I sometimes still let S%*T bother me.

Sometimes, I try to put people into molds. Sometimes, I hold people to very high standards. Sometimes, I get very disappointed when people don’t meet my expectations. Sometimes=All. The. Time. Occasionally, in moments of clarity, I recognize the messed-up-ness of this flawed process and reset. I return to working on myself and accepting other people as they are. Wherever they are and whatever they’re doing.

Chloe told me about one of her friends who would comment on a person’s behavior as, “Oh, that’s just Sam. Doing Sam stuff.” This made me laugh every single time I heard it. Lately, however, I’ve been thinking about what a simple but profound lesson there is in adopting that viewpoint.

Once I was really upset with Brad about some perceived slight or shortcoming, and when I was telling my little mermaid fairy guru about it, she said, “Mama, you’re kinda just mad at Daddy for being Daddy. That’s not really fair.” RIGHT?!

Of course it’s not fair. And this admission is selfish and arrogant and unfathomably egotistical, but sometimes I get pissed at people just for being who they are instead of who I want them to be. Bleck.

I’ve written about this repeatedly. Obviously, I’m still working on it. I still let some s&*t bother me.

I keep praying about and meditating on accepting people as they are with no expectations, judgment or labels.

The last few times I did yoga, I set this as my intention. Every morning, in my journal, I pray that my every interaction with people might shine love and light into them. I pray to make people feel encouraged, heard and understood. I fail. A lot. But I keep trying.

Lately, I got hung up on gossip and being “two-faced.” People saying unkind things behind each other’s backs and then being sweet to each other’s faces. Honestly, if you are a woman (between the ages of 3 and infinity) you’ve encountered this. Maybe you haven’t. You get Wi-Fi under a rock? That’s pretty awesome. Anyway, I have been both guilty of gossiping and hurt by people gossiping about me. So in the last few months, I’ve been trying incredibly hard to be impeccable with my word. You know, I drone on and on about The Four Agreements, but seriously, it’s so simple: Don’t say anything unkind. About anyone. Ever. It really is a simple concept, but in our critical culture, it’s so hard. Really, really hard. I encourage you to become aware of the power of your word–and others’ words.

So, the more I started to focus on being understanding and accepting and kind, the more I realized that in order to reflect that, I had to feel it myself. I couldn’t wake up and criticize myself for all my shortcomings and then expect to be encouraging to others. That’s not exactly true. I could do that. I have been doing that for years. Here’s how that story ends: I feel slighted, wishing someone loved and understood me. Wishing someone made me feel special in all the ways I try to make other people feel special.

I know this sounds disgustingly self-indulgent and whiney, and I rarely spend time consciously feeling sorry for myself. I want to be completely transparent so that I can share this revelation: The gossip, the criticism, the nasty, shrewish, two-faced behavior that I so despised was how I treated myself. I have to stop being mean to myself.

When I set my intention in yoga to seek to understand and accept everyone who crossed my path, that needed to include me. I had to stop punishing myself for all the ways I haven’t lived up to my own ridiculous expectations–because if they’re high for other people, they are astronomically out-of-this-world unreachable for me. I had to start this little kindness revolution right in my own heart.

Last night, I went to yoga convinced that I would probably spend most of the practice in child’s pose. My knees hurt. My hair was dirty. I had tried on a bathing suit earlier which sent my self-esteem in a downward spiral. I almost didn’t go, but I realized that I was withholding yoga as some sort of punishment for not looking good enough in that bathing suit. Or something else …  I’m not sure. Anyway, I put it aside. And I got on my mat and let my breath carry all that negativity away.

Today, my intention remains to be compassionate, to understand, listen and encourage people. To say only kind things. And most of all: To accept all of us exactly where we are.

Why Do You Let that S%#T Bother You?

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them; the first time,” Maya Angelou

A friend of mine recently posted that quote, and it reminded me how important that sentiment is in my life. I mean how important trying to remember that sentiment should be in my life. See, I have this bad habit. This really bad habit. Sometimes instead of loving people for who they are, I love an idealized version of who I think they could become. I love their higher self, and I pour my hope and faith into believing they will achieve that.

Here’s the issue with that: Sometimes people don’t want to achieve my idealized version of themselves. Sometimes individuals don’t even share my vision that they can be better people. Sometimes…people are perfectly happy being oblivious and unaware of the dreams and potential I am believing for them. Coming to this realization (that people don’t care to reach the awareness and enlightenment I want for them) is always more painful for me than for them.

My daughter does this too, and several of my closest (and like-minded) friends do as well. It makes me feel better to know that I’m not the only only one. It makes me feel better to say, “These smart, beautiful, amazing women do the same stupid stuff I do.”

My husband does not. He is actually outstanding at accepting people for exactly who they are. (Unless that person is arrogant or a bad driver, then you’re gonna see the west side in that boy.) For years, when I would share my feelings with him he would say in the most helpful way, “I don’t know why you let that shit bother you.” Well, I don’t either. It isn’t conscious, or I would most assuredly choose NOT to let said shit bother me.

A few years ago, he stopped doing that–PRAISE THE LORD–and started encouraging me at least to see, if not accept, people as they are. As I tried harder to do this, I realized: When people disappoint me, it is rarely because their behavior isn’t congruent with who they are; it is nearly always because their behavior isn’t congruent with who I want them to be. Applying this premise in your life may not save you years of therapy, but it will probably spare you some hurt feelings.

Except … I don’t always remember to apply it. That’s the problem. Sometimes my heart is already hurt before I analyze the situation, recognize my expectations and let people own their behavior. In the not too distant past, I would ruminate for wayyyy toooo lonnggggg harboring resentment and bitterness, nursing hurt feelings and disappointment, but now I realize that any amount of time spent on that is too much.

I recently re-read The Four Agreements, and I’m seriously considering getting them tattooed somewhere where I can see them every moment of every day. Have you read it? You should read it.

1. Be impeccable with your word.
2. Don’t take anything personally.
3. Don’t make assumptions.
4. Always do your best.

Logically, the one I struggle with the most is, “Don’t take anything personally.” Ugghhhhh. It goes right along with my constant prayer, “Less of me; more of you.” I always get in God’s way.

So, today, I am going to be me, and I’m going to let you be you. Whoever that is. Even if I think you aren’t living up to your potential. Even if I think you could be a better you if only you would stop being so insecure, or quit gossiping, or show a little humility (that was for you Brad Bell). Today (well, for the next few minutes until I get derailed) I am going to focus more on the log in my own eye and less on the speck in yours.

You Like Me? You Really LIKE ME?

Over my 40 1/2 years, I have spent a great deal of time and energy trying to make people like me. I don’t do that anymore. Don’t get me wrong: I try to be kind, compassionate, honest, but I no longer change myself to fit someone else’s idea of who/what I should be.

BUT people who knew me when I lost sleep about people not liking me are confused now when I don’t care, don’t engage, don’t kiss anyone’s behind. See, if I compliment you, I genuinely mean it. I do like your hair, perfume, outfit or shoes. I really do think you’ve lost weight and I see that your arms are toned up. For real. I’m not saying that so you like me.

I have been a lot of people’s “person” over the years. And I appreciate the opportunity. I love hearing people’s stories and have been changed and blessed so many times by those who have trusted me with their secrets. I rarely reciprocate, but it’s usually because I feel that my role is that of listener rather than sharer. My brother takes particular offense to this because he is me to many others, while I am usually me to him. I’ve told him lots of times that I do feel I could talk to him if I needed to; I just rarely feel the need.

Mostly I sort out my problems in my head, in a book, and in writing. I don’t trust a lot of people. I guess I have had too many encounters with those who used what I told them in confidence as ammunition down the road. But if and when I want to talk about a problem, I don’t find a lack of willing listeners. Surprisingly enough, I digress.

In the recent past, a few people have decided to dislike me. I apologized in the instances where I felt I may have wronged someone, and in the other cases I just prayed for the person and moved on. The fact that I am able to do this is an earth-shattering change. This is the kind of progress that could drive a therapist, if I had one, to publish an amazing case study, retire early and rest on the laurels of helping that one person who seemed beyond help. At least, I think that is how I might feel if I were a therapist who was able to help a seemingly hopeless acceptance addict such as myself.

When I say I’m a vegetarian, people feel the need to tell me why they eat meat or how little meat they eat or that they only eat chicken. I don’t make judgements about what anyone else eats. You can eat a rack of ribs next to me; I don’t mind. When I say I am a Christian, some people feel the need to explain to me why they don’t believe in God. It’s cool. God made a crazy huge amazing change in my life, and I am super excited about that. Sometimes it’s hard to contain my excitement, but I am not trying to shove it down anyone’s throat. I respect people’s choices. 

Bottom line: I am blessed by the people who give me feedback positive and negative. I love people whether they are Catholic, Christian, spiritual, or atheist. And if you don’t like me? It’s okay; I like you anyway, but I’m not gonna lose any sleep over your feelings about me. Because it was never about me anyway.

More Martha than Mary

Last week, my husband and I were in a bad place. A rut. We were out of sync. This happens from time to time, sometimes during one of our MEN-strual cycles. I’m just saying. The word MEN in right there. I am fully aware of mine, and the others in the house are alerted to it by an increase in screaming, door slamming, chocolate in the pantry. Because if you can’t climb out of your rut, the next best idea is to fill it with food.

The food doesn’t help, as if I needed to say that out loud. What does help is having a co-conspirator in Pittsburgh who runs on the same cycle. Usually one of us is able to talk the other one down from a ledge with a gentle reminder that this rage could be hormone-related. That reminder, however, is punishable by death if issued from a man’s lips.

Back to the rut. In this rut, I can’t function. Brad, when we are in a rut, doesn’t look at me. It bothers me when people don’t look at me. I think that if I were ever to be tortured for information, withholding eye contact might be an effective technique. Just to clarify, you can pretty much just ask me anything, and I’ll tell you. Unless it’s someone else’s secret, I keep those. But I won’t look at you if I’m keeping a secret. Now, if you’re my husband–or anyone reading this–you now know that if I don’t look at you, I’m protecting something. Sometimes, it’s my heart, but sometimes it’s something that belongs to someone else.

I give so much away through my eyes so if I don’t look at someone, it’s intentional. I might not trust them. I might think they wish me ill. Or I might be afraid to let them see into my soul for fear they might use that information in bad ways. And sometimes, I’m afraid that if someone looks at me, they will see someone else’s secrets that I’m keeping. This happens pretty rarely. Usually, I look so deeply into people’s eyes that they are uncomfortable and look away. Then, I begin to wonder what they have to hide. Because, I assume that like me, if you avoid eye contact you must be hiding something.

All of this brings me back to the same lesson: Just because people don’t do things the same way I do them doesn’t mean that they’re wrong, and I’m right. God reinforces that all the time. Last week, my pastor said to view people as “works in progress,” and that resonated with me not only about others but also about myself. Then, listening to my favorite online preacher, I was reminded of the story of Mary and Martha. (Martha was mad that she was cleaning and cooking, while Mary sat and listened to Jesus. Martha wanted Jesus to make Mary help her, but Jesus told Martha maybe she should check her priorities.) I can identify with Martha, because a lot of times I serve begrudgingly rather than humbly.

Today, we are out of our rut and analyzing how we got there and how not to get there again. Today, I’m cleansing the salt, sugar, and other toxins I overindulged in the last few days. Today, I am asking God to help me see with His eyes. Today, instead of beating myself up, I’m embracing the fact that I am a work in progress.