What to do, what to do is share my Facebook post, from last night:
I sang one-minute versions of my three “Voice” try-out songs at a staff meeting today, asking people to choose what they preferred. The results were shocking! 0 votes for “Lion Sleeps Tonight.” 4 votes for “Mad World.” 12 votes for “Soothe” (which nobody had ever heard before). What to do, what to do …
What to do, what to do? My Facebook friends asked me to let them express their opinions about to do, what to do for my “Voice” audition this Sunday. What I did, what I did is to post one-minute versions of me singing “Mad World” and “Soothe” on Facebook.
What to do, what to do when my Facebook friends voted overwhelmingly for “Mad World”?
What to do, what to do with all this conflicting data?
Here are my suggestions, for myself, about what to do, what to do:
Continue to practice one-minute versions of those songs, getting better, getting better.
Ask for more opinions about what to do, what to do for my audition.
Let go, let go of any belief that there is ONE RIGHT WAY to do this audition.
Have fun, have fun with the process.
Give myself credit, give myself credit FOR SINGING IN FRONT OF MY CO-WORKERS yesterday, with no fear, no fear.
Have no fear, no fear about any outcome of my audition for “The Voice” on Sunday.
Let go of shame, of shame about any “mistakes” or “rejections.”
Follow my intuition in the moment, in the moment.
Realize my self-worth, my self-worth is not dependent upon getting a call-back from “The Voice.”
Affirm that my voice, my voice deserves to be heard, no matter what the outcome.
Resolve that I will do more singing, do more singing no matter what happens.
What to do, what to do with these new photos from yesterday?
What to do, what to do to explain those photos?
What to do, what to do when the temperatures in Boston rise 50 degreesin 36 hours?
What to do, what to do when you have a wonderful co-worker who sends you great stuff through inter-office mail?
What to do, what to do in a therapy group about sensitivities?
is something my ex-business partner, Jonathan, said to me when I was being self-critical about a task I wasn’t good at, decades ago. My memory — which can’t be good at everything — tells me Jonathan said
You can’t be good at everything
when I was feeling shame about my living space being cluttered and not “guest-ready. ”
At various points in my life, it’s been helpful for me to say to myself
You can’t be good at everything
about other things, including
doing my taxes
drawing
penmanship
cleaning
maneuvering gracefully around other people while walking
keeping my cat away from my laptop
calculus
being a perfect mother
singing loudly
discussing politics
keeping my hair neat all the time
and many more.
Sometimes, I seem to think that I SHOULD be good at everything, but I hope my readers know that being good at everything is completely impossible, even if somebody wrote this in your 9th grade yearbook:
You can’t be good at everything, even if you encounter a kind person like Roger sometime in your life.
I can’t be good at everything, including capturing all the wonderful images around me, every single day. For example, yesterday I took only these three shots:
You can’t be good at everything, but I hope you’re good at leaving good-enough comments for this blog.
Good thanks to Jonathan, Roger, my neighbor Karen (for the custom-made bumper sticker on her car), and all the other good people who helped me create this post. Also, great thanks to you — of course! — for reading this, here and now.
Is there any thing you’re embarrassed about, right now? If so, let’s figure out
What do you know about letting go of embarrassment, based on your past experience and your own wisdom? If you can’t think of anything, please don’t be embarrassed. When somebody unexpectedly puts me on the spot and asks for answers, I’m embarrassed about how long it can take me to think of something useful.
I’m also embarrassed that I can’t remember everything people came up with, yesterday in my office, when we were brainstorming about how to let go of embarrassment. I do remember the list included:
acknowledge what’s embarrassing you,
recognize how the embarrassment is affecting your thoughts, feelings, and actions,
figure out who originally gave you the idea you should be embarrassed in this situation,
challenge that assumption,
share your thoughts and feelings with somebody you trust,
recognize that other people get embarrassed,
let go of the embarrassment as quickly as possible, and …
Because I’m a little embarrassed about my handwriting, I’ll point out that #9 says “Treat yourself kindly.”
As usual, I have an embarrassment of riches, photographically, that I’d like to share with you today:
Which of those images are most embarrassing to you? How might you begin to let go of that embarrassment?
It’s embarrassing how easy it is for me to ask for comments for my daily blog posts. Please don’t be embarrassed to leave one, below.
This might be embarrassing, but I’m not going to thank anybody for their help in creating today’s blog. I’d definitely be embarrassed, however, if I didn’t thank you — of course! — for reading it.
It’s no accident that I’m starting off today’s post with some free associations about “Accidents,” as follows:
I’ve had several car accidents in my long life.
None of these accidents have seriously hurt me or anybody else.
Every time I have an accident, I feel shame.
Accidents happen.
In case any of my readers are accidentally thinking I’ve recently had a car accident, I have not.
It’s no accident that I start off many of my posts with free associations because I’m a psychotherapist, and psychotherapists often find accidental free associations very meaningful.
Because of my own perfectionism (which is probably no accident), I can judge myself harshly even for the smallest of accidents.
Some people believe there are no accidents, and that everything happens for a reason.
I thought of “Accidents”for the title of today’s post because one of the photos I took yesterday was an accident.
It’s no accident, here and now, that I’d like you to guess which of these photos was an accident:
Ooops! No matter what I try, this morning, I cannot get that one accidental photo to show up in this blog. I wonder if that’s an accident?
It’s no accident that I’m feeling no shame about this latest accident, because every day in every way I work on myself and others letting go of shame about accidents.
Here are all the non-accidental photos I took yesterday:
Which of those photos remind you most of “Accidents”?
Also, I suppose it’s no accident that the last photo, above, includes the photo I took by accident (located on the computer screen behind our sometimes accident-waiting-to-happen cat, Oscar).
If you leave a comment below, would that be an accident?
Non-accidental thanks to all who helped me create this post about accidents and to you — of course! — for reading it, accidentally or otherwise.
I was just visualizing a post I may have already written about “Visualizing,” here at my camel-staring-at-the-pyramids blog site. In order to help in my visualization, I’m asking myself questions, such as: What would a post titled “Visualizing” look like? What words, pictures, colors, textures, and other details might it have? How do I see it, in my mind’s eye?
A “Visualizing” post does not yet exist, here at this adventure-journal-on-wood-background site. Therefore, I am now in the midst of visualizing and creating today’s post, which I’ll soon send out into the world (which I’m visualizing as a green and blue sphere floating in a vast blanket of stars).
Yesterday, if you can visualize this, I facilitated a therapy group in my Boston office where people visualized the effects of shame.
How might you visualize shame?
To help you visualize my office, here are some recent photos people have visualized here before:
Here are some ways the group in that office was visualizing shame, yesterday :
eyes down and averted,
face hidden,
becoming smaller,
drawing oneself inward,
a child bullied by others, and
the colors brown and yellow.
Then, yesterday’s therapy group visualized some affirmations:
Can you visualize your own affirmations? Can you visualize all the effects of believing all the affirmations on that page? Can you visualize me, yesterday, choosing to recite this affirmation in group?
I am already worthy as a person. I don’t have to prove myself.
Here are three other images I visualized yesterday:
Now I’m visualizing the comments I might get about this post.
Thank you, my dear readers, for visualizing the possibility of visiting here, today.
When I met my dear friend Barbara yesterday for (1) brunch at Arlington’s Madrona Tree Restaurant, (2) a visit to the store next door, calledThe Artful Heart, and (3) a walk to Arlington’s Spy Pond, Barbara suggested that I title today’s post
That stinks!
Barbara didn’t suggest that because anything smelled bad at Madrona Tree, The Artful Heart, or on our walk. She didn’t say
That stinks!
in response to any of the many topics we discussed yesterday, including
work,
health,
friends, or
my son’s applying to college.
Barbara didn’t say
That stinks!
as I was taking any of these photos when I was with her, yesterday.
Barbara also didn’t say “That stinks!” when I said, “There’s two of my angels!” when I was taking this photo:
Barbara said
That stinks!
when she sat inside my spankin’ new yellow car and agreed with me that the interior smelled slightly of skunk.
What do I think stinks, this morning, as I’m creating this post?
It’s cold and rainy outside.
I don’t know how long the smell of skunk will stay in my car.
Fellow blogger Irene just commented on my previous post that my blog never appears in her reader any more.
Photos are still not migrating from my iPhone to my laptop, so that creates extra steps whenever I create a post.
What does NOT stink, this morning?
I bought a cool new scarf at the Artful Heart, to help keep me warm.
I have wonderful friends like Barbara nearby and Irene on WordPress.
My son is much further along in his college application process because of a meeting he, his father, and I had yesterday.
I finished writing the Parent Brag Sheet yesterday, so my son can give that to his teachers who are writing his college recommendations.
I’m going to see one of my favorite classical music radio shows, today, From the Top.
Does it stink that I’m rushing through this ending paragraph of gratitude by simply saying “Thanks!” to all those who helped me create this post and “More thanks!” to all of you who are reading it?
Before I got my current job as a psychotherapist at a major teaching hospital in Boston, I worked for 12 years at a group-oriented psychiatric day program — first as a clinician and then as the director.
Look at me! I’ve been a group therapist for over 16 years!
The staff at the psychiatric day program often noticed something we called
See me/Don’t see me
Here are other ways I’d describe that very common, human way of behaving, right now:
Fear of being exposed
Yearning for attention/fear of attention
Accepting parts of self/rejecting others
Trying new and unfamiliar things/the shame reaction
I deserve attention/I am not worthy of it
See me/Don’t see me, in this post! I already have mixed feelings about how I’m writing it.
Look at me! I’m digressing from the big news of this July 4, 2105 blog post. Yesterday, I had the day off from work and I went to see the musical Newsies in Boston.
Look at me! I’m in Harvard Square, on my way to Newsies.
Look at me! I took a picture of Peet’s in Harvard Square, where my bf Michael and I first looked at each other five years ago (after writing each other daily for two months online at OkCupid).
Look at me, back on my way to see Newsies!
Look at John! He’s one of the security guys at the Boston Opera House. He used to work as a parole officer and he told me, “My wife tells me to smile in pictures, but I say, ‘That hurts!'”
Look at me, at yesterday’s matinee performance of Newsies!
Look at me showing you how the lead role of Jack Kelly (played by Christian Bale in the 1992 film) was performed by an understudy, Michael Ryan.
Look at me! I don’t have any pictures of Michael Ryan and how AMAZING he was, including his grateful tears when we all gave him a standing ovation at the end of the show.
Look at these photos I took on my way back home, after seeing Newsies:
Look at me! I just spent an hour looking for this video made 8 years ago by three girls in the United Kingdom, performing “King of New York,” my favorite song from Newsies:
If you look at that video on YouTube, you’ll see that I wrote a comment four years ago, and they answered me!
Look at me! I forgot to mention that “King of New York” includes the line
Look at me! I’m the King of New York.
Look at all these people performing “King of New York”!
Look at you! What do you think of this post today? Look at me — as usual, I’m looking for comments.
Thanks to everybody I’ve ever worked with in group therapy, to Newsies, to Michael, to OkCupid, to security guy John, to understudy/star Michael Ryan, to Harvard Square, to Boston, to all those who have ever sung or danced to “King of New York,” to all the kings, queens, princes, and princesses I saw in Cambridge and Boston yesterday, and special thanks to you — of course! — for looking here, today.
you like these lyrics to Stevie Wonder‘s “You’ve Got it Bad Girl” (YouTube video found here), rewritten by me, on October 4, 2014.
When you believe your distortions,
And it’s holding you back from self-love,
Then you’ve got it bad, girl. You’ve got it bad, boy.
When you insist on excluding
All evidence that you’re worthwhile
Then you’ve got it bad, girl. You’ve got it bad, boy.
If you judge and disown an emotion,
And you shame, blame, and maim yourself
You will find your heart just sitting
Like a statue on a shelf, on a shelf, on a shelf.
Should you dismiss all your value,
And compliments that can be found,
Then you’ve got it bad, girl. You’ve got it bad, boy.
If you don’t see there’s a way out,
In loving yourself and RIGHT NOW,
Then you’ve got it bad, girl. You’ve got it bad, boy.
Do you know the posts I am writing,
Are intended to invite you
To practice new reactions,
To transform old things you do, old thoughts not true,
Hurting you, paining you.
You are not bad, girl. You are not bad, boy.
There’s no reward in detouring
My deep sincerity.
Especially since what you’re feeling,
Is perfectly clear to me. I can hear. I can see.
Before you discover the feeling,
And know that you don’t have to hide,
You’ve got it bad, girl. You’ve got it bad, boy.
But when you can find just a small space,
To let self love live in your mind,
Then you’ll have it good, girl. You’ll have it good, boy.
Thanks to Stevie Wonder and — of course! — to all the boys and girls reading this, today.
I’m going to take a shot in the dark, to start off this post.
That’s one of our cats, Oscar. I wasn’t sure whether I had him in frame, as I was taking that shot.
Last night, my boyfriend Michael told me that my son, Aaron, had shot this at him, darkly: “I’m not feeling that great. I think I might be getting sick.”
I’m going to take a shot in the dark, right now, and guess that Aaron is going to ask to stay home from school, after he wakes up, soon, in the less-dark morning.
Yesterday, it was dark during the afternoon. I took a shot at one of these, in the cafeteria in the hospital where I work:
I’ve never seen that kind of shot before, have you?
Way back when, in ’67, I had a conversation with one of my parents’ friends about A Shot in the Dark, the second Pink Panther movie.
Actually, when I was talking to my parents’ friend, Abe, in 1967, I thought I was having a conversation with him about a different movie, which I had just seen.
Wait Until Dark — starring Audrey Hepburn and Alan Arkin (whom I had never seen before that film) — scared the bejeesus out of me. Soon after I saw it, when I was talking to Abe, I asked him what he thought of that movie.
Or, I THOUGHT I was asking Abe what he thought of that movie.
Abe’s response really surprised me. I expected him to say, “That movie scared the bejeesus out of me!” (or words to that effect). Instead, Abe, got a big smile on his face and said,
That movie was hilarious! What a FUNNY movie! I couldn’t stop laughing.
… or words to that effect.
I’m going to take a shot in the dark here: I assume I’m not the only one who has been communicating with somebody and then has this thought:
WHAT?!? That’s not the reaction I expected! WHAT IS GOING ON HERE???? Is one of us crazy? Is it me??!??
I didn’t know what to say to Abe. I took a shot in the dark, back then, with this response:
Well … I guess the plot was … sort of far-fetched … I suppose.
And I got out of that conversation as soon as possible.
Would anybody like to take a shot in the dark about why I’m writing about this, now?
In case you don’t want to take a shot at that question, I’ll tell you. After I had that conversation with Abe, and as I tried to make meaning of that encounter in my mind, I realized what had happened.
Instead of asking Abe this question, “Did you see Wait Until Dark?” I realized that I had asked my parents’ old friend, “Did you see A Shot In The Dark?”
I was horrified. And that feeling lasted a lot longer than my scared reaction to Wait Until Dark.
For YEARS I felt bad about that encounter. Every time I thought about it, I’d cringe.
Personally, I find that a lot scarier than any scary movie. Why, oh why, did I spend so much time worrying about that simple mistake? A mistake I made when I WAS ONLY THIRTEEN* YEARS OLD?!!!?
I’m going to take some shots in the dark, now, about why I felt shot, so painfully and frequently, by that memory.
I don’t like to make mistakes.
I really, really, really, really don’t like miscommunication.
I just checked in with my son, who is waking up. He didn’t say anything about feeling bad or about staying home from school today. Another mistake on my part! I’m so glad I’ve learned to forgive myself, so much better, these days.
What other shots did i want to take in this post today?
I ran a therapy group at work, yesterday evening, where people talked about worry.
Afterwards, I took these shots in the dark:
I’ve read lots of great quotes by Audrey Hepburn, who was terrorized (and almost shot?) by Alan Arkin in “Wait Until Dark.” Let’s give Audrey Hepburn this parting shot:
Pick the day. Enjoy it – to the hilt. The day as it comes. People as they come… The past, I think, has helped me appreciate the present – and I don’t want to spoil any of it by fretting about the future.
And, before I publish these shots in the dark, how about some music?
(Theme song from “A Shot in the Dark,” by Henry Mancini, found here on YouTube)
Hmmmm. While it was fun hearing and seeing the opening shots from A Shot in the Dark, here’s the musical shot (also by Henry Mancini) I really want here and now.
Thanks to Abe, Peter Sellers, Elke Sommer, Audrey Hepburn, Alan Alda (oooops! Alan Arkin!), Henry Mancini, my son, people who work in groups, and to you — of course! — for taking a shot at this post, today.
* I was actually 14 years old in ’67, but who’s counting?
