This may come as a shock, since it seems like I've just abandoned this blog. But it has worked hard for me and served its purpose. Through the idea that bore this blog, I have done some soul-searching, asking difficult questions about the nature of human experience, the nature of God, how everything fits in together. I have finally heeded the prompting that I've been feeling for the last 13 years to really study Buddhism. I've learned that, although this blog had a great intent, it was misguided. I don't need to be doing more things to grow. I need to be doing things better, more mindfully, more presently, with more understanding, with God.
So I've started a new, better fitting blog to go with my new track of development, learning and growth: CTR Ring and Mala Bracelet. Knowing God through Jesus and Buddha: My spiritual adventures as a Buddhist Mormon.
See you there! :)
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Serendipitous improvements
That's the nice way of putting it. I think my husband could classify it as obsessive-compulsive. I've been like a whirlwind around here the last two or three months (which is why I've been absent in my plans of chronicling my journey to self-improvement here. I do have a few dozen blog posts drafted in my head that I'll have to sit down and actually type out someday soon, to clear the mental clutter from my brain). I've been doing a ton of reading and research into, this order: veganism, feng shui, and Buddhism. More in-depth posts on what I've learned and done as a result of learning to come. For now, it will suffice to list the self-improvement things I've done over the last few months:
-Bought house plants to purify the air and energize the chi in our apartment (the first concern is the primary...as far as I can tell about myself, I don't think I really pick up on the flow of chi, but I do feel sooo much better in a pretty, neat, organized space). We have a corn cane plant, a Sansevieria (snake plant, or mother-in-law's tongue), two hanging golden pothos (only one nearly died because I was over-zealous in watering it, and it's rebounded nicely), and a golden ivy from Lowe's that apparently didn't get enough light in the kids' room, or it was just a really crappy plant to begin with. I put it outside, with my non-fruiting, gigantic tomato plants and my empty pot that used to have my barely-producing bean plants. It's like a graveyard of horticultural disappointments. I should clear them out, because, even if stagnating plants don't affect my basic life force, the irritation I feel when I see them does. Oh, except for my herb baskets, half of the stuff I planted in them is doing really well. The important part is, the plants in the house are alive and thriving, and it's been two months, so that's pretty cool indeed.
-Organized like a mother.
I spent a ton of time decluttering and purging. Inspirational excerpt from a feng shui book to follow.
I made a magnetic spice rack out of baby food jars that's on the side of the fridge. It's so pretty.
I rearranged the kids' room (again, for the 14th time) and made some fabric drawers out of cardboard boxes from 1/2 Price Boxes here in Houston (I'll be so sad when we move, that place is AMAZING) to put in the massive shelves under the built-in changing table on B's crib. They look SO GOOD.
I organized their closet with some 1/2 Price Boxes boxes on the top shelf that are covered with scrapbook paper and sporting velcro fastening and chalkboard paint labels. I also (unfortunately) bought a closet-doubler to hang from their rod to make the clothes on the bottom accessible as Ez learns to dress himself. He's a champ at undressing himself, as we'll collect him after his nap/quiet time stripped down to his diaper. He's also very good at taking off his diaper and putting it in the diaper pail. So responsible of him. Anyway, I say it's unfortunate that I used the closet doubler because now the clothes are accessible to him. And he spends all of his time when he should be napping taking the clothes off the rod and strewing them about his room. Then he'll take the doubler down and smack the walls with it, and put it back in. I'm actually pretty impressed with his dexterity. I'm not impressed by the fact that he's so enthralled with redoing his closet that he hasn't had a proper nap in about 3 weeks.
I made toy bins, again with 1/2 Price Boxes boxes, scrap book paper, and chalkboard paint labels (spray adhesive, my glue gun, and I all became the very best of friends) for the small bookshelf out here in the living room. We'd been using baskets, but they didn't fit well and looked messy and ugly. These look awesome...from the front, when they're pushed in on the shelves, which is the whole point. I didn't want to buy paper to cover all the way around the box, lol.
Organized the laundry closet. That's where all the old toy baskets went.
Redid my recipe book (my binder with page protected sheets and sheets and sheets of recipes). Since I haven't cooked with meat in about two months, my cookbook needed some serious upgrading.
Stocked and inventoried a first aid kit to keep in the car, as well as a car emergency kit, and 72 hour kits for all four of us. I'm also working on home management binders, from cleaning, to important documents, to setting up an allowance/chore system (we'll have to start that sooner than I think I'll realize), and household spending/receipt recording for our super-amazing budget spreadsheets. For some reason, I feel this impressive urge to get my "house in order." It's either a presage that I'm about to die, or it's just manic-obsessive-compulsive energy. If I die, it must be through some violent, freak accident, because I just had my yearly MRI and bloodwork done and I'm as healthy as a healthy person. (Post on accepting lifelong diseases to come.)
-Beautified our home in non-organizational ways:
Finally bought lamps for our beside dressers. Now we each have a lamp. I feel very officially-married-couple, with us both having control over our own light source. I did feel a little sad when I packed up my trusty college bendy-neck lamp. That thing is 9 years old, was used every day, and it's only ever needed the lightbulb changed when I accidentally knocked it off my dresser 3 or 4 years ago. I secretly think it must somehow be magical or have a soul or something. Oh, crap, but if it does, it's going to be resentful about being replaced...
FINISHED PAINTING OUR APARTMENT. The whole place was this depressing gray-purple when we moved in, so we painted the kids' room a soft green, the bathroom a light gray, our room a pale peach, and the rest of the place (dining room, living room, hallway) dusty yellow. We finally just finished the whole place by painting the kitchen counter wall and the wall in the kitchen and the laundry room doors polar white to match the work we did on all. of. the. trim. baseboards. doors. and. doorframes. in the WHOLE. PLACE. The kitchen cabinets were super chipped and the cabinets in the vanity looked like crap, so we painted them sarsaparilla brown and they look SO AMAZING.
I can't think of anything else right now and Suits is about to come on, so I'll copy-paste my documents on decluttering, home management/maintenance, etc, next time, for your pleasure and employment. And so I can kind of brag about how much work I've done and how organized and awesome I am. :)
-Bought house plants to purify the air and energize the chi in our apartment (the first concern is the primary...as far as I can tell about myself, I don't think I really pick up on the flow of chi, but I do feel sooo much better in a pretty, neat, organized space). We have a corn cane plant, a Sansevieria (snake plant, or mother-in-law's tongue), two hanging golden pothos (only one nearly died because I was over-zealous in watering it, and it's rebounded nicely), and a golden ivy from Lowe's that apparently didn't get enough light in the kids' room, or it was just a really crappy plant to begin with. I put it outside, with my non-fruiting, gigantic tomato plants and my empty pot that used to have my barely-producing bean plants. It's like a graveyard of horticultural disappointments. I should clear them out, because, even if stagnating plants don't affect my basic life force, the irritation I feel when I see them does. Oh, except for my herb baskets, half of the stuff I planted in them is doing really well. The important part is, the plants in the house are alive and thriving, and it's been two months, so that's pretty cool indeed.
-Organized like a mother.
I spent a ton of time decluttering and purging. Inspirational excerpt from a feng shui book to follow.
I made a magnetic spice rack out of baby food jars that's on the side of the fridge. It's so pretty.
I rearranged the kids' room (again, for the 14th time) and made some fabric drawers out of cardboard boxes from 1/2 Price Boxes here in Houston (I'll be so sad when we move, that place is AMAZING) to put in the massive shelves under the built-in changing table on B's crib. They look SO GOOD.
I organized their closet with some 1/2 Price Boxes boxes on the top shelf that are covered with scrapbook paper and sporting velcro fastening and chalkboard paint labels. I also (unfortunately) bought a closet-doubler to hang from their rod to make the clothes on the bottom accessible as Ez learns to dress himself. He's a champ at undressing himself, as we'll collect him after his nap/quiet time stripped down to his diaper. He's also very good at taking off his diaper and putting it in the diaper pail. So responsible of him. Anyway, I say it's unfortunate that I used the closet doubler because now the clothes are accessible to him. And he spends all of his time when he should be napping taking the clothes off the rod and strewing them about his room. Then he'll take the doubler down and smack the walls with it, and put it back in. I'm actually pretty impressed with his dexterity. I'm not impressed by the fact that he's so enthralled with redoing his closet that he hasn't had a proper nap in about 3 weeks.
I made toy bins, again with 1/2 Price Boxes boxes, scrap book paper, and chalkboard paint labels (spray adhesive, my glue gun, and I all became the very best of friends) for the small bookshelf out here in the living room. We'd been using baskets, but they didn't fit well and looked messy and ugly. These look awesome...from the front, when they're pushed in on the shelves, which is the whole point. I didn't want to buy paper to cover all the way around the box, lol.
Organized the laundry closet. That's where all the old toy baskets went.
Redid my recipe book (my binder with page protected sheets and sheets and sheets of recipes). Since I haven't cooked with meat in about two months, my cookbook needed some serious upgrading.
Stocked and inventoried a first aid kit to keep in the car, as well as a car emergency kit, and 72 hour kits for all four of us. I'm also working on home management binders, from cleaning, to important documents, to setting up an allowance/chore system (we'll have to start that sooner than I think I'll realize), and household spending/receipt recording for our super-amazing budget spreadsheets. For some reason, I feel this impressive urge to get my "house in order." It's either a presage that I'm about to die, or it's just manic-obsessive-compulsive energy. If I die, it must be through some violent, freak accident, because I just had my yearly MRI and bloodwork done and I'm as healthy as a healthy person. (Post on accepting lifelong diseases to come.)
-Beautified our home in non-organizational ways:
Finally bought lamps for our beside dressers. Now we each have a lamp. I feel very officially-married-couple, with us both having control over our own light source. I did feel a little sad when I packed up my trusty college bendy-neck lamp. That thing is 9 years old, was used every day, and it's only ever needed the lightbulb changed when I accidentally knocked it off my dresser 3 or 4 years ago. I secretly think it must somehow be magical or have a soul or something. Oh, crap, but if it does, it's going to be resentful about being replaced...
FINISHED PAINTING OUR APARTMENT. The whole place was this depressing gray-purple when we moved in, so we painted the kids' room a soft green, the bathroom a light gray, our room a pale peach, and the rest of the place (dining room, living room, hallway) dusty yellow. We finally just finished the whole place by painting the kitchen counter wall and the wall in the kitchen and the laundry room doors polar white to match the work we did on all. of. the. trim. baseboards. doors. and. doorframes. in the WHOLE. PLACE. The kitchen cabinets were super chipped and the cabinets in the vanity looked like crap, so we painted them sarsaparilla brown and they look SO AMAZING.
I can't think of anything else right now and Suits is about to come on, so I'll copy-paste my documents on decluttering, home management/maintenance, etc, next time, for your pleasure and employment. And so I can kind of brag about how much work I've done and how organized and awesome I am. :)
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Coaster Phobia
Note: I wrote this a week and a half ago. Follow-up to last week’s
project at the end of the post.
Phobias and Anxieties
So, what’s the big
deal with roller coasters? For some reason, I’m naturally terrified of them.
Like, intensely, sickeningly frightened of them. I know roller coasters are
scary, but so many more people seem to enjoy them than don’t. So what’s wrong
with me? I find this cool snippet on about.com:
Roller coasters are intentionally designed to be scary, appealing to the same part of the brain that enjoys haunted houses and other Halloween events. We seem to be hardwired to enjoy activities that cause fear, provided that we know that we are actually safe. This phenomenon is demonstrated repeatedly in extreme sports, horror movies, and the multibillion dollar Halloween industry.
Roller coasters are intentionally designed to be scary, appealing to the same part of the brain that enjoys haunted houses and other Halloween events. We seem to be hardwired to enjoy activities that cause fear, provided that we know that we are actually safe. This phenomenon is demonstrated repeatedly in extreme sports, horror movies, and the multibillion dollar Halloween industry.
If
our brains are hardwired to enjoy controlled fear, then why do so many people
seem to suffer from roller coaster phobia? To answer that question, it is
important to understand the basic psychology of
fear as it relates to phobias.
One aspect of anxiety
disorders is the fear of fear. While most people are afraid
only when confronted by a fear-inducing situation, those with anxiety disorders
tend to worry that they will become afraid. They see fear as something
negative, which must be avoided at all costs.
A phobia occurs
when the normal fear response becomes twisted. Objects or situations that are
not inherently dangerous become the focus of fear. Although phobia sufferers
know that their reactions are irrational, they are unable to control them. (http://phobias.about.com/od/phobiaslist/a/coasterphobia.htm)
AHA. Thank you, about.com writer Lisa
Fritscher. I’d be willing to believe I have, or at least have had, an anxiety
disorder. In fact, let’s do a bit of Googling for “anxiety disorders.”
Wikipedia: Anxiety Disorders:
Social anxiety disorder
Social anxiety disorder (SAD; also known as social phobia)
describes an intense fear and avoidance
of negative public scrutiny, public embarrassment, humiliation, or social
interaction. This fear can be specific to particular social
situations (such as public speaking) or, more typically, is experienced in most
(or all) social interactions. Social
anxiety often manifests specific physical symptoms, including blushing, sweating, and difficulty
speaking. As with all phobic disorders, those suffering from social
anxiety often will
attempt to avoid the source of their anxiety;
in the case of social
anxiety this is
particularly problematic, and in severe cases can lead to complete social
isolation. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anxiety_disorder)
Holy
crap, I’m just now realizing that I have/have had SAD. Dang, the reasons to see
a professional therapist are just piling up lately, y’all. I bolded that second
bit because I’m a wicked awesome blusher and I stutter and stammer, all when I
realize people are actually paying attention to me. I used to be a lot worse. I
conquered it in college (post on that success coming in the future), but when I’ve
been out of practice, I feel it creeping back in. Literally. I feel the
blushing creeping up my neck to my face and the sweat starting to bead. And
then I stress about that stress reaction and everything compounds like crazy.
But, anyway.
The
Renewed Purpose of the Blog
Well,
now this blog feels kind of pointless, since my “journey of discovery” has just
been nailed down in that single entry from Wikipedia. SAD explains why I’m
terrified of looking stupid or not being in control of a situation, whether
that control be physical or control of how others perceive me.
BUT,
I won’t let that stop me. I have overcome my social anxieties in the past and
been a fun, carefree, lively kind of person. When I haven’t been able to master
them, that’s when my most painful memories were made. So this project still has
merit, in that I can examine my successes and failures and motivate myself to
continue to grow. (I’ll also share what I learn from therapy when I get in with
our next tax return :p ) I think I’ll kind of expand the original premise of
this blog and also share ways I’m currently working to improve myself in
different areas. That will be so much fun, a nice potpourri of fascinating
personal projects I’m researching and undertaking.
History
of Roller Coasters (well, just mine)
Anyways,
onto the entertaining anecdotes about my history with roller coasters. I think
it started with Kennywood, when we lived in Pittsburgh. There was a wooden
roller coaster called the Kennywood Racer. It was loud, painful (if you’ve been
on an old-school wooden coaster, you know exactly what I mean), and scary. I
was in third grade. I rode it once and couldn’t stand it. I then tried to
desensitize myself to the sensation of being on a roller coaster by riding the
kiddie coaster (a turtle-themed coaster, I think…fitting…) over and over and
over. My poor dad and sister were very patient with me. (Also, can I say how
impressed I am with my third-grade self that I tried to treat myself through
desensitization? Too bad it didn’t help.) My dad and sister went on to ride the
Steel Phantom without me, and I just stood there, slack-jawed and short of
breath watching the car whiz around the massive, looming track.
In
eighth grade, we took a field trip up to Busch Gardens. I tried once to ride
the Big Bad Wolf. I kept my watering eyes squeezed shut, grinding my teeth
against the seriously unpleasant sensation that my stomach was about to launch
out of my mouth. Not just the contents of my stomach. I felt like my entire
stomach was going to fly out of my body. I white-knuckled the handles and
groaned at the effort it took to keep my abs tight to hold my stomach in place
and to hold my body still as we whipped around hairpin turns and dove down
steep embankments. I was a total waste of a seat. The rest of the trip, I
begged out of the rides on the pretense that everyone needed someone to hold
their stuff while they rode, so I would be the kind-hearted martyr to miss out
on the fun and stand draped in bags, fanny packs, and cameras that I used as a
kind of armor against the terror I felt just watching the cars on the tracks.
The Abominable Snowman. Apollo’s Chariot. I tried to imagine myself on them as
I watched my friends rattle to the top of the first drop, but the full-on
revolt going on in my stomach put an end to that in short order.
Around
that time, my dad’s work sent him to Orlando, so we made a family vacation of
it. We saw Ripley’s Believe It or Not and some other cool things that I dawdled
at to eat up the time we should have used at Universal Studios, land of roller
coasters. I was obsessed with The Dragonriders of Pern series and was therefore
determined to ride the Dueling Dragons. I was also totally in love with
Jurassic Park and was super excited for that ride. But the idea of actually
riding either of those scared the crap out of me. So I dragged us around to the
benign 3D rides and spent at least four hours in the Jurassic Park discovery
center, or whatever it’s called, playing with the robotic dinosaurs, waiting
for the raptors to hatch, and eating an $8 chicken sandwich with some weird
thing in it that I was convinced was a worm. We finally got in line for the
Jurassic Park ride, but I kept reading the description in our pamphlet and
wussed out when my stomach threatened to choke me. No big deal, there were still
the dragons. We stood in another line. For a long time. And then I wussed out
again. There were tears. Oh, there were many tears. I was so angry at myself
for being too scared to do a ride I thought I should want to ride and enjoy
riding. I was angry that I was being such a sucky amusement park buddy for my
dad. That frustration was compounded by the fact that I was in the midst of a
full-on nervous breakdown complete with intense bawling in a very public place.
Oh, my dad. That poor guy.
For
some reason, I got a picture in front of the Dueling Dragons entrance because
the dragon sculptures were cool, and maybe because that was the closest I was
going to get to the ride. Anyways, it’s a photographic reminder to me of my
loser-ness. (Everyone’s hard on their prepubescent selves, right?) I mentally
punched myself in the face and told myself to stop sucking so bad. Time was
running out, and we hadn’t ridden a single legitimate ride, because I was such
a wimp. I decided to ride the next one we walked by. It was the Incredible
Hulk. Standing under the tracks and listening to the cars roar overhead, I had
another lengthy breakdown. I think I cried for longer than we stood in line for
rides we never took. (There’s a poem or song lyrics in there somewhere.)
The
Genesis of Roller Coaster Therapy
I
successfully avoided roller coasters for the next several years. When I was 20,
I worked as a counselor for a summer youth program. For some stupid reason*, I
developed a crush on one of the other counselors. (*the reason is that I was
always going after the wrong guy. The arrogant douche. The emotionally
unavailable one. I pinned my self-worth on whether I could get these kinds of
guys to pay attention to me and like me. I was in a sick cycle where I’d
subconsciously pick the most unhealthy, unavailable guy and set about changing
everything about myself to attract him. This guy was actually very timely,
though. I realized there were so many things wrong about him--for me--that I realized I
wanted to find the complete opposite of him, so I wrote down everything I was
looking for in a guy in my journal. I met my husband almost immediately after
that. J)
ANYWAYS,
this guy liked a local amusement park and I totally wanted to pretend that I
loved everything that he was into, because that’s just what girls with low
self-esteem do. So as we were talking about it, I concocted this totally
improvised philosophical stance on roller coasters, which I now call Roller
Coaster Therapy. The goal was to get him to take me with him to the park, so
the genesis of this idea is pretty shallow and twisted, but the idea itself is
still a good one. I’ve detailed it on the blog before, but to repeat, the idea
is to put myself in situations that make me uncomfortable so that I can expand
my comfort zone and grow. You have to feel the fear and do it anyway.
The
idea behind practicing being uncomfortable specifically on roller coasters is
that the whole point of roller coasters is that you’re supposed to feel scared
and out of control. On the Big Bad Wolf, when I was exerting so much energy and
will to hold still and stop moving, I was going against the very reality of
being on a roller coaster and entrenching my terror and phobia even deeper. I
was trying so hard to control the situation, but the whole point is that the
situation is beyond your control. To fail so miserably (as you must, when you
try not to move on a roller coaster) is incredibly disheartening and scary.
You’ll do anything to avoid feeling that powerless again.
So,
in my bid to get this guy to take me to a theme park, I told him I was scared
of roller coasters, but needed to practice riding them with the idea and goal
of relaxing and embracing the sensation of going with the rhythm and pace of
the roller coaster. Sometimes that’s all you can do in life. And it’s often
actually a lot more pleasant than white-knuckling and groaning your way through
a ride that you yourself are making more gut-wrenching by your inability to
relax and enjoy the ride. Or, as my pal Lao Tzu said, “Life is a series of natural and spontaneous
changes. Don’t resist them – that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality.
Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”
Success!
It
was my first great triumph. I rode every ride in the park several times. I
started to enjoy it. My husband and I went to Six Flags when we were engaged
and rode every ride there, too. We went back to that other park together the
summer after getting married, and I wanted to ride the roller coasters more
times than he did! Major successes all around! Although, with my husband, I
wimped out on the Blast Off/Re-entry ride, you know, that just shoots you
straight up in the air or drops you. Mentally kicked myself in the stomach for
that one, for being lame and too scared to have fun with him. For being so lame
that I stifled his fun, too. But that’s the growing process, I guess, you need
to keep working at what you want to improve on and moving forward, or you’ll
drift backward. And it’s okay to mess up. Just fix it as soon as possible. I
owe him that ride the next time we go to a theme park J
So,
that’s that. My shaky history with roller coasters. I love them now. Now,
instead of inspiring fear in the deepest recesses of my gut, I look forward to
them as a way to feel free, to completely relax, and to enjoy something that
used to scare me witless. I think my fondness for them is more the fact that I
can stare my old fear right in the face and smile. And that’s my goal with this
project: to identify things that similarly terrify me and to work on them until
they become something I enjoy, or at least, enjoy being able to do them. If
you’re not growing and expanding, you’re shriveling up into a very unpleasant,
uncomfortable, lifeless speck.
This
week’s RCT project: I started TapouT XT. Okay, it’s not social discomfort, but
it sure is physical discomfort and growth! Maybe I’ll put up my before and
after pictures once my 90 days are up.
Until
next time, remember: Results are not achieved in the comfort zone! –Mike
Karpenko, TapouT XT coach
Follow-up:
Like I said, I wrote this a week and a half before posting. Two days after
writing it, I went to my MMA class and got the crap kicked and slung out of me,
so I had to take a few days’ break from TapouT. Now my husband wants to do it
with me when he’s done teaching his class, so I’m on hold for a bit. L
But
for real, this week’s project is putting together a 30-Day Declutter Challenge
that I’m going to post here for anyone who wants to follow along, now or in the
future. I’m also going to try to enlist my local friends and acquaintances to
do it with me so that we can have a group yard sale at the end. So stay tuned
for the intro in the next few days and the whole program over the next few
weeks!
Monday, April 15, 2013
How this is all gonna go down: The Rules of RCT/AD
So, great. My goal is to get better at being uncomfortable. Why, again? Any growing experience has some degree of discomfort or pain to it. You're either exploring your existing boundaries (think stretching, yoga) or expanding your boundaries (think cardio and weight training). As my dad the Marine says, "Pain is weakness leaving the body." And, of course, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." (Yeah, he said that before Kelly Clarkson ever thought about singing it.) As Alanis said, "Ever unfolding, ever expanding, ever adventurous and torturous." That's going to be my mantra: the world, life generally, and I are naturally dynamic, changing elements. Growing and changing hurts. But it's a hurt you need, because if you're not growing, you're stagnating. Think filthy, slimy, gutter water that never makes it to the drain. It's just stuffed full of crap, garbage, mosquito eggs, dead junk, and who knows what all. It doesn't do anyone any good. It just sits there, stinking up the place and breeding disease. If it had feelings, it would probably be ragingly depressed. I imagine something similar goes on in the stagnant soul. We weren't born to just exist, we were born to learn, grow, thrive, explore, make mistakes, and live.
Life is messy. How many more trite sayings could I use? A lot. You get the idea.
So, to make sure I'm growing, and to work on my perfectionism and natural terror of trying new things, I'm setting a few goals:
1. I'm going to do at least one hard or uncomfortable thing every week. It will be best if I think it through and plan it out in advance so as not to be lazy and just say, "Oh, that was kinda hard, that'll be my thing for the week." Mindful progress is what gets results. I'll track my progress and experiences here on my pretty new blog. This thing is going to be a squashed, scribbled in, cherished journal of a blog by the time I'm done.
2. In addition to planning and recording my experiences, I'm going to be recording my thoughts and research as I go through the next year. I already have a lot of fun topics to write about. Seriously, you should see my cramped, excessive notes. Lots of lists, bullet points, and arrows all over the place. Actual blog entries will be readable. Expect more personal experiences from the life of a recovering terrified perfectionist.
Ok, cool. Do something hard or uncomfortable every week. That sounds dangerously close to what Jim Carrey was doing in Yes Man. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea behind that movie (for those of you who haven't seen it *yet*, the premise is that a life coach/guru forces Carrey's character into a sacred covenant with the universe where he has to say yes to every opportunity that he encounters) because we too often get in the habit of saying no to everything, either out of fear or laziness or whatever, and miss out on a lot of amazing stuff. But there are some dicey things that could come my way (for those of you who've seen the movie, I bet you can name at least one thing that what's-his-face probably should have declined) that I'd rather avoid doing, out of a personal interest of staying safe, legal, and moral. Growth should be challenging, but it should also be responsible. Hence...
1. Do no harm to self or others.
2. Stay within your personal morals/values system.
3. Not all discomfort is good. Guilt is bad. A hunch, "bad feeling," or God warning you away from something should be heeded. (But be honest to ensure you're not just giving yourself an excuse.)
4. Use common sense. Do research. Be logical and reasonable.
5. Push yourself.
6. Forgive yourself.
7. Forgive others.
5. Just because you have the courage to try something new doesn't necessarily mean you'll be good at it. If you legitimately have no talent in a particular area, accept it and don't subject others to your attempts, it's mean. This goes along with #4. Common sense. Think: You want to play the piano for your church congregation because the idea of doing so terrifies you. So you take lessons and you try really hard, but you have no rhythm or musical ability. Keep playing on your own if you enjoy it and congratulate yourself on working to expand and cultivate the landscape of your mind and talents, but you should call off the whole playing for a church congregation idea. (see #1. Do no harm to others. Winky-face.)
My nine-month-old daughter is awake and destroying my notes and being generally too adorable to resist, so that's all for now. Next time, more on the mechanics of RCT. I'll share a brief history of my long-standing and paralyzing roller coaster phobia (and how it subsequently destroyed every other aspect of my family, social, emotional, and mental well-being...please tell me you are reading that with some sarcasm...but just a tiny bit), how I smacked myself upside the head to stop myself being so ridiculous, as well as the desired "zen" outcome of RCT. You're gonna want to hurry up and book your summer trips to Busch Gardens and Six Flags*, everybody.
*unofficial and uncompensated endorsement. Although I'd be cool if anyone were to contact Busch Gardens and/or Six Flags to tell them they owe me money. I'll go halfsies with anyone who does.
Life is messy. How many more trite sayings could I use? A lot. You get the idea.
So, to make sure I'm growing, and to work on my perfectionism and natural terror of trying new things, I'm setting a few goals:
1. I'm going to do at least one hard or uncomfortable thing every week. It will be best if I think it through and plan it out in advance so as not to be lazy and just say, "Oh, that was kinda hard, that'll be my thing for the week." Mindful progress is what gets results. I'll track my progress and experiences here on my pretty new blog. This thing is going to be a squashed, scribbled in, cherished journal of a blog by the time I'm done.
2. In addition to planning and recording my experiences, I'm going to be recording my thoughts and research as I go through the next year. I already have a lot of fun topics to write about. Seriously, you should see my cramped, excessive notes. Lots of lists, bullet points, and arrows all over the place. Actual blog entries will be readable. Expect more personal experiences from the life of a recovering terrified perfectionist.
Ok, cool. Do something hard or uncomfortable every week. That sounds dangerously close to what Jim Carrey was doing in Yes Man. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea behind that movie (for those of you who haven't seen it *yet*, the premise is that a life coach/guru forces Carrey's character into a sacred covenant with the universe where he has to say yes to every opportunity that he encounters) because we too often get in the habit of saying no to everything, either out of fear or laziness or whatever, and miss out on a lot of amazing stuff. But there are some dicey things that could come my way (for those of you who've seen the movie, I bet you can name at least one thing that what's-his-face probably should have declined) that I'd rather avoid doing, out of a personal interest of staying safe, legal, and moral. Growth should be challenging, but it should also be responsible. Hence...
The Rules of Roller Coaster Therapy and Applied Discomfort (RCT/AD):
1. Do no harm to self or others.
2. Stay within your personal morals/values system.
3. Not all discomfort is good. Guilt is bad. A hunch, "bad feeling," or God warning you away from something should be heeded. (But be honest to ensure you're not just giving yourself an excuse.)
4. Use common sense. Do research. Be logical and reasonable.
5. Push yourself.
6. Forgive yourself.
7. Forgive others.
5. Just because you have the courage to try something new doesn't necessarily mean you'll be good at it. If you legitimately have no talent in a particular area, accept it and don't subject others to your attempts, it's mean. This goes along with #4. Common sense. Think: You want to play the piano for your church congregation because the idea of doing so terrifies you. So you take lessons and you try really hard, but you have no rhythm or musical ability. Keep playing on your own if you enjoy it and congratulate yourself on working to expand and cultivate the landscape of your mind and talents, but you should call off the whole playing for a church congregation idea. (see #1. Do no harm to others. Winky-face.)
My nine-month-old daughter is awake and destroying my notes and being generally too adorable to resist, so that's all for now. Next time, more on the mechanics of RCT. I'll share a brief history of my long-standing and paralyzing roller coaster phobia (and how it subsequently destroyed every other aspect of my family, social, emotional, and mental well-being...please tell me you are reading that with some sarcasm...but just a tiny bit), how I smacked myself upside the head to stop myself being so ridiculous, as well as the desired "zen" outcome of RCT. You're gonna want to hurry up and book your summer trips to Busch Gardens and Six Flags*, everybody.
*unofficial and uncompensated endorsement. Although I'd be cool if anyone were to contact Busch Gardens and/or Six Flags to tell them they owe me money. I'll go halfsies with anyone who does.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
What the what?
From my facebook profile: About You:
"I once heard in a funky jazzy song on March 4, 2009, something about if you're not willing to risk being uncomfortable, you'll always remain exactly the same. That was deep."
Wow. Over four years ago, and I still haven't learned.
I took the kids up to Dallas this last weekend to watch my MMA teacher in his first pro fight. The fight was awesome. My son wouldn't stop talking about it for two days before and two days after. They traveled like champs and napped prodigiously, which left me a lot of quiet time to listen to the few CDs in the car that are mine and I like. It gave me a lot of time to think, and as my ind is highly impressionable, the songs I was singing along with to stay awake started my brain gears whirring. Over the course of a few hours and dozens of repetitions of a few songs, I had worked out the thesis and plan for this blog. Today I'll tell you what it's all about.
The first song to catch my attention was "Giggling Again For No Reason," on Alanis Morissette's "Flavors of Entanglement":
Oh, this state of ecstasy
Nothing but road could ever give to me
This liberty wind in my face
And I'm giggling again for no reason
I am dancing with my friends in elation
We've taken adventures to new levels of fun
I can feel the bones are smiling in my body
I can see the meltings of inhibition
It should have been a great roadtrip song. It's happy. It made me sad. I remember what it was like to feel "the bones smiling in my body." I hadn't felt that way in a long time. Why not? What was wrong with me?
Well, probably getting older, having kids, having greater responsibilities and stresses, and developing some chronic diseases may have put a damper on things. Of course, I was kind of obnoxiously exuberant as a teen/early twenty-something. I'm probably easier to be around now. But I miss being deliriously happy. I miss giggling for no reason. Gosh, I can't wait for these kids to grow up so I can relax.
Then, the last track on the CD comes on: "Incomplete." It's refreshing. It's relaxing. It's a welcome respite and end to the sublime, manic, and tortured emotional hell-ride of the CD as a whole. (She broke up with Ryan Reynolds around this time...so I can see it :p It's the first album I've listened to and been able to follow a story, and, like all of her work, it totally clicks with my brain and resonates in my soul. But I digress). As my son would say, "This part":
I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
Oh. Em. Gee. Alanis, you've nailed it again.
How can I relax if I'm constantly rushing on to the next phase of life? What's the point of living any part of life if I'm just hurrying on to the grave? Seriously. In school, I couldn't wait for the end of the day. I couldn't wait for summer. I couldn't wait for Christmas. I couldn't wait to get out of middle school. I couldn't wait to go to college. I couldn't wait to get married. I couldn't wait to have a kid. I couldn't wait to have a second kid. And we're not talking, "Oh, I'm so excited, I can't wait, I'm just relishing the heady wine of anticipation because it's half the fun!" No, we're talking, "Ugh, I have this major life event coming up. Let's hurry up and get it over with so I don't have to worry about it anymore." But once THAT one's done, the next one comes up, and I plug my nose, grit my teeth, and rush through it so I don't have to think too much about it. And then, I end up in a car with my two kids asleep in the back, listening to Alanis Morissette, thinking, "Holy crap. When was the last time I enjoyed my life?"
I finally had to switch CDs after the 20th repeat of the last track. I put in one of my husband's delightfully eclectic mix CDs back from the era where it was novel and exciting to rip tracks off of store-bought CDs (or download them from Kazaa, we all did it) and burn 20+ tracks onto your very own mix CD. Before mp3 players were around and awesome. Yep, that's how we did it in the old days.
Anyway, that "funky jazzy song" I referenced on my facebook profile came on. Further Googling has informed me that it is Fiona Apple's "Extraordinary Machine." Here's the part that lodged itself in my soul:
I still only travel by foot and by foot it's a slow climb
But I'm good at being uncomfortable, so
I can't help changing all the time.
I notice that my opponent is always on the go
And
Won't go slow, so's not to focus, and I notice
He'll hitch a ride with any guide, as long as
They go fast from whence he come
But he's not good at being uncomfortable, so
He can't help staying exactly the same.
"I once heard in a funky jazzy song on March 4, 2009, something about if you're not willing to risk being uncomfortable, you'll always remain exactly the same. That was deep."
Wow. Over four years ago, and I still haven't learned.
I took the kids up to Dallas this last weekend to watch my MMA teacher in his first pro fight. The fight was awesome. My son wouldn't stop talking about it for two days before and two days after. They traveled like champs and napped prodigiously, which left me a lot of quiet time to listen to the few CDs in the car that are mine and I like. It gave me a lot of time to think, and as my ind is highly impressionable, the songs I was singing along with to stay awake started my brain gears whirring. Over the course of a few hours and dozens of repetitions of a few songs, I had worked out the thesis and plan for this blog. Today I'll tell you what it's all about.
The first song to catch my attention was "Giggling Again For No Reason," on Alanis Morissette's "Flavors of Entanglement":
Oh, this state of ecstasy
Nothing but road could ever give to me
This liberty wind in my face
And I'm giggling again for no reason
I am dancing with my friends in elation
We've taken adventures to new levels of fun
I can feel the bones are smiling in my body
I can see the meltings of inhibition
It should have been a great roadtrip song. It's happy. It made me sad. I remember what it was like to feel "the bones smiling in my body." I hadn't felt that way in a long time. Why not? What was wrong with me?
Well, probably getting older, having kids, having greater responsibilities and stresses, and developing some chronic diseases may have put a damper on things. Of course, I was kind of obnoxiously exuberant as a teen/early twenty-something. I'm probably easier to be around now. But I miss being deliriously happy. I miss giggling for no reason. Gosh, I can't wait for these kids to grow up so I can relax.
Then, the last track on the CD comes on: "Incomplete." It's refreshing. It's relaxing. It's a welcome respite and end to the sublime, manic, and tortured emotional hell-ride of the CD as a whole. (She broke up with Ryan Reynolds around this time...so I can see it :p It's the first album I've listened to and been able to follow a story, and, like all of her work, it totally clicks with my brain and resonates in my soul. But I digress). As my son would say, "This part":
I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
Oh. Em. Gee. Alanis, you've nailed it again.
How can I relax if I'm constantly rushing on to the next phase of life? What's the point of living any part of life if I'm just hurrying on to the grave? Seriously. In school, I couldn't wait for the end of the day. I couldn't wait for summer. I couldn't wait for Christmas. I couldn't wait to get out of middle school. I couldn't wait to go to college. I couldn't wait to get married. I couldn't wait to have a kid. I couldn't wait to have a second kid. And we're not talking, "Oh, I'm so excited, I can't wait, I'm just relishing the heady wine of anticipation because it's half the fun!" No, we're talking, "Ugh, I have this major life event coming up. Let's hurry up and get it over with so I don't have to worry about it anymore." But once THAT one's done, the next one comes up, and I plug my nose, grit my teeth, and rush through it so I don't have to think too much about it. And then, I end up in a car with my two kids asleep in the back, listening to Alanis Morissette, thinking, "Holy crap. When was the last time I enjoyed my life?"
I finally had to switch CDs after the 20th repeat of the last track. I put in one of my husband's delightfully eclectic mix CDs back from the era where it was novel and exciting to rip tracks off of store-bought CDs (or download them from Kazaa, we all did it) and burn 20+ tracks onto your very own mix CD. Before mp3 players were around and awesome. Yep, that's how we did it in the old days.
Anyway, that "funky jazzy song" I referenced on my facebook profile came on. Further Googling has informed me that it is Fiona Apple's "Extraordinary Machine." Here's the part that lodged itself in my soul:
I still only travel by foot and by foot it's a slow climb
But I'm good at being uncomfortable, so
I can't help changing all the time.
I notice that my opponent is always on the go
And
Won't go slow, so's not to focus, and I notice
He'll hitch a ride with any guide, as long as
They go fast from whence he come
But he's not good at being uncomfortable, so
He can't help staying exactly the same.
THAT. That's what been lying dormant but hopeful in the back of my subconscious for the last four years. Actually, the idea has festered sweetly much longer than that. God keeps telling me to learn a lesson, but I keep brushing Him off as I rush on to the next headache I have to endure.
But this time I had a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper and three more hours to drive, so I figured I might as well finally look this idea square in the face. Because it really sucks to have something move you and, four years later, you still haven't integrated it into your paradigm, modus operandi, soul, everything.
But this time I had a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper and three more hours to drive, so I figured I might as well finally look this idea square in the face. Because it really sucks to have something move you and, four years later, you still haven't integrated it into your paradigm, modus operandi, soul, everything.
Maybe I'm always rushing on to the next thing because new things are uncomfortable. If I can get through everything fast enough, it'll be over before I realize how uncomfortable it is.
Another CD switch. Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten," a favorite from the summer after my freshman year in college. (Have you ever heard that sometimes songs pick us and stick with us because they and something in our souls resonate together? I have. I like that idea.) The line that hit me this time around:
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes,
But I can't live that way.
I'd always interpreted that line as, "Yeah, I'm Natasha Bedingfield. I'm so cool and unorthodox and original, I have to color outside the lines/trite saying of your choice." But this weekend, following the above train of thought, it hit me upside the head with, "No, really. As me, myself, I CAN'T live my life on the stress and demand of not making mistakes. It makes me miserable."
It finally occurred to me that I have always had two great hates:
1. I hate looking stupid or incompetent
2. I hate feeling not in control
Allow me to elaborate.
But I can't live that way.
I'd always interpreted that line as, "Yeah, I'm Natasha Bedingfield. I'm so cool and unorthodox and original, I have to color outside the lines/trite saying of your choice." But this weekend, following the above train of thought, it hit me upside the head with, "No, really. As me, myself, I CAN'T live my life on the stress and demand of not making mistakes. It makes me miserable."
It finally occurred to me that I have always had two great hates:
1. I hate looking stupid or incompetent
2. I hate feeling not in control
Allow me to elaborate.
My most painful memories and experiences all stem from these great hates. In kindergarten, we put on a play based on "The Gingerbread Man," you know, the story where all the people and animals chase the Gingerbread Man, who taunts, "Run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!"? I'd been in love with the idea of performing even at that young age, and I was desperate for a chance to finally get into our classroom's costume box. I really wanted to wear the dinosaur/dragon costume, but I was cast as the cat in the play, so that costume didn't work. We also didn't have a cat costume, so I ended up in a full-suit gray mouse costume, with mittens, footies, and hood with big, floppy gray ears. My mom was there to watch, and she took a picture. I look so darn cute in that picture, all in my costume, with my little cat nose and drawn-on whiskers. But I hate looking at that picture. Even imagining it now as I'm typing is making me warm with shame. Why? Because the whole play was all the different characters coming out one by one and running in place after the Gingerbread Man, and my huge, floppy mouse ears flopped like crazy, and this really loud, fat kid who had just moved in just pointed and laughed and laughed and laughed at me, with his loud, grating voice and big fat face. I remember crying as I ran in place, my overstuffed mouse ears flapping and pounding my face and smearing the tears I was trying to surreptitiously wipe away with my little gray mittened hands.
Traumatic. I'm getting hives just thinking about it.
Traumatic. I'm getting hives just thinking about it.
I have a lot of other horrible experiences borne out of my two great hates that I'm sure I'll get to record as this blog progresses, so that one will have to suffice for now. But it lays a great foundation for my life as what I term a terrified perfectionist: Historically, I will avoid anything that I feel will make me look stupid, or that will make me feel not in control (like roller coasters...much more to come on those). But, like dear Fiona says, if you're not good at being uncomfortable, you'll always stay exactly the same, and stagnation is the opposite of living. And my dislike of being uncomfortable has been precluding me from savoring, or even really experiencing, my life.
SO. That's all well good and fine. I need to be okay with being uncomfortable. But how do I do that? How do I practice what I like to call (since I created the term this weekend) "applied discomfort"? It's fine to set a goal to do more things beyond my comfort zone, but how do I track my growth? Where's the accountability?
IN A BLOG. I'll start a BLOG!
And that, dear friends, is how this blog was born.
And that, dear friends, is how this blog was born.
Next time, I'll lay down the law and outline the rules for this project. Because I do intend to turn this into one of those trendy year-long projects. Maybe by then I'll have finally gotten this lesson God wants me to learn through my skull.
It's going to be one heck of a ride. :)
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