First, take a breath.
Better?
Next, have a drink of water.
Okay!
Next, as Dennis Farina puts it (somewhat crudely), in “Midnight Run” ….
… take in some nourishment.
Finally, remember this.
Everything you need is there for you, where you are, in the moment.
Thanks for being here, today.
I’ve been freaked out lately, even while I’ve been trying to keep my pledge of “no worries” for 10 days.
Why?
Lots of reasons.
I thought I had picked up an ailment on my trip. (I had not.)
I am going even more public — including where I work — about my being the longest surviving person in the world with a cardiac pacemaker*, as I am participating in an American Heart Association charitable walk. (Of course, I’m going more public about my pacemaker world record by doing this blog, too.)
This morning, I spent many hours trying to create and send e-mails asking for contributions for this charitable walk, and at different times it looked like (1) none of the e-mails had gone through AGAIN!!! and (2) the e-mails had all gone through and were going to bombard people with the same request many times.
Some of the reasons I listed above may seem more minor than others.
But when I get freaked out, many things can feel like Life or Death situations.
There are very few situations that are Life or Death, but sometimes my perspective gets out of whack.
At times in my life, I’ve dealt with life-threatening situations very calmly.
At other times, I’ve dealt with non-life-threatening situations with all my alarm systems blaring, full blast — Danger, Danger, Danger!
During times of Full Blown Freak Out, I’ve encouraged myself — and others — to ask these questions:
What is hurting me right now?
What danger exists to me, here and now?
Hold on. I’m going to breathe, sit quietly for a few seconds, and ask myself those two questions.
The answers are:
Nothing.
None.
Better.
Thanks for reading today.
* In 2014, I found out that I am NOT the longest surviving person in the world with a pacemaker. See here for more about that.
I like that phrase, “no worries.”
I’ve heard and read that several times, recently. I’ve started saying it, too.
I believe that worry does not help us.
It does not spur us to action.
It does not solve problems.
It’s the mental equivalent of this:
Last night, at dinner, I said to my boyfriend Michael, “I have a lot of things coming up SOON that tend to make me anxious: a presentation at work, the beginning of a new school year, blah blah blah.*
“I would like to make this commitment to you. And to all these other witnesses.” (I gestured to the soy sauce and the other inhabitants of the dinner table.)
“I want to Not Feel Anxious for the next 10 days.”
Michael asked me how I was going to do that. I said, “I don’t know. Just NOT do it. Notice it and put it aside. Say to myself, ‘Sorry! That’s not allowed!'”
Michael and I talked about I’ve used this assignment at work: “Scheduling worry.” That is, I tell people to schedule a time, each week, for worrying (Thursday at 6 PM, say). Then, when worry comes up during other times, they say to themselves, “Nope! This isn’t the time for that. I’ve got that scheduled for Thursday, at 6 PM.” (Then, when Thursday at 6 comes along, the assignment is to “worry as hard as you possibly can.”)
However, I don’t want to schedule worry.
I just want a break for 10 days.
Michael said he would like to join me in this. (The soy sauce was noncommittal.)
Would you like to join me, too?
Thanks to small animals who are doing their best to get somewhere, condiments everywhere, worriers, warriors, and to you, too, for reading today.
________________________________________________
*I actually said, “blah blah blah.” I like that phrase, too.
At this point in This Year of Living Non-Judgmentally, I am making some assumptions.
Of course, I make assumptions — and unhelpful judgments — all the time*. That’s a habit I doubt I will completely break (even if I’m reducing that habit this year).
Here’s an assumption I’ve been making about this blog:
By now, I would have defined all my VIC’s — Very Important Concepts.
Au contraire, mon frere**.
When I was writing yesterday’s post, I assumed that I had already defined the concept of “I-Statements.” However, my blog-post-search indicated that the best I had done, all year, was this reference, on Day 26 (“What we can and cannot change”), when I was making the point that we cannot change other people:
It also really helps to clearly state the effect that other people’s behavior has on you, and to express your needs and wishes, and even name consequences, at times. (I’ll write about “I-statements” in a future post, I’m sure, which is a handy-dandy prescription for more effective interpersonal communication.)
That was it. Nada. No discussion or definition of “I-Statements” since then, for 218 days.
But who cares?
I can define it, now:
I statement
Web definitions
An I-statement is a statement that begins with the word “I”. It is frequently used in an attempt to be assertive without putting the listener on the defensive. It can be used to take ownership for one’s feelings rather than saying they are caused by the other person.***
And here are some I-Statements I want to make, today:
At this point, I’m remembering Garry Shandling, the comedian, talking about “I-Statements” in a monologue on Saturday Night Live:
I met a new girl at a barbecue, actually, a very pretty girl. Blonde, I think. I’m not sure. Her hair was on fire. And all she talked about was herself. You know those kind of girls – “I’m hot. I’m on fire!” You know,”Me, me me!” “Help me! Put me out!” Jesus. Some sort of Hollywood chick.
I wish I could find that bit, so you could see and hear Garry Shandling do that, hear his delivery, his intonation.
But I can’t.
What I CAN do is end with another I-Statement (in honor of a 50th anniversary):
Thanks to Martin Luther King, Garry Shandling, dreamers everywhere, and to you, too, dear readers.
*”All the time” is an example of All-or-Nothing thinking, but who cares? I’m using it for emphasis.
** Another comedic quote: Mel Brooks, in The 2000 Year Old Man.
*** This is, according to Google, from the Wikipedia definition of “I-Statements.”
**** I considered using other “bragging” statements here, like “I’m awesome!” (quoting a member of one of my therapy groups), but this is what I feel most comfortable saying, today.
At the beginnings of the therapy group sessions I do, I often state what I’m curious about — as a way to invite people to “check-in.”
This is something I often say:
Right now, I’m curious about what’s going on for you in the moment. I’m also curious about anything that might be contributing to how you are feeling and thinking, in the moment.
This morning, after I got up, I “checked-in” with myself that way. That is, I asked myself how I was doing in the moment and what might be contributing to that.
This is what I discovered:
I continue to feel some “uneasiness” when I wake up in the morning. (I wrote about that, early this year.)
It helps to sit in a quiet place and focus, as much a possible, on the present moment — letting all thoughts, feelings, etc. flow through me.
Yes! I gave myself “the chair” this morning, sitting mindfully for a short time.
This is what came up for me, when I asked myself what was contributing to how I was feeling in the moment:
Of course, there were all sorts of other things contributing to how I was doing in the moment. Even if I can’t identify all those things (and who can?), it helps to be as aware, in the moment, as much as possible.
Right now, I’m aware that I’d like to end with a photo.
But which one?
How about the last photo I’ve taken, with my trusty-enough iPhone?
Here are the points I want to make about this photo:
Of course, I’m curious about what that might be.
Thanks to Strip-T’s, ceramic pigs, curious creatures everywhere, and to you, for reading today.
Yesterday, throughout the day at work, I re-discovered that moods can switch for people. People feel better, then they feel worse. Then they feel better again.
Et cetera, et cetera.
At the end of the therapy groups I do at work, I often invite people to leave behind anything they choose, in “The Magic Wastepaper Basket” (which is whatever wastepaper basket is in the group room).
For example:
I’m not sure whether people take me up on that invitation. I just like giving it.
People who’ve read about The Worry Box may notice a similarity here. The Magic Wastepaper Basket is another way to let go of unhelpful things.
However, I’ve noticed that it can feel scary to throw something away, even if it’s something that’s definitely not helping.
Therefore, I’ve also made the suggestion that people leave Unhelpful Things (like worry, harsh self-criticism, paralyzing fears, etc.) outside the room — like a piece of baggage, “which you can pick up, if you choose, on your way out.”
I do like the idea of throwing things away for good, though. Wouldn’t that be nice?
For example:
Wouldn’t it be great if one could just crumple up a fear like that …
…. and throw it away!
I think an important part of that “trick” would be this: to be non-judgmental and accepting, if the fear came back.
Here’s a thought, though:
Maybe every time we throw something away, it gets smaller.
Thanks so much for reading today.
I feel ready to go back to work, although I continue to have some trouble sleeping The Night Before Something Important.
Of course, every day is important, but my brain seems to think that some days are more important than others. (For a great joke about the human brain, by Emo Philips, see this short post.) (And while we’re at it, here‘s another great Emo Philips joke, in another end-of-vacation post, no less.)
Before I went to sleep, a few hours ago, I tried taking a half-dose of an over-the-counter, “traditional” herbal sleep aid I bought in the UK last week. Usually I avoid any kind of sleep aid medicine, just because I haven’t had good experiences with them. And it’s not working (yet).
So I’m going to try another sleep aid, which HAS worked for me before: doing a quick blog post in the middle of the night.
Yesterday afternoon, on my Last Day Before Returning to Work After My Unusually Long, Two-Week Vacation, I went for a long walk, listening to lots of favorite tunes.
As I often do, I found that a joyful experience.
Here are some shots I snapped along the way:
.
The weather, on that walk yesterday, was “gloomier” than it had been days before, when I took these photos, nearby:
The point I wanted to make, right now, was there was beauty to be seen, no matter what the weather, no matter where I was walking.
I saw beauty in London and Edinburgh, of course, last week. In those places, it was impossible to miss.
But beauty is everywhere, if I’m open to it.
When I return to work tomorrow, there’ll be beauty there, too. My own worries, tiredness, expectations, and “cognitive distortions” might obscure that beauty, for moments. But it’s always there.
I look forward to seeing it, in the days ahead.
Thanks for reading, everybody.
Dear Readers,
During this Year of Living Non-Judgmentally, I’ve often written about unhelpful thoughts that contribute to anxiety and depression (called Cognitive Distortions by Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, or CBT).
Here are some examples of recent Cognitive Distortions (and please don’t tell anybody that I’ve been having these thoughts in the beautiful city of London, where the people AND the sushi really know how to have fun and get around, with amazing modes of transport:
Now, where was I, before the photos of the fabulous conveyer-belt sushi place that my old friend Alexa and her son Alex took me and my son yesterday?
Oh, yes, some cognitive distortions I had yesterday (long after we had said heartfelt thank-you’s and goodbyes to Alexa and Alex):
I should be enjoying this trip, every moment.
If I let my son know how I’m feeling right now, it will be bad for him.
People in London think I’m a stupid, obnoxious, naive American.
If I am not completely vigilant and at the top of my game, bad things will happen.
I should only blog about happy things while I’m away. If I don’t, people will be disappointed in me.
It’s okay to be afraid and express those fears, but not while I’m on vacation! People will think I’m weird, get impatient with me, and stop wanting to hear from me.
I guess it serves me right for thinking I was such a big shot my first few days here …doing great, connecting with people, being a smart tourist, showing my son a great time … Who did I think I was?
For those of you keeping score, the Cognitive Distortions above include the following: Shoulds, Mind Reading, All-or-Nothing Thinking, Emotional Reasoning, Labeling, Negative Filtering, and pretty much everything else on the list.
So, yes, I confess. In the beautiful city of London, where I am meeting up with wonderful people previously known and unknown to me, where the ratio of kindness in the population is the same as anywhere else in my world, and where I am the same person that I am back in Boston (with the same limits and weaknesses), I felt, much to my horror ….
… The Dreaded Thud of Shame (DTOS).
And, as always, there were contributing factors to the DTOS:
Contributing Factor # 1 (iPhone related): I still can’t figure out how to connect my iPhone to the internet safely enough to avoid, in my mind, the possibility of incurring mega-amounts of dollars or pounds.
And that’s a bummer for many reasons, including the fact that I’ve taken some AWESOME photos on said iPhone of wonderful places like Camden, which Alexa and Alex showed us yesterday. And I can’t access those photos, right now, to put in this blog.
But, it’s Google Images to the rescue!
(Not to tempt the fates by bragging, but I think I took — having spied, with my little iPhone — a COOLER photo of the Camden Lock than that second Googly-eyed photo above.)
Contributing Factor # 2 (iPhone related): So far, I haven’t been able to talk to my boyfriend back home, at the end of each day, as long as I would like to, without the fear of incurring mega-amounts of dollars or pounds. (Never fear, though: both my bf and my son are working on fixing that.)
So considering that there were several contributing factors (mind you, I’ve only listed the iPhone-related ones above), why was the Dreaded Thud of Shame (London edition) such a surprise to me?
And yet, it always is.
In ways, I’m glad that The Dreaded Thud of Shame is always a surprise, no matter where and when it takes place.
Maybe that shows that I KNOW, on a deep level, that I don’t deserve to feel it.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our blog post for today.
Thanks to Alexa, Alex, Camden, the good people of London, my son, my bf, and to you, for reading today.
I went to my 43rd high school reunion last night.
Here are some random thoughts about that.
When I entered junior high school (from a really small, religion-based elementary school), I knew very few of the over 200 people in my new class.
I started junior high school the year after my whole world turned around — when I had my first cardiac pacemaker implanted (on the same day that John F. Kennedy was shot, which turned everybody else’s world around, too).
I didn’t know many people in my 7th grade class. Nevertheless, I remember being happy to be entering that big world of more diverse, interesting people. I remember observing people, with fascination and with gratitude to be there among them.
It felt like an adventure and a relief, in a way.
Some people were kinder than others back then. 13-year-old kids aren’t very far along in the process of developing empathy to others. (Developing empathy is a growth process in human beings, which sometimes gets short circuited by unfortunate circumstances.)
But for the most part, I remember a lot of people who showed kindness to me. And I could have been a prime target for bullying — (1) I was unfamiliar to lots of people and (2) I had a medical condition that a lot of people knew about. (Because cardiac pacemakers were so new, and because the one I had implanted was so big and stuck so far out, the doctors thought I needed to wear a brace and leave early from class, with somebody carrying my books for me.)
But I only got bullied by one person and it was pretty mild (even though I did witness, at times, other people getting bullied worse, which was awful).
I had a lot of great experiences, learning to know the people in the class, as we grew from ages 13 through 18.
One thing I remember feeling bad about for most of those years of junior high and high school?
My looks.
Not sure why I felt so bad, in retrospect. Actually, I can guess:
Last night, at the reunion, some of the guys told me that they were interested in me, back then.
Why didn’t they let me know when we were in school together?
Because they thought I wouldn’t go out with them. They had lots of reasons why they thought I might reject THEM. I was very surprised to hear that.
I think a lot of people hear stories like that — and other surprising stories — when they go to a reunion.
That’s the end of the blog post for today, ladies and gentlemen.
Thanks to people from my high school, everybody who ever felt insecure in school, and — if that doesn’t cover everybody reading today — the rest of you, too.
This is what I’m thinking this morning:
It’s helpful to balance the internal world and the external world.
Too much focus on the internal world of my own thoughts, feelings and experience = Out of Balance.
Too much focus on the external world (including the internal worlds of other people) = Out of Balance.
The trick, ladies and gentleman, is to figure out a “good enough” balance.
Another trick is to leave lots of room for good-enough balances (so there’s not a razor-thin edge of sought perfection). (That’s a useful trick, in lots of human endeavors.)
I just looked for a visual aid for this post, by googling “balance.” The one I chose, first, was this:
Hmmmm. Maybe these guys said “Balancing can be simple” because they were trying to sell somebody something.
But maybe they’re right, anyway.
Simple doesn’t mean obvious or easy, though, does it?
Another image that grabbed me, in that Google search, was this:
That image lead me to this page, called “A Very, Very, Very Delicate Balance.” There, RadioLab’s Robert Krulwich writes about the artist, Michael Grab:
These rocks, says the artist, are not glued, not Velcroed. This is not a trick.
Here are some other things I could write about this morning:
Perhaps, if I had more time this morning, I could more smoothly and beautifully arrange the pieces of this post, to pull everything together, making a bridge to some amazing conclusion.
But I don’t. So, that concludes our blog post for today.
Thank you, dear reader, for including this as part of your balance, today.
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P.S. On January 9, 2014, I re-visited this post, with more knowledge than I had when I first wrote it, on July 17, 2013. So, now, I will present that image in the size I wanted to, back then:
Yay!