Riding the Wave

I was all set to finalize a post I’ve been working on about the extreme irony about the treatment decision I’ve made (lumpectomy and radiation – be careful about what you resist because it does persist!). But, I’ve decided to delay that post in favor of a new topic that seems to be bursting out of me. Sometimes the material writes me, I swear.

Anyway, the topic that wants my attention now is what it’s like to ride waves of emotion without drowning in them. Do you know what I mean by drowning in emotion? Like how feelings are sometimes so strong that you think you’ll never feel any other way? Well, yesterday was just one of those days. I was on an emotional roller coaster all day long. Normally, the darkness of “uncomfortable” emotions would zap me of all my energy, and I would end up feeling ashamed on top of everything, thinking I should have handled things differently. This time, however, I was able to pay attention and observe my experience as though I was watching a movie, and I learned a lot. Allow me to explain…

Most of the time since my diagnosis, I’ve been feeling pretty centered. I’ve actually surprised myself at how much better I feel than I would have expected. I am acutely aware of how much all the inner work I’ve done has helped me and how much I’ve grown. A few years ago, I think this diagnosis would have caused me to turn into a giant sphere of panic. But now, instead of letting my mind go crazy with unhelpful thoughts about impending doom, I’m able to recognize a big fat story in my mind (say, for instance, about the horrors of radiation), and and turn it into something much more grounded and, for that matter, true. I have had moments of freak out, for sure, but overall I’ve remained pretty darned calm.

Until yesterday.

I was trying to get the girls ready for school. After what seemed like a year of rainy days, Clara looked at the dreary weather and asked, in her most plaintive voice, for a snuggly “stay home day.” There’s nothing like a little mommy guilt to get the morning started (I should stay home with them! I’m selfish to take them to daycare on a day like this!). So I indulged some extra play time before taking them to daycare. After a typical round of arguing over toys, yelling mixed with a dose of whining, and some good old fashioned stalling, my patience had finally worn thin, and I got mad. I shoved Lauren’s coat forcefully into her backpack and accidentally hit my finger (with what, I have no idea). I hit it really hard. And it hurt. A lot.

Interesting how physical pain can open the door to smoldering emotional pain that has been trapped beneath the surface, just waiting to be released. The proverbial floodgates had opened, and I started crying. And crying. And crying.

The girls got quiet and said, “mommy, I’m sorry.” That brought on another wave of guilt, as I tried my best to reassure them that it was not their fault. It was just that mommy was scared and sad and uncertain and generally emotional. (They know I’m going to the hospital next week, but they don’t know all the gory details.)

When I dropped them off and got back into the car, I experienced another wave of tears. And when I got home, another. This time, I was finally alone in a place where I could just let myself emote freely. I sat on the couch with a blanket and cried for the better part of an hour. I felt wave after wave of extreme sadness.

My first inclination was to analyze my feelings by putting words to them. Perhaps you’ve done this too: “Why am I feeling this way? What is wrong with me? What is going on here?” We tend to think a feeling isn’t valid until we find a reason for it. I was falling into the same trap. But that’s what it is, a trap. Because you can’t THINK your feelings. You need to FEEL them.

I noticed myself starting to analyze what was going on and realized that finding just the right reason for my sadness wasn’t actually going to help me feel the sadness. And the only way for it to pass completely (and not get stuck) is to feel it. So I made a conscious effort to do just that, without changing a thing. I observed what was going on in my body (sunken chest, ache in my heart, shallow breathing, tears welling up, tension around my eyes). I watched my thoughts as they passed on by. I allowed the sadness to get as big as the room so I could study how it affected me.

What a gift I gave myself: I didn’t stuff my feelings, diminish them, minimize them, rationalize them or avoid them. And I didn’t get overtaken by them. I just felt them. I told myself, this is what sadness feels like. I can do sadness. Oh, and there’s the fear and uncertainty. I can do those too.

Wow, what a difference from how I’ve dealt with my emotions in the past. This time I felt cleansed instead of miserable. Relieved instead of depressed. So I started thinking about how I can remember to do this all the time, and I came up with a little tool that really helped me. I hope it helps you too:


NOW ON WAVE

Notice – At any point along the wave of emotion, you will become aware that something is up. It may be at the beginning of the wave or you may already be halfway through a pint of ice cream before you notice anything. No matter, just start paying attention.
Open – Open the door to the feeling. Breathe.
Welcome – Welcome the feeling, even if it’s uncomfortable. Remember, it’s just a feeling. It will pass, as would any wave.

Observe – Observe how your thoughts want to distract you. They invite you to get wrapped up in their drama (“I have no right to feel this way. I don’t have time for this right now. I can’t cry in front of other people. I’m going to eat a bag of potato chips. Etc. Etc.”). Don’t fall for it. Put them aside for now—you can always come back to them. Start paying attention to what you’re feeling instead. Observe what happens in your body. Get curious.
Name – Start naming your experience. This is where you can use your analytical skills, but do so sparingly. First name the feeling (start with mad, sad, glad or scared). Then identify short descriptions of what you are feeling in your body (using feeling words, like hot, cold, tingly, tight, flat, etc.). For example, “I feel angry. My body temperature is rising. I feel tightness and heat in my neck and shoulders. My belly is clenched.”

Watch – Keep watching. When you are in the position of “watcher,” or observer, you can’t also be an actor in the drama.
Allow – Give yourself freedom to feel whatever is there. Give it space.
Veer – Direct your attention toward the worst part of the feeling, instead of away from it. Acknowledge the feeling as though it were a child wanting your attention. Hello, I see you.
Expand – Let the feeling get huge. Allow it to fill the whole room so you can study what it feels like. Keep watching it as it travels and changes. Watch as it finally dissipates and subsides. Then you’re work is done.

Do this exercise as often as needed. The more you do it, the better you will get at it.

Photo by hakahonu

Dear Cancer,

Hi there, I’m Kristin, although you probably already know that because you have apparently taken residence in my right breast. I’ve been hiding from you but I see you now, and I know you see me. I can’t say that I’m glad you’re here, but I guess I’m not that surprised either. Perhaps at a very deep level, I always knew you would come.

I was the one in the back of the classroom with my eyes down, avoiding eye contact so you wouldn’t pick me. Please, please don’t pick me. I’ve winced at the mere thought of you ever since I can remember. I have structured my entire life around avoiding you. Seriously, I don’t understand. I’ve done all the right things. Ask anyone.

Just a few examples: I don’t have a microwave in my kitchen because radiation freaks me out. I stopped chewing gum years ago because aspertame is a proven carcinogen. I don’t drink soda, never have. I gave up meat in order to avoid hormones and antibiotics. I eat organic vegetables, lots of them. I drink green smoothies. I buy BPA-free plastic. I make a good faith effort to buy products where I recognize every single ingredient—the fewer (ingredients) the better. I don’t eat much sugar or gluten. I don’t drink coffee. I pay very close attention to everything I put in my body. I do yoga and meditate every day. So what the f*#k? Why me?

Maybe that’s my answer. I try too damn hard.

The filter of my life—the lens through which I see almost everything—is health and wellness. Some people judge things based on their image or how they will look to others. Others by money and success. Still more by intelligence or competence. I judge them by health. So now what does this mean? Am I no longer healthy because you’re visiting? I have a problem with that, I gotta tell you.

Of course I wonder why you’re here. I have lots of questions that I hope you will help me answer. Did I do something to invite you in? Did my thoughts or habituated patterns create you? Or is it something bigger… did my soul invite you in to facilitate a big change that couldn’t have happened any other way?

I don’t get the feeling that you’re here to kill me. You have a reputation as being big and scary and mean, but I don’t see you that way. I see you as a messenger, a teacher.

I have something to learn from you, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.

The ever-vigilant student in me wants to understand your message right away. What do I need to do to learn this particular lesson? How can I figure this out? But as I write this, I realize you’ve just taught me your first lesson. Maybe there’s nothing I need to do. Maybe this is more about receiving, allowing, softening. Ok, I’m with you so far. I hear you.

No matter what happens, cancer, I want you to know that I consider myself your faithful student. You have my full attention. I have moved to the front of the classroom. I am looking up, making eye contact and listening to you with my whole body.

My commitment to you is that I will respect you and your wise teachings. I trust that you will teach me what I need to learn in your own time, in your own way. I will do my best to allow your message to soak into my being and change me for the better.

I have a request of you as well. I ask that you share what you need me to know fully and completely so we can respectfully part ways forever.

Sincerely,

Kristin

BETTER ME vs. REAL ME

Ok, I admit it. Sometimes I desperately want to be better than I am.

I’m kind of a striver that way.

I pursue mind/body integration and personal growth with an intense vigor. Because BETTER ME is always on the horizon. I can see her.

Maybe that guru over there can help me become her. No really. This time, I just know I can achieve the ideal version of me. Just this one more seminar.

BETTER ME manages her emotions in the healthiest way possible. BETTER ME is funny and cool and always has a witty comeback. She is generous and kind. She puts herself out there without fear. She is always concious and present and deeply connected to her highest, authentic self. She’s in tune, dude. Enlightened, even.

BETTER ME is infinitely patient. She treats her family members with respect at all times. Without ever losing her cool. Or being moody. Or throwing a tantrum like her four-year old.

BETTER ME is a vast ocean of deep peace.

I pretend to be BETTER ME a lot. I am willing to protect BETTER ME with a fierceness you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. When my husband points out something about me that drives him crazy (say, for instance, that I’m too emotional), I defend BETTER ME with a vengeance. I cling to the notion that as BETTER ME, I manage my emotions without blowing up. So as I’m clinging and grasping and protecting and defending BETTER ME, I yell, “I am NOT too emotional” (while all steamed over something completely inconsequential). I might even slam a door or two. Kinda like a tantrum.

The funny thing is that REAL ME knows I’m too emotional. And moody. And I sometimes throw a rousing tantrum. And REAL ME is okay with all of that. So there’s nothing to defend. If I’m accused of being too emotional, REAL ME owns it: Yep, you gotta a point there. And you’re still here. Cool.

What about you? Is BETTER YOU smarter than REAL YOU? More productive? More competent? Less messed up?

Imagine how much easier life would be if you dropped the need to defend BETTER YOU and embraced REAL YOU.



Photo by Cyril Breton

Dark Night of the Soul

Today is the two-year anniversary of my nephew TJ’s death. He died of a neurological disorder at 14 months of age. When I talked to my sister this morning, I could hear her smile as she quoted Elton John’s lyrics with all kinds of implied irony and understatement, “it’s a sad, sad situation.” And it is a sad, sad situation. But as with most sad situations, there is usually an unexpected gift, a learning, a new perspective, a release, and a certain sweetness that comes with letting go of the life we wanted in order to accept the life we were dealt.

My sister and her husband are still in their “dark night of the soul” (more than three years of trauma and grieving), so it’s hard to see the gift in their son’s passing. I have seen them endure despair that was so strong, I wondered if they would make it to see another day. Their loss took them from parents to… what? What do you call parents with no living children? They have had to grapple with some of the hardest questions a human can face, like: What happens after we die? Why us? Did we do something to bring this on? Will we ever be happy again?

I believe, though, that when we heal the wounds from our darkest hours, we become more whole than when we began. We learn how to hold space for dark emotions. We learn how to be present for others in their dark times. We get in touch with our soul’s real mission in life. We eventually pass along our knowledge to help others heal. We raise the consciousness of the planet, one tear at a time.

There is more healing yet to do. But on this anniversary of TJ’s angel day, I want to honor his parents’ gifts as they have navigated this sad situation:

• Extraordinary honesty, vulnerability, grace and dignity.

• Willingness to confront their deepest fears.

• Courage to face another day.

• Commitment to feel their feelings, to lean into the pain instead of away from it.

• Their ability to ask for help, get support, and give themselves compassion.

• My sister’s inspirational writings that beautifully communicate TJ’s message.

• Their ability to laugh in spite of it all.

• The beautiful bond between them that continues to get stronger.

Carole and Troy, I love you both beyond words.



Photo by TLA Studio

Will or Will Not, There is No Should

Remember when Yoda said to Luke Skywalker, “Do or do not, there is no try?” That’s how I think about the word “should.” There is really no should, there’s either “will” or “will not,” “do” or “do not,” “did” or “did not,” “is” or “is not.” These are reality-based words, whereas “should” lives in our stories about what life would be like if it were different. Even if we desire to take a certain action (like to go to a friend’s party) or to obtain a result (like to lose weight), the more we dwell in “should,” the less likely we are to take responsibility for where we are right NOW, and the less motivated we are to make a decision or change our behavior.

Here’s a fun exercise: write down a list of “shoulds” that seem to plague you consistently (like I did in the post Should is a Four-Letter Word). Go through each one and replace the word “should” with one of the reality-based words above and see what happens. Here’s my new list, so you can see what I mean:

I will not be better at folding sheets (I don’t care how well my sheets are folded, so I’m just going to drop the commitment to this one—how freeing)

My house is as put together as it is (no amount of worrying about how my house looks will change it right now. When I’m ready, I’ll work toward putting it together more, but not today)

I have the skin that I have

I will be more patient with my kids (but I will not beat myself up when I’m not)

My husband is as patient with the kids as he is (this one I have no control over, so I need to back up a level and think about how I will be more patient with my husband)

My kids do whine so much (it’s only my thinking they shouldn’t that triggers my strong reaction)

My nephew did die (reality always wins, whether we like it or not)

I do know what to do (saying we don’t know over and over just reinforces uncertainty)

I will do more

I did say that

I do feel [insert uncomfortable emotion]

I will relax


As you do this, notice what thoughts come up for you, as this exercise will likely kick up some dirt, so to speak. For instance, if you need to choose between “will” and “will not,” you will bump up against your real level of commitment toward taking the action instead of using your “should” to protect you from having to choose. Select your words carefully and be compassionate with yourself. You’ll likely learn a lot.

"Should" is a Four-Letter Word

"Should" is one of those words that sucks the life out of me, hence the reason I think it’s a four-letter word. It’s a word that, by its very nature, takes us away from accepting what IS. It keeps us fighting with reality and automatically sends us into anxiety, shame, guilt, and regret. Here are a few of my own examples:

I should be better at folding sheets

My house should be more put together

I should have better skin

I should be more patient with my kids

My husband should be more patient with the kids

My kids shouldn’t whine so much

My nephew shouldn’t have died

I should know what to do

I should do more

I shouldn’t have said that

I shouldn’t feel [insert uncomfortable emotion]

I should relax

These thoughts serve an important purpose to my ever-vigilant thinking mind. My mind is convinced that if I think these thoughts, the thinking process itself will bring me closer to my goal (whether that goal is a future action, a state of mind or the ability to heal and accept something that happened in the past). If I think about how things should be, then gosh darnit, at least I’m making an effort to get there, which is better than no effort, right? Am I right?

And, on bad days, when I’m believing what my mind tells me, I’m afraid that if I don’t will things to be different by thinking about them (whether I take action or not) then I’m a slacker. I’m lazy. I’m selfish. I'll never grow or heal. I’m taking the easy route, and my mind wants nothing of easy. Because in my mind, if something is worthwhile, it should be hard. Oops, there I go again with another should.

Maybe I should take a nap instead. In fact, I will transform that thought into action by replacing one critical word: I will take a nap. Hmmm, that feels better. Good night.

Photo by Helen Sotiriadis

Authenticity - Part III

This is my third and final post (at least for now) on the subject of authenticity. For the last two posts, I explored what it means to be inauthentic as well as the Top 5 beliefs that keep us from being true to ourselves. Now it’s time to dive into the juicy stuff: What exactly is authenticity? How does it feel? How do we know when someone else is being authentic? How do we cultivate authenticity?

What is authenticity?

Although I had heard Brene Brown's name before, I didn't know her work until recently, when my cousin Andy sent me a link to her TED talk on vulnerability (thank you!). I was mesmerized, so I went and bought her book, “The Gifts of Imperfection,” which I highly recommend. Her definition of authenticity is so aligned with my own thinking on the topic that I will repeat it here:

Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are.

Wow. My whole body relaxes and I take a deep breath every time I read that. I am most struck by the “letting go” part because I structure my life and my coaching around the "first principle" that our highest selves are already whole, complete and perfect. Our light is always shining brightly, whether we can see it or not. The darkness, or those areas in which we are inauthentic, is created by the thoughts, beliefs, habits and tendencies that cloud what’s already whole underneath. Thus, personal transformation isn’t about adding or changing anything, per se, but it’s about letting go and relaxing into what’s already present at the core. Authenticity is about remembering who we are and what is true for us as we release patterns that no longer serve us.

How does authenticity feel?

Just to point out the distinct difference, my experience of inauthenticity, or striving to be who I am supposed to be, feels icky, graspy, tense, narrow, and filled with inner conflict. However, authenticity, or embracing who I am, feels like snuggling up with a soft, nurturing blanket of ease and comfort. It fills my being with a gentle reminder, an inner knowing, a sense of rightness and alignment. I breathe more deeply, my belly and shoulders release, my eyes relax and my vision expands. I think to myself, “oh yes, this fits me so completely, how could it ever have been any other way?”

Your specific reaction may be different, but my guess is that you will feel some sense of freedom and relaxation, an inner “ahhh.” Authenticity is your body and soul’s way of saying, “yep, you’re on the right track.” It’s the sense of coming home to yourself.

Here is an example from my own life to explain what I mean. For the longest time, I thought I was supposed to be more social and, in particular, be better at cocktail party talk. Coming from a very extroverted and social family, I gathered a lot of evidence for why this should be true. I found the perfect target to blame all this dissonance on: me. I consistently berated myself up for not being more interesting or a better conversationalist. But low and behold, as I’ve gotten to know and accept myself for who I am, I realize that I LOVE deep conversations about what is important to people, not small talk. And look what happened—by letting go of my “shoulds” and acknowledging my truth, I now have the priviledge of having great conversations about deeply personal topics with my clients for a living. And wow, what a snuggly good fit that is! I’ll gladly leave the weather to anyone else that likes to talk about it.

How can you tell when someone is being authentic?

When I am around someone who consciously chooses authenticity, I feel more relaxed in myself. Interesting, eh? You know what I mean, though, right? When you’re around people who exude authenticity, it’s almost as if they give everyone else around them permission to relax and be themselves too. A sure sign of authenticity is the alignment among a person’s thoughts, feelings, body language, tone, and words. This alignment radiates a sense of trust and groundedness. No matter how you feel about the person, you still think, “wow, they know who they are and I respect them for it (even if I disagree with them).”

Think about people you admire—most likely, they are living their lives on their own terms and give that sense of consistency among their values, their beliefs, their behaviors and their actions. One person who comes to my mind right now is Lady GaGa. She may be wacky, but I get the distinct sense that she is who she is, she is willing to take a stand for what she believes in, and she is living in accordance to what's important to her, without apology. She even sings about the topic of authenticity in her new single, “Born This Way” (my new themesong!) with the following lyrics:

I'm beautiful in my way
'Cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way

Don't hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself and you're set
I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way

How do we cultivate authenticity?

Cultivating authenticity, in my mind, is what we’re put on this planet to do because it allows each person to make his or her own unique contribution to the world. Here are a few qualities that are crucial to choosing authenticity:

• Self-awareness – taking a look inside to figure out what’s important to YOU and you alone. This includes knowledge of your boundaries, desires, interests, and values as separate from those around you.
• Self-acceptance and self-kindness – being able to forgive your own mistakes, to allow yourself to be good enough, and to recognize your own worth and value.
• Connectedness – finding a way to connect with others without losing yourself.
• Willingness and courage – to make mistakes, to show your flaws, to expose yourself, to get out there, to say no, to ask for what you want, to be vulnerable, to give up your story, to face your demons, to take a stand, to be wrong.

Authenticity is about showing up and taking a stand for the most important person in your life: YOU.


Photo by Khalid Al Haqqan