Tag: Embracing your best self

Unexpected gifts

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You know those frustrating moments you have, where you are intending action A, and get result B, which you could have never accomplished in a million years if you’d been trying for that result? Let me explain. We’ve had a run on them around here lately that made me pay attention.

1) I was driving, and lowered the window on the passenger side to throw out a plum pit. (It was a half-inch in diameter and organic material that would decompose, but go ahead and scold me for littering if you want. That’s a post for another day.) Even though the window was open 4 inches, the pit hit the glass, bounced back into the car, and disappeared between the driver’s side seat and the center console.

2) My husband was walking through the work area that is our former (and future–we’re remodeling) bedroom, tripped on the rake (he’d been using to clean up broken mortar from tile removal). Regained his balance and saw that the lace on his shoe was entwined in the rake, looped up and over the tines completely as if he’d sat down and threaded it over.

3) The TV remote was on the bed one moment, and completely missing the next. Looking under covers, under bed, under newspapers–not to be found. Finally found it two feet away nestled inside a shoe.

Now, if you’d been AIMING to accomplish any of these tasks, you’d never think them possible, right? These impossible outcomes always leave me aghast, too–and completely frustrated. I could’ve sat for hours trying to bank shot that plum pit at the window and back between the seat and console. Etc.

So I took a deep breath, looking at these crazy quirks of accomplishment, and asked: what is the meaning here? Gremlins? Instead of feeling frustrated at these events, I’ve decided from now on to view them as signs of our miraculous potential. Instead of sighing, I’m going to embrace the inherent wonder. If I can accomplish these tricks without trying, I can do anything I set my mind to. Who says that’s not true?

Any examples of your own? Start tuning in, because I’d love to hear them.

It’s the thought that counts

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“It’s the thought that counts” is a popular phrase, used to extend the benefit of the doubt to others. Behavior CAN be less than stellar, but if intentions are good, we overlook minor transgressions. This is good. Relationships improve when we focus on the underlying well-meant effort, accepting that someone is simply human, busy, gave us an inappropriate gift, etc. Turn the phrase inward, however, and personal judgment rolls in. Women do this all the time, chastising themselves for perfectly normal, incredibly human thoughts. Thoughts like:

  • “I can’t stand this kid/partner/relative.” Guilt seems especially strong with thoughts about our children and mothers.
  • “I just want to run away.”
  • “I have everything I’ve ever wanted and my life still sucks.”
  • “I understand how parents throw a child against the wall.”
  • “I don’t care if I ever have sex again.”

Sometimes, it’s NOT the thought that counts. It’s the behavior. What counts is how we follow through, how we continue to love and care for others who frustrate us to the point of impersonating Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” Go ahead–have a powerful internal scream. Embrace your truly human emotions. Cut yourself some slack about thoughts. Focus instead on actual behavior–big picture, over the long haul. You’ve thought of walking out of a store with your purchases rather than stand in a mile-long line, too. There’s nothing the matter with you, if you override thoughts and behave in the ways you aspire to, the majority of the time.

On retreat

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Sabbaticals are rare and precious, the property of scholars. In our hectic pace today, we all could use a sabbatical.

I’m taking a sabbatical of sorts, this next week. I’ll be on a writing retreat with a supportive group of women, sharing the cabin of one friend in New Mexico. Hopefully, I’ll come back inspired and refreshed, with more to share. The recent 21 day self-care challenge on my sister site with my coauthor on Life Will Never Be The Same: The Real Mom’s Postpartum Survival Guide, Diane Sanford, drained me considerably. It was merely coincidence that I already had this week away planned–as it’s much needed.

So forgive the scant posts recently. If you need inspiration, check out the new site or any of the links in my Blogroll. Or just enjoy these relaxing images, because recent research has shown that looking at pictures of nature has healing properties.

See you soon. And know that I DO appreciate you all.

Wand Targets, #3

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“I’d never eat out alone.” Countless women–and men–have voiced this one, implying that if they had a magic wand they’d never have to shovel pasta alone again. Eating lunch with my daughter, we overheard the man at the next table lamenting, “It’s just awful. I can handle lunch alone, but dinner . . . ”

The underlying assumption is “I must be some poor, lonely loser if I can’t find someone with whom to have lunch/dinner.” Maybe you flash back to the lunch table, ousted by the mean girls. There was a time in our culture when single diners, especially women, were treated poorly by restaurant staff. Stereotypically shuttled to the worst table, where they would be banged in the head by the swinging kitchen door.

One of my greatest ways to refuel is to take my current book and eat on a patio in pleasant weather. I rather like my own company, people watching or enjoying a good story. Eating alone says nothing more about me than that I am eating alone. It’s all a state of mind. No need for self-talk that eating alone is pitiful; reframe it as the quiet time you desperately desire.

While we’re addressing expectations, you might want to add Eat Chocolate Naked Week to your list to celebrate. Are you sick of the conventional definition of beauty, and shamed into hiding because of some perceived lack in your appearance or size? This looks like a wonderful opportunity to redefine beauty in a way that works for you.

The passing of an icon

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Barbara Billingsley, age 94, died Saturday in Santa Monica, CA. The actress was best known for her portrayal of June Cleaver, the cookie-baking, pearls-while-vacuuming mom of Beaver and Wally Cleaver on the classic television show, Leave It To Beaver. Every Mother’s Day, June Cleaver is voted ‘best TV mom.’ The character set the bar impossibly high for moms everywhere, causing many anxious, perfectionistic women to feel like failures, falling short of June’s level of calm, organized, wise domesticity. And June inspired me to write Even June Cleaver Would Forget The Juice Box to give women a tool to battle unrealistic expectations.

But June was not perfect. She only had to parent 20 minutes a week–and had a script writer to back her up. We could all do as well! In an early episode, June mutters to Ward, as she makes sandwiches for the boys, “I don’t like that Eddie Haskell. He said mayonnaise upsets his stomach, so I’m putting some on his sandwich.” Aghast! June was imperfect–with normal human emotions. This aspect of the character seemed to disappear as the show progressed, sculpting her into the icon she became.

Unlike June, Barbara Billingsley was human. In an interview, she once commented on the pedestal she’d been placed by her role, when she was just another working mother, fighting for her own work life balance. Thanks, Barbara, for sharing your best comedic and human self with us all through the character of June. May you rest in peace.

If only everyone could only act like me . . . Wand target #3

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Recently, listening to my community of women’s voices reveals the third target for the proverbial magic wand we all wish we had. It seems a universal wish: that others adhere to the same standards we hold in our own heads. The refrain echos all around me:

  • “I try to be cheery to everyone I see–why can’t my coworker do the same?”
  • “I try to affirm my mom as a mother–why does she feel threatened when I’m successful as a mom? Why can’t she be happy for me?”
  • “I love my sister unconditionally and don’t criticize her choices–why does she feel it’s okay to pick on me like that?”
  • “I work hard to fight fair–then my partner throws these vicious barbs at me!”
  • “I don’t gossip about those women–what have I done to them?”

Who says the internal rules of our cohorts must necessarily match our own? Of course we wish everyone followed the Golden Rule. Life would be so much smoother, if everyone held the same high ideals that we enforce for ourselves. It truly feels like one of life’s major injustices, to get bombarded by bad behavior from all sides. To receive treatment we work hard to avoid dishing out to those we encounter–how is this fair?

***SIGH**** It’s not.

Our old frenemy expectations weaves in and out of this issue. Disappointment is inevitable when we expect others to honor our code, our values. The hurt seems particularly intense because of it’s repetitive nature. Again and again, siblings, bosses, parents, partners fail to follow the fair, kind, loving path we try so hard to stay on. Often, the only solution is to remember that we really can only expect others to be themselves. To act out their issues, their moods, their unhappiness. They are only being their messy, limited, hurting human selves. “It’s just who she is.” Not very satisfying, for sure. But it definitely helps the next encounter if you can remember to rein in your expectations. In your own head, review that a) this disappointing behavior doesn’t have to do with you and b) it’s just Mr. or Ms. Crabby being their poor, miserable self.  Enter the situation from a point of compassion: it sucks to be them.

At the same time, pat yourself on the back. Kudos to you for keeping to your own high standards for yourself. You didn’t sink to that level! But if you do have a bad day and you snap into stinging rubber band mode, offer yourself some compassion–you are only human too. In the words of the Dalai Lama:

“If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.“

Perfect is a given–Perfectionism, part 2

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Perfectionism. The state of being perfect. In part one of this series on perfectionism, I referred to two definitions of perfectionism: 1) that perfection involves being disappointed in any aspect of our lives that is not exactly as we’d wish, vs. 2) a religious belief that moral or spiritual perfection exists within this human life. So which is it? Are we imperfect beings living imperfect lives, with the quest for perfection a crazy-making path? Or are we and our lives perfect already, just as we are? Makes my brain fuzzy, so I’m infusing a little philosophy into this blog today as I briefly explore the concepts underneath definition #2.

Not having much schooling in philosophy and/or Eastern religion, the idea that perfection already exists in the universe has been slow to dawn on me. Eons of writers, from Buddhists to Christians to atheist scientists, have expounded upon the idea that the universe represents perfection already, especially the perfection of nature. American author Alice Walker asserted “in nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they’re still beautiful.” Likewise, Walt Whitman exclaimed about the perfection of the universe, saying “All the things of the universe are perfect miracles, each as profound as any.” German mathemetician and philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz wrote that God (substitute higher power or source, if you wish) created the universe from infinite choices, saying “the actual world, as the result of all these claims, must be the most perfect possible.” Even fellow psychologist Wayne Dyer, Ph.D., much later to the table but inspired by the Tao Te Ching, writes “Everything is perfect in the universe – even your desire to improve it.”

Courtesy of Argonne National Laboratory on Flickr

These collective views suggest that the universe– and by definition, this includes it’s inhabitants and the progression of their lives– is already perfect. We can embrace this perfection, trusting that the overall plan of the universe is much bigger than our individual minds can comprehend. Who says our meager human brains have a handle on how things should be? In the words of Caroline Myss, “human logic is not divine logic.” At times, believing that “everything happens for a reason” and that all in our world is working out perfectly, the way it is meant to be, can open us up to feeling the boundless possibilities within ourselves. We are already perfect, even in human-scale imperfections.

Perhaps the distinction is big picture, world-view perfection, versus concrete Martha Stewartesque, perfectly-folded-napkins-on-the-exquisitely-dressed-holiday-table perfection. This philosophy says that we can take comfort and affirm our value in our implicit rightness of being and doing. The belief that, at any one moment, we are all doing the best that we can–flaws and all– has infused my entire practice of psychology. Even while it’s hard to apply sometimes in my own life. Remembering this in your daily life can be life-affirming: we’re all perfect, just as is.

Fuzzy dichotomies, #1

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Expectations are the subject of the second new category of posts: fuzzy dichotomies. Fuzzy dichotomies are beliefs which seem infused with truth. But introduce another perspective and my brain is suddenly clogged with dryer lint. What seemed hard and fast, absolute good vs. bad, now calls for further elucidation–to avoid perpetuating a meme.

I’ve long preached realistic expectations as a more reliable path to happiness than pie-in-the-sky wishes. Expecting the unattainable, we end up disappointed. To protect ourselves, we expect nothing and are pleasantly surprised when expectations are exceeded. However, when we aim low, we may limit ourselves or others, living the subtle bigotry of low expectations. Setting our sights on the basement becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Most of us learned as mere babes to align hope with reality. This lesson often stemmed from a coveted toy, flaunted in Saturday morning commercials. Mine was a fashion doll that magically changed hair color, from blond to red to brunette, all in a 30 second TV pitch. Barbie be damned: I wanted that doll! My hopes were dashed on Christmas day. She had slippery white nylon hair, to be colored with the enclosed markers. To color each strand evenly, I draped her hair over my fingers, which were soon bright red or yellow. The doll’s hair was clown-like at best; not even close to the enticing natural shades on those smooth fake-hair swatches from Clairol color kits on store shelves. Washing her hair out to switch hues meant waiting for her hair to dry, or I’d have a runny mess akin to the tray of watercolors after a painting session. Sigh. I got clever and stuck her under the bonnet of the hairdryer (this was a generation ago, kids, no handheld blowdryers). The heat turned her silky hair to fuzz. Double sigh.

Working with postpartum families, reining in expectations became critical. We expect a brand new baby to fulfill our hearts’ desires. When the crying, breast engorgement, endless poop, and sleep deprivation hit, parenthood ranks tops on the list of failed expectations, staying there for many parents, as this recent article in New York Magazine relates. Parents with unrealistic expectations are most likely to suffer from postpartum depression. I became a zealot for the middle ground.

Reading about the power of positive thinking brought on the brain fog. Expectations are powerful in our health. And consider the perspective of Eastern philosophies. If we embrace what is, rather than yearning for what is not, we will achieve happiness. The Pearls before Swine characters speak up on this.

A recent Psychology Today article by Rebecca Webber looked at five principles endorsed by people who consider themselves lucky. These fortunate souls end up with exactly what they want, versus settling for a mishmash of reworked wishes. The ‘lucky ones,’ according to Webber, expect more, not less. Serendipitous individuals are open to possibility from all sides, saying “yes” to life rather than “no.” They define goals in very flexible, open terms, not strict, locked in criteria. They drift off the path, unearthing surprises. And they embrace failure as an inevitable part of the road to success.

It seems that the fuzz-clearing breeze lies in the specificity of our expectations. The more tightly we define a desire, cramming it with ‘shoulds,’ the greater our risk of disappointment. If we think the party will be ruined unless Glinda shows up, we might miss a wonderful conversation with Elphaba. Broadly expecting goodness, fun, or fulfillment, vs. evil, boredom, or disappointment, we find the positive is made manifest. Perhaps our expectations simply sway our perceptions. Or perhaps we influence the situation to reap desired rewards.

Challenge yourself to expect great things, a cornucopia of satisfaction, rather than honing in on one specific kernel of your dreams. Your chances of fulfillment may soar.

Wand targets, #1

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In an effort to organize this blog, I’m launching some new categories. Admittedly, who really knows why I have a sudden need to provide order, after a half year of randomness? The need to organize usually arises out of feeling out of control, like when the house is such a mess that you suddenly just have to tear into (and straighten) the junk drawer. With the tidy drawer in front of you, you breathe a sigh of relief and accomplishment, feeling like you’ve grabbed the reins on your runaway life. I’m in the process of developing new writing projects in other venues, so the “to do” list is expanding, like one of those toys that magically “grow” into a slimy, disgusting object that you can’t wait to pitch into the trash once the children aren’t looking. Grow a dinosaur, grow a boyfriend, grow a cowboy–whatever your heart’s desire. But I digress. . .

New category number one is “wand targets.” If you could wave your trusty magic wand, and forever banish hated experiences and minor aggravations, what would be the target? What would vanish from your life? Tops on the list for most fallible human beings is the experience of being wrong. It’s a fairly universal state that we unanimously hate. Jokes in sitcoms and comedy routines abound (okay, often about men in particular) aimed at our discomfort uttering the phrases: “I was wrong” or “I made a mistake.” I continually tell myself, and clients, that making mistakes is NO BIG DEAL. To err is human, after all. I recommend repetition of the mantra “I’m only human. People make mistakes” as a way to stop the judgment, substituting a verbal pat on the back instead. You’re doing the best you can do. You can’t expect to be right 110% of the time.

Journalist Kathyrn Schulz has written Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error. which offers an in-depth, and surprising, look at this issue. Schulz explains that we detest being wrong because of over-generalization and absolute, all or nothing reasoning. Just the sort of meme–thinking traps–that I like to ferret out and expose. Most of us react negatively because being wrong seems to confirm our inherent flawed nature. When we make a mistake, we feel stupid, useless, incompetent. We zero in on the error, convinced it represents the total package of who we are, rather than one slip. Underlying the shame and disappointment are thoughts such as “what an idiot I was.” Even deeper underneath that brain chatter is the belief that “I must be perfectly correct and successful at all times, or I’m a loser.” Being wrong equals failure, in our minds.

Schulz offers an affirming counter view: that error is the fundamental human condition and should be celebrated. Drawing on cognitive science, Schulz says that mistakes in judgment and actions and the ability to make correct inferences are a result of the same process. We can’t be right without sometimes being wrong–because the underlying mechanism is the same. Inductive reasoning is the path to most decisions. We collect facts, fit them together, and draw a conclusion, assuming that it’s right. In terms of probability, most of the time it is. But sometimes, the facts don’t fit together in the anticipated way, and we’re surprised–and often offended that our process failed us. Schulz suggests acceptance of the fact that inductive reasoning itself is fundamentally, unavoidably fallible. But fallible does not mean useless.

The process of language learning is an example, says Schulz. Tiny kids learn to add the suffix ‘-ed’ to words to create the past tense, through inductive reasoning when listening to adults. Most of the time, this rule is successful: “walked” or “played.” But it’s not universal, as we see when children relate how they “sleeped ” or “eated.” Inductive reasoning has a high hit rate–with a healthy dose of misses.

It’s still the best our brains have–with a proviso, says Schulz, that she calls the paradox of error. To prevent error, we have to embrace the possibility that mistakes are inevitable because of how our brains work. Mistakes are an intrinsic part of a fundamentally sound system–not a reason to chastise yourself or others. Brings us back to the mantra, true all along. Everyone does make mistakes. This reassurance is not based simply in a generic, feel-good, esteem enhancing philosophy. It’s a scientific fact about human physiology. Update the mantra: “I’m only human–that’s how brains work.” It’s not just talk of empty reassurance; it really is the best we can do.

Inspiration from Jessica

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Perhaps you’ve seen this hilarious youtube video, Jessica’s Daily Affirmation? If not, treat yourself and be inspired–or if so, watch it again.

Like Jessica, we simply ooze with self-confidence and self-love when we’re small. Last weekend, attending a family wedding, the biggest source of entertainment (after the bride, of course) was the new baby in attendance. Finley’s a charmer, seven months old, gladly beaming and flirting as long as he’s on his sweet momma’s lap. He was truly the center of attention, having as many as ten adults at a time oohing and gooing at him, working to evoke his seductive smile. Making him happy just made us happy.

Adorable great-nephew Finley

Smiling babies, after exercise, might just be the quickest route to increasing endorphins–at least when we’re not their primary caretakers and can hand them back. It’s easy to see how kids transfer that love and focus of adult attention into Jessica’s ability to affirm herself.

Then something mysterious happens; the balance shifts. Our parents don’t want us to be spoiled brats, to monopolize the room endlessly, to turn into narcissists who brag. We internalize the idea that nice girls are humble, deny compliments, mutter “oh, this old thing?” about our dresses. Too often we exclaim “this hair?” when we might do better to laud our tresses, as does Jessica of the flowing golden ringlets.

This idea of narcissism as negative is largely an idea of Western culture. I’ve just completed a week long training/retreat on mindfulness meditation, and came away with several key reminders about narcissism. It’s a character flaw only when taken to excess. In typical all or nothing thinking, however, women in particular view self-love as negative, rather than realizing that a healthy dose makes us feel good. In cognitive behavior therapy, the school of thought that most guides my clinical work, the related concept is self-efficacy. Jessica’s statement of self-efficacy is “I can do anything good!” Finally, in Buddhist psychology and related Eastern philosophies, narcissism or self-love is central to feeling good. Simplistically, for the sake of brevity, we suffer when we don’t love and embrace ourselves fully rather than recognizing our infinite perfection as part of, one with, the perfect universe.

You don’t need to plow over others with your evidence of self-love–but at least shower it upon yourself. Stand in front of the mirror, chant your gifts, strengths and beauty. Daily. And don’t forget to underscore your sentiments with a resounding clap. Yeah, yeah, yeah!!!!!!