How do you accept personal comments — compliments or criticism?
As we approach the end of 2018, I’m resolving to accept all personal comments the same way.
With gratitude and joy.
I’m not saying that accepting personal comments with gratitude and joy will be easy. Compliments and criticism can be very difficult to accept, for different reasons.
Therefore, I shall now practice this new resolution, as I imagine all sorts of people giving me personal comments.
As I embrace the preciousness of this moment, I believe accepting personal comments with gratitude and joy will be good for my self care and for the care of others.
Also, it helps me to remember that personal comments are often the reflection of the person making the comment. In other words, it’s nothing personal.
I look forward to your personal comments on this post.
As always, I’m joyfully and personally grateful to all those who helped me create today’s post and to every person who visits this blog, including YOU.
I’m having trouble sleeping, and I’m breaking the silence in the middle of the night by creating today’s blog post, early. I’m also breaking my personal rule about not checking the news when I can’t sleep and noticing that news headlines often report on somebody breaking the silence (like this story, here).
Breaking the silence is often a good thing, wouldn’t you agree?
Yesterday, my son was breaking the silence by Face-Timing me about his imminent holiday home-coming from the University of Edinburgh. During our long discussion, I captured these images of us breaking silences.
I am now breaking my silence about how much my son looks like Vincent Van Gogh in those last two photos.
At other parts of the day, I was breaking the silence with these clicks of my iPhone camera:
It’s not a departure to start this blog with a photo
or a definition.
de·par·ture
/dəˈpärCHər/
noun
the action of leaving, typically to start a journey.
“the day of departure”
synonyms: leaving, going, leave-taking, withdrawal, exit, egress, retreat
“he tried to delay her departure”
a deviation from an accepted, prescribed, or traditional course of action or thought.
“a departure from their usual style”
synonyms: deviation, divergence, digression, shift
NAUTICAL
the east–west distance between two points, especially as traveled by a ship or aircraft and expressed in miles.
Jerry Seinfeld, who is not in his 90s and who I hope gets there (because I love him), is also in the movie. He describes his ideas about how to live well into your 90s, which include “Fall in love every day. I don’t mean romantic love. Fall in love with your parking space.”
Maybe I WILL make it into my 90s, because I fall in love every day, with my parking space and many other things. Do you see the love in my photos from yesterday?
I love so many things about those photos, including the penguin-that-looks-like-a-monkey Starbucks cake pop. I also love that my new and lovely co-worker Alice and I went to Starbucks yesterday not wanting to buy anything but just to smell the coffee (which some lovely researchers say can revitalize you), and the lovable Starbucks barista (not pictured) opened a giant container of roasting beans (also not pictured) and let us smell their lovely aroma.
One of the lovable social work interns at work has fallen in love with the music of jazz drummer Brian Blade and he suggested I listen to him, which I did. I fell in love and maybe you will, too.
What might you fall in love with today?
I’ve fallen in love every day about thanking those who help me write these daily posts and also my lovely readers (including YOU).
Today, my answer to my own question — “what’s the worst thing that anybody ever called you” — is “Incapable.”
I am capable of admitting that I AM incapable in many areas, including
getting enough sleep,
knowing things before I have a chance to learn them,
having a poker face,
cooking as well as my boyfriend Michael,
keeping my desk neat and organized,
wrapping presents beautifully,
understanding how dogs think,
ignoring cats,
giving up hope for humanity, and
stopping my busy mind,
but I still think that “incapable” is the worst thing anybody has ever called me.
Three and a half years ago, when I wrote Day 867: Difficult — which had a list of every unkind label people had called me that I was capable of remembering up to that point — I was incapable of including “incapable” on that list. However, now that somebody HAS called me “incapable,” I am more capable of realizing that I have harshly and unfairly labeled myself “incapable” whenever I’ve made mistakes.
Also, even though nobody called me “incapable” until recently, I got the message I was incapable when I entered 7th grade of a public Junior High School. The administrators there decided that, because of my heart condition, I was incapable of keeping up with the smartest kids in the class. I eventually proved that I was not as incapable as they thought, when I became class Valedictorian senior year.
As I’m writing about “incapable,” here and now, I am capable of letting go of that unhelpful label. Instead, I am focusing on the ways I am capable, which include the capability to take pictures and share them here.
I am not incapable of telling stories in rhyme, including this one:
I am not incapable of expressing my gratitude to all who helped me create this “Incapable” post and — of course! — YOU, for being capable of reading it.
Yesterday, on Facebook, I posted and posed the question: “What’s the worst thing that anybody ever called you?”
Was that called for, to invite people to remember the worst thing they had ever been called? I believe that if we expose and share the worst thing we have ever been called, we can
Now, somebody may call me out and ask, “Ann, what if the worst thing that anybody ever called me IS true?” If there is truth in it, you can decide what you want to do about it. However, in all my years of asking this question, and people answering
stupid,
lazy,
worthless,
crazy,
selfish,
fat,
ugly,
incapable, and
other harsh, hurtful, and over-generalized judgments,
I have seen no helpful truth there.
We could do worse than examine today’s photos for worst things we’ve been called.
Has anyone ever called you despicable, including yourself?
Has anybody ever called you gross? Artificial?
Has anybody ever called you out for hanging on for too long?
Has anybody ever called you weird-looking? Scary? Too starey? Too expressive? Too transparent?
Has anybody ever called you an ass? Too distant?
Has anybody ever called you too spacy?
Has anybody ever called you foolish? Greedy? Not knowing what’s good for you?
Has anybody ever called you vain? Up-tight?
Has anybody ever called you pushy? Has anybody ever told you you’re not doing enough with your life?
Has anybody called you thoughtless? A doormat? Catty? A baby?
Has anybody ever called you a psychopath?
I’m working on a song called “Don’t Call Me” (and I’ve called out the lyrics here). Before I can call that song finished, here’s “Call Me” by Blondie.
If you hang on until the end of this blog post, you’ll see the photo that inspired today’s post title.
I like the title “Hanging on for dear life” because I’ve been hanging on for almost sixty-six years and life is very dear to me. I also like that title, here and now, because life can sometimes seem precarious, especially with global warming reports, the current political situation, the stresses inherent during the holiday (and exam) season, interpersonal conflicts, and a fire alarm going off during a group therapy session.
Hang on, dear readers! Here are all my photos from yesterday:
I wonder if this post will be the exception that proves the rule. In order to know that, we need to know what “the exception that proves the rule” means.
“The exception proves the rule” is a saying whose meaning has been interpreted or misinterpreted in various ways. Its true definition, or at least original meaning, is that the presence of an exception applying to a specific case establishes (“proves”) that a general rule exists. For example, a sign that says “parking prohibited on Sundays” (the exception) “proves” that parking is allowed on the other six days of the week (the rule). A more explicit phrasing might be “the exception that proves the existence of the rule.”
An alternative explanation often encountered is that the word “prove” is used in the archaic sense of “test”.[1] Thus, the saying does not mean that an exception demonstrates a rule to be true or to exist, but that it tests the rule. In this sense, it is usually used when an exception to a rule has been identified:[clarification needed] for example, Mutillidae are wasps without wings which cannot fly, and therefore are an exception that proves (tests) the rule that wasps fly. The explanation that “proves” really means “tests” is, however, considered false by some sources.
One of my rules here is providing some clarity and explanation about why I’m writing each of my daily posts. Maybe this post will be an exception to that.
Or maybe not. In narrative therapy, it’s important to identify exceptions to people’s unhelpful, generalized, negative rules about themselves and their lives. For example, if somebody sees themselves as a loser or a failure, the narrative therapist helps them identify and talk more about the exceptions to that self-defeating rule.
When I hear exceptions outside my therapy office, I sometimes say, “That’s the exception that proves the rule. Whatever that means.” I’m realizing now that I do know what it means.
Let’s see if any of my photos today illustrate “the exception that proves the rule.”
Usually we don’t have balloons of woodland creatures in the cafeteria at work. Yesterday, there was a holiday celebration called “Wintery Woodlands,” where employees received hot chocolate, chocolate-covered pretzels, a calendar, and a lunchbox. Because I’m exceptionally distracted these days, I left my calendar and lunchbox in the cafeteria. The rule is only one calendar and lunchbox for everyone, so I guess I’m out of luck.
That’s my new and exceptional co-worker, Alice. She’s also taking a picture of the wintry woodlands in that photo. I have a rule, in this blog, of not identifying where I work. I don’t think this photo is an exception to that. (Although I have slipped, one or two times, during the two thousand, two hundred, and ten days of blogging, so I guess those posts are exceptions that prove the rule.)
I’ve taken a lot of photos of this hotel marquee, but none of them have ever said, “12 Days of Music.” I am predicting that this photo won’t be the last one that says that. I’ve also included a lot of music in this daily blog, but I don’t remember ever including any punk. If so, today will be the exception that proves the rule.
Here’s a punk rock cover of “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
If you usually don’t comment, why not make today the exception that proves the rule?
I’m considering not thanking people at the end of this post (which definitely is a rule at this blog), but some rules I do not want there to be an exception to. So, exceptional thanks to all those who helped me create today’s blog and — of course! — to YOU.
Every one of my photos today could relate to everyone.
Everyone with a closed heart is driving me crazy.
That teabag is telling everyone to be kind to everyone else, but to be compassionate to oneself, in every moment. I hope everyone reading this can do that.
Everyone I know has been been encouraging me to keep writing songs. Thanks, everyone! I wrote every one of these words while I couldn’t sleep:
I’m looking forward to everyone’s comments and I’d like to thank everyone who helps me create every one of these daily posts, including everyone who reads them (like YOU).
Day 2181: How to accept personal comments
How do you accept personal comments — compliments or criticism?
As we approach the end of 2018, I’m resolving to accept all personal comments the same way.
With gratitude and joy.
I’m not saying that accepting personal comments with gratitude and joy will be easy. Compliments and criticism can be very difficult to accept, for different reasons.
Therefore, I shall now practice this new resolution, as I imagine all sorts of people giving me personal comments.
As I embrace the preciousness of this moment, I believe accepting personal comments with gratitude and joy will be good for my self care and for the care of others.
Also, it helps me to remember that personal comments are often the reflection of the person making the comment. In other words, it’s nothing personal.
I look forward to your personal comments on this post.
As always, I’m joyfully and personally grateful to all those who helped me create today’s post and to every person who visits this blog, including YOU.