Once Upon a Time…

You know when you hear or read something that rattles neurons around in your brain and they reconfigure in a new and improved way? Like Oprah’s “AHA moments.” In my curiosity and sometimes pathological pursuit of self-improvement, I stumbled into one of these revelations.

Sometimes, I hear or read the same idea repeatedly without really internalizing it. Almost every lesson in my life could be broken down piece by piece to find one of The Four Agreements as its cornerstone; still, I struggle sometimes. “Wow, did I just take that personally?” “Am I making assumptions about someone’s motives?” Crap.

Onward to my point. I’m a big Brené Brown fan, and in her latest book Rising Strong, she writes about getting back up after we’ve been suffered a hardship. By breaking this struggle down into three distinct phases: rumble, reckoning and revolution, Brown offers commonsense tools that allow us to deal with our emotions rather than letting them deal with us. Here’s an excerpt where she eloquently explains this inner “rumble” you get to have.

The point that really got me was that when something happens, we take said event and filter it through our memories, experiences, insecurities–of course the shrewish voice of our inner critic gets to weigh in–and from all of that we formulate our view of the event and thereby our reaction. Often, that reaction has absolutely no basis in fact.

Here’s an example. I see a long-lost “friend” who I absolutely adore at a public event. I run up to give her a hug, and she steps back from me with a vibe that says she’s definitely not reciprocating my exuberant greeting. Now, I’m standing there feeling foolish. Embarrassed. Shamed. I stammer under my breath, “Hey, it was nice to see you; take care,” and walk quickly away, my cheeks burning and tears stinging my eyes.

Here is the story I hear in my head:

She never liked you.
She only pretended to like you because you hung around the same group of people.
No one really likes you.
People think you’re an asshole.
Even some of your own relatives talk nasty about you.
You’re worthless and unlovable and a fool.

Good. Grief. That is a wide swath of destruction from a 15-second interaction with a person who doesn’t cross my life or mind on a daily basis.

In the past, and by past I mean the 42 1/2 years before I read this book, that 15-second-interaction would have destroyed me for weeks, months, who knows how long, but I would have overthought the shit out of it.

However, with this new skillset–thank you, Dr. Brown–I thought about it, but in a more productive way. I tore apart those statements and addressed them not only as lies, but also really mean hateful lies that I would never speak to anyone. Course my inner critic–she’s such. a. bitch–seizes any opportunity to cut me to the quick.

The ensuing conversation in my brain went kind of like this:

So what had happened was: I saw a person I liked a lot, and she blew me off.

She never liked you. Maybe not, but I was always kind to her, and in the past she was kind to me also.
She only pretended to like you because you hung around the same group of people. So be it. I don’t hang around those people anymore, but I don’t dislike them. If that is the only reason she was nice to me, then she isn’t really the person I thought I adored.
No one really likes you. Bullshit. My husband and children adore me. I have incredible, loyal, and amazing friends.
People think you’re an asshole. I can be, for sure, but what other people think of me is none of my business. I really try hard to be kind and compassionate.
Even some of your own relatives talk nasty about you. Touché. And they are motivated by their own issues that I didn’t cause and I can’t fix.
You’re worthless and unlovable. So. Not. True. I mean that’s just ridiculous. That’s like calling a skinny girl fat. You’re just grasping for mean things to say now.

And so it goes. But for whatever reason, this time the lesson stuck. The story that I’m telling myself right now…about that interaction STUCK with me. I got it. Brené Brown, I love you.

Today, I saw this:

 

 

Holy Mother of Moses. That shook me to my core. I talk about my inner shrew a lot, and I realize  that her weapons of choice are the negative, critical words I heard growing up.

 

Gulp. Here’s the thing: I’m far from perfect, and I have said shitty things to my kids that I don’t want them to grow up and use as ammunition to attack themselves. But instead of beating myself up about it, I’m just going to keep trying to do better. I say far more kind and loving things than I do mean things. And I always apologize when I mess up.

 

Do you do this? Tell yourself stories that may not have any foundation in reality but really make you feel like crap? Is it just me and Brené Brown? Surely it can’t be because home girl’s selling books like she found the secret to youth and skinniness.

 

If this feels familiar for you, you should read this book. In the meantime, try to stop and listen to the story you’re telling yourself. And remember. It’s just a story. In your head. You can edit, rewrite, or just freaking delete it.

 

By the way, the person who didn’t want to hug me? It wasn’t about me at all. I can’t tell her story, but her reasons for not wanting to interact with me had nothing to do with me. Don’t take things personally. Don’t make assumptions. Keep being a work in progress.

 

xoxo

Lighten Up

I had another revelation today. Also on the way to take P to school. It wasn’t so much a revelation as it was a notion I’d read somewhere that popped back into my head suggesting that it required deeper exploration.

All the books, blogs, articles I read drive the same points home. Obviously, because everything I read, see or hear gets filtered through my crazy colander of experiences. The holes let the same stuff drain through while the solid pieces catch anything my subconscious deems to be important. Imagining my mind as a colander makes me laugh because it reminds me of my dad’s fondness for saying, “You need that like you need a hole in your head” about various and sundry things. But now that I think about it, I could use a few more holes in my head so that more stuff could slide through rather than cluttering my mind.

This illogical imagery–like most things in my life–brings me to The Four Agreements. Specifically the second: Don’t take anything personally. This one is my nemesis. I do an excellent job of helping other people not to take things personally. I have long discussions with my kids when people do mean stuff it’s usually because of some hurt inside them and no reflection on us. I’m even doing a better job of not getting my own feelings hurt as much, but I still have this one habit I need to work on…

When something happens and I strain it through my personal colander of experiences, often, I think what comes out the other side is…right or true or good or whatever positive self-righteous adjective you’d care to insert here.

A few of my friends and I even jokingly say, “Oh if everyone were only as perfect as us.” But I’m realizing more and more, that sometimes, I actually do impose my own feelings about what’s right or true or good onto other people. Often against their will. Like I’m perfect or something. I feel like an asshole right now. Thanks to this amazing article my fabulous and brilliant friend Molly posted, I’m gonna stay with this feeling. Oh, and I’m also gonna share it with you. Because….”Omigosh this is so disgusting. Taste It.” Right? Well, something like that.

I’m not going to name specific examples of my doing or having done this because then I’d have to draw on a bunch of personal stories and my friends would start texting me like, “Was that me?” And then it would be a whole to-do of I’m sorry’s and crying and I love you’s, which is so awesome and one of my favorite things ever, but we have baseball every night this week so there’s no time.

BUUUUUUTTTT, I can use my husband for an example because that poor guy is all to often on the business end of my crazy but shockingly knows I’m this much of an asshole and loves me anyway, God bless his patient soul. He’s a prize of epic proportions.

So, when we were first married, he used to tell me, “Lighten up.” That’s it. He didn’t mean anything by it except that I should stop taking myself, the situation, life, whatever so seriously. However, I filtered that phrase through a lifetime of seeing the destructive path carved by being critical, perfect, fake and uptight and was doing my best to be a lighthearted, free-spirited fairy princess. So, I didn’t hear, “Lighten up.” I heard, “You have completely failed and become everything you tried so hard not to be.” That was 20 years ago, but it’s still a relevant example. Also, that phrase has long been banned from our house.

That’s just one of thousands of examples and only the tip of the iceberg really, but do you get it? So, my girlfriend then tells me that her husband told HER to lighten up, and I’m all, “Oh. No. He. Didn’t,” (cause I immediately get ghetto–I can say that cause I am straight up from the ghetto) and now I’m projecting my own experiences onto her situation whether or not she had any negative connotations associated with the phrase, “Lighten up.” She does NOW.

Whew, I’m glad I worked through that. Aren’t you delighted you came along? I only shared it because a few of you profess to share a compartment with me on the crazy train so I thought it might resonate. Also, if I’ve strained your experiences through my crazy colander…I’m really, truly sorry.  I’m a work in progress. We all are. Peace…

Say it to my Face…book

I tried to quit Facebook a couple months ago. After using a little app that monitored how much time you spend on your phone, I realized that I was spending a whole lot of valuable time scrolling through other people’s lives when I could be living my own. Additionally, my mom was really sick, I was juggling a LOT and I needed to focus.

So I deleted my account.

However, I quickly realized that the easiest way to get in touch with some people I needed to contact was … you guessed it: Facebook.

So I reactivated my account.

Messages, explanations, blah blah blah, there you have it straight from the horse’s mouth as they say. My mom says that, “straight from the horse’s mouth.” I don’t know what it means or if anyone else says it, so maybe as she says would be more accurate.

Moving on.

In the past few years, I have had more arguments, fights, drama and hurt feelings with real life friends and family over stuff that took place on Facebook than over anything that happened in our actual flesh and blood lives. That is a fact.

A few months back, a friend and I decided to write a book about it. Facebook. We had had a few fights. I know it might sound trite and silly that grown up women–mothers, for heaven’s sake–would get upset about social media, but it happened. I suspect we aren’t the only ones. Anyway, I really value my friends and know that stewing on hurt feelings leads to bitterness, resentment and lost relationships.

So, being the grown ups we are, we hashed it out in true therapeutic fashion. “It hurts my feelings when you like her pictures and not mine.” It’s true. “It makes me feel left out when you all post pictures and didn’t invite me.” Still working those Agreements and trying not to take things personally. Anyway, by the end of it we were laughing instead of crying, but we came up with some good common sense guidelines.

If you never get your feelings hurt by social media stuff, you can stop reading now. Scroll to the bottom though and tell me your thoughts on that. But if sometimes…maybe…a little…well… here’s:

The Girlfriend’s Guide to Not Being An Asshole on Facebook

1. Don’t post vague attention-seeking statuses. Text your friends. Talk about your issues. Scream. Write in your journal. See a counselor.
2. Don’t post passive-aggressive digs at your friends. If you have friends, and they piss you off, tell them. Talk about it. With THEM. Don’t call your other friends and tell them what this friend did. That’s 8th grade baloney.
3. LIKE every picture you see your friends post. Even if it’s terribly unflattering. Even if it’s the 87th time hop they posted today. Like. It. Anyway. Not because you like the picture but because you love your friend.
4. Don’t play favorites. If you like your brother’s pictures of his kid, like your sister’s pictures of hers too. If you like every picture one friend posts and never like another friend’s, that’s mean. And whether your friends admit it or not, most of them notice. And the people who notice will get their feelings hurts. Do you want to hurt someone’s feelings? Yikes.
5. If you scroll through Facebook constantly when you’re with your friends and then claim, “Oh, no, I didn’t see that…” your friends all know you are lying.
6. Just. Be. Nice. If you don’t have anything nice to say then keep your mouth shut. Don’t post a passive aggressive comment.
7. Finally, don’t flirt with your friend’s husband on Facebook. For real. That’s not cool. I am a kinder, gentler version of the crazy girl I once was, but come at my man, and I will cut you. I’m not the only one. Join match.com or something.

These suggestions are based on actual experiences we had with our friends (and I mean honest-to-goodness ride-or-die friends, not other dance moms, or your kids’ friends’ moms with whom you occasionally have coffee, I mean the girls you’d take a bullet for) and each other. Come on now. If you see yourself in here, it’s cool. Me too. I’m trying to do better.

But…I’m also trying to spend less time scrolling and more time living, so I promise you: If you’re my friend, and I see something you posted: I will like it. Unless it is racist, anti-gay or mean. Then, I’ll either unfriend or unfollow you. Just clarifying.

Honestly, social media is just another way we seek love and acceptance and connection. Isn’t posting pictures of our adorable kids and stuff we made for dinner just a different form of, “Watch me!”? And don’t we all just really want people to like us? I’m not advocating for seeking approval from social media friends and followers; good LORD, I’ve spent the last two decades trying NOT to give others the power to determine my worth. I’m just saying that the main thing I learned out of this whole endeavor was: People want to be liked. I can do that. We can all do that.

Also, in delving into the issues this brought up for me, I uncovered a big trigger in feeling left out. As the youngest of 7 children, I was often left behind while my siblings did things I was “too little” to do. A lot of the shit we deal with as adults is some modified form of the stuff we never dealt with properly when we were kids. Maybe because our parents, who were busy not dealing with their own shit, addressed our fears and concerns with, “Well, that is the stupidest thing I ever heard. Why would you let that bother you?” Right? No, just me? That’s cool.

Recently every argument in our house turns into a therapy session because I don’t want my adult kids dealing with an issue we monumentally bungled the handling of when they were young. AND I surely don’t want to foist the issues I never dealt with as a kid onto my kids. I’m still working on it. I’ll tell you more later.

In the meantime, I’m gonna post this on Facebook. I hope you like it.

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.

Give a little Grace

I have been reading lately about healing and focusing on deep hurts that cause angry, defensive reactions. Because, I’m really ashamed to admit, I have a bad temper and sometimes have really disproportionate angry reactions to silly things.

For example, I burned my finger on a glue gun while making a banner. I curbed my initial reaction to scream obscenities. However, inside me this huge angry reaction was brewing that had to go somewhere. I picked up the end of the kitchen table and let it slam down. When the table slammed down, the anger released, but the plate that was holding the glue gun broke, and my tiny girlfriend started to cry.

Cue the guilt and shame tape that goes like this, “You’re an asshole. You can’t control your temper. You don’t deserve to have these sweet little kids; you’re a lunatic. Way to go. You’re just like your dad.”

And in about 25 seconds, I had gone from pain to rage to feeling about an inch tall.

I apologized to Lily and explained to her that I had reacted inappropriately to pain with anger, and I was sorry for scaring (and probably scarring) her. We talked about some times that our reactions didn’t exactly match our feelings or the particular situation and then finished making our craft without further incident.

For the rest of the night, shame gripped me pretty tightly. I had to delve into my reaction and the motivation behind it. Once I did that and realized that my reaction was something that had been ingrained in me from childhood–when you get upset about something let your rage out on an inanimate object–I was able to deal with it and remind myself that having a bad reaction didn’t make me a bad person.

Guilt and shame always go together for me–the dynamic duo of damnation–so I was enlightened to read Brene Brown’s definition in The Gifts of Imperfection. She explains that guilt says “You did something bad,” and shame says, “You are bad.” I still think they’re a terrifying team, but now I see them more clearly.

Brown goes on to say that we can steal the power away from this team if we talk about the stuff that makes us feel this way and bring it to light. Just make sure that you share with someone you really trust.

She gives a list of people you don’t want to choose, such as:

• Anyone who makes you feel worse about yourself. They will look at you with shock and judgment and say things like, “Oh…my.”
• One-uppers. You know them. They respond to everything with, “Oh that’s nothing, let me tell you about the time…”
• Those with low self-esteem who will use this as an opportunity to feel superior–think, drowning victims who push others down to get themselves to the surface. “Oh, I never have inappropriate reactions in front of my kids, but that’s just me.”
• Condescending jerks. Pretty much the same as above with a heightened air of superiority.

***Please note that sometimes jerks look and sound and act like friends until you share something like this with them***

So, my week has been a lot of, “Yikes, where did that come from? Why does it bother me when people do a.b.c.d?” and more. This isn’t a huge change. I’m always analyzing and overthinking and trying to do better, but sometimes it’s not in the actual moment. I’m steadily trying to live the Four Agreements, but it’s a lot of trial and error.

I spent many years feeling broken and damaged because of things that happened to me, but I am realizing in this decade* that labeling myself is not only unnecessary but it is also unkind. Yes, bad things happened to me, but really great things have happened too. By reconciling that I can simultaneously grieve loss and embrace blessings, by realizing that my past doesn’t define me, and by reminding myself that every moment is an opportunity to embrace and extend grace, I’ve cleared my path from lots of tangled roots that tripped me up.

A few weeks ago the super-wise 20-year-old guru I’m blessed to call my daughter said that she felt fortunate that her dad and I hadn’t really f#$%ed her up. We keep it really real. She said she always felt loved and free to express herself. This was such an impactful statement, as I have questioned everything I did as a mother for 20 years. In fact, the only thing I knew for sure was that I loved these little people God let me hold for awhile more than I had ever known was possible.

I’m pretty convinced some days that I’m messing Peyton and Lily up in some significant way. The nasty shrew in my head tells me all the time that I am worthless and have no business raising these amazing kids. I question myself all the time. And then I shhhhhhh them, breathe and keep going. I’m not sharing this because I need reassurance, but because someone else might feel the same. Do you? Let me encourage you: If you worry this much about what kind of person or wife or parent you are, I’m pretty confident that you are already amazing.

Give yourself some grace. And give the people who make different choices grace too. Namaste.

*The jury is still out on 40 because the emotional and spiritual rewards seem to come at the expense of some crazy things like thinning hair and brain fog and achy joints.

Full Speed Ahead

I just wanted to take a minute to thank you, my friends, for reading, commenting and sharing your reactions to what I write. I’m really vulnerable and transparent in this little space, and you always make me feel less alone in my struggles. That’s such a good feeling. Your kindness is an amazing blessing; thank you.

Since last week, I’ve been paying closer attention to my interactions with people and the vibe I give off. Men and women. Brad told me recently, “Sometimes you change the rules, and you don’t always let people know.” That is a very true statement. God bless my man who can lovingly point things out in me that I am unable to see. It took him about 23 years to master this without making me feel defensive (or for me to realize that he was actually being loving and not critical or condescending.)

Anyway, back to changing the rules. I do. All the time. Quick example: I decide that I no longer want to go to the gym because there’s a creepy guy there who stalks me–I’m kidding, a little–but I don’t tell my gym friend. I just start saying no. All the time. She thinks I’m mad at her, which is completely untrue, but I didn’t communicate the rule change.

Another example: I nearly always decline “going out” invitations. But when a bunch of my friends go out and post awesome pictures on Facebook, I would sometimes feel hurt. In the past, I said no, so if I decide now that I’d like to be included, I need to advise my friends of the rule change, instead of whining about being left out.

Evidently feeling left out is a huge trigger for me because on a few occasions, my extended family have done things and not invited me, and I have felt extremely hurt. Granted, I’m a hermit who declines about 97% of invitations, so very few people would ever consider that my feelings would be hurt by not being invited somewhere. Additionally, I am positive that none of my family would intentionally exclude me to be hurtful. Still…trigger.

Once a friend told me when she hears people talking about doing something fun if she wants to do it, she simply invites herself. She’s absolutely delightful, so of course everyone would want her to come along, but that was kind of a revelation for me. Oh, hey, just say you want to go. Huh.

Sometimes I get so upset over slights that have mostly occurred in my head that I cut people completely off from my heart so that they are incapable of hurting me again. They generally have no idea why or what they’ve done. I’m working on the whole “setting healthy boundaries” thing. It’s going swimmingly.

Despite the aforementioned neuroses, I am really, really close to a few people. These people know all my secrets. I’m actually very proud of that because up until a year or so ago, I desperately kept those secrets to myself, fearing that the baggage I carried around would alienate even the most loyal person.

But outside of my inner circle, and some wonderful friends whom I adore but try not to drag into my cyclone of crazy, I am better at one-sided relationships. I used to joke that I had enough friends and wasn’t auditioning new ones, but it wasn’t really a joke. I like to listen to people’s stories without having to share anything about myself. This usually works fine since lots of people would rather talk than listen. But I’ve also pushed people away because after sharing personal things with them, I felt they couldn’t be trusted with the information. I often advise girlfriends: People who gossip to you will gossip about you. But, it’s always difficult to listen to your own advice.

And as I continue to learn: I can’t change anyone else’s behavior, but I can control my behavior as well as my reactions and perceptions. I have had to rethink (or overthink) how I present myself to people. It’s natural to feel close to someone whom you feel gets you, and I get lots of people. I think God gave me that gift in order to show people kindness and compassion. However, there are people who will misuse and take advantage of gifts.

I really need to exercise discernment more consistently. For me, discernment usually comes in two ways. One: A sick feeling in my stomach that says, “This person is not genuine and does not want you to achieve your highest good.” Two: My husband saying, “Babe, you might wanna put the brakes on a little bit with this one.”

So it continues, revisiting the Boundaries book that has been collecting dust on my shelf, learning how to be kind and compassionate without becoming enmeshed, and finally back to The Four Agreements, which today sound like this in my head:

• Be impeccable with your word–don’t say mean things about people. Ever.
• Don’t take anything personally–no one thought you would even want to be invited.
• Don’t make assumptions–you have to tell people when you change the rules. No one else lives in your head, lucky for them.
• Always do your best–don’t beat yourself up; just keep trying harder.

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.

Maybe Not.

I read a great essay today about agreeing to disagree. Additionally, I’ve been following the amazingly talented Molly Field as she takes on some of Carl Jung’s most famous quotes–check it out! And I’ve been reading Revelation (aka the crazy book of the Bible.) That smell? It’s my brain. It’s frying. No worries.

At some point a few years ago, I hung up a note card emblazoned with The Four Agreements (Be impeccable with your word. Don’t take anything personally. Don’t make assumptions. Always do your best.) This is how I take on challenging life changes. Some people go to therapy; I write shit on a note card and hang it in a place where I’ll see it all the time. One of my best friends does the same thing, so we encourage each other that this is most effective. Our bathroom mirrors and cupboard doors are brilliant.

Some of the cards really are brilliant such as: “In search of God I went to Mecca and to Rome. I visited many churches, temples, and mosques. I climbed the tallest mountain. I looked in the books of old eastern religion to no avail. I opened my heart: That is where He was”-Mevlana. And some of it is more banal: “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”–on the pantry door. Whatever. Sometimes it keeps me from eating a bag of Doritos. Not always but occasionally. You can judge me. I’m not taking it personally; remember? And as long as we’re examining ourselves, what does your judgement of me say about you, hmmmm?

All of this brings me to a central idea: Controlling my thoughts rather than letting them control me. 2 Corinthians 10:5 (NIV) says “…take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” This blog is called Adventures in Overthinking because that is what I do. Overthink everything. If you and I had a conversation ten years ago, you might not even remember meeting me, but I still probably revisit that conversation from time to time. Taking captive my every thought is exhausting and nearly impossible. But I’m trying. 

And God helps. The Holy Spirit nudges me, and I have a forehead-slapping DUH moment. You might call this same thing your conscience, your inner voice, whatever you choose. I believe it’s God, but whatever you believe, try to listen because they can be ever so helpful. 

These nudgings often come in interactions with Lily, my six-year-old clone and life coach. She’s not my life coach in a gives-me-amazingly-sage-advice way–that’s Chloe. And she doesn’t teach me by drawing remarkably enlightening parallels–that’s Peyton. She gives me great lessons in very basic ways. 

For example if Lily eats junk food, she gets wild. If I eat junk food, I get cranky. If Lily doesn’t get enough sleep, she whines and cries…me too. If you yell at Lily, she yells louder at you. If you talk kindly and patiently to her, she listens and understands. If you tell her to do something “because I said so,” she doesn’t do it, or she does the opposite, but if you explain to her the logic behind what you’re asking, she gets it and does it. And on and on and on.

Maybe we have Oppositional Defiant Disorder–I haven’t ruled that out. Maybe this is just a lot of projection and overthinking. Maybe this is the result of too much reading, analysis, and an overactive imagination. Maybe this is pathological self-awareness. But maybe not. I have great faith in God and the maybe not.