Most of us have a particularly nasty piece of mental exercise equipment that we use often despite its pain-inducing consequences.

It comes with a high price tag, but not in the way you’d think.

It’s portable and goes wherever we go, even when we wish we’d left it in the basement.

It’s there for us when we’ve eaten most of a gallon of Chunky Monkey ice cream, spoke harshly to a loved one, or failed to get that promotion.

Meet your ass-kicking machine.

It talks to us quite cruelly – like the bully you dealt with in middle school or a drill sergeant. It loves the words “should” and “shouldn’t” and generally makes us feel like a sorry excuse for a human being.

It would be great if this particular machine resulted in great abs or triceps at the end of a session, but it usually just results in remorse and guilt.

I’ve tried putting my ass-kicking machine at the curb many times. But lo and behold, it reappears, like the Terminator who keeps re-forming each time he gets blown up.

So, what is the healthiest way to deal with yourself when you make an unhealthy choice or identify an area for improvement?

Sparring with the ass-kicking machine never works. Ignoring the ass-kicking machine never works. Letting the ass-kicking machine have its way with you never works.

What does seem to work is acceptance, forgiveness and love.

When situations occur that are painful, or in which you have caused pain in yourself or others, stop. Breathe. Accept what is. Acceptance doesn’t mean endorsement — it is acknowledgement. And until you accept, you can’t move on. In the meantime, you’ll make so many trips back to fix the past you’ll get platinum frequent flier status.

Forgive. This can be hard, because we are so tough on ourselves. Again, forgiveness doesn’t mean you’re letting yourself off the hook and it’s okay to go back for the rest of that Chunky Monkey. It is an extension of acceptance with compassion for yourself for being human, and trying to meet a need.

Love. Again, sometime difficult, because while we say we love ourselves, much of the time that love comes with conditions. I’ll love myself when I lose 15 pounds. When I get that executive title. When I make six figures a year. When I quit smoking.

The key is to love ourselves first, and the other changes will fall into place much easier.

There are times I hate the ass-kicking machine. But when I recognize it as the part of me that deep down wants me to become the best I can be, I can soften and find some acceptance, forgiveness and love.

 

 

 

This is a story about hope and a 40-something carpenter named Tom, who has hair the color of roasted carrots and is never without a smile and his Big Gulp of diet Mountain Dew. He owns next to nothing but considers himself wealthy. He only has a high-school education but is one of the wisest people I’ve ever met.

We sat down in a park one warm August day and he told me about hope and how it held him up during the darkest times of his life.

“A few months before I started a new construction job, I noticed a spot on my back.  It was a funky freckle, and I wanted it off, because it was going to bother me if I was working. So, I went to the dermatologist to have it removed, and she told me they’d send it to a pathologist to check it out.

“Then I got a call to come back in immediately, and in one hour it went from just a follow up visit to being told I’m having a massive surgery to remove all my lymph nodes. She said ‘After that you’re going to see an oncologist.  There’s going to be radiation, chemotherapy, palliative care.  What do you do for a living?  You’re a carpenter?  Oh. Well, you’re not going to be banging nails anymore.  You’re going on disability because this is very serious.’  And the last thing she said was, ‘But there’s hope.’

“I’ve been through six surgeries to remove the cancer, two rounds of chemo, a clinical trial that had to be cancelled, innumerable PET scans, MRIs, CT scans, just about every test imaginable out there.  And I’ve learned so much.  Even though I started losing hope so many times, I’ve seen God through it all — appearing at just the right time.

“I was going through a clinical trial and I was hurting bad.  It was supposed to go on for a year and I was only three weeks in and I was so sick. I said, ‘I’m done. I don’t want this clinical trial anymore.’  I’m sitting in the reception area at the U of M Cancer Center, and the pediatric infusion unit was right at the end of the hall and this lady came walking out with her son who was about maybe six or seven.  And it hit me:  I had lived a life.  And this little kid might not even be able to get a driver’s license, might not be able to experience his first love.  That was God at work saying, ‘You get your ass in there and you do this because you might be helping somebody else.”  And I did it.  I got through it.  I got that hope back that I had lost.

“Another time I was in the hospital undergoing chemo, and I was violently ill and ready to give up. I told the oncologist: ‘I can’t take this.  This is only the third day.  I got two more days to go through this and then I got to come back a week later and go through it again.’ And he said to me, ‘Why don’t you just get through today?’ I knew he was right. As he left the room, he said, ‘You should get up and walk.’

“I felt hope again. I was walking down the hallway and happened to look into one of the rooms and there’s one of those little beds you see in a maternity ward with a IVs going into it.  And this little hand reached out.  I lost my self-pity right there.  I pulled hope back in, put God back in control and said, ‘I only have to do this today.’

“And not only was I walking around, I went to visit to other people in that ward and talked to them.  Some of them didn’t want to talk.  I could understand.  But it really helped me to get out of myself and say, ‘Look, man, there’s hope for you.  I know it’s hard.  Look at me.  I look like death, but I got hope and I’m doing good.  I feel like crap but I’m doing all right because I only got today.’

“Here I am today. I still have cancer.  It’s not active.  I’m powerless over whether that comes back or not.  But I’m not powerless over how I respond to it.

“It makes me feel good to help other people.  I do scroll-saw work and made a Christmas ornament that says “hope.”  I usually carry some on me – I keep some in my car and hand them out to people who look like they’re having a bad day. And to see the change on their face, to see the change in them, is amazing. It’s like, “Wow, thank you.”

When we were finished talking, Tom went to his car and brought back one of the wooden hope ornaments and gave it to me, so I’d remember, too.

This is a season of celebration, but it’s also stressful and tough for many people. Whatever you may be going through, hang on to hope. Hug it. Cling to it. Lash yourself to it if you have to. But don’t ever let go.

Have a hopeful, peaceful holiday, my friends.

 

 

 

 

When people are asked to make a change in their behavior, they often have one of the following reactions:

“I can’t.”

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“It’s just the way I am.”

“I’m (fill in ethnic group); therefore, I’m (rigid, depressed, crabby, lazy, prone to temper tantrums, etc.)

Are these statements true? If you believe they are, they will be, because our beliefs drive our behavior.

But, behavior repeated over and over is a habit, and habits are not genetic traits. Researchers have yet to find an anger gene or a crabby gene. And like all patterns in our brain, habits can be changed.

Not to say it’s easy. In fact, it can be downright uncomfortable.

If you’ve ever cross country skied on trails before, you know how effortless it is to follow trails that were already made by others who skied that way before. Trying to create your own new trail in 8 inches of snow is much harder. You end up sliding back into the already established grooves.

That is your brain on habits, which are well-traveled connections between neurons that have fired together so often they’re fused. Repeating the habit or pattern is “easy” and comfortable. Changing the pattern — making new neural connections – is unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but is so good for our brain.

So….

-Yes, you can.

-Old dogs can learn new tricks.

-These are only behavior patterns you’ve learned and memorized.

-And no matter what your heritage, there are loving, happy, patient, grateful people who share it with you. Be one of them.

Happy Thanksgiving.

 

The other morning, I was going through my kindergarten through eighth grade report cards that my mother had lovingly saved through the years. The A’s (and a few A pluses) and comments affirmed my identity as a perfect student, an overachiever and well-liked by all the teachers.

As I sat there, I wondered what I should do. Do I need to save these reminders? If I recycle them, will I suddenly not be all those things? More importantly, do I need to be those things anymore?

At the very beginning of this journey, I said the goal wasn’t to find myself, it was to free myself.

Yes, we are blessed with an abundance of freedom: We can go where we want, worship what we want, eat what we want, say what we want, live where we want, love who we want, dress how we want, and so on.

But at the same time, we build our own confines out of clutter (physical and mental), fear, and limiting thought patterns and behaviors. Think about it:

• If you’re attached to a bad memory, you’re not free
• If you’re re-living a 20-year-old grudge, you’re not free
• If you’re pre-living an imagined failure, you’re not free
• If you can’t get rid of your fourth-grade report card, thesis or business cards from three jobs ago, you’re not free
• If you can’t donate or throw away the clothes you might fit into someday (let’s be honest, here), you’re not free

Letting go is so unfamiliar to us because we’re accustomed to being in control. But let go we must if we want to be free.

What are you hanging onto? What can’t you part with?

I was in San Francisco recently and decided to take a quick walk to the CVS next to my hotel to get some Diet Pepsi. Just before the entrance, there was a homeless man and his elderly dog, with a small sign that simply said, “Please help.”

I felt that pull of compassion in my heart and, for a moment, his hopelessness. So, I bought him some trail mix, water, and a bag of Purina for his dog, and gave it to him as I left.

As I walked away toward my four-star hotel, I started to cry – for this man and all the millions more homeless and hurting people that I couldn’t help. And then I felt overwhelmed by the fact that I could spend every waking minute of every day helping people and would never make a dent in the world’s suffering. It’s like taking a bucket of water out of the ocean – you will never, ever make it look any different, much less empty it.

But this was just one perspective, one angle, one story of what happened – one limiting thought pattern that says “Don’t bother, it won’t do any good anyways.”

Life and our actions are not two-dimensional. There are an infinite number of possibilities that could have occurred from this interaction. Perhaps others saw the gesture and likewise helped this man or others like him on other street corners. Perhaps this man felt – even for a brief moment – a sense of faith in humanity. Perhaps his dog felt full for the first time in days.

Or perhaps none of these happened. I don’t know, and I will never know.

What I do know is that deciding not to help one person because it won’t change the world is a flawed assumption. The important thing is it made a difference to this man, and it made a difference to me.

In a previous post I talked about Fear as the Winter Warlock in a beloved Christmas special. To soften that feeling, I imagined the scene where Santa gives the scary sorcerer a toy, and he melts into a nice guy and ally. Cue the cute music. The End.

But as nice as that would be, it really isn’t. Fear, or any strong emotion, can be downright cunning and will not be dismissed so easily. It shapeshifts. Comes at you from a different angle. Tries a different tack. But that doesn’t mean we’re powerless. The same methods that worked with Winter still can work with another face of fear, which lately happens to be a nasty drill sergeant (think Lou Gossett Jr., in “An Officer and a Gentleman”).

Imagine this conversation:

Me: I’m thinking about writing a book.

Drill Sergeant: STAND DOWN. YOU CAN’T DO THIS. YOU’VE NEVER DONE THIS. AND EVEN IF YOU DO, YOU’LL FAIL.

(All caps intended – he likes to YELL.)

Me: Well, you’ve got some good points. I have never done this. But there are resources out there.

Drill Sergeant: YOU MUST LISTEN TO ME! I OWN YOU! I ORDER YOU TO STAND DOWN! DROP AND GIVE ME 20 AND THEN GET BACK TO YOUR LIFE.

Me: Thank you, voice, for always speaking up and trying to ensure my safety and security. I appreciate your input. But my growth requires that I take a step, just one small step, toward doing something that fulfills me.

Drill Sergeant (louder and more strident): YOU CAN’T DO THIS!

Me (trying to soften the situation and imagining Lou Gossett in a Halston gown): That’s a nice pink dress you’re wearing……Sir.

I’m learning that when it comes to fear, insight isn’t inoculation. It helps, yes, but unless we take the actions that lead to behavior change, the power of insight and knowledge is limited. And putting on your red shoes and running is pointless. Fear will just give chase.

I’m learning that the key is to take a small step, almost like tiptoeing around a sleeping guard dog. Any project we undertake, whether at work or on a part of ourselves, always begins with just one step. And it can be a very small step. Open a new PowerPoint file. Make one phone call. Set up a meeting with a client. Google publishers that take new authors. Drink one glass of water a day.

And I’m learning to stay in the present moment. As someone who spends so much time in the future I ought to pay property taxes there, I know it’s tough. I’m not very good at it. But I keep trying, and trust that the right next step will be revealed when it’s time.

 

Many of us fuse to our jobs like marriage – we promise to love, honor and obey in profit and loss, growth and downsizing, till death or bankruptcy do us part.

It’s very easy to lose your sense of self, because most of us come to believe we “are” our job, and our whole identity is summed up in a 2 x 3 card bearing our name, title and company logo. We’ve been taught we are only as worthy as our accomplishments or accolades, which will be ours if we just work hard enough.

In pursuit of that, many of us continue to be wed to an unappreciative company or boss, putting in 12-14 hours a day and getting little gratitude, attention, or reward. It’s like the disinterested spouse hearing the litany of your day’s accomplishments and responding, “Okay, but you forgot the ketchup, and the cat litter isn’t cleaned.”

So, we double down and work harder, sure that appreciation or reward will be around the next corner, after the next project, after the next big sale. Again, we get little acknowledgment of our efforts. But we do get another project to handle because no one else will do it. And we take it on – thinking surely “If I knock this out of the park, they’ll finally recognize my worth.”

And the cycle continues – not too different from continuing to put money in a slot machine and believing the jackpot will pour out, coins clinking and lights flashing after the next pull of the lever. Red shoes of the highest order.

I see this so clearly in others now because I have been that person at times in my life (it’s like being a former smoker who can smell cigarette smoke three blocks away).

The choices I’ve made no longer place me in these situations. In some cases, I’ve walked away. But the peace and serenity I now have are a daily reminder why it’s important to set boundaries and care for ourselves first and foremost.

I now know this: Your self-worth and self-esteem cannot depend on the validation you get from bosses, coworkers, even friends or family. If it is, you will be in a fluctuating state of elation then disappointment, then resentment, then emptiness.

But when your self-worth comes from that inner knowing that you are valuable, special and enough no matter what, you will be more centered and complete. You don’t need a pat on the head to realize you’re smart and talented – you acknowledge it every time you look in a mirror.

Of course, praise and recognition are still a welcome validation of your creativity and hard work.

But they will no longer be life support.

 

 

 

One of the most frustrating emotions most people experience is anxiety – you can’t stop worrying, you replay conversations over and over in your head, or you imagine the very worst thing that could happen. At these times, you’d kill for an “off” switch in your brain to stop the noise.

The Buddhists have a term for this incessant mental restlessness or internal dialogue: Monkey Mind – named for the way these thoughts, like monkeys, seem to just swing from one worrisome idea to the next like tree branches. I tend to think of mine as Flying Monkey Mind, and they seem to get really active when I’m trying to go to sleep.

So, at night, when the flying monkeys are having a pillow fight in my head, instead of getting frustrated and buying into their icky brand of anxiety, I’ve tried visualizing myself gathering them up, putting them to bed and pulling up the covers. I kiss them good night and tell them I’ll see them in the morning. It’s a softer response, and while it may sound crazy to be kissing anxiety on the forehead and wishing it sweet dreams, by God it seems to work.

Fear responds in the same way. When I feel my lizard brain (the primitive limbic system) kicking the old fight-or-flight response into gear, I imagine fear as the Winter Warlock from “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Remember him? Scary voice, ice cold, pops up out of nowhere, threatens to capture Kris Kringle and never let him go? It feels like fear does the same thing to us. But what happens when Kris Kringle gives the Winter Warlock a toy train, aka shows him some compassion? The icy, scary part melts, and Winter morphs into an ally.

Maybe these strong emotions are just parts of us that need a little extra love. So, when you’re feeling nervous, scared, down, or overwhelmed, try softening your response. Instead of resisting or trying to get rid of the emotion, face it and give it a hug, or a glass of milk. And see what happens.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Independence Day!

While we’ll be setting off fireworks and celebrating our country’s liberty today, it also felt like a good time to light an internal sparkler or two to celebrate all the hard work we do to ensure our inner freedom.

By this I mean freedom from all the “red shoes” of negative thought patterns and behaviors, and addictions of all sorts (anger, cigarettes, beer, binge-watching Netflix) — anything that keeps us imprisoned in a state the Small Self calls “safe” but the Higher Self calls “stifling.”

This is relentless work, and can be scary as hell, because your small self will convince you all sorts of danger exists on the other side if you give up gambling, gaming or the cushy job that sucks the life out of you. And while that fear feels REALLY real, it only exists in your head.

If you’ve ever worked hard a particularly tough habit or made a decision in favor of freedom, you know the amazing buoyancy you feel when you realize you’re not a slave to it anymore. That relief and utter joy on the other side is way bigger than any fear.

Happy freedom day. Here’s to kicking off some red shoes.

When daily demands start piling up, and the task list goes double-digit, does your self-care go directly to the bottom of the pile?

Most of us believe we’re meeting our needs by getting stuff done – achieving, pushing, doing, driving. And in some ways, these accomplishments feel fabulous – look at how I just scorched that to-do list! But damn if that insane “not-so merry”-go-round is waiting there for us at 3 a.m. when we wake up in a panic over the thing we forgot, or the email we didn’t send, or how in the world we’ll get through today’s to-do’s.

So, we hop on that crazy ride, get stuff done, achieve, push, do, drive, and at the end of the day, we’re too exhausted to even consider that maybe our bodies and minds had needs, too. It doesn’t help that most of us battle with the belief that if we’re not producing or accomplishing, then we are not whole. But the merry-go-round isn’t pointed toward fulfillment, it’s just rinse and repeat of the same craziness.

Do you ever feel that nagging need for ease – the knowing that self and soul need something else?

A couple things that have helped me slow down include:

1. Read a thought-provoking or inspirational book. My latest favorite is “Leadership and Self-Deception” by the Arbinger Institute.
2. Meditate. If I’m caught in a productivity loop, I will dismiss meditation with an “I’m too busy.” But even if I close my eyes for one minute and count my in-breaths and out-breaths, it’s one minute that I slowed down my flying monkey mind.
3. Sit outside and look at the water. For whatever reason, this works for me. Maybe it’s raising my perspective, knowing there’s something greater than me out there, I don’t know.
4. Schedule self-care time on my calendar (good for those of us who won’t do it if it’s not on the schedule).

How do you reboot? I’d love to hear what works for you.