What Would Happen If You Stripped Away the Bullsh*t?

The other day I was waiting for my radiation treatment in the Female Lounge, a little waiting room just for breast cancer patients (survivors, really, since we’ve all had surgery already), and I really took in my surroundings. The room is a pretty functional, no frills kind of place, down in the basement of the cancer hospital. Pale yellow walls and no windows, except in the door to the grey hall. There are a few nondescript chairs, a restroom, lockers and a changing area. The women, many of whom are still bald from chemotherapy, don hospital gowns of the worst washing-out variety: drab grey. There’s an air of resignation as we wait to climb into unforgiving machines, bare our chests, which have been maimed to varying degrees, and get nuked every weekday at the same time for more than six weeks.

Sound dreadful? Well, it is and it isn’t.

It sucks, don’t get me wrong. But, who knew that what takes place in this little room would become a favored part of the day? Go figure. A perfect example is a conversation I had the other day with a woman I’ll call Fran, who is a no-holds-barred kind of person anyway, punctuated by the baldness and gown. We were talking about what we are learning from this whole experience, a topic I rather enjoy. We commiserated about how busy busy we had been before, where nothing could slow us down. Nothing, that is, except for the Big C.

Then Fran looks right at me and says, “Cancer strips away the bullshit.”

Indeed it does, my friend. “Say more,” I say.

“You don’t have room for any bullshit, when your ass is going through cancer treatment. No one else has to get [to treatment] every single day. No one else is losing their hair for you. No one else pays the hospital bills. There ain’t no room for bullshit anymore.”

Well said.

In the microcosm of the Female Lounge, no bullshit means we are stripped away of topics that usually hold our attention, like small talk, what we look like, what other people think, what to do next. Under normal circumstances, you might hear a lot of “what do you do?” and “where do you live?” when people first get to know each other. Not so in the Lounge. These women get right to the point, no matter if you just met someone the day before. Instead, the conversations consist of questions like “what’s your experience been like?” and “what are you grateful for?” and “how does God factor into your life?”

On a larger scale, no bullshit means taking away the common distractions of life. The busyness, the reasons, the obligations, the excuses. Fran took a leave of absence from her job so she could focus on healing and recovery. I too have been fortunate enough to be able to take time off from work and have chosen to take exceptional care of myself. Without the normal bullshit, I’ve pared down to just the essentials in my life, which include:

-Sleep, lots of it, including naps whenever the mood strikes
-Daily quiet time (meditation)
-Healthy, nutritious whole foods
-Spending time laughing and talking with family
-Snuggling and tickling my kids
-A balance of activity (yoga, walking) and rest
-Sunshine, fresh air and nature
-Deep, meaningful conversations (coaching, being coached, connecting with friends and other survivors)
-Listening to inspiring music
-Regular mind/body healing and bodywork
-A good dose of entertaining TV (ok, this isn't essential, but it's fun nonetheless)
-Writing

So what if you stripped away the bullshit in your life? What would be left? What are the essentials that would fill you with joy, pleasure and energy? How and with whom would you spend your time?

This is a mental exercise that is well worth indulging in. Don’t wait for circumstances to do it for you.

Photo via wader

The Ring of Fire

Growing up, my family always emphasized positive thinking as the way to get through anything. If you’ve met my parents, you know that they do indeed practice what they preach, and it works for them. They are some of the most fun-loving people I know, and from what I can tell, everyone (including me) loves to be around them. They see the bright side of life, the glass as half full. They are filled with gratitude, optimism and good cheer.

I was not born with this particular outlook on life; I tended to think there was something wrong with me for not being a model of cheerfulness. I always felt like the black sheep of the family. The more I was told to think positively, the more I would feel inadequate and yearn to be different to meet others’ expectations. I must admit to engaging in a lot of biting sarcasm, self-deprecation and bitterness in years past (let’s not even mention high school).

It has taken a LOT of inner work to get to where I am now, which is much more realistic, and, well, more positive. The great news is that I don’t think I “should” be more positive, I just am. I think inspired, optimistic thoughts all the time and actually believe them. Perhaps it’s just maturity. Or years of doing thought work and coaching.

Regardless, my inner world is vastly more pleasant than it used to be. And yet, as I’ve gone through my treatment, I have started noticing deep, old thought patterns that I thought were gone emerge again. They’re pretty dark, and they feel old and childlike, such as:

I can do it myself (channeling my inner two-year old)

I can’t ask for help

I’m too brave and strong to be scared

I don’t want to be a bother

I won’t have what I need

There’s something wrong with me

My “stuff” is coming up at break-neck speed these days, but I am giving myself the gift of not having to DO anything about these negative thoughts except pay close attention to them. In the past, I would have used these thoughts as fodder to beat myself up and feel ashamed. It’s really tempting to do that again, let me tell you, but I’m resisting the temptation.

Instead, I realize I’m smack dab in the middle of what Martha Beck calls the Ring of Fire (Steering by Starlight), which describes the emotional transition from the “Shallows” (the exterior shell of life where we are motivated by external validation, such as money, status, and fame) to the Core of Peace (the oneness of everything, where there is no pain, no fear and no death). The only way to get to the Core of Peace, though, is to go through the Ring of Fire, and that entails grieving unavoidable losses and disbelieving false ideas that cause unnecessary pain. It requires confronting our very self-concept (which is usually based on ideas that we adopted as children that are no longer necessarily true). It is far from pleasant.

I am now grieving the loss of my health (or at least the way I thought of it before) and having to investigate all kinds of old, tired thoughts that have come up to the surface for healing. It is in our nature to avoid pain, so it’s extremely tempting to run back into the Shallows as quickly as possible (yes, I’ll cop to a fleeting thought about moving to a deserted island by myself to avoid imposing on anyone or needing help anymore). But we don’t heal from the Shallows--only from the Core of Peace. Having a framework to recognize this transition process has helped me regain my perspective and dive right in, despite the discomfort. In fact, wading through this particular emotional muck is a necessary part of healing, and my overall health and wellbeing will benefit immeasurably.

So what about you? Have you been through the Ring of Fire? Has a grieving process changed you in ways you could never have anticipated? I’d love to hear what you think of these concepts and how they apply to your life.

Tick Tock

Do you ever experience those periods in which you wish time would move along a little faster? When you want to get to the next stage? You know, that stage—the one when everything will work out and you’ll be happy again?

Perhaps it was during high school when you just wanted to get the heck out of dodge.

Or during your first crappy job when you hated your boss.

When you were single and couldn’t wait to find your soulmate.

Or when your baby was waking you up three times a night, and your sleep deprivation made it unsafe to operate heavy machinery.

Or during your seemingly endless dark night of the soul.

The list goes on…

The first time I intensely experienced the “counting minutes until this sh*t ends” phenomenon was during my MBA because, let’s just call a spade a spade, finance and accounting are just not my thing. Every tick of the clock could not come soon enough.

I’m again undergoing a time period like that right now. I have just under 30 radiation treatments left until I finish my cancer treatment. I am not going to lie, I am really looking forward to when this phase is complete. I’m usually a huge fan of Summer, wanting the warm weather to last forever, but these days I find my mind daydreaming about a radiation-free Fall, despite the cooling temperatures. I try not to count each treatment and mark it off the calendar, but sometimes it’s hard to resist.

What’s common in these experiences? It’s feeling the need to endure the present in order to reach a better future. And if we’re feeling a need to endure, there’s a certain stuckness that goes along with it, as though we have no other options but to stick it out.

About mid-way through my MBA program, in which I enrolled of my own free will, I felt fully stuck. I couldn’t quit (or so I told myself), and yet each class felt like a struggle to pay attention and participate. It turns out that I’m glad I finished, but at the time, it felt like swimming through molasses to show up every day. In terms of radiation, I could have chosen other treatment options, and I could technically quit treatment at any time, so there is some choice in the matter. But it still smells of stuckness. I know this is the best course of action for me right now and I will be back on track to vitality and wellness after it is over, and still, it’s hard not to pine away for the future.

But pining away for a better future? What the HECK? I had cancer (just to emphasize, I HAD cancer, in the past tense—it is so gone now!), so shouldn’t I be even more grateful for my time on this planet? How can I possibly wish time away, when each moment is precious? Shouldn’t we live every day as though it’s our last?

What gives?

This is a tough inner conflict to manage while going through rough patches in our lives. So what to do? Here are the strategies that work for me:

Review your options

The first thing to do when you’re stuggling and wishing time away is to check to make sure there really are no other options. Ask yourself how much of the situation is within your control. Many times we tell ourselves we have no choice, but it’s just a cover story for “I’ve made this choice and now I don’t like it and/or I’m not willing to change course” (but staying the course is still a choice). Review all the decisions you have made to get you to this point. If something really is within your control (like a job or educational experience), you can always make a difference choice. Changing directions may require a lot of effort or come with certain unpleasant consequences, but it is still possible.

Choose the path you are on

If you are experiencing life circumstances that are beyond your control (or have chosen to stay on a path within your control even if it is unpleasant), then the way to eliminate suffering is to choose the path you are on, whether you like it or not. The more we think “this shouldn’t be happening to me,” the more resistance we will experience, and the more endurance we will need to get through it. Endurance takes a lot of valuable energy.

Even if the very worst has happened, acceptance means choosing exactly what we are going through. Take my path, for example. Most people would never choose cancer, right? I sure wouldn’t. And yet, if I am to get through this treatment period with a minimal amount of resistance, I need to choose it. Over and over. Every day. That means accepting the reality of my treatment and choosing it for the very reason that it is happening. Not because I enjoy it, condone it or have some twisted desire to go through this particular experience (or put my family through it). But because if I resist it, I will be wasting energy suffering instead of using that precious energy for healing and recovery. So every day, I make sure to reframe my thoughts from “I have to go to radiation” to “I choose to go radiation.” I am choosing the path that I think will net the best long term results.

Ok, I can just guess what you’re thinking… there’s no way I would choose cancer. Or the death of a loved one. Or any of the awful things that happen all the time. Alright, truth be told, nor would I. I am not suggesting that we start thinking some crisis is the best thing ever. Um, no. What I am saying is that reality always wins, and arguing with it will only cause suffering. (Spiritual teacher Byron Katie’s method, The Work, and her book “Loving What Is” are great resources for working through this process).

Look for ways the path is just right

One question that I ask myself when choosing an unintended or unsavory path is: what is perfect about this? As I wrote in my letter to Cancer, I look at my particular circumstance as a learning opportunity (or Another F*ing Growth Opportunity, as I like to say). I know that somehow it’s exactly right for me because I will learn something valuable that I can then pass along to others. As Byron Katie states, "Everything happens for me, not to me” (Loving What Is, p. 227). Recovering from cancer just happens to be the adventure I’m on right now. So be it.

Give into the negative thought spirals—sometimes—but don’t land there

Trying to be positive when we feel like crap is as much fighting with reality as trying to change circumstances out of our control. The fact of the matter is that sometimes we just feel awful about things, and no amount of thought work, affirmations or positivity is going to help us through it. That’s when it’s time to own that we’re in a dark place and let the negativity rip. One practice that I’ve found extremely helpful is “Conscious Complaining,” which is described in detail by Karla McLaren in her fantastic book, “The Language of Emotions.” It entails finding a private place to complain, all messy and balls-out, without dumping on anyone or expecting anyone to change your feelings. Then whine or complain until you have nothing left to say.

This just happened to me the other day when I got turned around in the maze of campus construction and one-way streets on the way to radiation. I was alone in my car, so I let out all the complaints I could think of about this whole process. (Unfortunately, I can’t say I didn’t dump my feelings on anyone that morning, but I’ve never claimed to be perfect at this stuff). The one thing that really helped while in the muck was telling myself "these are just feelings that will pass. I don't have to land here." And you know what? They did pass, and I felt much lighter after letting them all out.

Do at least one thing you enjoy for its own sake every day

I think this practice is important no matter what's going on in your life, but it's especially critical whil going through a tough time. One of the best things you can do for yourself is something, anything, that you enjoy doing for its own sake. Do it as often as possible, but at least once per day. Just because you like it. The more joy you feel, the better off you’ll be.

Do you like reading? Baking? Walking in the park? Playing with your dog? Yoga? Do whatever it is that brings a smile to your face. Just because. You deserve it.



Photo by Earls37a

Sensory Delight

The week before last I went to Florida for vacation. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of recovering from the flu (me and Jason), preparing for and starting radiation treatment, plus a whole host of things that piled on top of an already intense week, culminating with a bunch of three year olds screaming through the house yesterday to celebrate Lauren’s birthday.

Now that the reality of 36 radiation treatments is setting in, I’m making a conscious effort to stay in the here and now instead of dreading an uncertain and/or potentially unpleasant future. I’m taking the opportunity to revel in what I love about the beach: sheer sensory delight.

At the beach, I was reminded how much my senses luxuriate in the feel of the sand beneath my feet, the sound of the waves crashing, the sparkle of sun reflecting of the water, the smell of salt in the fresh breeze, and the taste of a delicious pina colada. Spending time at the beach is one of my most favorite things to do—it brings me so much joy and satisfaction.

Now that I’m back in land-locked Columbus, Ohio, going to a hospital to climb into a stark machine and get zapped every Monday through Friday for six and a half weeks, what can I do that delights the senses? Well, here are a few ways that I’m focusing my attention to help get through this time period:

• While I am in the machine, I might as well be at the beach because I go there in my mind. I imagine the sand, the waves, the sparkly reflection, the cool breeze.
• When I am done with treatment, I focus on how much time I am not in the hospital. What a treasure to be able to be able to spend 23 hours a day doing exactly what I want. I have so far been able to walk each morning before treatment. I am fortunate to have time in my days to take a nap if I wish. Nice.
• I spend as much time delighting my senses as possible. I listen to the birds outside my bedroom window. I feel the warmth of my kids as they snuggle next to me under a blanket. I eat clean, delicious foods that sustain me and give me energy.
• When I feel overwhelmed with dread or anxiety about it all, I pull out the old “Five Things” practice (see below). It helps every time.

With the 4th of July just around the corner, take the opportunity to delight in your senses—there are plentiful opportunities. Listen to the drums pounding and tubas blaring as they pass by in the parade. Watch the colorful fireworks set against a vast, dark sky. Taste the juicy sweet watermelon. Smell summer in the air. Feel the grass beneath your feet.

Do whatever you can to bring your attention to your senses, which can only be experienced in the present moment. Your senses don’t ruminate. They don’t worry or feel dread. They’re never sad or angry. Each sense provides a pathway between the outside world and your inner experience. The more you slow down and delight in what each sense has to offer, the more rich and meaningful your experience is in each moment.

Five Things Practice

Stop whatever you are doing or thinking about. Begin noticing the space around you, whether you are inside or outside. You can also do this by imagining a pleasant experience in your mind. Then list:

• Five things that you can see in your immediate visual field. If you are imagining a scene, remember the sights as if you were experiencing them in the present. Or if you just want to practice with your eyes closed, list five things that you saw before closing your eyes.
• Five things that you can hear. Focus on each sound at once. Really listen to it. Notice how far the sound has to travel to reach your ear. What qualities does the sound have?
• Five things that you can feel. Notice the contact points with the floor, ground and/or furniture in which you are sitting (if applicable). Notice the air against your skin. Notice if you feel any physical sensations or tension in your body. Notice your breath as it gently moves your ribcage in and out.
• Five things that you can taste and/or smell. This is a little more subtle, so pay close attention. Check to see if the taste in your mouth is different on each side of the tongue. Notice if there are different smells in the room or air.

Allow your awareness to expand and enjoy more and more detailed information from each sense. Remember, there are no wrong answers.



Photo by Emily Cain