Open up a word document with a blank page. Hit "Save as" and write, "Resilience History." You may not feel like it; you may roll your eyes and say, "Yeah, yeah, I'll just do it in my head, thanks," but I'm telling you to write it down. Write it down! Do I need to resort to drill Sargent expletives?! Write it DOWN @#$*+>~!!!!
Okay, okay, already! What do you write down? Ready? Your personal history of all the times you've been resilient. You need to do this exercise because you don't even KNOW how resilient you really are. You don't even realize the positive choices you've made, given whatever obstacles you've faced. You haven't taken full credit yet for managing the best you could. Write it down, year by year, memory by memory. Not only will you boost your sense of competence, but the next time life throws you a curve ball (and it will), you will be better able to remind yourself, "Hey, I have some skills that I've used before that might apply here!"
Don't leave anything out. By this I specifically mean, don't minimize the "small stuff" because life is primarily made up of the small stuff!
When I think of some of my own resilient moments, one of the things I remember is being a kid and feeling overwhelmed by my parents' regular, volatile arguments. Sometimes I'd throw myself on my bed and bawl, but sometimes (the more resilient choice): I'd go outside and sit on this one tree stump in the middle of a wide open field that overlooked a forest line. I instantly felt better. It's important for me to have this bit of information because it's still one of the things that makes me feel better: get out into some wide open space, see some big sky and be reminded that life is bigger than my little world.
What are some of the ways you've been resilient in your life? How have you made the best of what you had to deal with? Take the time to make a record of your history of personal strength. It's worth it . . . You're worth it.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Fried Turkey
Thanksgiving Day...and I'm trying to figure out how to get more than my fair share of fried turkey. In between developing various turkey stealing schemes which mostly involve small defenseless nieces and nephews, I've been pondering the more serious thought of "why is there so little 'thanks' in Thanksgiving?" Actually I only pondered very briefly before I skipped ahead to "how do I put more 'thanks' in my own Thanksgiving" or maybe even more specifically "how do I use this day to my own self-serving advantage".
What I came up with is this: I'm going to make a resolution to start journaling about gratitude. My goal is to journal every night until Christmas and hope the habit sticks like poorly cooked, gummy white rice. Keeping a gratitude journal used to be a habit for me but in that weird way we humans have of not always doing what we know is good for us, I stopped. Cold turkey. Or in honor of my cravings....cold fried turkey.
I'd like to say I just let the good habit slide but the truth is, I stopped journaling intentionally in a great big self-defeating hissy fit of "if I can't get my way I'll just take my paperdolls and go home". See, my life wasn't going so well at the moment. And I went back and read my journal entries from a previous life. There were two kinds of entries: a) gratitude for things I used to have that I no longer had in my new life and b) gratitude for itty-bitty little things (i.e. a daffodil blooming) that every poor schmuck could be grateful for. Both depressed me. So, screw gratitude and all the good vibes that came with it, I quit.
Flash forward to today: I'm tired of fighting. "Uncle, uncle, you win. I want those good feelings back and I'll play by your rules to get them, Universe." Call me crazy, but I liked going to sleep full of love and contentment and joy. So I'm back.
Yeah, like fried turkey, gratitude journaling is very good. Yummy, in fact. But unlike fried turkey, you don't have to fight anyone for extra helpings- there is plenty to go around.
What I came up with is this: I'm going to make a resolution to start journaling about gratitude. My goal is to journal every night until Christmas and hope the habit sticks like poorly cooked, gummy white rice. Keeping a gratitude journal used to be a habit for me but in that weird way we humans have of not always doing what we know is good for us, I stopped. Cold turkey. Or in honor of my cravings....cold fried turkey.
I'd like to say I just let the good habit slide but the truth is, I stopped journaling intentionally in a great big self-defeating hissy fit of "if I can't get my way I'll just take my paperdolls and go home". See, my life wasn't going so well at the moment. And I went back and read my journal entries from a previous life. There were two kinds of entries: a) gratitude for things I used to have that I no longer had in my new life and b) gratitude for itty-bitty little things (i.e. a daffodil blooming) that every poor schmuck could be grateful for. Both depressed me. So, screw gratitude and all the good vibes that came with it, I quit.
Flash forward to today: I'm tired of fighting. "Uncle, uncle, you win. I want those good feelings back and I'll play by your rules to get them, Universe." Call me crazy, but I liked going to sleep full of love and contentment and joy. So I'm back.
Yeah, like fried turkey, gratitude journaling is very good. Yummy, in fact. But unlike fried turkey, you don't have to fight anyone for extra helpings- there is plenty to go around.
Wiggle Your Butt to Get Happy
Perhaps you are hoping that my blog entry title reflects the metaphor of a mature author. It doesn't. I mean it literally: If you're in a slump, wiggle your butt. (Oh dear, is this one worth reading through to the end)?
Here is how I came to this most profound of conclusions. I noticed that my colleague's depression is situational. If her circumstances change, she will be happy. In contrast, my circumstances are great: everyone in my family is relatively healthy; I have a husband and child, a job, friends, credentials, a car that is reliable, enough food and money, but I still tend to be chronically dissatisfied (okay, downright "moody"). For me, "feeling down" is more of a physical thing, not a cognitive thing. Despite getting enough sleep, good exercise and nutrition, I usually wake up in the morning and feel heavy, tired, lethargic. I wait to observe the negative thoughts I should be restructuring, but they are simply not there.
Then I have an "AH-HA!" moment. If my primary problem is physical, then my solution has to be physical too. This proposal fits my experience. When I force myself to just smile, however half- heartedly, I instantly feel a bit better. I complain to my BFF that I'll never be one of those "Rah! Rah!" perky (aging) cheerleader types. When I make the accompanying physical gestures of Little Ms. Rah-rah, my mood spikes as I cannot help but laugh.
Just like it's impossible to feel angry when you are completely, physically relaxed, so too is it impossible to feel depressed in the moment that you are sticking your rear end out and wiggling it around like it's Hokey Pokey time. I guarantee this one! In fact, I DARE you to try it (with gusto) and NOT feel a bit better.
And so . . . The gauntlet of butt wiggling has been thrown down before you. Will you, oh brave, moody Knight, take up the challenge?
Here is how I came to this most profound of conclusions. I noticed that my colleague's depression is situational. If her circumstances change, she will be happy. In contrast, my circumstances are great: everyone in my family is relatively healthy; I have a husband and child, a job, friends, credentials, a car that is reliable, enough food and money, but I still tend to be chronically dissatisfied (okay, downright "moody"). For me, "feeling down" is more of a physical thing, not a cognitive thing. Despite getting enough sleep, good exercise and nutrition, I usually wake up in the morning and feel heavy, tired, lethargic. I wait to observe the negative thoughts I should be restructuring, but they are simply not there.
Then I have an "AH-HA!" moment. If my primary problem is physical, then my solution has to be physical too. This proposal fits my experience. When I force myself to just smile, however half- heartedly, I instantly feel a bit better. I complain to my BFF that I'll never be one of those "Rah! Rah!" perky (aging) cheerleader types. When I make the accompanying physical gestures of Little Ms. Rah-rah, my mood spikes as I cannot help but laugh.
Just like it's impossible to feel angry when you are completely, physically relaxed, so too is it impossible to feel depressed in the moment that you are sticking your rear end out and wiggling it around like it's Hokey Pokey time. I guarantee this one! In fact, I DARE you to try it (with gusto) and NOT feel a bit better.
And so . . . The gauntlet of butt wiggling has been thrown down before you. Will you, oh brave, moody Knight, take up the challenge?
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Rx: A bit of extra help
Amidst all our blog entries about fighting for your own happiness, one thing must be included: If you keep trying to change your thoughts, feelings, and actions, but it's not working well enough, then for Pete's sake please consider seeing a physician to discuss taking some medication --even if it's just to get you through something temporary or situational.
What about the stigma of taking something for your mood? Get over it. Seriously, I beg you: get over it. The real stigma in this culture is toward anyone who, God forbid, isn't happy.
Don't like the idea of "artificially" manipulating your brain? Oh please! We all manipulate our brains daily-- through television, newspapers, music, exercise, perfumes, food, tobacco, alcohol, romance, alternative therapies, vitamins, herbs, etc. etc.
Maybe your resistance is about not liking to ask for help; afterall, you "ought" be able to fix this on your own. Think about this: If your car's electronics weren't working, would you try to WILL the electric system to work?
Oh, but what will "they" think? Number one, perhaps "they" don't need to know. "But what if 'they' find out?" Consider this true ditty: Six, single girl friends in their 30's and 40's were hanging out when one of them asked, "Whatever happened to Amy? She was such a whack job on Prozac." Group silence. One brave woman said, "Uh, *I've* taken Prozac." Then another admitted the same. Then another and another. If you live in a non-hip, rural town where everyone knows everyone else's business, have your physician order your Rx through the mail or talk to your doctor about St. John's Wort or SAM-e.
It's hard to make a decision. I know. In some ways, you'll only know you've made the right decision after the fact: after you've experienced the difference between feeling like you're sludging through the mud of each day to feeling like you can finally just walk about normally.
I'm not talking about taking a magic potion that allows you to cheat your problems. Anti-depressants (and/or anti-anxiety medications) can allow you to deal with your problems without additional disadvantages.
You can face climbing up the steep, rocky moutain with a sense of dread or hopelessness OR you can face climbing that mountain with a bit of optimism.
Which one do you think you ought to choose?
What about the stigma of taking something for your mood? Get over it. Seriously, I beg you: get over it. The real stigma in this culture is toward anyone who, God forbid, isn't happy.
Don't like the idea of "artificially" manipulating your brain? Oh please! We all manipulate our brains daily-- through television, newspapers, music, exercise, perfumes, food, tobacco, alcohol, romance, alternative therapies, vitamins, herbs, etc. etc.
Maybe your resistance is about not liking to ask for help; afterall, you "ought" be able to fix this on your own. Think about this: If your car's electronics weren't working, would you try to WILL the electric system to work?
Oh, but what will "they" think? Number one, perhaps "they" don't need to know. "But what if 'they' find out?" Consider this true ditty: Six, single girl friends in their 30's and 40's were hanging out when one of them asked, "Whatever happened to Amy? She was such a whack job on Prozac." Group silence. One brave woman said, "Uh, *I've* taken Prozac." Then another admitted the same. Then another and another. If you live in a non-hip, rural town where everyone knows everyone else's business, have your physician order your Rx through the mail or talk to your doctor about St. John's Wort or SAM-e.
It's hard to make a decision. I know. In some ways, you'll only know you've made the right decision after the fact: after you've experienced the difference between feeling like you're sludging through the mud of each day to feeling like you can finally just walk about normally.
I'm not talking about taking a magic potion that allows you to cheat your problems. Anti-depressants (and/or anti-anxiety medications) can allow you to deal with your problems without additional disadvantages.
You can face climbing up the steep, rocky moutain with a sense of dread or hopelessness OR you can face climbing that mountain with a bit of optimism.
Which one do you think you ought to choose?
Prune Juice
In the midst of a bout of the grumps and grumbles this morning, I stumbled across a website that at first viewing was, well, like drinking a glass of prune juice: almost too sweet but I knew it would start "things" moving. But I wasn't in the mood to be moved...I wanted to cling to my totally justified case of the blues. I couldn't make myself chug this prune juice of a website but I did force myself to take a few sips and that was enough. The website had its way with me and all the grunk that was in my heart and soul loosened up and flowed out, leaving space for the good stuff to flow in.
The website is http://www.darynkagan.com/ and it is a wonderful repository of videotaped stories of inspiring people and their responses to what life has handed them. The website was started by former CNN anchor Daryn Kagan in response to her own little bit of adversity - losing her job at CNN. There is a story about a man who lost his wife and all four of his kids in a flash flood just a handful of years ago and his new mission in life, another about an illegal immigrant who became a top surgeon, another about a man who managed to combine weight loss and recycling into one positive pursuit. There seems to be a bottomless pit of good stories on the site and something to suit everyones needs.
And yes, it can make you feel like a big fat loser turd (I like to keep my analogies going, thank you very much) if you let it but I'm going to let it move me in more a positive way. IF I do what is good for me, I'll pour a 6-oz glass of this website every morning and drink it with my breakfast. And then, ah, I'll see what is let loose.
The website is http://www.darynkagan.com/ and it is a wonderful repository of videotaped stories of inspiring people and their responses to what life has handed them. The website was started by former CNN anchor Daryn Kagan in response to her own little bit of adversity - losing her job at CNN. There is a story about a man who lost his wife and all four of his kids in a flash flood just a handful of years ago and his new mission in life, another about an illegal immigrant who became a top surgeon, another about a man who managed to combine weight loss and recycling into one positive pursuit. There seems to be a bottomless pit of good stories on the site and something to suit everyones needs.
And yes, it can make you feel like a big fat loser turd (I like to keep my analogies going, thank you very much) if you let it but I'm going to let it move me in more a positive way. IF I do what is good for me, I'll pour a 6-oz glass of this website every morning and drink it with my breakfast. And then, ah, I'll see what is let loose.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
This One Is Tough....
Yikes...I'm really having a hard time with this one....it is like dragging a concrete block across a gravel road....lots of resistance. In this case, the resistance is psychological: I totally don't want to acknowledge this truth but yeesh, not acknowledging it won't make it less true...will it?
So here is the story. I'm bummed because I'm getting ready to have a pathetic little loser Thanksgiving with no one but my sister and her family. (That isn't the big truth, by the way.) At her house, no less. This is so depressing. I'm used to family rolling into MY house starting about noon on Wednesday. After an evening of greetings and pumpkin pie baking, we are drunk on love, anticipation, and yes, possibly a little wine. By midnight, we've hung folks to sleep on every spare peg and set the alarm to put the 20 pound bird in at the crack of dawn. On the big T-day itself even more people arrive until my little bitty house is close to bursting, the noise level has reached maximum irritation, and the kitchen counters are so covered in food that no one can tell there is 1970's vintage butcher block formica under it all.
But this year will be different. No one will be arriving at my house at all. I'll drink coffee by myself T-day morn and then head over to my sister's where we will politely eat turkey and I'll be home alone by mid-day. Yuck. No chaotic crowds in the kitchen the night before, no mad rush for my two miniscule bathrooms, no small yapping dogs.
This is the hard part....I have to be grateful anyway. I mean with it being Thanksgiving and everything, you know, I really am kind of obligated to be grateful, aren't I? I've got to take a walk on the sunny side of the street and realize, gulp, that I have a lot to be thankful for. (That is THE BIG TRUTH in case you can't tell.) After all, plenty of people would be thrilled to have a whole loving sister family to have dinner with. And a lot more people can't even fathom the ridiculous joy and sense of belonging that comes with having a huge, noisy, sometimes obnoxious family to gnaw on drumsticks with.
So bummer. This year my sister (yeah, she feels ripped off too) and I will have to make do with our motley crew of a meager seven. But while we try to overlook the 20 empty seats we will thankfully remember that we are among the lucky few. We are lucky to have a lifetime of memories of loving parents and brothers and sisters and cousins and nieces and nephews and all the assorted in-laws and out-laws and chaos and bedlam and pies and weird casseroles.
We're lucky to have each other. Happy GratitudeDay to us.
So here is the story. I'm bummed because I'm getting ready to have a pathetic little loser Thanksgiving with no one but my sister and her family. (That isn't the big truth, by the way.) At her house, no less. This is so depressing. I'm used to family rolling into MY house starting about noon on Wednesday. After an evening of greetings and pumpkin pie baking, we are drunk on love, anticipation, and yes, possibly a little wine. By midnight, we've hung folks to sleep on every spare peg and set the alarm to put the 20 pound bird in at the crack of dawn. On the big T-day itself even more people arrive until my little bitty house is close to bursting, the noise level has reached maximum irritation, and the kitchen counters are so covered in food that no one can tell there is 1970's vintage butcher block formica under it all.
But this year will be different. No one will be arriving at my house at all. I'll drink coffee by myself T-day morn and then head over to my sister's where we will politely eat turkey and I'll be home alone by mid-day. Yuck. No chaotic crowds in the kitchen the night before, no mad rush for my two miniscule bathrooms, no small yapping dogs.
This is the hard part....I have to be grateful anyway. I mean with it being Thanksgiving and everything, you know, I really am kind of obligated to be grateful, aren't I? I've got to take a walk on the sunny side of the street and realize, gulp, that I have a lot to be thankful for. (That is THE BIG TRUTH in case you can't tell.) After all, plenty of people would be thrilled to have a whole loving sister family to have dinner with. And a lot more people can't even fathom the ridiculous joy and sense of belonging that comes with having a huge, noisy, sometimes obnoxious family to gnaw on drumsticks with.
So bummer. This year my sister (yeah, she feels ripped off too) and I will have to make do with our motley crew of a meager seven. But while we try to overlook the 20 empty seats we will thankfully remember that we are among the lucky few. We are lucky to have a lifetime of memories of loving parents and brothers and sisters and cousins and nieces and nephews and all the assorted in-laws and out-laws and chaos and bedlam and pies and weird casseroles.
We're lucky to have each other. Happy GratitudeDay to us.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
"F--- It!" Like a Man
A friend of mine once had a problem in which she couldn't get over what a few of her colleagues said about her. She so internalized their words that she wanted to quit her job over this single incident.
(Blog co-author) Anne said, "A man would never quit over something like that" and I thought how true. Why is it that women are so vulnerable to shooting themselves in the foot? Well, I know why, actually. My doctoral research included investigating how women's very identities are tied to connection with others and so anything that threatens our relationships, threatens the very essence of who we are. Nonetheless, shooting ourselves in the foot isn't exactly happiness conducive. And so, we sure could learn a thing or two about how the "typical" man responds: rather than taking it IN and getting depressed, it's better to let it OUT. Getting over being mad is much easier than getting over being sad.
Men can yell at each other, "F--- you!" "No, f--- YOU," quickly say, "Sorry" and then truly move on. Women, on the other hand, simply look at each other cross, then demand days worth of analytical, blood signed apologies, and begrudgingly move on, if at all. We need to be able to get mad, get hurt, and move on more quickly. Our happiness depends on it.
My husband, the vulgar philospher (in Latin, philosophus vulgaritas,-- just kiddin'), summed it up with these profound words: "You either F--- it, or you get f---ed." Sure there's more nuance to it all, but women get far too tangled up in the complexities sometimes.
If life throws a bag of crap on our door, we have the choice not to open the door and let that bag of crap into our house. Sometimes, to keep our happiness in tact, we just need to leave that bag of crap at the door and say,
"F--- It!"
(Blog co-author) Anne said, "A man would never quit over something like that" and I thought how true. Why is it that women are so vulnerable to shooting themselves in the foot? Well, I know why, actually. My doctoral research included investigating how women's very identities are tied to connection with others and so anything that threatens our relationships, threatens the very essence of who we are. Nonetheless, shooting ourselves in the foot isn't exactly happiness conducive. And so, we sure could learn a thing or two about how the "typical" man responds: rather than taking it IN and getting depressed, it's better to let it OUT. Getting over being mad is much easier than getting over being sad.
Men can yell at each other, "F--- you!" "No, f--- YOU," quickly say, "Sorry" and then truly move on. Women, on the other hand, simply look at each other cross, then demand days worth of analytical, blood signed apologies, and begrudgingly move on, if at all. We need to be able to get mad, get hurt, and move on more quickly. Our happiness depends on it.
My husband, the vulgar philospher (in Latin, philosophus vulgaritas,-- just kiddin'), summed it up with these profound words: "You either F--- it, or you get f---ed." Sure there's more nuance to it all, but women get far too tangled up in the complexities sometimes.
If life throws a bag of crap on our door, we have the choice not to open the door and let that bag of crap into our house. Sometimes, to keep our happiness in tact, we just need to leave that bag of crap at the door and say,
"F--- It!"
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