Our brain lies to us when it tells us something is impossible. It doesn’t mean to–it really does feel impossible when you think about it from where you are now. When we look at the same thing after it’s accomplished, it doesn’t feel impossible at all. What if we could harness the confidence of the end result at the beginning? I recently accomplished an impossible goal. Here’s what I learned…
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People are like artichokes: they are more than they seem on the outside. It often requires effort to peel away the layers and get to the tender heart of who someone really is.
I didn’t have my first freshly cooked artichoke until I was in my 20’s. Honestly, they always looked spiny and intimidating to me. I wasn’t sure how to approach them, so I never did. A friend of mine found out I’d never had one, and invited me over to learn the art of preparing and eating an artichoke.
I was amazed at the effort it took to prepare them! First we had to cut off each of the spines on the outside leaves and trim the top and spine. After boiling, we pulled off each leaf one by one. With our teeth we scraped tiny amounts of soft, pulpy meat on each of the petals. As we got closer to the heart, the amount of meat on each petal become more robust.
According to my friend, before we could get to the best part, which was the heart, we had to cut off the fibrous pillow sitting on top of the heart called the choke. It seemed well named—as I couldn’t imagine doing anything BUT choking on the wiry mess. The artichoke heart was a tender, juicy, almost nutty flavor. Bathed in lemon butter, it was pretty close to heaven. It was a lot of work to get to the center—but it was worth the effort.
Humans are a lot like artichokes—everyone has many “layers.” As people experience pain they learn how to protect themselves. Some do it through avoidance, others through sarcasm or pretending to be nonchalant, while some patronize or criticize others when they feel threatened. People think these thorns will protect themselves against being hurt by others. Like an artichoke, their rough outsides do provide protection—but they also keep others from seeing who they REALLY are, and being able to connect heart to heart.
People Can Be Prickly to Defend Their Vulnerabilities
People who are the roughest on the outside are sometimes the easiest to dismiss or avoid. However, like the big, thorny artichokes in the market that are frequently tossed aside, these people are often the most tender and rewarding on the inside.
During college, I taught life skills at the local prison for several months. I was idealistic and anxious to change the world. But, I confess I began to get a bit nervous as we went through one security door after another and we entered a room full of convicts. Most of them stared at us with rough expressions. Many were covered in tattoos, including on their face and hands. None of them looked like they wanted to be there. I took a deep breath.
As the prisoners introduced themselves, I became more and more grateful there were two security guards posted outside the door. I discovered that several of the men had committed serious crimes. To me they were a room full of big artichokes covered in spines and VERY intimidating.
As I introduced myself, I could see on their faces their disgust and disinterest in listening to some plucky, do-gooder college girl who did not understand anything about their lives or needs. The tension was thick and I felt a little nauseated.
I began going through the lesson material, which thankfully had lots of questions, discussion, and hands-on activities. Even in that first class, I began to glimpse contradictions. While at first many members of the class were sarcastic, uninterested, and even brash, I began to notice their thoughtfulness, engagement, and wisdom as the class went on.
It took some courage to go back again the next week. There were lots of spines and prickles again, but I found them slightly less intimidating. At the beginning of the class one man still refused to participate at all, but as we continued to talk even he softened and even smiled.
As the weeks went on I began to be sincerely curious about each of the people in my class. Who were they? Where did they come from? What was their family life like growing up? What did they think about, hope for, believe in? So I asked questions. I started peeling back their layers one by one. I began to see that their criminal behavior often stemmed from pain others had created for them. As I learned more, I began to sincerely care about them and my judgment began to evaporate.
The more the prisoners felt my genuine interest and concern, the more they felt safe to share. Each week we peeled away more layers and over time some of the obvious labels I had attached to these people began to peel off. Instead of thinking of one man as a criminal, I thought of him as simply the warm-hearted man who smiled often and cracked jokes when things got too tense. I thought of another as the one who offered soft, but thoughtful insights to the class.
One week before I started class, one of the inmates told me something I’ve never forgotten. Apparently some of the other inmates (not in the class) were ribbing the class members and telling them that they should take advantage of me and my co-teacher. My student quickly stood up for me and became angry. He told his fellow inmates he would never do that, and if that man tried anything he’d personally beat him to a pulp.
I was floored. How had they changed from being annoyed and disinterested to showing this fierce loyalty? By peeling away the layers little by little. I had glimpsed for just a minute this man’s soft, tender heart—the prize at the end of the layers.
Getting to the heart is never quick or easy. It requires courage, patience, curiosity, and genuine concern and love. It requires choosing to drop labels and seeing others differently. It requires surviving some thorny prickles. But it is worth it. Getting to the heart is pretty close to getting to heaven.
Who is a prickly person in you life that you’re tempted to avoid or even re-act to? A child, a spouse, an in-law, a check-out attendant, a colleague.
Try peeling back some of the layers this week by asking genuine questions. Try dropping labels you may have for them. Try assuming the best about them. Notice if you start to get closer to their heart.
Difficult conversations don’t have to be difficult. We all encounter situations that need to be addressed or talked through; these moments can either separate us more from others or draw us closer together. Knowing how to manage your brain as you approach a difficult conversation can turn the experience into a “connecting” conversation.
For most of my life I’ve tried to avoid difficult conversations unless they were ABSOLUTELY necessary. When an occasional issue arose, it often seemed easier to continue to endure the imperfect circumstances rather than deal with the conflict and drama of actually addressing my concerns with others. It’s true that by not addressing tough issues I had a lot less conflict with others—at least externally. However, the lingering resentment, frustration, and annoyance I felt still drove wedges into my relationships.
As I’ve become more emotionally healthy, I’ve had more courage and emotional capital to work on resolving challenges with others. As I have, I’ve learned something fascinating. Difficult conversations don’t have to push you farther away from others—they can actually draw you closer together.
Recently someone said something that really hurt me. I don’t get offended very easily, but this exchange really stabbed. I knew this person didn’t intend to hurt me, and I tried to brush it off. But it continued to bother me and I found myself carrying around resentment and frustration.
In the past, I often avoided confrontation over something like this—it felt way too hard and seemed unnecessary. I told myself “I just need to get over it.” However, the more I tried to ignore it, the more my resentment and irritation grew. I really cared about this person and I could see that this was driving a wedge between us. I felt defensive around this person and I wanted to feel close to them again. I knew it would require a difficult conversation.
According to Life Coach Jody Moore in her e-book “Difficult Conversations,” there are six steps to being successful at a difficult conversation. I will share the six steps she suggests below, and how I applied her wisdom in this challenging situation.
The best way to decide if you are ready to have a difficult conversation is to determine what your motive is. Your motive will make or break your success.
Ask yourself, “Why do you want to have this conversation?” If you are hoping the other person will apologize or change, they may not and you may be disappointed. We don’t have any control over others and hanging our happiness on others’ behavior often results in frustration. What’s worse is that others can sense our motives. If they feel they are trying to be manipulated or controlled, most people resist. Both parties often end up feeling worse.
If these aren’t motives that are likely to be successful in a difficult conversation, what motives are?
You know you’re ready to have the difficult conversation when your motive is love. You sincerely want to feel closer to the other person and withholding the truth is separating you by lack of understanding on either side, or by causing resentment. Growing up, my mom used this line before a difficult conversation, “I want to tell you something in a spirit of love.” It worked.
Thoughts that are motivated by love can include: I want to clarify something; I want to provide information; I want to increase connection; I want to make a request of someone or clarify a boundary.
In my difficult conversation I referred to above, I initially DID want an apology. I hoped they never said it again. I let myself feel hurt for a while. But I didn’t stay there very long because self-pity gets sticky very quickly. As the pain subsided, I really did want to feel love again toward this person. I wanted to feel close to them again. I wanted to be an emotional adult and provide them information about how this exchange impacted me.
Once you get your motive to some version of love, it’s time to define success. The result of your conversation should be about what the person YOU want to be in your relationship and how YOU want to feel.
Jody Moore writes, “Make sure that the result you choose is something 100% in your control. The way the other person reacts is not in your control. How they feel or what they say is not in your control. Whether or not they start acting differently in the future is not in your control. What IS in your control is how YOU feel, think and behave.”
In my experience, I knew that the other person might not apologize and might even be defensive. I knew they might not change or meet my request. I decided that for me, success was to own MY part of the issue. I would share the facts about the exchange and how it had impacted me. I would do it in a spirit of love. I would be curious about this person and what they were thinking and feeling. I would explain what would be helpful in the future. Regardless of their response or behavior, I would feel successful if I fulfilled my part of the conversation in love.
What you say or do won’t matter as much as how you feel. Your feelings will impact everything else.
Because the person will likely mirror YOUR emotions, it’s important to get your feelings about yourself and the thing you want to say to a place of confidence (not conceit, just confidence). Thoughts like these might help: “I really want to feel closer to this person.” “This is hard, but I can do it.” “I’m prepared, this will turn out well.” “I can do this well enough—it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just needs to be honest and loving.”
It’s important to be aware of how you are feeling about the other person as well. People are astute observers of others’ motives and feelings. It’s hard to communicate love when we are angry or irritated. A great substitute for feelings of irritation or anger is feelings of curiosity or compassion. Here are some examples: “They are doing their best, even if their best doesn’t seem very good.” “I wonder what it’s like to be them?” “Maybe they are feeling fear/discouragement etc.—I know what that’s like. It’s awful.”
As I thought about the difficult conversation I was preparing for, I admit that I was nervous. I knew this person didn’t have a particularly great track record for calm responses. I cared about this person and didn’t want to sabotage the relationship. But I told myself, “I can do this. This is the type of person I want to be.” These thoughts helped me feel more confident.
Then I decided to believe that the other person didn’t realize they were hurting me and certainly weren’t intending to. I decided they must have been feeling tired and irritable when they made the comments. It’s hard to do your best when you don’t feel good. I even thought, “I wonder what they meant by this comment?” These thoughts got me to a place of compassion and curiosity.
It’s good to know what you’ll say, particularly when you’re doing something uncomfortable. If you plan ahead before a stressful situation, when your brain tries to retreat to it’s “primitive place,” your plan can take over. Here’s the basic structure Jody suggests for a difficult conversations:
1. Cushion—Sets tone…may be challenging for them and also for me.
2. Stick to facts (Don’t add in opinions and assumptions). Be specific.
3. Be curious about the other person. (If you can’t get to curious, try confused. It’s better than offended.)
I decided I would say something like this:
“I wanted to share something with you because I really value our relationship. I’m feeling a little nervous to tell you, but it’s important to me that you know. When you said _________, it really hurt me. I can imagine you didn’t even realize it would be hurtful, but I wanted to let you know. Tell me your thoughts.”
After their response, I planned to say something like, “It would help if in the future you wouldn’t say ______________. I’d love to know your thoughts.”
My mother was a believer in practicing what you would say before you said it. She used to help me write out a script for calling people about Girl Scout cookie delivery or calling an adult back about a babysitting job. Before I gave a talk in church, she would get out the feather duster and use it as a mock microphone. My mom would stuff it between the cushions of the couch and have us practice what we would say. As much as we grumbled about it, it really worked. Practicing really gives you more confidence and it helps flush out rough areas.
Write out your difficult conversation or practice it with a friend—even the mirror is a great listener!
I practiced my difficult conversation a few times in my mind. Then my husband graciously listened to what I planned to say. I didn’t use the feather duster, but saying it to someone else helped me practice while still being a little nervous. He’s particularly astute at catching anything that might trigger offense and helped me tweak my plan a little.
Give the person a heads up that you’d like to talk. Sometimes taking someone off guard can really cause the conversation to go south quickly.
I asked the person if it would work to talk to them. They agreed. My heart was beating fast, but I felt confident because I was feeling love for the person and because I knew what I wanted to say. I shared my short, practiced script.
There was some awkwardness. At first the person was a bit defensive. I didn’t try to defend back. I actually agreed with their points, which were legitimate. This really softened them and they apologized right away. They confirmed that they had no idea they had hurt me and said they would be more careful next time. We chatted a bit more and I understood where they were coming from when they said the comment. We parted on a positive note.
I felt so relieved. I understood this person better and I felt no more resentment or irritation. I had worried that things would be awkward, but I was surprised. Not only was our interaction NOT awkward, I felt our relationship was much better after our interaction. I felt closer to this person and they felt closer to me.
Difficult conversations can connect us if we lead with love and with logic instead of leading with angry emotions and blame.
Consider following the 6 steps of a successful difficult conversation so that you can feel closer to the person you love!
Failure doesn’t have to be a shameful, disappointing experience. It is possible to enjoy failing. It may sound a bit far-fetched, but it’s possible….and it’s essential to living a life where you are creating results you love. It all comes down to how you think about failing.
I don’t know many people who LIKE to fail. What is it about failure that we’re afraid of? For most people failing causes feelings of disappointment, guilt, or shame. Since none of us like experiencing those feelings, we avoid anything that would produce them: we don’t go to the exercise class because we might look weird, we don’t talk to someone new because they might not like us, we don’t try something new because we “don’t know how.”
What if failure brought a totally different set of feelings? What if failing was motivating, fascinating, or even fun? It can be.
My daughters and I tried to get a taxi the other day. We live in China, but don’t speak Chinese yet. The first empty taxi looked at us and drove right past. The second one purposely moved to the furthest lane to avoid us. The third one stopped, but after looking at the address, he yelled something at us in Chinese and motioned for us to get out.
At this point my girls and I were discouraged. It was hot and we were all complaining; we wanted to go home and give up. My brain kept offering me thoughts like, “Why won’t these taxis take us?” “Is there something wrong with us?” “This is so frustrating!” But those thoughts caused me to feel disappointed, embarrassed and frustrated.
I wanted to set a different tone for my kids. I said, “Let’s see how many taxis it will take to get one that will drive us. I bet it will be nine.” My kids perked up and took bets on how many it would be. As the taxis drove by us it turned into a game to see who would get closest to their bet. Eventually we got a taxi, and were on our way. Amazingly, our spirits were high—we had fun comparing how many times it took to get a taxi versus how many we had guessed (one of my daughters won with her guess of seven). Changing our failure into a game made it fun.
Most great people have failed many times. Thomas Edison said, “I have not failed ten thousand times. I have not failed once. I have succeeded in proving that those ten thousand ways will not work.” I’m glad Thomas Edison didn’t stop when he failed. Each time he tried something that didn’t work, he considered it helpful information that got him closer to figuring out what WOULD work.
What if we thought about failing differently? What if we thought about failing as gathering information to figure out eventually what WILL work? What if we made it a game?
Ramit Sethi, a financial expert who has been featured in many popular news sources, has a refreshing perspective on failure. He believes that failure is evidence that we are stretching ourselves and accomplishing all that we can. He says he expects to fail at least 5 times per month. If he isn’t failing, he says he’s not working hard enough. He keeps track of his failures and uses them as evidence that he is stretching himself, learning, growing, and becoming better. If we aren’t failing on a regular basis, we probably aren’t living our lives to the fullest.
Failing to try something or not showing up fully in the things we commit to, isn’t the kind of failure that will help us succeed. It is self-sabotage. This type of failing drives us deeper into shame, guilt and despair. The kind of failure that really helps us is the kind where we go all in, but don’t make it. This kind of failure allows us to learn something, and to become stronger.
The key to failing in the right way is showing up completely. Setting difficult goals and being confident enough to fail in front of others. When we do fail, we don’t beat ourselves up about it. We consider our failures as information that will help us succeed—we turn failure into a game. The upside of failing is getting huge results—results most people are too afraid to pursue or that they believe they can’t obtain: close relationships, health, success, and happiness. Sometimes it costs a few failures, but it’s worth it.
What are you afraid of failing at?
Change the way you think about failure. Consider it a chance to learn what DOESN’T work and get closer to what does. You may even consider setting a failure quota to measure how far you are stretching yourself.
Choices can be agonizing–mainly because we worry about missing out on something. This fear plagues us in many decisions we make, from the most mundane decisions to significant life choices. When we have this fear we limit our joy, no matter what choice we end up making. There’s a simple way to stop worrying about missing out and find more joy in whatever we choose: remember that “life is long.”
This summer my girls saved up their allowance to do a little shopping. Because we live abroad, it is a particularly exciting prospect to go to the toy section of Target when we visit home. The girls had wide eyes as they wandered through the aisles of bright colors and possibilities. My older girls made their selections quickly and were ready to go.
My 6-year-old, however, agonized over what to buy. She picked up several toys, games, and dolls, and carefully studied each box. She came to me almost in tears, unable to decide which one to buy. She wanted all of them, but she didn’t have enough money, and she worried she might never be able to come back. Considering we don’t come to Target often, there was some legitimacy in her concern. However, her fear of missing out on something paralyzed her and she couldn’t make a decision.
There was a part of my “mother-heart” that wanted to loan her a little money so she could get them all, but I stopped myself. I knew this was an opportunity to learn an essential life lesson.
As human beings we constantly worry about missing out; we want to have everything, be everything, and do everything now. Our brains tell us that if we don’t do, or have, or be everything now—we won’t be able to do, have, or be it later. We paralyze ourselves by the fear of missing out on something.
I gave my daughter a hug and admired her selections but I did not offer her a loan. What I did offer her was a thought that my friend Laurel Ulrich, taught me many years ago.
I became friends with Laurel while I lived in Boston. Laurel is a Pulitzer Prize-winning author who wrote the book, “A Midwives Tale.” She is a renowned professor at Harvard. She had also raised 5 children and stayed at home with them for much of their lives. At the time, I felt a lot of angst about trying to balance my role as a mother and professional pursuits. One day, I asked Laurel how she balanced her professional contributions, motherhood, and selfhood. Her answer was…
“Life is long.”
I admit, at first I was a little disappointed. I had hoped she would have some magic formula that would help me balance everything I wanted to do at the same time. Instead, this seemed like sort of a trite answer you would find on a meme. But Laurel explained that we often think we have to do everything at once. Life has seasons, she said, and what we focus on can change as we move through these seasons. She emphasized that she didn’t accomplished everything all at once. She loved being home with her children for a season, and as they got older she studied for her Ph.D., which she didn’t get until she was 42. She won the Pulitzer Prize at 53 and became a professor at Harvard at 57. She still teaches at 80, and she continues to enjoy mothering her adult children.
The more I thought about her advice, “life is long,” the more I liked it. My fear that I was missing out if I didn’t do everything NOW, was preventing me from feeling joy in either mothering or my professional life. Previously, when I was home with my kids, I would wonder what I could be doing as I compared myself to colleagues and all the amazing things they were accomplishing. As I reminded myself that there would be enough time and opportunity to pursue both of my deep desires—to be a fully present mother and to contribute professionally—I began to relax and enjoy the time with my children more.
Likewise when I did do nutrition presentations or consultations I felt less guilty as I remembered I would get to mother my children throughout their life, not just until they left the house. I also reminded myself that my professional pursuits would help me be a better mother to them by helping me be more balanced. That allowed me to enjoy my work and be more effective since I spent less brain space worrying.
Over the years I’ve done a variety of combinations of full-time mothering and other pursuits. Sometimes my fear of missing out creeps up on me. But I continue to remind myself that “life Is long.”
There isn’t any one “right” way to balance all the desires and demands on us. Women find a myriad of ways to navigate them with beautiful results—as well as messy ones! Different women, different situations, different stages of family and motherhood may shift the balance we choose. However feeling it all needs to happen now can create angst and rob us of the joy we are seeking in either pursuit.
Ultimately, our attitude is more important than the percentage of time we spend in any particular pursuit. Knowing life is long can help us be satisfied now. Joy in the now means exponentially more fulfillment in anything we do.
I didn’t bore my daughter with all this in the Target aisle, but I did share the essence of the wisdom Laurel Ulrich shared with me many years ago. “You don’t have enough money to get them all now,” I said, “but you’ll have other chances to come back. As you earn more money, we can come again to the store, or even look online. If you really want all of these toys, you can earn them eventually. Just choose the one you would like to get most now.”
This seemed to be a relief to her. It allowed her to make a selection without so much angst of feeling like she was missing out.
When you start to feel like you are missing out and you notice it is diminishing your joy, remember…life is long.
What do you worry you are missing out on? Do you struggle to find the balance between personal or professional development and mothering?
Write a list of all the things you desire to be and do. It is possible to do many of the things you’d love to do, but maybe not all at once. Not doing it now, doesn’t mean you are missing out. What would be most worthwhile to pursue NOW, and what could be some things to pursue eventually?
Just as we can be infected by a sick person passing along their germs to us, our bodies have a built-in mechanism for “catching” emotions from others. Without even realizing it, we pass along and receive emotions many times a day. This has a significant effect on how we feel and on the emotional environment we create around us. If we aren’t aware of the emotions we are giving off and receiving, these emotions can sabotage our moods, relationships, and our success.
Do any of these experiences sound familiar: Have you ever winced when you saw someone stub her toe? Have you ever yelled at your children to stop yelling, only to realize the irony that you just did the thing you asked them not to? Have you ever been having a great day that turned sour because your children came home from school and started fighting and complaining? Have you ever given your spouse the silent treatment because he was giving it to you? Have you ever noticed someone who looked skeptically at you and later softened when you smiled at them?
Emotions are contagious. Our brains are wired to mirror the emotions of people around us. Check out this interesting demonstration of contagious emotions in a YouTube Video of a man laughing on the Metro and people around him starting to laugh until almost everyone is laughing.
Obviously, we don’t “catch” emotions in the same way we catch disease. However, there is a scientific explanation for the contagion of human emotion. The American Psychological Association describes this phenomenon as something called “mirror neurons.” Essentially, mirror neurons are the brain’s ability to feel what someone else is feeling.
A group of researchers studied the neural reactions of some monkeys when they bit into a treat and other monkeys as they watched their companions eat the treat. The pre-motor cortex of the monkey eating the treat responded in the same way as the pre-motor cortex of the monkey who only watched the other monkey bite into the treat. Researchers were later able to find similar reactions in the human brain. In other words—when we see others experience something, our brains have a similar reaction. Literally, the same areas of the brain are affected when we watch someone experience something as when we experience it ourselves.
Mirror neurons serve a crucial purpose in connecting us to others. They help us learn in our early development. As infants, we observe how our parents and caregivers respond and feel about things, and we pattern our actions after theirs. We’ve all seen mirror neurons in action as we watch a baby learn to smile. These neurons help us determine what is safe and good around us.
These neurons also give us the ability to feel empathy. When we see or hear about someone experiencing something, we are able to actually feel (or imagine) the same biological stimuli they do. For example, when we see someone bump their head, we might wince. Mirror neurons let us feel what we think the other person might be feeling. This allows us to act with compassion or concern. In the same way, these neurons can help us feel excitement for someone else. We all love watching a romantic movie or seeing someone we know fall in love. Our brains experience a portion of that same feeling. This mirroring of emotion allows us to be excited for and supportive of people. The ability to mirror others’ emotions is at the crux of helping us connect with others.
The downside of mirror neurons is that we sometimes unwittingly become susceptible to the emotions of others. When others are frustrated, angry or impatient, we may find that we have the same experience. Several years ago, researchers studied mirror neurons in public settings. They watched the impact of one person at a metro stop who was visibly impatient—sighing, looking at his watch, and rolling his eyes. The study showed that others around him became impatient as well. In contrast, in the absence of someone who was visibly impatient, others at the metro stop did not become as impatient. If we are not aware of our brain’s unconscious mirroring of emotion, we can easily be swept up into the drama of other’s emotions.
Simply knowing that negative emotions can be contagious can give us leverage as we choose not to mirror back negative feelings. Below is an example of how choosing not to mirror back emotions has helped our family during “morning mayhem”:
Getting out the door in the morning sometimes feels like a race. From the minute the alarm clock rings, we rush around trying to get ready and eat breakfast in order to get to the bus in time. My kids would much rather play and take their time—they don’t like rushing.
I’m constantly nagging and reminding my kids to “hurry.” They are irritated that they “have” to do something and they are bothered that they have to do it quickly. Without realizing what I am doing, I often mirror back their emotions. I’m irritated that they aren’t hurrying. We get caught in a yucky collusion of my nagging and reminding them to hurry, and they show their irritation by being grumpy, talking back, and moving slowly.
Using the same principle of mirror neurons, I decided to try a different approach. I figured my kids would probably get ready more quickly if I was calm and supportive. At the very least, I hoped a calmer environment would help us start the day and get out the door on a happier, more positive note. I got up and reminded myself I wanted to set a calm tone—I woke my kids up by rubbing their backs and talking gently. I smiled at them and handed them their clothes. During breakfast, I put on calm music, I used a calm voice, and I tried not to nag. My kids reflected calmness back to me. I noticed a lot less talking back, frustration, and distraction.
We didn’t beat any Olympic time records, but we did make it out the door in decent time and everyone was so much happier starting the day. I was floored at the power of mirror neurons to change how I felt and my kids felt.
Avoiding mirroring negative emotions first requires that we become aware of our capacity to both receive emotional cues from others and give them out ourselves. Second, we must make a conscious decision to choose the emotion we want to feel instead of simply responding to emotions around us.
Almost everyone cares at least a little about what others think of them, and we often predict what others might think about what we do or say. We might assume others won’t like something—or that they will. Interestingly, we often make our assumptions true by the way we present something. We read other’s feelings (or project the way they will respond) through our mirror neurons and mirror back that emotion.
Instead of being reactive to the way other’s may feel, we can determine how WE feel. When we genuinely express our own feelings, others will often mirror back the same emotion. This can be particularly powerful in difficult conversations.
I completed a Nutrition and Dietetics degree at small women’s college in Boston. I enjoyed my time there and found some wonderful professor-mentors. Many of them encouraged me and my fellow students to pursue challenging career paths and to seek out positions of leadership in our field. I had many of these opportunities available to me.
Near the end of my degree program, my husband and I decided to have a baby. I became pregnant and we were thrilled! I planned to complete my program, but I decided to complete it at a slower rate and I knew it might change some of my career choices afterward. I was worried about how my choice to have a baby would be received by my professors. I was afraid they would be disappointed, and view my baby as a road block to my success. All summer I stewed about how I would tell them about their pregnancy, worrying about their reaction. I felt awkward telling them, and my first inclination was to approach it awkwardly.
When the time came to tell my professors, though, I decided to exude my genuine emotion, which was excitement! I shared my exciting news and told my professors how thrilled I was! I was curious about their reaction and I was delighted to see that they responded with excitement and support for me!
In fact, they were so generous—they allowed me to take time off for the delivery, told me that I could bring the baby to class, and supported me in several research projects, including my thesis on pregnancy-related diet issues. I have always wondered how they would have responded had I gone in feeling uncomfortable and awkward about telling them—I wonder if they might have responded with discomfort and awkwardness about it as well. I don’t know, but I learned a powerful lesson about emotions.
People often mirror our emotions back to us. It’s counterproductive to anticipate their response and come to them with that emotion, because we simply create the result we feared. Making a deliberate choice to be authentic in our feelings may or may not result in a positive response from the person we’re talking to. However, being authentic brings us personal peace. As we learn to care less about what others think, being authentic becomes easier. Check out my article about getting over people pleasing.
The emotions we exude to others matter. We play a pivotal role in co-creating the emotional environment we live in with others. Being deliberate about our emotions, instead of simply mirroring back the emotions of others, gives us more control, more peace, and more satisfaction.
What is the dominant emotion you feel when getting ready in the morning? What emotions do you feel most often when you are with your spouse, your children, or your friends? What emotions from others are you mirroring?
1. Be aware of others’ emotions and how you might be mirroring their emotions.
2. Choose what emotion you want to feel and project that emotion for others to mirror.
Sources
Scientific American. “What’s So Special About Mirror Neurons?” Ben Thomas, Nov. 6, 2012.
Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews. “Connecting Minds and Sharing Emotions through Mimicry: A Neurocognitive Model of Emotional Contagion.” Eliska Prochazkova, Mariska A Kret. Vol. 80, September 2017, Pages 99-114.
Mind Spring. “The Connection Between Mirror Neurons and Workplace Success.” April 5, 2018.
Trust is the magic that connects us to people–it allows us to share vulnerable things and to feel close to others. Without trust we become separate entities that only interact on the surface. Trust opens us to deeper and more loving connection. Developing trust may be more simple than you think.
“I will never trust anyone again!” she announced as she slammed the door and slumped down on the floor. Not sure exactly what had prompted the outburst by her third-grade daughter, Brene Brown, a well-known author and researcher probed her daughter a bit more.
The story came tumbling out; she had told an embarrassing moment to a friend during recess. That friend had told other friends and soon everyone was giggling and whispering about her when the teacher came into the classroom. To make matters worse, because of all the talking and giggling, the teacher took marbles out of the class marble jar used to help promote good behavior.
Brene took a big breath and wiped her daughter’s tears. She set aside her desires to beat up her daughter’s friends, and tried to think how to explain trust to her daughter. With the marble jar image fresh in her mind, Brene explained that we share precious things with people who have earned the right to know them. Our trust of others is like a marble jar. Over time people gradually add marbles to the jar with little acts of trust–or lose marbles with small acts of betrayal. Marble jar friends are people who we have learned we can trust and depend on.
Then she asked her daughter, “Do you have any marble jar friends?” “Yes.” Her daughter replied. “How do you know they are marble jar friends?” Brene asked. “Because Laura gives me half a hiney-seat at lunch when there isn’t anywhere else to sit. And, Hannah because she remembered Opa and Oma’s name at the soccer game.” Brene was surprised at the simplicity of things that earned theoretical marbles of trust. Frankly, they weren’t heroic, they were small.
Inspired by this exchange, Brene Brown spent the next several years researching what creates trust. Interestingly, she confirmed exactly what her daughter had first identified; trust is built in small moments. Moments such as; remembering a birthday, smiling and saying hello in the hall, listening and empathizing instead of fixing, showing up at a funeral, remembering a family member’s name, asking follow up questions, following through on what you say you’ll do. Truly trust is built through small acts…putting marbles in the jar consistently over time.
What have the people you trust done to earn your trust?
Trust is precious. I want the people closest to me to trust me. I love the image of the marble jar as a metaphor of how to build trust. The following are things that research shows build trust and how they have played out in my life.
Humans are astute judges of other’s motives. Most of us have more than one motive for doing things. Our motives don’t have to be 100% altruistic all the time, but they need to have others’ interests at heart.
My husband prefers to do his haircuts at home to save money. Over the years I learned how he liked his hair and every few weeks I would cut it. During a period of time when I was up with my baby at night a lot and I felt in high demand during the day, cutting his hair sometimes felt like one more duty I had to perform. Of course, I loved him, and wanted to help him, but often I felt some resentment that this task meant less sleep or less time I could do something other than helping people all day. I never verbalized this to my husband, but he could tell that I was a bit put out. He knew that I was cutting his hair out of obligation and not love.
One day I came in and he was cutting his own hair. I was surprised. When I asked him why he was cutting his own hair, he explained he felt bad asking me to do his hair when it seemed like it was so stressful for me. He could tell that my motives weren’t pure. Although he was very gracious, I lost some of his trust in that exchange.
It may seem intuitive that reliability builds trust–however being reliable can be challenging. It certainly requires deliberate effort.
My kids are often slow at getting out of the house. I often have to remind them multiple times to put their shoes on, go to the bathroom, and get out in the car. I realized one day that I’m not very reliable; when I say it’s time to go, I’m still running around grabbing a diaper for my diaper bag, getting my own shoes, or running back in the house to get something I forgot. My children have learned not to trust me when I say it’s time now. I am trying to be more reliable. I have been making an effort to get myself ready first and really be ready to go when I ask them to come. Things have improved—we’re still not smooth as silk but it has improved things. When my kids know I’ll be ready when I call them, they are better at coming right away.
Sometimes the tiniest sacrifices build the most trust. Small sacrifices can add up over time to be more meaningful than big ones offered once.
My mom made small sacrifices for me growing up. I remember the budget was often tight when I was in my teen years. Like most girls I was anxious to look attractive and feel like I had stylish clothes. I remember multiple times my mom would say, “You can have the clothing budget this month.” I knew she needed new clothes as well, and was giving me the budget knowing how important it was to me. These moments added marbles to my jar.
Most people aren’t brave enough to ask for help when they really need it unless things get pretty dire. Interestingly, research shows that asking for help is one of the most powerful ways to build trust.
I will always be grateful to an amazing friend, Melinda Call, who knew how to be a marble jar friend. Shortly after my fourth baby she must have noticed the dark bags under my eyes from being up late with my newborn. She casually mentioned she’d be happy to watch my baby one morning a week so that I could have a time I could count on to nap or have time to do whatever I’d like. I was so taken back. I never would have asked someone to do that, and yet I so desperately needed it. She didn’t know that I had struggled with post-partum depression after each of my last 3 children, partially due to lack of sleep and feeling constantly needed without much of a break. My friend just observed and acted.
If you say something, own it. It’s easy to say something, and mean something else. We diminish trust when we expect others to know from our tone of voice or from our facial expression what we really mean.
One time a friend asked if I could watch her children. Normally I don’t mind watching kids owever, it was a stressful day, and I was feeling overwhelmed and worn down. Her children were lively and busy and I knew it would drain me if I took them that day. Although I wanted to help, I should have probably said no. Instead I agreed to watch her kids not wanting to disappoint my friend.
The kids were particularly difficult–drawing with permanent marker all over my daughter’s new bedspread, breaking some items in the house, and dumping every basket of toys out. I found myself resenting my friend and feeling frustrated that she would ask me to watch her children at the last minute. When she arrived to pick up the kids she asked how it went. “It was fine.” I said. But my tone of voice and face said otherwise.
As I look back, I wasn’t adding many marbles to her jar. I agreed to watch her kids and yet I blamed her for bringing difficult kids over on an inconvenient day. I didn’t own my words when I accepted the responsibility or when I gave the report on the day. My friend, I’m sure, felt mixed signals from me. It must have been confusing and frustrating for her!
Most of us know when we’ve let someone else down; we feel less lovable. One of the most powerful ways to build trust with others is to love them even when they don’t deserve it.
When stress gets to me and I feel overwhelmed, sometimes I am snappy and critical of my family. Really this isn’t fair and certainly isn’t pleasant. My husband’s response has taught me a lot about trust. Sometimes he will hug me and ask how I’m doing. Occasionally he will ask if he can take the kids while I have some personal time, or make a joke that diffuses the tension. Sometimes he simply ignores it. Loving me through my yucky times and not being critical back to me really melts my heart. It fills my jar of trust. Interestingly it makes me WANT to be more loving and kind.
It’s the little things that build trust–the way we respond when our children spill something, choosing to do something inconvenient because it’s important to someone else, forgiving small or big injustices, smiling just because, deliberately noticing ways we can help, doing what we say we’ll do, owning what we say, and really doing things out of love and not obligation that slowly add up to relationships of trust.
Begin adding marbles to their jars by doing small and simple things consistly over time.
Brene Brown tells her story about the marble jar in one of her books, Daring Greatly. She also gives an audio rendition of the story in this video called, “The Anatomy of Trust.”
https://brenebrown.com/videos/anatomy-trust-video/
Hard is normal. It’s what each of us experience it many times in life;overwhelm, discouragement, losing a job, divorce, financial trouble, stress, moving, loss, depression, anxiety, disappointment, children with struggles, health challenges, and so many more. How we deal with hard determines our experience. I was bequeathed a legacy of bravery from my mother and grandmothers. I always pictured bravery like I saw it in super heroes or in movies. But through their legacy, I’ve discovered that bravery is something much different. It is the ability to find peace in difficulty and grace under pressure.
Some of my great-grandmothers helped to settle the American West. They took their families to the unknown and made a beautiful life over and over again as they moved.
One of my grandmothers writes of moving over 7 times within a short period. When she finally settled in her new home in Salt Lake City, she set to work creating beauty. She planted tulips and writes of her delight at being on one place long enough to watch them bloom. Before they had fully flowered, she received news that she would be moving again. At first, she threw herself on the bed, and sobbed. With tremendous grace, a few days later she left her tulips behind and set her nose to her new home.
That new home was a dug-out in the desert of St. George. Not only were there no tulips, there wasn’t much of anything at all besides dust storms and floods. If it was anything like most dugouts, when it rained the ceiling dripped and the floor was a mud bath. Early settlers of the same place wrote that St. George seemed void of any civilization.
She was cooking dinner one night when a Native American of the area came to try to evict her from her dug- out. After 7 moves, she wasn’t about to give up another home without a struggle! She took her frying pan and knocked him out cold. She stayed in her dug-out home. She created beauty where she was and helped to make that desert area bloom.
Like my grandmother, I am blessed with a life of frequent moving though admittedly there is no covered wagon and I’m not taming of the wild west. My husband and I felt brave starting out in the Foreign Service where we knew we would live in many countries around the world. Our eyes were big with the idealism of traveling, raising broad-minded children who were citizens of the world and serving others.
As we started out, we enjoyed many wonderful parts of our lifestyle; my husband loved his job and felt he was able to contribute in a meaningful way, and it allowed me to be home with our children. We were able to offer a wonderful education for our children, meet amazing people, learn new languages, discover history and culture and serve others.
However, our children struggled with the constant moving.
At first, the signs seemed minimal and we didn’t worry too much. But over time their issues became more pronounced and began to affect their functioning. A couple of my daughters developed significant anxiety.
They didn’t adjust like I saw other children do. It seemed like once we finally got them settled in a new place, it was time to move and their anxiety flared again. It was painful to watch and exhausting to manage.
We sought medical care, counseling, and read a lot on the topic. However, our lifestyle made getting them the care they needed more challenging. Moving frequently made it hard to find continuity of care with one provider. Often, I found myself trying to use complicated medical terms in other languages to communicate with doctors in whatever country we were in. Despite a long list of interventions, my girls continued to struggle.
Eventually my sense of adventure began to wane and stress and exhaustion began to wax. I was getting worn down trying to manage everything; I began to feel resentful about moving frequently and the stress it caused our children. I didn’t want them to suffer. And, I didn’t want to have to keep trying to manage their issues with so few resources. I felt slighted without access to the medical resources I was accustomed to. I was easily frustrated with people around me who didn’t seem to understand how hard it was.
The harder things got, the more resentful I became and the more I blamed our frequent moves and living abroad for my children’s suffering, and making my life miserable. Theoretically, I threw myself on the bed and sobbed over my tulips many times. This was not the life we had dreamed of. This was not fun. This was hard. We thought we would be educating our children’s minds in foreign lands and instead we were wracking our own brains to try to figure out how to help them function. My husband and I often blamed ourselves when our girls had issues. Guilt is not an emotion that brings forth the best in us. It certainly didn’t for me. I became negative and discouraged.
We began looking for alternative careers or grasping for any solutions we could find. We moved state-side to Hawaii for a while, hoping we would find some stability and better medical care. We used to joke, “Everything will be better in Hawaii.” It WAS an amazing place to live, but I was surprised to discover that my girls continued to struggle even there—in the midst of American medical care, stability, familiar culture and language. It became evident that their issues were bigger than just our lifestyle. Frankly I was surprised. I had spent a lot of time blaming our moves and foreign living for their problems.
After three years, my husband received a new assignment to work in Taiwan. One of my daughters in particular was really suffering at that time—even with an amazing team of doctors behind her. I was stewing a bit about another change for our children and how they would respond. I was gearing up for the worst possible scenario for her in our new place. I was also praying that God would help guide me in how to help my children.
Around this time, I discovered some amazing tools that began to completely change the way I thought and saw things. I felt like my brain was being turned literally inside out. I had always known that thoughts were powerful in how we feel, but these tools of how to actually change my thoughts were transformational.
I realized that for years, I had created a story about our life. It went something like this, “This lifestyle is causing my children and me suffering.” That thought caused me tremendous resentment and frustration. Those feelings caused me to stay stuck and to feel sorry for my children and myself. The result was miserable for all of us.
One day as I was listening to Jody Moore, a life coach, talk to someone with a similar situation to mine. This idea distilled on my mind. “What if there is a different title to my story? What if this is the PERFECT lifestyle for your children? What could be more beneficial to children with anxiety than the opportunity to frequently face hard and new situations? They get to practice under the watchful guidance of loving parents. This is the perfect chance for them to gain confidence to overcome anxiety.”
Suddenly my whole perspective shifted. It was an idea I had never even considered. The idea brought excitement and relief. And, I felt God confirming that this was a better way to think about our life.
I decided to experiment and try this new thought with our move to Taiwan. I embraced the idea that “hard is good” for my kids. Essentially, I “set my nose” to our new home and tried to leave behind my tulips—my idea that some other situation would be my ideal life. I tried to envision our new life as the PERFECT life for my children.
Indeed, as we moved, my children encountered challenges and anxiety as I had anticipated. For example, I remember one day my daughter came home and told me she was being bullied because she was one of the only white girls in her class. My heart hurt for her. My brain’s first reaction was to doubt our decision and blame myself. I thought, “This lifestyle is causing them so much suffering.” But I stopped myself and tried to re-direct my brain to a healthier thought. “This lifestyle is exactly what my children need to become confident and brave.” I noticed that when I armed myself with this thought, I started to feel thankful and creative instead of guilty and resentful. This allowed me to be so much more loving, compassionate and creative in helping her. I was able to say, “That sounds really hard. What do you think we could do about it?”
As she began to feel my confidence in her—not just my compassion, she began to rise to the challenge of dealing with the issue. It didn’t resolve immediately. But small exchange by exchange she did deal with it. She was able to make good friends as well as stand up for herself. By the end of the year, she was a thriving student beloved by her peers. I was fascinated at the difference in her response when empowered.
Just when I thought we were on an up-swing, they would struggle again. One of my daughters felt so anxious she wasn’t able to go to school. We tried a number of things with the school and eventually we had to withdraw her. At times, I worried I was just trying to convince myself this was a good idea and that I might be really hurting my children further. But I theoretically got out my frying pan and crushed the thoughts that continued to bubble up. “Even if this lifestyle is causing them suffering,” I reminded myself “there is suffering anywhere. The best thing I can offer my children is love and a healthy mom. I can’t be healthy if I’m trapped in misery myself.”
My daughter began a homeschool program and really thrived with it! She had a wonderful year and learned more about American History than I ever did! She was able to enjoy learning instruments she wouldn’t have otherwise and she and I developed an amazing bond last year. I had to remind myself—she has her own path. This is the perfect life for her. And, with a healthier brain, I’ve been able to set up better care for her. We found counseling that she can do from home through skype. It’s been a huge blessing—better than any of the counseling we did face to face. Sometimes our ways through things look different than we expect.
As our girls sensed our confidence in them, our daughters began to slowly rise to their challenges in a new way. Of course, their problems didn’t disappear, but I was delighted at how brave were and continue to be. As they confront their challenges, they have gained confidence and they are thriving. Life has become fun, and our lives are happy a lot of the time.
This experience has meant learning bravery in a whole new way. It’s not the bravery of doing something painful or fighting through misery as I had previously thought—instead it is the bravery of letting go of old ways of thinking and embracing new ones. In letting go of my anguish, there has been more space for compassion and creativity.
I certainly still have my throw-myself-on-the-bed-and-cry moments. I think feeling the spectrum of emotions is essential to happiness. There are times that living a more stable lifestyle sounds very attractive. But I’ve also come to see that there are pros and cons wherever you live. There is suffering and happiness everywhere.
I have learned that letting go—leaving behind the tulips or the ideal I thought I wanted, and committing to what I have now has been transformative. It requires a lot of courage to let the old go and it requires continually knocking out self-doubt with the frying pan to embrace the new, but it has brought peace and beauty to our lives. This is the kind of bravery my grandmothers have written on my bones. This kind of bravery is written on yours too…it is the inheritance we receive as humans.
What is something difficult you face?
1. Allow yourself a cry-on-the-bed moment to mourn the loss of what you had hoped for.
2. Accept that the difficulty probably won’t go away. So decide, who do I want to be despite this difficult thing? Set your nose to it.
3. Knock out the negative self-talk with the frying pan.
In modern life, most of us move at least once, if not several times during the course of our lives. In previous generations it was more common to stay in the place we grew up and retire at the same company we started with. Current studies show that the average time at a job in modern society is around 5 years. Often job changes mean moving. Learning to handle moving with grace can be a tremendous benefit to your happiness and your family’s well-being.
During college, I spent some time living in Kenya. I lived in a small slum outside of Nairobi and traveled each day by matatu (old VW buses repurposed as public transport for 15 people) to a rural school. We spent our days teaching children hygiene. They used frayed branches as toothbrushes and had to wipe themselves with their hands after using the toilet if they didn’t bring their own toilet paper. I’ll never forget the day I asked the children, “Where to germs come from?” They said, “Satan!” My eyes got big, and I realized we had some basics to cover! One of my favorite days was teaching the children how to dance the Virginia reel and kicking up red dirt as we twirled and laughed through it. Their natural exuberance was contagious as was their curiosity.
Part way through my time there, there were some government misunderstandings, and skepticism about our work. We were told we had to “shift.” I had never heard of this before. Our neighbors explained it meant, we had to move. We had to stop working, and change apartments. I was heartbroken—I had come to love the children and I felt I had made some in-roads with teaching. Regardless, it was time to “shift.”
As I have moved many times since then—I have come to love the idea of “shifting.” When we move, we literally do more than simply transport ourselves and our possessions from one place to another. We change. Just as a shift key on the keyboard changes a letter from lower-case to upper case, moving allows us to change who we are—to up level ourselves to something even better.
We can all expect change. We will have to move, people pass away, our health deteriorates, we lose jobs. Even changes we want and choose can be hard; when we graduate from college and enter the work force, when we get married, when we have a baby, when we leave the work force, when our last child enters kindergarten, when we retire and the list goes on. Change is a constant.
I find I often resist change because it is an ending—it means losing something I had, was, or wanted to be. Even if it’s something I don’t like, knowing something is at the end brings with it some mourning. Part of letting something go, is acknowledging how much something or someone meant to you. It’s recognizing how it’s been part of your life and imagining what life will be without it.
When we resist the emotions of disappointment, discouragement and sadness, they turn into resentment and anger. It’s such a tremendous relief to accept a sadness. Resistance requires a lot of mental and emotional space. Letting it go, frees our brains and hearts to be open to how to adapt to the change and how to solve the problem.
One way to give voice to our loss and sadness is to create rituals. Rituals can help us acknowledge endings. Our family has a little ritual at the end of each of our international postings. Each child gets to list a few places that are most important to them—a favorite restaurant, school, church, a beach, a park etc. We take a family drive and video all of our favorite and frequented places that have become part of our daily pattern in a place. We enjoy talking about them as we drive and it’s a way of saying good-bye. We try to do the same with people we love—plan a chance to say good-bye and acknowledge their presence in our lives.
Another way acknowledge pieces of our old lives in an on-going way is to hold “country nights.” We include a holiday for each country we’ve lived in on our family calendar. We celebrate our time in a particular place on the holiday for that country—we wear traditional clothing, eat local foods from that place and watch pictures from our time there. Recently we celebrated “May Day” or “Lei Day” for Hawaii. We wore leis, ate Dole Whip and watched pictures from our time there. It helps us continually bridge back to the past and commemorate our significant connections.
Grief is a clean emotion—it’s cathartic and healing. Self-pity is an indulgent emotion. There isn’t much positive that comes from it. There is a fine line between mourning and becoming a victim. I love the way CS Lewis describes this tricky space. In “A Grief Observed,” a book he wrote after his wife died he says, “I almost prefer the moments of agony. These are at least clean and honest. But the bath of self-pity, the wallow, the loathsome sticky-sweet pleasure of indulging it–that disgusts me.” We need the catharsis of processing our emotions and acknowledging them. However, once that has been accomplished, continuing to “indulge” in the “sticky-sweet pleasure” of our self-pity becomes harmful. It is when we cross this line that it’s time to channel our inner Elsa and “Let it go.”
I find the time I most want to indulge in the sticky-sweet pleasure of self-pity is a few week to a few months after we move. It’s takes tremendous energy to start fresh somewhere, particularly when it is in an unfamiliar place, culture and in an unknown language. Making friends takes time. At first everything is new and fresh, and then the newness wears off and the difficulty sets in. It’s when everything seems “hard” in our new home that my brain wants to whine and indulge in what we’ve left behind. It’s beyond the feeling of loss of our last home—it’s all the drama my brain is offering me about creating the new life and how hard it is. This is when it’s time to let go. Staying in the self-pity keeps us spinning our wheels. We just dig deep ruts instead of moving forward.
One of the things I find has helped me keep from spinning my wheels, is to create a vision of what I want our life to look like in our new place. I try to fill the void of the old with something new. One of our favorite things to do is to make a bucket list for each place we live—places we want to go and things we want to do while we live there. Often we even map out trips to nearby locations and when we will take them.
I love working out the details of the flow of our new home…who will share a room, which door will we come into, what will each child’s chores and family contributions will be. I love to research opportunities for our family to contribute in our new community. I feel like it’s easier to start new family patterns in a new place. There aren’t the old patterns in place. Everyone is shifting mindsets and starting new family plans pairs well with a move.
I love to dream big—I love to think about who I want to be in our new place. Some of the thoughts I have had include “I want to be an on-time person in this new place.” “I want to be more balanced with self-care in my new home.” “I want to be deliberate with spending.” Shifting is a bonus new beginning.
It’s hard to create amazing things without have dreamt them up first. Knowing what we are going helps us leave things behind more easily. It also gives us a template and momentum to begin creating a new life.
Even if we have mourned and visualized a new future, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed with moving. It’s a lot of work logistically and emotionally to start over. Just the boxes and re-organization alone are overwhelming, not to mention meeting new friends, finding new places of worship, and stores to obtain what we need. Often when we feel overwhelmed our natural inclination is to consume. We eat more, we watch more Netflix, we indulge in anger or irritation. We look at others and expect them to reach out to us—we want to consume their friendship. These things cause us to feel a temporary relief, but don’t address what we really crave which is happiness in our new life. When we feel the urge to consume, we can create instead. We can begin creating organization in our home, we can begin reaching out to others to invite them over to create new relationships, we can begin creating the person we want to be in our new home. It is creating that will fulfill our deepest cravings for peace.
Often our biggest enemies and intruders in creation are our own thoughts. It’s common to say things to ourselves that we would never tell someone else. “This will never work.” “It will never be as good.” “What was I thinking?” “Why did we do this?” “I’ll never make friends as good as I had before.” “I hate it here.” Ironically, these thoughts sabotage our ability to make our move a good experience.
Changing our thoughts can provide the momentum to create the new life we want. We can replace negative thoughts, with thoughts like “I got this.” “I don’t know how this will all work out, but I know it will.” “I have faith.” “I’m excited to see how this all works out.” “Hard is good.” These types of thoughts give me so much more confidence and energy to do the work of creating something new. Sometimes that sticky sweetness of self-pity seems so tempting, but being willing to set it aside and to do something new is so much sweeter.
It means introducing myself over and over again our first few months. I try not to wait for others to reach out to me, I take the responsibility of seeking people out and getting to know them. We have people over to dinner. We invite friends over for playdates. I plan the first few times I go anywhere that I will probably get lost and it will take a long time to figure out the navigation, parking etc. It usually DOES take a long time, but I expected it so I’m not frustrated. On particularly difficult days, I try to find humor in our situation and tell the events in the most dramatic way possible at family dinner or to a friend. Laughing about it is almost like an escape valve that lets of the pressure. There are always setbacks. I try to plan on them—lots of them! But the more I get out and begin creating the positive momentum the more courage I gain to keep creating.
The process of change is messy and frustrating. The process of mourning, letting go and creating new is not a neat step ladder process–it’s all mixed up at times. Sometimes I experience all of them in the same day or the same hour! No matter where I find myself in the process, when I view it all in the context of shifting to something new, something better it gives me hope and courage to keep trying.
What is a change in your life right now?
1. Think of change as a chance to up-level yourself like the shift key on the keyboard.
2. Envision the new, but make space for the old (rituals).
3. Don’t get stuck in the sticky sweetness of self-pity.
4. Start creating.
Confidence is how we feel about ourselves. It sets the stage for everything we do, and determines how well we will do it. It also determines how we feel and how we interact with others. Having self confidence is worth a high price.
The direct translation of the word “confidence” in Chinese is, “a person who believes their own words and stands by them.”
I love the way the Chinese define confidence–I think it’s insightful to learn how other cultures construct meanings of concepts. We DO feel confidence when we can trust ourselves to do what we say we will do.
Many times a day we talk to ourselves—sometimes we make informal kinds of resolutions without thinking about it: “I’m so tired, I’ve got to get to bed earlier tonight.” or “I really should take dinner to my neighbor.” Other times we promise ourselves specific things. For example, “I will lose 10 lbs.” or “I am not going to yell at my kids again.”
The way we follow through on our goals, aspirations and promises begins to add up to how we see ourselves and how we feel about ourselves. We quickly learn if we can really believe what we say to ourselves.
If you think about it—it’s the same as any other relationship we have. If I agree with a friend to go to the gym at a certain time each morning and she doesn’t show up, I lose confidence that she will come. If I see that my child rarely responds the first time I ask them to put their shoes on, I stop counting on the fact that they will do it. The same is true for ourselves.
Sometimes it feels less urgent to follow through on our own promises to ourselves because we rationalize, “it isn’t hurting anyone else, right?” Wrong. When we don’t follow through on promises to ourselves, we lose confidence and self-respect. Confidence is the foundation for all of our relationships, our contributions in the world, and our ability to bless others. It matters.
One way to build confidence is to make a simple promise yourself, and follow through. For example, a few months ago I decided I wanted to run a 5k race. I knew that meant I would need to work up slowly since I hadn’t run in many years—so I mapped out a plan for increasing my distance a little each month. I have tried to honor that commitment just like I would honor a commitment to a friend. I started with .5 miles. Each month I have increased the distance a little bit.
Last week, it was rainy and cold. I hate running in the cold, so I didn’t go running on my usual morning. Instead I did weights promising myself I’d go the next day. But the next day my girls were sick and it felt too hard to get out. Then Saturday was busy and pretty soon several days had gone by without running. My one little quit made it SO easy to get derailed. Of course, it wasn’t the end of the world, and I just got back on track the next week, but I was disappointed in myself and lost a little of my self-respect knowing I could have gone running even though it was a little uncomfortable.
This morning as I was getting ready to run, my muscles felt tight, and my husband mentioned he needed to leave a little early for work which meant I less time for my run. My brain kept suggesting I could just walk today, or I could do a shorter distance so I wouldn’t have to run faster to get back in time. But, I decided I wanted to honor my commitment to myself. I set my mind to running and decided I wouldn’t stop till my GPS said 3 miles. I really had to book it to make it back in the time I had. But, I did it! I had such a feeling of satisfaction when I saw my GPS clock 3.0 miles this morning. Talk about a hit of self-respect!
I was able to train and run my race. It was incredible to look back and see the incremental progress I made as I stuck to my pain regardless of how I felt. When I lost focus or had little quits, I got back to the plan. It felt amazing to finish the race. Not only did my confidence in running improve, but I learned that I can trust myself to set goals to do hard things and follow through. I know I can count on myself. That is true confidence.
How would you rate your confidence on a scale of 1 to 10?
To increase your confidence, promise yourself to do something small, and follow through. Every time. Even when you don’t feel like it. Even when things come up. You will be surprised at the incredible self-respect you begin to develop.