Progress Sometimes Feels Like Going Nowhere – Part II – Tightrope Walking

I am blatantly retelling a metaphor I heard in a meeting last week.  But I don't think the teller will mind…

Recovery is like walking a tightrope, but not in the way many people think of it—as tentatively taking one step after another, unsteady, unsure, risky, fearful, dangerous.

According to my friend's telling, when a person walks a tightrope, he isn't walking from one end to the other.  He's falling down from one end to the other.  As he crosses the expanse on his tightrope, the walker carries a long pole for balance. With each step, he falls a little to one side, shifting the bar to the other side to compensate.  Each step is a process of falling and recovery, of falling and recovery. 

My friend in the meeting suggested that each moment of recovery is where we meet God on the most honest level. We don't feel our need for a higher power until we really need one.  Without falling, we are never required to try anything new. We are never required to grow.  If we fall, we must do something differently in order to reach the other side of whatever expanse we are trying to cross.  Growth is rarely a matter of taking several steps in a straight line, even though to people who don't see the internal life of the tightrope walker, it may appear to be so. 

Another way to think of oneself living life and pursuing recovery is as a pendulum. We swing back and forth across a balanced middle. In the midst of our disease, we swung wildly, barely seeing that middle.  As we mature, we usually swing more slowly and don't necessary fly as wide away from the center as we used to.

But back to the tightrope.  Before we get much awareness of ourselves or of true recovery, we approach canyons and open expanses with trepidation. We take a deep breath and promise ourselves that we can make it across.  It's only a few steps.  We just have to keep our path straight.  When our assistants and friends come to us with a balancing pole, many of us shake our heads and claim we don't need it.  It will be too heavy, we insist. It would impair our progress. 

Then, no matter how strong we start out across that expanse, we each, inevitably, begin to fall.  Those of us who agreed to take the pole but have not yet learned how to use it throw it from our hands. Those who refuse it are out of luck from the get-go. We falling to one side.  What little we know about recovery is not enough to keep us on top of that rope.  The only thing we can do was grab onto that rope before we fall completely.

We cling to that rope, hanging on with our feet dangling.  We might try this for a long while, pretending we are some kind of hero in a spy movie, muscling our way across the canyon with our hands. But even the strongest among us can't move forward that way for too long. We have to stop at some point.  We stop and simply hang on.

That's what some of those plateaus I talked about in Part I of this post feel like.  We are merely hanging on.  Maybe someone gave us some techniques to use to recover, but we don't always know how to employ them all.  We aren't used to trusting a higher power.  We aren't used to doing things any other way than the way we've always done them.  We dangle from the rope and wait.  

At this point, some people let go.  Some people relapse.

Others of us are fortunate and brave.  Somehow, we take a rest and get back on top of the rope.  Usually, it's our higher power that manages this feat, but we must be willing.  This time, when someone hands us a balancing pole, we learn how to use it.  We watch other tightrope walkers and see how it works.  And it all eventually comes to together, sometimes after multiple turns under the rope.  We realize that we don't have to muscle through life anymore.  We just feel ourselves fall and move that pole. 

Did you read that?  We feel ourselves fall and move the pole.  This depiction of recovery explicitly states that we will not be urge or symptom free 100% of the time.  Recovery isn't about that.  Sometimes, the addictive thoughts go away.  Sometimes, they do not.  In either case, it usually takes time for them to leave us. 

Recovery is about how we react to those urges and thoughts.  It's about not going crazy or freaking out when they happen.  Even if we act on ED impulses, it is to our detriment to think it's the end of the world.  All we have to do is move the pole slightly.  It's a barely perceptible movement sometimes. We learn how to accomplish these slow, steady movements over time.  We learn how to not completely lose our minds (most of the time) and change one thing in our lives. We do one thing differently.  We discard something that used to work for us that no longer works. We find a new way to handle a situation.  We move that pole.

And we find the middle again.  We can walk forward. 

This is such a different image than the hero or the whirling dervish that picks herself up and does everything possible to stay in recovery. Sometimes, these wild attempts at changing our lives do more damage than good.  Maturity in recovery means we get a little more discernment—at least a lot of the time.  Or maybe it's simply that we start being able to see the difference between extreme and prudent action.  

Risk-taking is essential.  Tightrope walking is inherently a risk!  I'm not saying we live our lives in a boring way and always make "safe" decisions.  But we can make smart moves instead of panic and fear-driven ones.  Recovery helps us do that. 

I feel that recovery is helping me do that, even if I still find myself driven by fear no again.  At least I can see it now, and move that pole. 

In the Pocket

Someone told me something interesting this week: If we don't know exactly why we are where we are and why we're doing what we're doing, we’re probably in the right place.

This flies in the face of what I've believed for years. I thought that a feeling of certainty meant I was on the right track, but I'm beginning to think I was wrong. 

I've been categorically unsuccessful at guiding myself to happiness and contentment for years, despite many methodical (and less than methodical) plans and schemes. I'm smart.  I'm a good problem solver.  I should be able to find the best path, right?

Not so much. In recovery, my work is not to uncover the right path. My job is to be fully present in this moment, to develop and nurture my connection with a higher power, to do a daily personal inventory, and to take the steps that my higher power lays out in front of me one after the other.

If I do those things, I often find myself in places that make little sense. But they are usually places that feel… somehow… okay. If I had made my own way, things would make sense.  I would know what happened and how I got there.  When I let go and let something greater than myself carve out my path, it's a bit disorienting. But it's so much richer than the security of being able to tie together all the pieces.

How much more delightful life is when it doesn't make sense!  Sense is boring.  Sense gives me security, but it's bland.

Interestingly, when I look back on those moments of disorientation, they make sense. They make a beautiful sense. That is comfort enough for me.

This past month has been one of looking inward and staying connected with HP (my higher power).  I've managed to integrate mindfulness into my daily habits better than ever before. 

I've noticed that I stop more frequently throughout my days, letting questions come up like, "Why am I doing this?  Is this what I should be doing? How do I feel right now?"  Time and time again, the answer is that I feel good in the moment.  I feel good.  I feel secure.  And that's all that matters. I move on, through the thoughts, just like I do during meditation.

I can feel confused and unsure but also good.  I can have no idea where I'm going or why I'm doing what I'm doing and still know I'm doing the right thing.

It has taken many years to get more familiar with this feeling.  I call it being "in the pocket." When I'm in flow and feel wholly safe and loved, I'm "in the pocket."  I live for that feeling.  It makes everything and everywhere safe.  I'm being carried through circumstances that make little sense to me, but I am on the path I'm supposed to be on. The only way to get off-track is to get out of touch with HP.

I might ask:  Why am I in this class?  Why am I taking this drive?  Why did I decide to walk outside?  Why am I calling this person?  Why am I choosing to sit and do nothing when I have 20 things I could be doing?  Why am I drawing this picture?  Why am I sitting down at the piano?

The answers don't matter.  What matters is that I really live those moments.  And if I do, I'll enjoy every piece of my life… and also move out of each piece at just the right time.

No More Dying

I felt like I was dying. That’s the best way I can describe it. I would be sitting at my desk, staring at the computer, feeling the keyboard under my fingers, and I would think, “I’m going to die.” Not a suicidal thought, just a premonition.  If I continued to sit there, at that job, in that building, doing the same thing every day, I would die. This I knew.

So I quit.  After four months of torment, fear, sadness, bingeing, resignation, anger, meditation, crying, praying, thinking, journaling, and dreaming, I quit. When I made the decision to quit my well-paying, full-time, insurance-providing job, I felt free. I felt like I could live in the world again.

I told my boss about my decision four days after I made it in my heart. I had discussed the choice with people, who mostly reacted positively.  I was rather shocked at how responsible they seemed to think I was.  I doubted I would be able to get myself to focus each day, trying to find work as a musician and writer, but they seemed fairly certain that I would do it. It occurred to me that I might be far more mature and reliable than I estimated. Perhaps I am.  Perhaps I’m not.  That remains to be seen.

I have been self-employed for three days now.  I have a few solid clients with Rock Star Writing and Editing already. By a few, I mean 3-5, and only two of them are booked for more than a single project. In music news, I couldn’t get any other musicians to sign on for the second Mi’Show, which is happening on May 4. Nonetheless, I have a nice vision in my head of a solo concert, so I think it will work out.  I have a lot to say to my fans right now, and perhaps I need an entire two hours to say it to an audience.

I have little idea how I am going to make ends meet. At this point, I don’t even know if I’m approved for individual health insurance.  If I get it, how will I pay for it?  My decision to leave my job seems increasingly insane.

Still, I do know one thing. The thought of going back to my old job upsets my stomach, up into my throat. I don’t want to go back. It was certainly not a bad job.  It was the best job I’ve ever had.  I was paid handsomely for work that, honestly, wasn’t that difficult. I liked the people there.  The office location was beautiful.  People appreciated my writing and editing for the most part, and I got to contribute in many other ways to the company.

Nonetheless, I was going to die.

Today, I don’t feel like I’m going to die.  Today, I feel free.  I feel afraid.  But I also feel free.  Part of me is strapped down by thoughts clambering for me to find more work, more money, more gigs, more everything. But another part of me knows that I will always have everything I need.  I just don’t know what I need yet.

I watched the sunset today from my car.  I was coming back from a recovery meeting that focuses on steps 10, 11, and 12 from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.  We call it After Nine. The concept resonates with me.  We focus on spirituality and on our connection with others.  It lines up brilliantly with something my last sponsor told me. She said that recovery is really about three things:

1. Connecting with God
2. Connecting with others
3. Connecting with ourselves

That’s what After Nine is about. I may not fully ascribe to everything the Anonymous programs typically stand for, but I do feel that this part of it works for me.

I feel that something in this universe knows more than me—can see farther than me—even if that something is nature, pure and simple. There is a future and a past where I do not exist. I exist right now, in the present. And right now, the present is a pretty uncertain place. Or maybe it’s the most certain place. 

In this moment, I know that I am sitting here, writing this post, choosing words.  I know those things.  I don’t know the future.  I don’t know how long I will be able to work for myself or even if I will be able to work for myself at all.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do with music or if I will really find the new outlets I need.  I’m scared that I will not find what I need to make this life work.

But maybe a higher power will give me what I need instead.

Maybe I don’t have to know.  I am trying.  The bottom line is that I am putting one step in front of the other.  Even in my darkest times over the last few months, I did not stop getting up in the morning.  It became very difficult to do so, and I would procrastinate on taking that first shaky step out of bed in the morning. But I kept living life.

I gave it my best.  Yes, my best sucked a lot of the time, but I gave it. I am giving it.  I have goals for how many hours I want to work each day.  I have specific milestones I want to reach. But I don’t know if I will manage to work that many hours or reach those milestones.  I don’t know if I will achieve my goals, and I also don’t know if my goals are really what my goals should be.  I’ll go after them, but I hope that the universe/circumstance/God/Goddess/whatever takes me to the best place for me.

I keep thinking that Houston, Texas, does not reflect my values and isn’t nurturing me the way it once did.  Perhaps it’s time to move on.  However, Houston Community College has a great music production program that I want to complete, and I treasure my friends and other connections here. How will I know whether to stay or go?  Time will show me.

I canoed almost 15 miles down Buffalo Bayou last Saturday with some friends. I felt my smallness.  The boat wasn’t very big at all, but it was certainly bigger than I am.  The canoe seemed so insignificant compared to the trees and the steep, sloping sides of the bayou.  The sky was so much taller, and the city streets so much more massive than anything I have ever been or created.

I quit my job. I play music. I write.  I edit.  I look for work.  I look for ways to feel in touch with the world. That’s what I’ve done. That’s what I’m doing.  And a whole big world continually expands and engulfs all of it.

I’m glad I quit my job.  I’m glad that I can go anywhere in this big, wide world. I don’t know if it ever dawned on me so fully that I can truly go anywhere and do anything.  I’ve known that at an intellectual level, but I’ve never put it into practice.  Since I was a teenager, I’ve had a plan for everything.  I always follow the plan, and when the plan inevitably does not work out, I make another plan.  How about not making a plan?  I don’t mean discard my personal work schedule, goals, or other organizational tools.  But how about loosening my grip on those things?  How about life not being my plan, but instead, the way I do things?

Thinking about plans in that way helps me understand that I don’t know the outcome of what I’m doing.  I don’t know what will evolve out of my current efforts.  But my current efforts feel right.  I love writing.  I love inspiring others.  I love talking to other people about the things I’ve learned in life.  Perhaps these things will come together in a life I enjoy—in a life I want to live.

I’m going to die—eventually. But I’m going to live right now.  In my uncertain, unsteady, bewildered, inquisitive, sometimes frantic and afraid, sometimes peaceful and confident way, I’m going to live. I’m going to put one foot in front of the other and see where it takes me.  I’ve heard phrases like that for a long time.  Now, I’ve given myself a chance to really feel what the words mean. In a way, I want God to show me that she really is in control, that my life is okay.

I don’t want to binge and cry away my whole life. I want to write, travel, love, play music, give, and enjoy.  When I tell you that you can make any choice and do anything, I mean it.  Every decision ha consequences.  And guess what, I can deal with those consequences.  You can deal with those consequences.

I’m not going to tell everyone who hates their jobs to quit them. I am going to tell you to listen to your heart. Your heart knows when it’s dying and when it feels alive.  It knows how to live.  I don’t know how it knows, but it knows.  I feel it in my spirit.  I am shared out of my boots, shaking, weirded out, and totally puzzled by what I’ve done. But you know what? I’m allowed to make a giant mistake.  I’ve never let myself do anything that I thought would be a huge mistake, and even with that kind of forethought, I’ve still made too many mistakes to count.  I’ve always avoided any major choice that I thought could turn out very, very badly. 

Well, this time, I see the possibility of failure.  I recognize it.  And you know what?  It’s worth it.  Failing would be better than never trying at all.  At least I’ll be somewhere different when I hit bottom. And maybe that’s all my heart needs: something different.

Heart, I won’t let you die, especially not in front of a computer screen.

Should I Eat the Cookie?

On an online question and answer forum, where people pose questions to the entire web audience, I noticed that someone had asked (essentially), “Should I eat the cookie?”

The number and variety of responses alone was enlightening. It was like reading a transcript of all the voices that compete for my attention when I ask myself that very same question. Eating the cookie can become a debate by committee.

After reading most of the long list of answers, I mused at the number of people vying to offer the “right” answer, knowing that none of the responses would ever be the “right” one.  When the debate begins in my head, I’m often searching for that illusive “right” choice. I’ve been around long enough to know that such a thing does not exist.

The answer to “Should I eat the cookie” is completely irrelevant, because the question itself is the only wrong thing in this scenario.  Why is the question not: Am I hungry?  Do I want the cookie?  Can I afford the cookie?  Is the cookie fresh?

“Should I eat the cookie?” encompasses all of those questions, but it also masks all of them.  When “Should I eat the cookie?” is the question, eating the cookie becomes a test—something that will determine whether we or our decisions are good or bad. 

When we ask, “Should I eat the cookie?”, we bury all of the questions listed above under a moral debate.  However, I tend to think that we aren’t as concerned with burying those questions as the questions we’re more ashamed to ask, like:

Will others approve of me eating the cookie? Will this cookie lead to five more cookies?  Would a “healthy” person eat this cookie? Would a “good” person eat this cookie? Am I a good person?

Instead of hiding the questions you want to ask, siphon through the ones that come to mind. Ask the appropriate questions.  Ask the questions that matter, and don’t hide behind “shoulds.” Admit to the hidden questions and move past them to answer the most important ones: Am I hungry?  Do I want the cookie?

Eating or not eating a cookie does not determine your worth. If the decision of whether to eat it is not a simple one for you, use the choice as an opportunity to ask yourself, “What am I hungry for?  What do I really want?”  The answer often isn’t food…  even though sometimes it is ;)

She Moves Intuitively

She moves intuitively. I just wrote a song with that title while envisioning the woman inside me who moves according to the tides within herself. And that takes her to exactly where she needs to be. Yes, I certainly want to be her.

Over the past few weeks, I have been trying to move according to my intuitions. It amuses me, however, how often I’m not sure exactly what I intuitively want to do! My intuition feels buried under other things I’ve learned throughout the years.

I was taught to do certain things to survive or to supposedly make my path through life smoother. I pay my bills immediately, clean my house at regular intervals, and behave in particular ways around different groups of people. I say this instead of that, do this when I mean that, eat this not that… Do you see where I’m going?

For all of us, our parents and society have given us a lot of shoulds. Sometimes, those shoulds are wise. We can use advice a lot of the time from people more experienced than ourselves. However, some of that advice does not apply to particular situations—or it may never apply at all.

What if the world says I need to eat at X time but I am hungry at a different time? What if I’m “supposed” to say X thing to be polite or if I’m supposed to behave a certain way to climb the corporate ladder, but I don’t mean those words or like behaving that way? What if the way the world says I should dress and move through it runs contrary to who I know I am?

I have every right to say no and behave in ways that people might sneer at. So be it. I have that right.

So, I’m moving along with the flow of me, not with the world. I’ve come up against some snags, but I can offer a bit of advice to others trying to act according to their intuitions:

1. Take quiet time every day to stop and do NOTHING. You may meditate during this time or just stop and breathe. The main thing is to quiet your mind and spirit. You can’t know what you want unless you provide time to communicate with yourself.
2. Don’t always respond immediately to every request you receive. You don’t have to accept invitations without thinking about them first. If your heart jumps when you get an invitation and you KNOW you want to go, then accept that one. But if you feel neutral, give yourself time to check in and see what you really want. You’ll probably be sure of the yeses. Take time to figure out the nos.
3. Get enough sleep. I have been low on this commodity for quite some time. This week showed me just how detrimental sleep deprivation is to my ability to make decisions. Sleep is necessary. Everything gets muddled when our minds can’t operate at optimum capacity.
4. Eat when you are hungry. For those of use with eating disorders, this is a serious struggle. And for many others, it’s hard to do, too. Our culture does not show us how meaningful it is to stop and ask ourselves whether or not we are really hungry before we eat. It also advocates “saving up” for the next meal. Why not just eat when we’re hungry? We think better and feel less frantic when fully satisfied. And feeling frantic is not conducive to decision making.
5. Love yourself, whether or not you think you chose the “right” thing. Enough said.
6. Remind yourself that every decision can be the right one, that all are equal. If you imagine that every step you take throughout the day is equal, it can be easier to see what you really want. Equality strips away the different weights that society, family, friends, or eating disorders place on things, leaving only what you truly value.

Those are just a few tips from me.

In other news, I baked a cake this week and LOVED it. It was a big hit and reminded me of how much I enjoy the meditative act of baking (and the tasty results!). And Lime-A-Way toilet bowl cleaner is a gift from heaven! Hard water stains GONE—in a flash. That counts as a miracle to me, and we all need those :)

Permission

Lately, life has been about permission—well, permission and impatience, but I’m focusing on the former for this post. I find that too often, I live in bondage to myself. Instead, I want to be the loving person that comes with compassion and trust to unlock my chains.

But I can I give myself permission? What if I allowed everything? What if everything was okay? What would happen—what would I do—then?

At first speculation, it seems like I would do all kinds of unhealthy things like drink too much, eat too much, smoke, or try every drug under the sun. But that has not been my experience. Although, by giving myself total permission, I claim license to do any of those things, I simultaneously acknowledge my license to do everything else, too. When everything is allowed, all choices are equal, and it’s easier for me to spot my true desires.

Yes, every choice is equal. If there are no better-thans, do I trust solely in my own desires? On the surface, this can seem dangerous. But really, it’s a simple alleviation of guilt. Listening to my desires does not mean abandoning everything I’ve learned over years of trial and error. The main breakthrough here is that where there is no shame, there is freedom. I am a human being who uses that freedom wisely and wants the best for myself and the world, even if I don’t know what the best is yet.

I make a massive amount of choices simply in order to avoid guilt. I hate feeling guilty, so I try to always pick the “best” thing to do, often disregarding my personal desires/dreams and the fact that I usually have no clue what the “best” thing actually is. By granting myself permission to do everything, even the “bad” things, I free myself to make a choice without feeling guilty that I didn’t choose something “better.”

I do not want to live in fear of guilt. I want to see each option clearly and make a decision based on a combination of external circumstances, inner propensities, and my knowledge and intuitive sense about what is best. Decisions overwhelm me when the options are blurred by an arbitrary ranking system my psyche has developed over the years that places things on a scale of “good” to “bad,” a scale that much of the time fails to account for the vast array of mitigating circumstances that could surround any one decision.

Do I have permission to cancel at the last minute? Do I have permission to say no to this person? Do I have permission to say yes? Do I have permission to change a previous decision? Do I have permission to do nothing? Do I have permission to ask more questions?

By throwing away my list of approved actions, I open myself up to an infinite number of paths. Perhaps my choices aren’t limited to a simple yes or no. Perhaps I can ask for more information or for a different date or location. Or could I ask for more time? Maybe I don’t have to choose anything at all. Maybe I can disregard this decision and move on to other things. When none of the options are bad, creativity springs to life and reveals new ways of thinking.

Because I have learned many of life’s lessons through the lens of food, I can explain this liberation with a food metaphor. When a person is controlled by an eating disorder, dieting, or even has taken for granted misguided ideas that certain foods are bad or good, selecting an item from a restaurant menu can be a nightmare. On the surface, it might appear that the dilemma results from a menu too packed with choices. It contains too many selections, too many combinations, too many tastes. But perhaps this is not the issue.

The true issue is that the person at the restaurant believes that an item (or combination of items) exists on the menu that will be better than everything else. The valuation of one item over another can be based on many factors: quantity; nutritional information; color; texture; price; or even whether it is categorized as an appetizer, entrée, breakfast or lunch, salad, or dessert. Everyone has his/her own hang-ups.

Now, what if everything on the menu was equal? I, of course, am not accounting for those people with allergies, etc. But I speak from personal experience of the change, the widening of scope, that resulted from discarding the system I relied on to help me make day-to-day meal decisions. I thought my system helped me make menu choices. However, in hindsight, I see that adhering to my beloved system, in fact, resulted in panic if the “right” items weren’t available or if what ultimately showed up on my plate didn’t match what I thought it would be when I ordered. It also made a perusal of the menu a sort of scavenger hunt for the right things instead of an exploration of new tastes. My system, in effect, served as blinders. I thought that whittling down the choices was best, when in fact, I was blind to the array of options and too busy hunting for the “right” food to listen to my body’s needs.

Leaving the system behind, I realized that any choice could be okay. I could take a breath, hear my body, and choose something to eat. Today, I have the power to order it cooked specific ways, with certain ingredients, or in combination with other items. I even have the power to not order anything at all or try something most people wouldn’t usually eat at that location or time of day. I can pick an item at random, ask the server for more information, or request an off-the-menu special.

If my order doesn’t show up as I envisioned, I can send it back or accept and eat it, knowing that what I choose to eat does not make me a better or worse person. Food doesn’t have that authority.

So I must ask, do any of our choices make us better or worse people? This question challenges some, who would contend that yes, our choices reflect the kinds of people we are. I wouldn’t flatly disagree but would follow up with: What standard are we using to measure “good” and “bad”? What makes one option “bad” and another “good”?

Too many variances exist to support hardwired measurement systems that work in every circumstance. By equalizing all choices, everything on life’s menu becomes visible, including combinations I never would have noticed before with my blinders on. Now, I see every choice clearly and don’t have a ranking system overshadowing my true emotions and needs.

Give yourself permission. Allow yourself to be who you are. In difficult situations, many times, all we have to do is step back and ask, “Am I allowed to feel this way/do this thing/be this person?” Then, we can remind ourselves, “Yes, I am allowed to feel/do/be that.”

Now, do you want to continue on the same path, or do you want to change? Neither choice is better or worse. What do you feel is best for you, regardless of any preconceived ideas? By giving yourself permission, you accept life as it is, and it’s easier to accept others as they are. We are allowed to be ourselves. It’s just true.

Do Your Work, and Be Kind

I am grateful for the way I do things, for Michelle’s way. It is perfect for me. I never have to be anyone else.

When I follow my authentic feelings and yearnings, things always end up okay, even if I don’t initially see how following those feelings could ever lead to success. Trying to follow the path of another or doing things as I think a successful person would always requires more energy, more striving, and more difficulty. The two roads may end up in the same place, but following the path based on my genuine propensities is more satisfying and less brutal.

The hard part is TRUSTING myself and believing that my way is just as good as any other. Despite my own doubts, I prove time and time again that I am the best at making decisions for myself and coming up with ways of living that work for me.

For instance, a new mantra is running through my mind and heart: Do my work, and be kind.

This especially helps on the job. When I am at work, I can easily focus on what I think others are or are not doing. I compare and get down on myself or resentful of others. This can then cause me to lash out in not-so-enlightened ways. I can be condescending or mean and may behave passive aggressively without realizing it until after the fact.

No more! In life and in the office, I want to do my work. I want to do the best I can and concentrate on my own goals and successes. I cannot control what other people do, but I can control the choices I make. I can decide to work diligently and complete projects, to ask people for what I need and be honest when I’m running short on time. I feel like a good worker when I focus on doing my best. Sometimes, I have to put the blinders on, but it’s always worth it. I would rather not know the office gossip and instead feel grateful for everyone who is there, helping me to do the best I can or teaching me more about myself.

Do not miss the “be kind” part of the mantra. Bottom line is: Kindness wins. Every time. I don’t care how tight the deadline or how important a project is to the executive team, treating someone inconsiderately to get the job done is not the best option. The project ends, the product fades, the memory of that week at work dissipates. But when I hurt someone, the sting stays with me.

Nothing is worth making someone else feel small. No job outweighs the value of a person’s soul. And that goes for my soul as well. Being kind to others is only possible when I am loving myself, too. I must practice self care by resting and doing my own job within appropriate limits. I don’t have to work long hours or do crazy amounts of work just because I think everyone else is. I can focus on doing my best. When I work diligently during business hours and then leave work in the office, I produce stellar work without going insane.

When I am kind both to myself and others, I forge fantastic relationships and don’t feel any shame or fear. I can confront others at work with thoughtfulness rather than resentment. I can be strong and tell people what I need without hurting them. I can clear my side of the road and let their feelings be theirs. I am no doormat, but I am kind. Frustration should not be sat on until it comes out in passive aggressive ways. Leave meanness behind and be professional, completing projects by having conversations with those I have difficulty with and being completely honest about my feelings and the situation. It may require owning my own shortcomings.

The end conclusion is this: I do not have to be a different person at work than I am in my life. The same person who makes good decisions and brings color outside the office can choose wisely at work and bring her own personality into play. All of life con reflect the newfound trust I have in myself and my abilities.

You can do it, too. Don’t let work take over your life. Incorporate work into the life you’ve lovingly built for yourself. Trust that, inside, you do know the best solution.

When Do I Need a Swift Kick in the Pants?

Where is the balance between honoring feelings and pushing boundaries? I often feel resistance toward doing certain things. Sometimes, I’m caring for myself by recognizing the resistance and saying no to the activities or behaviors in question. Other times, I push through the resistance, do the thing, and end up with a fantastic sense of accomplishment. How do I know when to push and when to let myself be?

I suspect that the answer has something to do with investigating the motives underneath the resistance. Why do I not want to try this activity, be with this person, or start this task? Am I afraid of something? Is this an instinctual hesitancy? Are my beliefs about this situation true? Am I resisting this thing just because of the unknown? Am I honestly tired now or not equipped for this? Do I really want to do this or not?

Those are some of the questions I could ask. And I could do the same when I feel enthusiastic about doing certain things. Sometimes, I life turns out better when I put the brakes on and consider why I’m running to do something. However, I’m less likely to advocate the slower pace when it comes to enthusiasm. It’s rare that I get overwhelmingly excited about something, so I generally feel that it’s okay to go with the flow when I experience a rush of that sort.

Still, it can be worthwhile to ask whether or I’m enthusiastic about something because it’s a comfortable habit or because I genuinely want to be involved with that thing or person. Is this really enthusiasm, or is it a rush to get things done? Am I in touch with my true feelings right now?

However, even as I write this, I wonder where the balance lies. I’m not sure if I can tell where my resistance comes from. Could it be that I don’t want to give up a habit or that I truly don’t want to do that thing or go to that place or have contact with that person? Can my desires lead me astray? I suppose they can when I’m not in touch with their underpinnings.

To get in touch—now there’s a goal. I still advocate doing the harder or scarier (more-faith-required) thing when faced with tough choices, but I also don't want to neglect feelings that could have a firm foundation.

In any case, good luck seeking balance, my friends. It’s a lifelong journey!

Who Else Needs a Vacation?

I’m having a difficult time getting out of my routine. For a long time, I walked according to my “live differently” philosophy, which suggests doing something different or differently every day. Usually, this was easy, and I accomplished it without thinking. Nowadays, I wonder how often I really get out and do something out of the ordinary.

I get so tied up in my routine, thinking that it keeps me safe or in control, when, in fact, it does none of that. I can do everything to the best of my ability, making sure I accomplish every piddling task I can think of, and things can still go wrong. I cannot singlehandedly control the weather or the economy or even my moods sometimes! Although my schedule makes me feel safe, it’s an illusion. And getting out of it is often the only way to remember the safety and beauty beyond the boundaries I have constructed.

The "live differently" philosophy never stipulates that the “different” thing has to be anything grandiose or exciting. It can be driving to work a new way or visiting a restaurant I’ve never been to. It could be doing laundry in the morning instead of the evening or wearing an outfit I might never have picked out for myself.

At this point, however, I question whether I even want to put out the effort to do something new. For today, I am challenging myself to make small talk with anyone who crosses my path. It’s been a rather interesting endeavor and has provided an outlet in an otherwise solitary day. I wonder if it’s really satisfying this urge for newness, though.

I’m busy at work and am doing quite well at it if I do say so myself. However, something in me longs to get COMPLETELY out of my routine and away from work, too. Doing just one thing differently per day would be nice, but I desire a true getaway. I’ve never taken a vacation for myself purely in the name of relaxation. My excursions have always been to visit someone or see some new site or perform a specific task—never a complete pampering.

The few roadtrips I’ve taken have been fun, but they weren’t exactly relaxing. Things are always a bit harried on the road, and you never know what could happen. Still, I’d take a road trip with a couple of friends. I’ve always wanted to head up the west coast, from San Diego, through San Francisco, through Oregon (where I’d see some family), and up into Canada. It’s not well-thought-out, but these are the sorts of travel dreams I have. That… and Italy ;)

For about a year now, I’ve been trying to pick a place to go on vacation, but I come up empty and can’t seem to make a definite decision. This shouldn’t surprise me; I tend toward decidophobia. Still, everyone needs a vacation now and then, even if it’s just a vacation from the ordinary. Getting out of one’s routine can drop a person back off in her life with renewed creativity to live life the way that is best for her, not strictly according to pattern.

That’s what I want: a shot of the different. A one week escape from all things usual, just to remind myself that things can be wonderful without the steady flow I’ve set up for myself. That steady flow is nice…but can also bore me to tears.

Anyway, I suppose this is simply a plea to get out and get back to living differently. For today, I’m content with making conversation with strangers, but I will put forth effort and visualization towards an escape in the near future. It’s about time…

A Perfect Day

What is a perfect day? What would it take to create that kind of day? Could I recreate it over and over?

Naturally, the answers to these questions depend on a multitude of variables. Every day, the requirements change. Our goals change. Our circumstances change. There is no one perfect day. The potential "perfect" component combinations are infinite.

However, my most perfect days seem to be days when I start out wondering how I will make it through the day at all. Perhaps this is because, on those days, I consciously give over control to a higher power and recognize that I cannot determine the ultimate outcome of that day. I ask myself what would constitute a failed day and usually come up empty. Ultimately, it doesn't matter what happens. It's never the end of the world. I'm not out detonating nuclear bombs or anything.

I think one of my main problems is the over-importance I place on my life in general. I give it so much weight that it frightens me, as if my every move determined the course of the universe. And while my actions may have some effect on the universe, they more likely work within the context of a whole realm of other actions taking place everywhere else and as a result of the billions upon billions of things that occurred long before I ever existed on this planet. Things are moving along in the world, and it's rather arrogant to believe that I could have the power to throw the whole thing completely off-balance.

But wait! Can't I throw at least MY part of the world off-balance? And wouldn't that be scary?

Would it? Would it be so scary? Maybe things need to be thrown off every now and then.

Needless to say, the ingredients to a "perfect" day remain consistent: giving up control, relaxing, and doing WHAT I CAN (not things I WISH I could do). The best days are the ones that I let just be. And this is so hard for me to do...

Judgment has to be left by the wayside to create a perfect day. I have to stop second-guessing everything and allow my decisions to be my decisions. Things will get done. I can indulge. I can set schedules and plans. I can do whatever will be best in my life at the moment. I can try things. If it doesn't workout today, I can take notes so that I can make better choices in the future. It's okay to make mistakes. I am an aware person. I can learn from these things. No need to be afraid!

Holidays are the ideal times to test these ideas. I can create schedules if I want them or discard every routine, just to see what happens. I can set new standards or do things in different ways. There's usually a lot of time for reflection, so I can consider what I'm doing as I'm doing it. There may also be ample opportunities to celebrate and do new, interesting things. I can see how I react in situations with people I may have difficulty relating to and also get information from perspectives I do not typically access.

So, in conclusion, I am trying new things. I'm releasing some of my exercise and germ/health obsessions, or at the very least, I'm trying. I'm giving myself a chance to alter my patterns and ignore what others think about it while being open to unexpected wisdom. I can try to exist in a challenging location, away from home. Basically, I am encouraging myself to find home, wherever I am, maintaining openness to a concept of home that looks different than I initially imagined.

I am safe. I am at home...anywhere. A good mantra.

Equally Bad

What if every choice were equally bad? Of course, if that were the case, every choice would be equally good, too, but it seems to be more different and interesting for me to use the term "bad" here. I always want to do the "best" thing, habitually stymied by decision-making. I often eat in lieu of making decisions. I focus on what is easy for me - food - instead of simply making a choice.

After I confessed this aloud to someone, she kindly told me that the basic act of making a decision is a gift. Why not give myself the gift of making a decision, even if it might not be the best one? And furthermore, what if there were no best?

For some reason, my mind immediately jumped to the idea that if all choices were equal, they would all be equally bad. So what did it matter what I chose?

What if I started bingeing, called a friend, and told that friend that I was bingeing and wanted to hear what he/she thought about that? What if I drove across town, then out of town, and then across the state? What if I didn't clean my bathroom and allowed myself to lie around and read all Saturday? What if I didn't try to write music? For me, some of these things are far-fetched; others are not. They are all completely doable, but would I do them? Would I choose not to? In my new case scenario, it doesn't matter anyway.

Does it all come down to just doing SOMETHING? Well, I don't think so. I think my main difficulty here may be in the focus on DOING rather than BEING. Can I just BE? But in choosing to just be, isn't that doing something? Doesn't being hold doing inside of it?

This is where my mind goes when I cease putting restrictions on it and allow all thoughts equal reign. Of course, even that isn't really happening. My brain is filtering out a lot of thoughts simply so that I concentrate on the act of writing this piece.

I started a few little writings today, including one on stream-of-consciousness living (pretty close to what's going on right now in this post) and one on the best vegetarian pizza in town (the results of my current quest). The latter post, however, aroused my hunger for pizza from a place I'd never tried. So I did, resulting in incredible disappointment which completely threw me for a loop. I found myself re-roasting vegetables from last night's dinner and eating partially cooked pieces while standing up in the kitchen. I jumped back and forth between reading a book, eating, and watching the Olympics for a while before deciding to clean the bathroom, vacuum my entryway and welcome mat, and take the recycling to the drop-off. Stream-of-consciousness living, just going from one thing to the next as it presents itself. It's not so fun for me, considering the number of thoughts that pop up at any single moment throughout the day, but I fell into the pattern.

Even now, I'm not sure where this post is going except that I do not want to judge my behavior right now. I don't feel like making plans with anyone, but if someone called, I would probably agree to go do something. I might let myself read. I keep trying to write songs and keep coming up with lots of half-formed things. It feels like fail, fail, fail with music these days.

Admittedly, part of my drive to not judge my behavior is an attempt to forgive myself for my lack of songwriting and performing lately. And as I go back, editing this post, I see that the many half-songs I've created may later turn into whole-songs or serve as catalysts for something entirely new. In fact, I can see that I've done a lot today, not just with music, but in general.

It's okay if I want to read and watch television. It can be okay. So what if I'm not striving after my dreams? Do I have to? Why? Can I choose anything and be okay?

In any case, I'm sure this post exposes the deep-seeded insanity that resides within me. I could never deny it. What you read now is a product of my seemingly innate tendencies to over-think and romanticize. I can go a long time ignoring my thoughts and pretending they aren't there while I'm really just storing up dozens, or maybe hundreds, of jumbled thoughts, questions, and dreams, which spill out on solitary Saturdays like this.

Perhaps one day, I will get my ED community site up and running, perhaps I will write a book, perhaps I will, perhaps I will. Perhaps all these things are equally bad. And maybe all I really want or need to do is sit and read. Can I give myself permission to make that choice? Will I give myself permission to achieve nothing?