Posts Tagged With: letting go of perfectionism

Day 689: Different styles

Posted on November 20, 2014 by Ann Koplow

When I have trouble communicating with or understanding another human being, I often say (or think)

We have different styles.

That’s a more helpful way for me to deal with different personality styles than thinking (or saying):

One of us is crazy.

One of us is wrong.

Lately, I’ve also been trying to leave room for myself to show different styles, in my behaviors and in how I think.

For example, I had an overly scheduled day yesterday, when I needed to

meet with somebody for individual therapy where I work (at a Boston teaching hospital) at 9 AM,
conduct group therapy, at the same location, at 10 AM,
drive to parent-teacher conferences held at my son’s high school scheduled at 12:10:00 PM, 12:25:00 PM, 12:40:00 PM, 12:55:00 PM, 1:15:00 PM and 1:25:00 PM (give or take a couple of seconds),
go home and write the notes I didn’t get to write at work, and
attend a board meeting of a group psychotherapy professional organization, last night.

My typical style — when I’m rushed and I’m realizing that I cannot get somewhere on time — is to

get stressed,
catastrophize the consequences, and
blame myself for not doing something differently to prevent the current situation, even if it’s too late to change all that.

And, lo and behold, despite much advanced planning, I found myself stuck in traffic on my way to the parent-teacher conferences, realizing that I was going to miss the first conference at 10 minutes and 00 seconds after the noon hour (but who was counting?).

As I realized there was NO WAY I was going to make that first meeting, I started down my familiar mental pathways to

stress,
imagining terrible consequences, and
self-blame.

However, I realized I could adjust that style in the moment, and I tried some different “I’m Late” stylings. That is, I let go of unhelpful thoughts and called my son’s father (whom I was meeting at the parent-teacher conferences) and told him

I would miss the first conference with our son Aaron’s English teacher,
I would join him for the second conference with Aaron’s Economics teacher, and
Could he please tell the English teacher the only thing that Aaron wanted me to tell any of his teachers — that I am writing this daily blog?

That definitely helped me let go of stress, of catastrophizing the consequences of my being late, and of self-blame for not doing a better job juggling these parent-teacher conferences with my work schedule.

Then, on the drive to the parent-teacher conferences, I tried yet another new style. That is, I allowed myself to get REALLY ANGRY at the other drivers who were in my way, on my trip to my son’s high school.

Now, believe me, that is NOT an unusual style of driving, here in Boston, Massachusetts, USA. As I mentioned in this recent post, Boston drivers are well-known for being impatient jerks, a-holes, and c-suckers.

Wow! I just used a totally different style of writing, in this post. I have NEVER before, in all previous 688 posts in these year(s) of living non-judgmentally, EVER used such language.

And I hope I have not offended any of my loyal readers or new ones, either (say, perhaps, my son’s English teacher!).

Why did I change my style of writing today?

Because, yesterday, on my drive to my son’s high school, in the safety of my own car, out of earshot of any other human being, I used language like that, as I got mad at the drivers who, through no fault of their own, were also stuck in traffic, and trying their best to get somewhere.

Why would I do something so judgmental and so unfair?

Because it was fun, people! And it caused absolutely no harm, to anybody else.

Also, it helped remind me of some things I often tell people in therapy:

Anger is the human reaction to (1) not getting your needs met and (2) feeling disrespected and
It is healthier to feel anger and express it in a non-damaging way than to squelch it or direct it towards yourself.

And, believe it or not, I arrived at my son’s high school feeling great, and earlier than I thought I would. However, I was still five minutes late, for a parent-teacher conference scheduled to last only five minutes.

Much to my delighted surprise, when I got to the English teacher’s class room, my ex-husband was still in there, meeting with our son’s teacher. So, I got to join them and tell her about this blog, in person! As we were wrapping up our discussion of how wonderful Aaron is (which would be my personal style of describing that conversation), there was a knock on the door and a frazzled parent suddenly entered the room, saying to the English teacher:

I’m sorry to interrupt, but aren’t you all done yet? There is some place I HAVE TO BE very soon and another parent is here before me, waiting to see you!

As I was thinking “that person has a very different style than me,” the English teacher showed her different style, too: calmly and politely asking the other parent to wait outside for a few more moments and then saying to us, “This is why I do not teach adults.”

It’s important for us all to know and respect our personal styles, don’t you think?

My personal style, in these posts, is to show you photos I’ve taken recently. But honestly, people, do you really think I had any friggin’ time yesterday to take pictures ??!!??!!?

Actually, I did:

My style of blogging also includes posting a YouTube video of some music I like — often something I heard the day before I write my daily post. I didn’t have much time for music, yesterday, but I heard this in my car while stuck in traffic (and, coincidentally, I might see this live, on stage, with my ex’s sister, this weekend!)

(“Everything’s All Right” from Jesus Christ Superstar found here on YouTube)

If your different style includes leaving comments of any kind, my style is to welcome them.

Thanks to everybody reading, no matter what your styles are!

Categories: blogging, personal growth | Tags: "Everything's All Right" from Jesus Christ Superstar, healing in groups, letting go of anger, letting go of perfectionism, parent teacher conferences, people who have too much to do with not enough time to do it, using swear words for fun | 25 Comments

Day 653: To the 9’s.

Posted on October 15, 2014 by Ann Koplow

“To the nines” is an English idiom meaning “to perfection” or “to the highest degree”. In modern English usage, the phrase most commonly appears as “dressed to the nines” or “dressed up to the nines”.

— Wikipedia entry for “To the nines”

Now, to the nine explanations for why I am writing a post about 9 today:

I like the idea of using the number “9” instead of the number “10” for perfection (as described in the saying “to the nines”). That gives the 99% of us imperfect humans some space to make mistakes and learn, doesn’t it?
I want to finish this post approximately 9 minutes earlier than usual, because I have to be at the hospital for work before 9 AM, because I’m on call for emergencies this morning from 9 to 10.
I’m hoping that writing this post reminds me about being on call for 9 o’clock, since 99% of the time I am NOT on call on Wednesdays (I’m usually on call on Monday afternoons).
At 10, I have 9 people signed up for a therapy group, and I rate that as a 9 out of a possible perfect 10.
On my walk home from work yesterday, I heard a song that has a “9” in the title. Would you like to take 9 seconds and/or 9 guesses for what song that might have been?

After hitting the “return” key 9 times (and giving you enough friggin’ space, I hope), I shall now show you the song that was playing, yesterday, when I left the hospital after a 9-hour workday starting at 9 AM:

“99″ (found here on YouTube) is a tune by Toto which I’ve loved — and have loved to sing along to — for between 9 and 99 years. My boyfriend Michael and I have had approximately 99 discussions about our disagreements about that band and that song. (Michael 99.9%* dislikes both of them.)
About 9 minutes after I heard “99” yesterday, I heard a magnificent piece by a famous composer. Feel free to take 9 seconds and/or 9 guesses to come up with an answer for what that second 9-related musical piece was. ((Hint: this composer said a word that sounds like the topic of this post when setting limits with people and turning things down).

When my son Aaron was about 9 years old, we watched and listened to that exact YouTube video of the 2nd movement of Beethoven’s 9th symphony. I remember that being perfectly thrilling (and second to none).

Before I leave, I need a photo with some 9’s in it. I took this, yesterday, as I was listening to Beethoven’s 9th:

I wonder how many comments I’ll get on this post today? (Does it matter to me how many comments I get? What do you think?)

99,999 thanks to Aaron,Michael, Ludwig Van, David Paitch, Jeff Porcaro, Steve Lukather, Steve Porcaro, Bobby Kimball, David Hungate** AND — of course! — to you, for bringing all your perfect and imperfect numbers here, today.

* I originally estimated the percentage of Michael’s dislike of “99” and Toto at 99%. Because truthfulness is more than 99% important to me, I checked out the 99% with him before publishing this post at 7:19, and Michael actually suggested I add the additional .9! 99 additional thanks to Michael for adding more 9’s to this post.

** The last 6 (an upside-down 9) in that list of 9 names are original members of the band Toto, which means, in Latin, “all-encompassing.”

*** You didn’t really expect me to have 9 footnotes here, did you? (Although I did go through the trouble to put in 9 links, people!)

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: "99 Red Balloons", "99", "Revolution #9", Definition of "To the nines", letting go of perfectionism, Ludwig Van Beethoven, Playing with numbers, The 2nd Movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony, Toto | 21 Comments

Day 551: A round of forgiveness

Posted on July 5, 2014 by Ann Koplow

In yesterday’s post, I mentioned that I did two therapy groups before attending Boston’s unprecedented fireworks show for Independence Day, 2014.

In this post, I want to tell you a little more about one of those groups.

A theme that emerged in that group — as people thought, spoke, listened, and shared — was forgiveness. About mid-way through the group, I suggested a new exercise, which people agreed to try. People took turns, naming and describing things they wished to forgive themselves for.

I found this exercise healing and moving. Today, I would like to continue it, here.

I’ll go first!

When I was in my early 20’s, I became very depressed, for many reasons. Today, I would like to forgive myself for becoming that depressed. Most importantly, I wish to forgive myself for getting very angry at my parents, during that difficult period.

I choose to forgive myself for expressing that anger in uncharacteristic ways, which have lingered in my mind until this day.

Now, would you like to take a turn? It’s up to you, of course.

Before I end this post, I could continue forgiving myself, for things like:

never getting a great shot of the parade of geese and ducks that kept passing by, at Boston’s Independence Day celebration,

repeating myself in several ways here (including linking to the same post twice), or
startling Oscar, with an unexpected noise

… when I was scanning that photo of my parents.

However, I think I’ve done the major forgiveness work, for today.

Thanks to my dear departed parents, to people who forgive as best they can, to parading (and/or sensitive) creatures everywhere, and to you — of course!*– for participating here, today.

* I was going to write, in this footnote: “Forgive me for using ‘of course!’ so often in my thank you’s, for perhaps overusing exclamation points, and for any other writing trespasses against you.” Then I realized, again, it was in me … to forgive myself.

Categories: inspiration, Nostalgia, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: cat and scanner, forgiving self, geese and ducks on the Charles River, group therapy, group therapy forgiveness exercise, letting go of guilt, letting go of perfectionism, parents and children | 27 Comments

Day 534: True Colors

Posted on June 18, 2014 by Ann Koplow

I just discovered something, which I could characterize as a real problem, causing me worry and anxiety.

All the photos I’ve taken and shown here for three weeks — since Day 511: All-request Weekend — have the WRONG colors.

How did I find this out? First, I noticed that the “revert to original” button was turned on, for a recent photo, even though I didn’t think I had cropped or otherwise altered it in any way. When I clicked on that button out of curiosity, I saw the photo transformed, for the better. When, I further explored, I discovered the full extent of the problem.

I surmise, at this point, the following: while I was snapping photos during my adventures in Central Square, Cambridge, I — unaware and accidentally — pressed something on my iPhone which altered the colors on every photo, from then on.

Realizing that — and I know this is a strong word — horrified me, to think that I could so easily screw things up, for all my photos, and not know.

And as I have restored — in the place where these photos are stored — each image to its true colors, I have seen the full extent of the screw-up. Each one looks so much better — richer, fuller, livelier, much more beautiful — once I correct for my error.

I shall now state this simply: every friggin’ photo I’ve posted, in the last 23 days, has been notably wrong. And each “wrong” photo is still there, in all those posts.

And here’s the funny thing: When I posted those photos, I was happy with them. And readers have expressed happiness with them, too.

So, what should I do, now that I know the truth about these flawed photos? How should I react to the knowledge that dozens of photos that I presented to you here — innocently and with good intent, believing that each was as perfect as possible — actually could be better?

When I discovered the problem, this was my first impulse: I should replace each and every photo with the “correct” version.

Then, I thought … no. The photos were good enough for me — and, apparently, for my readers — when I posted them. Why not leave them, as they are?

Perhaps that decision is easier for me for this reason: I’m not a professional photographer, so my sense of self is NOT tied up with photographs.

In any case, here’s the course of action I am choosing:

try to figure out why the heck this started happening
fix the problem, if I can, and
make sure the photos I post from now on have their original, full colors.

I confess: I also had a moment where I wondered … should I even tell my readers about this? Speaking for myself, now that I look back at those photos (which originally seemed good enough to me), they look … dingy. Disappointing. Lacking. Should I keep that to myself, lest others look back and be disappointed, too?

But as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, my natural interpersonal style is “transparent.” I feel better, when I tell the truth.

And to keep being transparent, I’ll show you an example of the color difference, with this photo that appeared in a recent blog post. Here’s the “wrong” version, is it appears in that post:

Here’s the photo with the color corrected (by my pressing “revert to original” where the photos are stored):

Again, photo posted in previous post:

Same photo with true colors:

Another one, posted here:

And with colors restored, correctly:

Arrghh! For some reason, all the photos with true colors are disoriented like that, when I try to re-post them here. And I can’t seem to fix that, either, no matter how I try.

Time out, for a typical worst fear: Am I losing credibility with you? Am I seeming less than competent, with all my admitted screw-ups?

I am letting go of those fears, now.

Sometimes, you know, EVERYTHING seems to go wrong. Last night, while I was driving home from dinner with my son, I got a flat tire. We got home safe and sound, but I’m still figuring out how to solve that issue, and get to work on time today.

With all these things that are “going wrong,” I now have a calmness and faith that I will figure out ways to resolve each of them, effectively enough.

And what’s the worse that could happen? Will any harm come to those I love? Will any permanent damage happen to me — with imperfect photos and a spare on my car, that needs changing soon? I don’t think so.

Who cares, if things aren’t perfect? Who cares, if I can’t fix these things right now?

Not I. I hope you don’t care, either.

How should I end this post, about true colors and calmness in the face of problems?

I want to focus on Susan, who also works with me:

I am so pleased to introduce you to Susan (and pleased to announce that I figured out how to fix the color AND the orientation of that Very Important Photo).

Susan, in that perfect-as-can-be picture, is pointing at her final surviving cat, the beautiful black and white one, named “Sweetie.”

Until a few years ago, Sweetie was one of a trio of cats, much beloved by Susan. Tigger, shown above Sweetie in that photo, died on 12/9/11. Nine months later, Susan lost Lucky (below Sweetie), on 9/12/12.

Here’s another view of Lucky, who was a cantaloupe junkie:

Sweetie is terminally ill now, too. When I’ve been speaking to Susan during this challenging time, she has been telling me incredible stories about how she is being, as much as possible, in the moment with Sweetie, enjoying her good days with her, and observing Sweetie’s quality of life every day, ready to make the difficult decision, when the time comes.

When Susan speaks of the cats she loves and has loved — whether she’s talking about their wonderful vet, or revealing their unusual food loves (Sweetie, in her final days, is still devouring potato salad) — she always shows her true colors, as you can see in that beautiful picture.

Here’s something Susan said to me, yesterday:

Every day with Sweetie is a blessing. I savor every moment.

Many thanks to Susan, to creatures everywhere who display their true colors no matter what, to those who tolerate unexpected and challenging realities as best they can, to people who solve problems and let go of judgment about their choices,* and to you — of course! — for bringing all your gorgeous colors here, today.

* In calmness, I have discovered that I accidentally reset the filtering on my iPhone. Correcting this was far easier than I expected. There will be true colors here, from now on.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: accidentally setting filters on iPhone camera, dealing with cognitive distortions, dealing with the loss of pets, letting go of "shoulds", letting go of anxiety, letting go of perfectionism, solving problems calmly | 29 Comments

Day 510: Order(s)

Posted on May 25, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Yesterday, Mark Bialczak, a fellow and well-ordered WordPress writer and reader, commented on my post, Day 509: Like, now, like so:

Go out today and smell some flowers no matter where they are?

And even though Mark softened the end with a question mark, he gave me an order.

When somebody gives me an order, I can:

hear it,
obey, automatically,
rebel against it,
entertain the possibility that it’s NOT an order (but rather a suggestion),
look at my options,
consider the pros and cons of each choice,
decide what to do.

Yesterday, as soon as I read Mark’s comment, I knew it was just what the doctor ordered. And if you (1) aren’t familiar with that idiom and/or (2) don’t click on links, that means:

exactly what is wanted or needed:

Ooh thank you, a nice cup of tea. Just what the doctor ordered.

— from dictionary.cambridge.org

Yes, that was exactly what I wanted or needed yesterday: to smell and see some flowers. So I thought of Tower Hill Botanic Garden, less than an hour’s drive away. And that matched Mark’s order, to a T.*

I took lots of pictures at Tower Hill, yesterday afternoon. I wonder how I should order those photos here?

Let’s start with this one:

Ooh! The sign tells me I’m not alone in wanting to organize, in order to simplify and make things more understandable. That connection with humanity gives me acceptance about whatever order I choose for these photos.

On the way home from Tower Hill, I passed by an open field. Something ordered me to turn the car around, stop, and inspect things more closely. This is what I saw:

I came back for that heart, with its orderly lines.

Here are two more shots of it:

Then, I noticed some things moving, near the heart. Here’s a zoom:

Turkeys!

When I returned to my car, I saw some different birds:

I don’t know about you, but to me, it looks like the white guy is ordering the others around.

Thanks** to dictionary.cambridge.org, ducks, Google, hearts, Mark, those who order and are ordered in any way, Tower Hill, turkeys, and — last, but not least — to you, for dropping by here, today.

* “to a T” is another idiom, defined by Google as:

exactly; to perfection.
“I baked it to a T, and of course it was delicious”

** in alphabetical order.

Categories: humor, inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: just what the doctor ordered, letting go of judgment, letting go of perfectionism, reactions to orders, to a T, Tower Hill Botanic Garden | 35 Comments

Day 474: Superwoman (not)

Posted on April 19, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Dear Readers,

What are your associations with the word “Superwoman?”

Let’s see what Google Images thinks “Superwoman” means:

That’s the first image that came up in my search, and it lives here, in an online article named “I am not Superwoman,” written by Marissa 11586, who gives a photo credit like so.

Here are my associations, at this point:

Looking at that image, I feel safe in saying that nobody would mistake me for Superwoman.
Despite my physical differences from the above image, I often think I can do it all (including giving perfect credit for anything I use in this blog).
As I’ve dealt with serious medical issues since I was born, I have always gotten back to school and work really quickly. My parents and my doctors, when I was growing up, subscribed to the belief that getting back to “normal” would be healthier for me, no matter what operations or other medical issues I encountered. I think that has contributed to my belief that I can always do that, no matter what ailment I encounter.
I don’t think I’m going to be getting back to work as soon as I assumed, this time around.

Why? Because I — like Marissa11586 — am NOT Superwoman.

Then, who am I?

Maybe a new title would be a good start.

How about this: Super-Recovery-Woman! Able to take a break and focus on her own needs, with a single bound!

I’ll get back to you about a costume, if I can figure something out.

Thanks to Nebaroth (for the illustration), to Marissa 11586, to women who are as super as they can be (within reasonable limits), and to you — of course! — for reading this, today.

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: focusing on personal needs, letting go of control, letting go of perfectionism, recovering from illness, superwoman | 53 Comments

Day 394: Fear of losing track of things

Posted on January 29, 2014 by Ann Koplow

In past posts, I have written about many types of fear (or dread or whatever you want to call it), including:

Fear of loss.
Fear of losing things.
Friggin’ fear of practically everything else¹ you might think of.

Today I would like to write about …

… fear of losing track of things.

Losing track of things seems to be a recurrent theme of mine (see here, here, and here for possible proof about that). And, as usual, when I write about fear, I assume that I am not alone (although your details, in this area, may vary).

Among things I have recently feared losing track of:

The right word to use, when expressing myself.
The exact right number, as I’m needing to enter credit card numbers, patient numbers, numerical dates, account numbers, and a kashmillion ¹other non-intuitive codes², while performing computer-based transactions, before TIME RUNS OUT!!

(pant, pant, pant)

Okay, I caught my breath. Where was I?

Oh, yes. That list of things I have recently feared losing track of:

The cable for my camera, which I plan to use in Panama (when I’m away, in less than two weeks)
The actual dates for my trip (although I think I may have memorized those at this point).
The right way to do bullet points for this list (don’t even try to visualize how bullets have been flying everywhere, here, in the construction of this post because … it’s been a disaster).

Well! The last word — of that last bullet point of that last list — leads me to this cognitive distortion. ³

Catastrophizing.
This is a particularly extreme and painful form of fortune telling, where we project a situation into a disaster or the worst-case scenario. You might think catastrophizing helps you prepare and protect yourself, but it usually causes needless anxiety and worry.

Hmmmm. You know what? When I went to retrieve that cognitive distortion from my other blog here — called Ann’s Helpful Hints (re: Letting go of Judgment) — I realized that there’s something else I’ve lost track of.

How to edit my posts on that second blog of mine.

Yes, dear readers, I was thinking I would like to add something new, to this list of antidotes for unhelpful thoughts. I wanted to add a new antidote, but because I haven’t edited the two posts at that second blog since I created it (almost a year ago) …. I don’t remember how. And How to Edit those particular posts …. is not immediately obvious to me. And I can’t consider trying to figure that out, right now, because I have to finish this post and get to work, before …. TIME RUNS OUT!!

(pant, pant, pant)

Sorry. Where was I?

Oh,yes. I was thinking of adding a new antidote to my list, for the first time since March. What is that new antidote? Something like this:

Talking to yourself. If you are stuck in an old, unhelpful way of thinking, especially one that involves a “critical voice,” try challenging that old voice by speaking in a new, kinder way to yourself. Watch the language that you use, and speak to yourself as you would to somebody you might be naturally kinder to — a friend, a stranger, somebody that evokes empathy and sympathy in you.

I have found that antidote — of talking to myself — can be a really effective way to learn (and unlearn) things. As a matter of fact, here are some times when I’ve been talking to myself, lately:

When I’m afraid (especially of doing something that’s new or that feels new, because I haven’t done it in a while).
Other times when I’m judging my abilities.
When I have to enter incredibly long patient IDs, when I’m at my work computer, about fifty friggin’ times a day.

Okay! It’s time for me to start wrapping up this post, people.

What feels left unwritten, at this point?

My mother sometimes said to me, “Ann, I think you might lose track of your head, if it wasn’t attached.” Therefore, as a supporting image for this post, I COULD show you a picture of my head.

However, I can’t do that right now. If you’ve lost track of that of why that is, you’ll just have to see footnote #4, below, for the answer.

Instead, here’s a photo I snapped a few minutes ago:

Why THAT photo? (I imagine you saying to yourself, right now.) Well, it represents several other things I tend to lose track of:

Food, once I put it in the refrigerator.
Eating healthier.
A Zen, mindful, balanced, centered, or what-ever-you want-to-call that helpful frame of mind.
My own personal power (that is, awareness of those things I can control).

Okay! Time for me to take some personal power and end this post.

Thanks to Earthbound Farm Organics (for the Zen and the Power), people everywhere who lose track of things, and to you — of course! — for reading today.

It’s possible that this is an exaggeration.
Other non-intuitive codes include any collection of alpha-numberic characters that don’t resemble the language I learned growing up. Email addresses, anybody? Not to mention the numbers and symbols I need to use, every time, to insert these friggin’ footnotes.
It’s not the last entry on this list of unhelpful and automatic thoughts (also called cognitive distortions in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy), but I think you’ll be able to find it, soon enough.
I’m not showing a photo of my head, because — at this point in my blogging path, I am not showing photos of my face. I suppose i could show a photo of the back of my head, but, I washed my hair before I went to sleep, so my hair’s a mess. Don’t even try to imagine it … it’s a disaster. Plus, I’ve got to end this post, soon, and get to work. Did you lose track of that, too? (Don’t worry, you’re probably not alone.)

Categories: inspiration, personal growth | Tags: antidotes to cognitive distortions, cognitive distortions, footnotes in WordPress, letting go of perfectionism, losing the right word, losing track of things, talking to yourself | 16 Comments

Day 392: Possibilities, Patience, and “IM”

Posted on January 27, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Yesterday, I coined the word “dreadless” — as a possible opposite of “dreadful.” That was fun.

Today, as I was considering possible topics for this post, the word “patience” came to mind. And then, its opposite. And I thought:

Why, oh why, is the opposite of “patience” “impatience”? Why isn’t it “unpatience”? Or “nonpatience”? What the heck does “IM” mean, anyway? Are there OTHER words that use “IM” to create the opposite? The only one I can think of, right now, is “possible” and “impossible.”

I suppose I could do some research, right now, on the use of “Im” to create the opposite of a word. But I’m not interested in checking corroborating details or data, this morning. ¹

Imstead …. ooops! I mean, instead, I want to just riff on what we’ve got in this post, already.

Here we go!

Patience is something I think about a lot. When I was in my 20’s, I took a comprehensive test² of my aptitudes and skills, to discover why I wasn’t satisfied with my career ³. And they told me, “You have three exceedingly high, natural indications of possible impatience” (or words to that effect).

Recognizing that I am “naturally impatient” has helped me, as I have continued to work on developing the other side of that — my capacity for patience.

Yesterday, I was expecting a visit from my friend, Carol, and I was timing my creation of yesterday’s post to coincide with her expected time of arrival. A few minutes before that, when I was just about to press “publish” …. I realized — to my horror — that I had closed the wrong window and had lost the last hour of my work. I get very freaked out when something like that happens. What bothered me the most about that?

I was happy with the post.
I hate having to rewrite something I’m already done with.
It kills me when I realize I’ve done something “stupid” (as in, “Ann! You should have known better than to close that window until after you published the post!”)
I realized I had two choices: (1) to ask Carol to wait, until I rewrote the friggin’ post or (2) wait until after her visit to complete it (and I knew I would be upset and distracted while she was here).
I assumed that I would NOT be able to reconstruct the post back to its former glory.
I COULD NOT BELIEVE THIS HAD HAPPENED!

I felt an incredible rush of …. panic, disappointment, adrenaline, upset-ness, whatever-you-want-to-call it.

What did I do? I talked to myself:

Ann, it’s not the end of the world. You’ve lost stuff you’ve written before, many times in many ways. As much as you hate when this happens, you will rewrite it. And it will be good enough. Maybe, it will be even better! That’s not beyond the realm of possibility …. that has definitely happened before.

When Carol showed up, I was already in the midst of rebuilding what had been lost. I asked if she could have the patience to wait for me until I published my post. She graciously and enthusiastically said, “Of course!’

Nevertheless, I was very nervous while re-building that post. Despite Carol’s reassurance, my knowing her for years, and my logical self knowing that this would be fine, I stumbled and froze several times while fixing that post, which had been pretty intricate (with several “bells and whistles”: links, footnotes, videos, photos, etc.)

Why was I so nervous? Possibly because I was imagining all sorts of negative reactions, including impatience. Not only from Carol, but from …. you, dear readers.

That is, I was imagining Carol’s impatience with me, as she waited. And I was imagining your impatience with me, when I published a post I feared would (1) have errors and (2) would NOT be as good as it could have, should have, would have been, if I had been more careful.

But, it all worked out. I finished the post, Carol was loving and understanding (as always), and the post was good enough. Yes, there were a couple of missing links and typos here and there, but I was able to fix those, well enough, later in the day.

And if anybody noticed those imperfections, they didn’t think those were important ⁴ enough to mention.

Okay! I can see by the clock on the wall

… that it’s time for me to end this post.

Probably, I could find another image, quickly enough, that fits the topics of this post.

But you know what? I haven’t got the patience.

Thanks to all those who deal with patience, possibilities, perfectionism, probabilities — and their opposites — and especially to you, for visiting today.

Actually, a lot of my posts, lately, have had an “attitude” about data and proof. Sometimes, it seems, I just can’t be bothered with details. This reminds me of a story: When I was in college, I decided to take a Calculus Course. I suspected that I didn’t have a natural talent for Calculus (unlike other forms of math), so I took the course “Pass/Fall.” And, indeed, I neither enjoyed that course nor did particularly well in it, but when the time came for the final exam, I knew that I’d done well enough to pass, with some wiggle room. When I got to a section of the test where I was supposed to solve something I just didn’t understand, I wrote, “Here are the formulas. I’ve done all I can do. Please solve these yourself.” And, that was good enough.
At Johnson O’Connor in Boston.
Technical and marketing writing.
Possibly the opposite of this is … “portent”?

Categories: inspiration, personal growth | Tags: developing patience, impatience, letting go of perfectionism, patience and impatience, possible and impossible, self forgiveness | 19 Comments

Day 378: The Lint Metaphor

Posted on January 13, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Yesterday, I asked for help from the blogging community. I will tell you — right now — that asking for help is a big deal for me. I tend to try to take care of things, on my own.

I have been trying to balance that independence of mine (or whatever else we want to call that) with reaching out for support. I’ve been consciously doing that more, in these year(s) of living:

with less judgment,
with less fear, and
with more love.

So I reached out for support, yesterday. I asked for help, from my readers, in coming up with a metaphor for an unhelpful feeling which sticks, and then — when dislodged — reattaches to something else. More specifically, I asked for a metaphor that described a particular fear of mine: that other people might be angry, judgmental, or otherwise (perhaps permanently) disconnected from me.

Readers came up with some great metaphors, as well as other enriching, insightful thoughts.

I don’t have time to write about all of those today, so please see the comment section of yesterday’s post, people!

I do want to quote from one of the responses — from one of the VIP’s (Very Important Participants) in this blogging journey of mine, Sitting On My Own Sofa — as follows:

… lint also sticks. It goes away and it comes back mysteriously. Maybe it goes down the drain or into the vacuum or off to the dump, but it will appear again in the closet, in front of a classroom, at a restaurant. The physics of lint is a lot like the physics of anxiety.

What Sitting On My Own Sofa wrote has been sticking, for me, in a very good way.

Lint is everywhere. It does appear on my clothes. It’s pretty much there, whenever I look closely. And there’s no shame in it. How could there be? It’s everywhere, no matter how much we might try to control it.

Last week, when I was at work, I glanced down at my clothes and saw some lint.

My first thought? Oh, no!

My next thoughts?

Oh, come on, Ann! Who cares? It DOESN’T MATTER. First of all, nobody else is going to notice that. And if somebody does notice and it matters to them? Forget them!*

So, already, I’m finding that lint metaphor very helpful. Thanks, Sitting On My Own Sofa!

And other suggested metaphors, from yesterday’s post — including bats, crows, athlete’s foot, kitchen moths (eeek!), gout, mildew, green slime, shadows, musical earworms, carpenter ants, stray cats, fog, rocks, dandelions, magnetized objects, water, algae, dust bunnies, ghosts, silver fish, cockroaches (eeek!), meteor showers, tickbirds, and paprazzi (if you’re a star);** rumoras (little fish that stick to big fish)***; boomerangs****; seeds that float on the wind *****; a grain of sand ******; bad pennies ******* mirrors******** — were all illuminating and helpful.

Also, two VIP readers ********* voted for my metaphor du jour — a sea anemone. I particularly appreciated that, since I went to the New England Aquarium yesterday, with my son and boyfriend, and saw LOTS and LOTS of those beauties:

**********

I’m so glad I asked for help, yesterday!

What I’ve written here, this morning, is reminding me of something else I need help with: figuring out how to do footnotes with numbers, not asterisks. Having that as an option would be particularly helpful, especially when I’m having a lot of thoughts I want to convey in one post (like today).

And while I haven’t gotten help with doing numbered footnotes, yet, I will continue to seek that help, wherever I can find it, balancing that with my ability to learn on my own.

Wait, I just figured out a way to improve my footnotes, here! And because I have to end this post, I shall do it as best as I can, considering that I need to stop this post in moments, to get ready for work.

Okay!

Thanks to everybody, everywhere, who helped with the creation of today’s post, whether or not I thanked you. And thanks to you, especially, for visiting and reading today.

I’m thinking about that Cee Lo Green tune, right now: “Forget You,” for lots of reasons.
All from the wonderful mind of Sitting On My Own Sofa.
From T. D. Davis. Thanks!
From Mark Bialczak and Russ Towne. Thanks to both of you!
From biochicklet. Thanks!
From Wancho. Thanks!
Russ Towne, again. Thanks!
From drjcwash, whom I can’t seem to link to, this morning. Thanks so much!
andy1076 and Susan Jamieson. Thanks!!!
I wish I had brought my phone with me to the Aquarium, yesterday, so I could show you my own photos, but I didn’t. So thanks to this site, for this image.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth | Tags: asking for help, footnotes in WordPress, letting go of perfectionism, sea anemones | 27 Comments

Day 366: S-words

Posted on January 1, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Note: Some of the links in this post use adult-oriented language.

“S-words.” Yes, that’s the title for this momentous post — my first post of the New Year and the first one that has a number higher than 365.

How did I arrive at that title?

Who cares, really? That’s in the past. Let’s just deal with the present for now, shall we?

Of course, now that I’ve committed to being in the present, I want to go back into the past, just for a moment (because that’s how our minds work, people). In posts past, I have blogged about words that start with a special letter: a P-Word (Procrastination), an A-word (Anger), and a D-word (Death).

That D-word is usually a conversation stopper (and it’s really buried in that linked post, too), but let’s move on, shall we?

Today, I would like to expound/ramble/write about some S-words. How many, exactly?

Let’s find out!

1. Start.

Today feels like a new start, because it’s New Year’s day. It’s also a new start for me, here at this blog.

As with any new start, I’m keeping some old things — to help me feel safe, secure, and competent enough– and introducing some things that are new. I won’t name what the new things are; I’ll let you notice those on your own, if you are so inclined.

There was another, specific change I wanted to make in my blog today, but I haven’t figured out how to do it, yet. The change? I want to stop using asterisks for footnotes (because those asterisks can sure pile up, people) and start using another S-word: Superscripts, those little numbers that hover above the line.

I think superscripts might help provide a more convenient and pleasurable experience here — for you AND me.

2. Support.

Support is something I sometimes have trouble asking for. I often try to solve problems on my own, because of past experiences. But I guess I might need some support, specifically with that change to superscripts.

We shall see.

3. Steam.

Yes, steam. One of the post titles I was considering, this morning, was “Letting off steam.” Why? Because:

Our heating system (which I wrote about here) has been continuing to act hookey, flooky, or however else you want to describe a friggin’ system that isn’t working correctly. For one thing, the radiator in the bathroom started sounding (and feeling) like a seriously insane steam bath, the thermostat kept pooping out, AND the boiler in the basement was needing new infusions of water constantly. Because I don’t like to bother people, and it wasn’t an emergency, I sent an email yesterday morning to the Heating Guy on My Team, Tom Prendergast, that explained the situation but which also said, “No rush,” because I assumed this was a busy holiday time for him. Nevertheless, Tom called me back yesterday (just as my son and I were about to go out for lunch*) and he sent over two guys who changed the vent on the radiator, which is definitely helping the situation.
Because situation #1 included two of my “triggers” — machines (or other systems) not working properly AND hunger — I felt the A-word (anger), yesterday afternoon. At everybody. At the world. My son, who is so smart that when he hears a certain tone in my voice, sometimes says, “You’re hungry,” was even smarter, yesterday. When he heard “that tone” he asked, calmly, “Are we going to have our New Year’s Eve fight?” which helped, for many reasons. What else helped? I let off some steam with my bf, Michael, about some things that had been bothering me. And, I ate some friggin’ thing.

4. Shame.

There it is. One of the big S-words, for sure.

I wrote about shame several times last year (including here). I assume I’ll write about it again, in 2014.

Here are some things I have felt shame about (which I’m working on letting go of):

Anger, which is just another human feeling.
Imperfections in my body and mind (also human).

Okay! There were some other S-words I could have written about today — including sleep, singular, and snoring, plus the S-word George Carlin said you couldn’t say on TV** — but it’s time for me to start ending this post.

So what am I missing, at this point?

An image! I can’t think of a suitable s-word for that, so let’s go with a p-word: a photograph!

Checking photos I have stored on my iPhone ….

Hmmmm. Here’s something, but it’s an image I’ve already used, twice before (here and here). It definitely is an important S-word, though:

Hmmmm. “Stop” can be a very useful word, but I’m still not satisfied. Let’s see what’s on Google Images, today, for “S-word.”

As usual, I am surprised at the selection (in order of appearance):

***

****

*****

******

After that excellent S-word,”Serendipity”, Google Images then presented LOTS of pictures of …. swords. Sorry, but those don’t meet my needs, today.

But suddenly, one more “S-word” showed up:

******

Super!

Thanks to my son, Michael, George Carlin, Tom Prendergast, anybody else who contributed to the creation of this post today, and — of course! — to my special, surprising, and super readers, everywhere.

________________________

* We were actually going out for sushi, another S-word, but doesn’t that sound (fill in your own judgmental word, if any, here)?

** Here‘s a link to that classic Carlin routine — “The Seven Words You Can Never Say On TV”. These days, it depends on the station.

*** That image lives here.

**** That image lives here.

***** That image lives here.

****** That image lives here.

******* That image, supposedly, lives here.

Categories: humor, inspiration, personal growth | Tags: asking for support, being in the moment, dealing with anger, George Carlin, letting go of perfectionism, letting go of shame, new starts, shame, superman pendant, superscripts in WordPress, The Seven Words You Can Never Say on TV, Tom Prendergast | 55 Comments