrative to being well instead of fighting the illness? And I do think the racial and LGBTQ+ inequity in the nation is an illness. But how would it be different?

I, for one, don’t have an answer. But I’m thinking about it. As we emerge from the election battle, could we shift to a unified country who is for equality? Who acts from that mindset? The choice is truly individual, do you want to be well or are you the illness? Brave choices ahead for us my loves. I hope that we will be well. Lisa

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A better way to experience the let-down

The fall season often brings back memories of a bike race I’ve done a couple of times, which is now defunct. The Furnace Creek 508 started in Santa Clarita, California and ended in Twentynine Palms, in the eastern Sierra desert. As the name denotes, you travel through Furnace Creek in Death Valley, California, on your way to the finish. It’s what is called a ‘total time’ race meaning all the time spent cycling, eating, resting, visiting nature, was included. The first time around I was on a tandem team of 4 bikes, 8 riders. The second? A two-woman team. Needless to say, the preparation for a 508-mile race, whether you have to ride the entire distance or not, is extensive. And so when it was over, around 28 ½ hours later both times, a gaping hole existed in my schedule. In hindsight, I can see what I experienced was the let-down. And it makes me think. There must be a better way to experience the let-down.

The calm after the storm

We’ve all felt it, the stillness that follows a long-awaited event is a chasm.  To be clear, I’m not talking about the let-down of disappointment. An empty space we’re not quite sure how to fill. You may have felt it after finishing college. I can still remember walking out of my final exam on the U.C. Davis campus in March 1989. Done. But then what? It’s exactly those moments that cause us doubt, or questioning…wondering if something is wrong.

The calm after the storm is the let-down. It’s the exhale that comes at the end of finishing the race, college or a hard-fought goal. Racing to finish a project, killing it, and then having too much time on your hands. The let-down, the emptiness that defines it, can easily feel like depression. I can’t help but wonder if we’re all barreling towards a collective let-down once we start to ease back into our everyday life. We’ve been holding our breath, existing in a sea of anxiety, for nearly all of 2020.

How else could we look at it?

But I think it doesn’t have to be a let-down. What if, instead, we find that we’ve evolved through our experience? You, mom or dad who has a day job, started home schooling your children. You learned Zoom, more importantly, you learned how to mute on Zoom. Your house has never been more organized and you did not know that you had the capacity to bake so.much.bread. You began to enjoy a slower pace, time with your children. Your pets most certainly have enjoyed having you at home. You may have gotten to know yourself that much better because you had the time. And time is a scarce commodity.

I chose Wholehearted as my 2020 word for the year and have spent the past ten months going through Brené Brown’s Guideposts for Wholehearted Living. But there are ten versus the twelve months this year. So now what? I wondered if I’d teeter towards a let-down, but instead, I considered what else could be happening.

We’re shifting

While I’d like to say we’re in a state of perpetual motion, that’s not quite true. Perpetual motion is the motion of bodies that continues forever. Apparently, that violates a couple laws of thermodynamics, who knew? But what is true are Newton’s laws of motion. While the first states that something in motion will continue in a straight line unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed on it.

Could it be that many of us were all in a straight line and the forces of 2020 have changed us?  Or that 2020 was a force that further changed us (because many of us were already shifting)? Let’s suppose that’s true. When life as we know it gets closer to life as we knew it pre-2020, we might feel the let-down, the loosing of the death grip we have on life. But even if we do, we can shift the way we think about it. Consider how much progress you’ve made this year, in unexpected areas. The relationships that have changed. The talents you’ve developed and want to hold on to. We often don’t see those changes because we’re in the middle of it. But I’d suggest if you write down where you were at the end of the year and now, there would be a vast difference in what’s important to you.

And so, being different that I was at the beginning of the year despite or because of the turn of events, I am more at home in myself. I’m on the Wholehearted journey, and yours’ is entirely different because it’s yours alone. But if you become tempted to give in to that feeling of let-down, reflect on what’s in motion and how far you’ve travelled. Be brave my friends.  Lisa

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We CAN let go of cool and always in control

Brené Brown’s Wholehearted Living Guideposts lay out markers along a path leading to the cultivation of being your authentic, wholehearted self. But what does wholehearted signify? I believe it’s different for each of us and throughout the year, focusing on a different guidepost each month, I’ve arrived at my own definition. Wholehearted living is coming back to who you are at your core, independent of other people’s opinions, judgements, or expectations. And wholehearted is most decidedly not cool and always in control.

What other people think is in our way

Why do we care about what other people think? Where to start? Belonging comes to mind, acceptance, feeling that we ‘fit in.’ We have an innate desire to be seen and known by others. Unfortunately, that can lead to twisting ourselves up like a pretzel in an effort to be one of ‘the club.’ We remain in control of ourselves partly to ensure our acceptance in this elusive club, because, we surmise, if people knew who we ‘actually’ were at our core, they would kick us to the curb, alone.

And nobody wants to feel they’re alone.

But, as Brené Brown writes in Braving the Wilderness, do we truly belong when we’re shape shifting to remain there (paraphrased)? If the space where we desire to belong requires that we stay buttoned up to meet other people’s expectations, or to stay in their good graces, are they really our people? If we’re spending our time working to ‘fit in,’ chances are, they’re not. In which case, our own growth as a wholehearted person is being stunted.

We desire security

One of the reasons we strive to be in control is other people and staying in ‘the club’. But within that space, we often find those crazy, unstructured people who enjoy accusing us of being ‘control freaks.’ If they understood our ‘why’ they may show a bit more compassion. And I say this as one who has been accused on more than one occasion of being a bit controlling. Truth is, I don’t care about controlling other people. Really.

What I care about is controlling what’s happening around me. Being in the club provides security, but so does being able to predict what’s going on around me. So, do I like an organized, structured life? I do. Unequivocally. Security is one of the basic needs Maslow describes and when life around me becomes chaotic, my own sense of security declines. It might seem as though those of us who desire security in our surroundings are control freaks and if that’s the case, I am not sorry.

Wholehearted is not control

If we could architect our way to wholehearted living, it wouldn’t be a journey. But it is. And despite the lingering relapses into control I, for one, have chosen the journey. Which requires letting go of always being in control. Dammit.

I was recently reminded of what it feels like to not be cool and in control while visiting my 16-week-old niece. Do you know who is in control in her house? She is. Structure around her schedule and what she needs. I willingly submit. And what I noticed is that when I was with her, I had zero desire to be in control, or to be cool. She does not care if I’m cool. So funny faces, giggling with her, letting her kick and splash in the tub while I get wet…I’m in, 100%. With a surprising side effect…laughter, song, and dance. A feeling of being free. Understandably, if you’re the parent, it’s different, but as the Aunt? Fantastic.

So perhaps feeling wholehearted is reminding myself of that feeling. Replicating it once I’m back to my day to day. If each of us determined that we are no longer going to remain calm and in control, instead opting for wholehearted, it’s possible the nature of the club would change. And if not, maybe they’re not our club. The people with whom we don’t feel we need to remain calm and in control, now that’s our club, and it does feel like the wilderness at times. Are you up for braving the wilderness to have more laughter, song and dance in your life? I am. Be brave, friends. We’re in the same club. Lisa

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We need to find our own play

Well established at this point is the fact that play is not a part of my regular jam. But October…it makes me want to play all month. Because it’s my birthday. This blog is being published…on my birthday. And if there is no other time than that once a year, it calls for time in play. There are good reasons we need play every day, but it looks differently through the years. We need to find our own play.

It starts young

As a mother myself, I remember the birthday parties I’d plan for my boys. Maybe it was my own penchant for crafts, but usually there was some form of creation as part of the event. We made the cups you color on and bake in the oven to set – a throwback to the plates we used to color and bake. My younger son is a December baby, so one year it was Christmas stockings. There was always cake, the universal sign that it’s your birthday, presents, balloons, and their friends.

I don’t remember my own early soirees, but the days of slumber parties, who could forget that?!? In hindsight, they were little more than a tween’s nightmare. Started off innocently enough, but soon you realized the girls who were farther along in puberty, e.g. generally cooler, and those who were not and hence, not as popular, aka, me. That’s not a sob story, I had plenty of good times, but was the B tier. You know what I mean, the ones who weren’t the most popular, but was friendly with those people. Not the class president, the class secretary…or treasurer.

But those parties were also a source of play. We had games, absurd and not. There were movies and lengthy discussions of boys. Most of all though, despite the early social ranking, there was play – playing/ dreaming of the day we’d be grown up or have a romance. The play allowed us to dream, create, plan.

Play goes sideways

When you’re in college, boy howdy, there’s some freedom there. So, your parties, your birthdays, become an excuse to have excess. Because now you are a grown up and this must be the plan. Can I just say what a dumb plan it was?? Why any college town needs a game night or enticement for kids – ahem, grown-ups – to drink alcohol is beyond me. But they make it easy, particularly on your birthday. Combinations that should be labeled as hazardous do not need to enter the bodies of 21-year-olds. I suppose we thought that was how to play. It is certainly doubtful that we needed that type of play, though it gave us lessons. Samantha’s birthday in Sixteen Candles would have been a better option.

And when you’re turning as old as dirt, you know, 30, you have a blowout. For mine, I wanted to be surrounded by friends and family – both of which came true. We caroused our way around Universal Studios and had a decadent, indulgent, time – earning me the name ‘Princess” for many years amongst those friends. I have several tiaras which attest to that fact.

All grown up

But after a while, the adventure and play of your birthday isn’t such a big deal. We get older and celebrating less appealing. I, for one, have done little to mark my annual ride around the sun for several years. That’s not to say there wasn’t one year I was showered with attention. But not attention I wanted, that was more about the one who did the showering than the one being showered.

And that made me think about a lot of things, which are subjects for other blogs. But relevant to birthday play…

Is it possible that we celebrate others the way we want to be celebrated? Because that same person commented that I’d done ‘nothing’ for a milestone birthday of theirs. In my mind, I’d planned an executed a whole day, but not the same type of day planned for me. The realization was eye opening.

What we think is celebration, what we see as play, is different for all of us. I’m seeking more play, but you or anyone else can’t tell me what that will be. And visa versa. It is as unique as each of us. What a relief that is because I’ve spent some time feeling like I was missing a gene when, what other people may think was fun seemed a tad absurd to me.

Choose how you will play

Our challenge is to determine what play is for us, at each stage of our lives. I’ve been in the second half of life for a hot second now and play looks much different than it used to. Honestly, physical activity was play for me. I recall an event where I rode a bike and ran through the mud and concluded feeling enthusiastic as a child. The mere act of muddying up my body and bike was rebellious, titillating even.

But today? That same event would exhaust me. Reading a book, writing…that feels like play. Entertainment for my brain. Chasing the dog around the house and having her engage is play. Spending time with friends, being outside in nature, all elements of play. When we’re on the journey of Wholehearted Living, part of the path includes accepting change. Who we are today will not be who we are tomorrow or whoever that girl thought she was at 21. Grown-up was not an accurate description by any stretch.

We’re allowed to change how we play the key is…keep doing it. Bringing play into the picture. Our hearts need lifting and our spirits require boosting. Play does that for us.  So, for me today…go out and play…and once you have, my brave friends, drop a note in the comments. Share how you play, and we’ll feel joyous right alongside you.

 

 

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Why it’s hard to let go of calm, cool and in control

Have you ever been ‘spaz’ shamed? Let me break it down for you. You…normally calm, cool and in control happens to let loose and get downright silly. An occurrence that happens rarely, and I mean rarely. And as you’re just about to get to your finest groove, your spouse (or child, or parent, or friend) says, “Geez, calm down already.” Talk about shutting.it.down. It might as well be a pin to a balloon. And then they wonder why you are most always calm, cool and in control.

I am that person. The calm one. In control all the time. Because if you’re not in control, absolute mayhem could break out at any moment. Literally, it could happen. So, when someone wired like me lets loose and dances in the kitchen, or breaks out laughing hysterically and is told to calm down? It stings like a jellyfish. And if you’ve never been stung by a jellyfish, yay you. It is MOST unpleasant. Needless to say, once stung, it’ll be a good long time before I muster up the nerve to let loose again.

Laughter is the best medicine

As the serious one in the room, days can pass without any laughter escaping my lips. And while I’d like to change that, it’s the straight up truth. It’s an actual medical fact that laughter is good medicine. The Mayo Clinic and 66,200,000 Google results will tell you so. Laughing stimulates your organs, your lungs, it activates positive hormones in your body and reduces stress.

I know this, and in fact believe myself to be a doctor some days. Yet, I persist in my serious outer demeanor. Calm, cool and in control. But lying below the surface is a silly girl who genuinely wants to play.

Danger Will Robinson

I do, I want to play. But once you’ve been serious for so long, it’s not a matter of flipping a switch. I lived through a period in my life that was incredibly hard. So much so that I became hypervigilant to the possibility that a negative downturn could happen at any moment. In this situation, my fight or flight hormones were continuously activated. Which served as a protective mechanism at the time. But now? I don’t need to be on alert anymore, but my brain hasn’t gotten the message yet. This is the case with a person who undergoes long term stress, or trauma.

The good news, according to neuroscience and this article, is that our brains are ‘plastic,’ meaning that they’re adaptable. They can be altered to respond differently. 2020 hasn’t exactly helped any of us who are vigilant. Carefully guarding ourselves in our homes, our limbic systems are in overdrive because of a potentially deadly virus. But we can make choices to change our thinking. I can make choices to rewire my thinking.

Wholehearted Living Guidepost #10

Cultivating Laughter, Song and Dance

Letting go of cool and always in control

Letting go of always in control

And while I’m serious with good reason, I know that I can let go of the reigns – if only a tad. This year of Wholehearted Living calls for it. My experiences reinforced a proclivity to being serious and any of us who are wired similarly can make a choice to rewire our main circuit board. Letting go of cool, calm and in control? It’s one thousand percent worth it. Being the grown up all the time is exhausting. So, when your normally serious friend, aka, me, starts laughing over nothing in particular? Don’t shame her. Or when you walk into the kitchen and find your reserved mother dancing? Don’t shame her. Ever.

Don’t shame her for being serious, and certainly don’t shame her for letting loose. Because only you have lived in your body. Lived your life. Been at the other end of whatever it is that you’ve experienced. Only you. And sister…if you want to cut a rug in the middle of the CVS…I say, ‘go for it.’ If I see you, I’ll stand 6 feet away with my mask on and join in. It feels brave to let ourselves go because it is. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I’m with you my loves. Be Brave. Lisa

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You don’t have to be a good girl

Yesterday morning, I spoke with My Village Well, joined by a group of women who regularly gather for growth, connection, laughter and, on occasion, tears. My topic was Rising Strong, based on the work of Brené Brown in her book by the same name. Chosen because we will all need a path to rise from 2020, the topic led to a spirited conversation about boundaries and, interestingly enough, the consensus that many of us are tired of being a good girl.

The short path to get there

You might have the Talking Heads in your mind right now and their classic, “How did I get here?” How indeed.

As women, the idea that we would venture out and pursue a life that is something other than what we’re ‘supposed to’ do is foreign. At least it was to me. Long entrenched in the idea that I was supposed to ‘behave,’ and go wit the flow, any action to the contrary caused me internal turmoil. If an important person in my life said I ‘should’ veer in a particular direction, I’ve largely done it. The result being that other people defined what should be meaningful in my life.

For example, the idea of volunteering. Do I believe volunteering is important? Absolutely. Am I out doing on the regular? I am not. I have been cajoled, prodded, coerced, and shamed into volunteering. Why? Because ‘good girls’ do it, so naturally, so should I.

What if I dissent?

Our social construct creates obstacles for those who choose to dissent. Simply, dissent means to differ in opinion. We’ve heard Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s dissents discussed this week as being written for the future. For generations to come. Interestingly, in polite society, to dissent with someone might create conflict and tension. But why?  If dissent is merely a difference in opinion, a different take on the matter, aren’t we all allowed to do so? Or does dissent remove us from the Good Girls Club?

As we talked about it yesterday, it occurred to me that boundaries, which we all need to one degree or another, are a form of dissent. A boundary is me telling you what’s ok and what’s not ok. It’s establishing a relationship parameter for the future. Yet, dissent is often seen less as a different in opinion but instead resistance or the opposition. And good girls do not engage in resistance.

If we’re living a Wholehearted Life as Brené Brown writes about in The Gifts of Imperfection, one of our Guideposts is letting go a ‘supposed to and should and cultivating meaningful work.’ I’ve been focusing on it throughout September and continue to see areas where I’ve given in to supposed to. Good girls do that.

It’s ok to not be a good girl

No, really, it’s true. Of the 7,300,000,000 (yes, that’s seven BILLION…) results that come up on Google upon entering ‘what is a good girl’ into the search bar, this one caught my eye:

             The “good girl” definition of good is to be passive, submissive and compliant. A good girl won’t be solving problems, feeding the homeless and making the world a better place. She’s good by her own twisted definition of good. And anyone who doesn’t adhere to her paradigm of goodness is most likely, in her mind, bad

Dissenting, having our own opinions, creating boundaries and a plan for ourselves does not make us bad. As women, we would do ourselves a huge favor to let go of the good girl paradigm, of ‘supposed to,’ and instead, make our own path.

We can choose Rising Strong

Using Brown’s Rising Strong process, we can have our own reckoning and consider what we feel, what emotion or false truth has hooked us and impacted our thinking and behavior. Next, we rumble, and unlike in West Side Story, nobody must die. We may be influenced by other people but choosing to go down their path was a choice. Rumbling with our choices leads to coming to grips with our responsibility in our own story…the ways we’ve put on the good girl dress and left it on. Finally, we have the revolution, our opportunity to change. To make different choices because we see our own complicity in our stories.

Integrating our learning with future choices, it’s how we move from ‘supposed to and should,’ to meaningful. How we give up the good girl persona and become our own person, one who we define and who claims her own agency. One who may dissent…and I hope we do…because the world needs our voices. We can rise strong. I believe in us. Be brave my friends. Lisa