Re-writing Those Darn Old Stories

I just wrapped up a 5-week Compassionate Communication class. The last session of the class always focuses on self-empathy. That theme runs throughout the entire class, but we take a whole session at the end to delve into topic and practice. We identify some of the mean messages we tell ourselves- the ones that judge, criticize, shame, and blame. One of my teachers calls it the Path to Self-Destruction, or if taken to its greatest extreme, the Path to Suicide.

Somewhere along the way most of us have internalized unkind messages so deeply that we now hear them in our own voice and we believe them. Even when we develop habits that may serve our well-being (eating healthy foods, getting enough sleep, exercising), we might do them with an undertone of shame, blame, or threat to ourselves.

In the class, after identifying the self-violent messages, we notice the feelings associated with the message and the needs beneath the message. Seeing the needs, we name some strategies, small steps we might take to meet the needs that we’ve uncovered. I’ve noticed that sometimes people identify strategies that are just as unkind as the initial messages they’re working with- those “should,” “have to”, “need to” messages, or straight out demands, “Do this!” The strategies are still coming from a place of self-judgment, rather than self-understanding and compassion. In those cases, we may dig a little deeper into the person’s feelings and needs and then work together to brainstorm other ways to meet the needs that incorporate self-kindness.

In The Artist’s Way, one of the weekly tasks is to work with this (slightly modified) mantra: Treating myself like a precious gift makes me strong. I love this mantra. I use it when I notice myself getting all self-judgy. Recently I found myself in a storm of self-judgment, questioning my value to other people, and deeper than that, my value, period. Then I remembered my mantra. I wrote it in my journal enough times to move me out of the story of unworthiness and stagnation and into one of worthiness, one with a new plot line. In the new story, I was my own hero. I was kind to myself. I remembered that my worth is not dependent on anyone else’s opinions or actions toward me. I took action to meet my needs. I re-wrote the story. It felt good!

The tricky part about these stories is that when we re-write them, we may think we’ve done so with permanent ink. We celebrate! Then we look at the paper to see the ink fading to invisibility, and the old story appearing again.

It may take us by surprise. It may make us weary. “That again?” And we so we do the work again, re-write the story again, perhaps with new plot twists, perhaps with the ones that have been successful before. 

We’re all works in progress. Re-writing the story is an ongoing process. It’s a practice. It’s an experiment. We can do it alone, but I think it’s best when we find the right people to write with, the ones who can support us in becoming our own heroes and to whom we can offer the same.

Shall we write together?

You Have Choice

I've been thinking a lot lately about choices. About how often we limit our own sense of choicefulness. 

"I have to..." "I need to..." "I must..." "I can't..." "I had no other choice but to..." You get the picture. 

I've done this. I still do this at times, sometimes consciously, sometimes not. As I think about this theme, I'm increasingly aware that these have to-need to-must-can't things we say are a myth. We always have choice. The circumstances that we're making choices in may not be realities we've created. The options we see before us may not align with our desires, but we do get to choose. And maybe we even get to choose an option that's not presented to us. 

About a year ago I got into a long email battle with American Airlines about compensation for a 6-hour flight delay due to mechanical issues. I stated what I felt was fair compensation for the time lost. The customer service rep made a meager offer in return. I restated my same desire. The rep upped his offer, but it still wasn't close to what I had asked for. I restated my desire. He gave me two options. I said I'd like both. After another back and forth, he consented. It took a lot of time and energy. I had both to give. 

In the grand scheme of things, getting that compensation did not affect my day-to-day life. But it reminded me that I don't have to settle for what's offered to me if it doesn't feel right. My minor success with American Airlines makes me think of what's possible when the stakes are higher, when the powers I'm facing are more daunting, and when I'm not the only one raising my voice.

I say we have choice with the awareness that there are many factors that can limit our sense of choice.  Poverty and where we fit into economic systems may limit our sense of choice. Finite resources of time and energy may limit our sense of choice. Power systems and the people in them that view and treat my actions as a white, cisgender, straight woman differently than they do the same actions by a Black woman, Latinx man, LGBTQ person, transgender person, etc. may limit our sense of choice. Those same systems are the ones telling us that we have to-need to-must-can’t do X, Y, or Z to the point that we’ve internalized the message and keep ourselves "in line" even when it doesn't serve us to do so. 

What if we choose not to believe in those limits?

What if we embrace a sense of choicefulness?

What if, instead of “I have to…”, we try on “I am allowed to…” or “I get to…” or “I choose to…” when we talk about things that align with our values, even if they’re hard or tiring (the things parents do for children, adults do for aging parents, activists do for causes)? It feels very different in our bodies to say “I have to…” rather than “I am allowed to…” or “I get to…” or “I am choosing to…”

What if, when presented with A and B, both of which seem like terrible options, we request C? And when we’re told “no,” we ask for C again or ask for D or demand E until we find a strategy that meets our needs and aligns with our values, or at least begins to do so. What if, when all this back and forth exhausts us, we ask for help? We may not get it, but what if we do? Or what if we choose to rest so we can come back and keep trying?  

We have choice.   

Maybe this idea is really scary. I know it is for me sometimes. But feeling choiceless doesn’t feel too great either. I’d rather lean into a space where I’m scared and embracing choice than one in which I feel helpless and hand my fate to others who may not have my best interest, or the best interest of people I care about, at heart.

We have choice. We don’t have control over the outcome of our choices, but we do have choice.

I invite you to bring more consciousness to your choices. Your yeses and nos.

See how it feels. Let me know.

I may be writing about this topic again, because a bazillion (it’s a real word, I checked Miriam-Webster) other thoughts about this topic are racing through my mind, but I’m choosing to leave them for another day. 

You Don't Have to Set Yourself on Fire

These thoughts aren't polished, but they are sincere... from Love’s refining fire in my last post to this…

A few years ago I received the mug in the attached picture. It was before I had deeply engaged with Compassionate Communication, before I had even heard of The Artist's Way, before I had an awareness of how committed I was to serving the needs of others to the detriment of meeting my own. Somehow over many years, I had given up my sense of play. I wasn't listening to music very much. I had internalized that because there was suffering in the world, enjoying life...ever... was ignoring the suffering in the world and, therefore, not acceptable. My life appeared big in many ways because I was doing human rights work in Palestine for weeks to months each year and I was doing good work otherwise, but I wasn't very happy. I rarely allowed myself to be happy because in my mind it would be a betrayal to people who were carrying most of the weight of systemic oppressions. My willful commitment misery was going to save the world. 

Fast forward to now.  I am still aware that there is suffering in the world. I am also aware that if I want to maintain a long-term commitment to alleviating suffering and working toward collective liberation, I must, must, must tend to my own needs for play, expression, relaxation, community, and more. My own liberation... I now know that tending to my needs will, in fact, give me the energy I need to address the suffering in the world that I find so deeply troubling. Tending to my needs with others doing the same is an act of co-creation, even if only for a few hours, of the kind of world we want to live in- one built on foundations of mutual care, joy, acceptance, play, safety, and more.

I am learning also that I am allowed to meet my own needs, even if doing so may not meet someone else's needs.

I am not required to set myself on fire to keep others warm.

This feels huge. I am allowed to say no. I am allowed to honor my own clearly stated boundaries. I am allowed to interrupt dynamics that are pulling more from me than they are giving. Doing these things allows me to give more joyful and energized yeses to work that calls me and that serves the well-being of the world. Sometimes my work feels small, sometimes it feels large. Either way, I am learning to trust that both the effects of the work and a more balanced approach to it ripple out. 

At the moment I'm about halfway through The Artist's Way with 3 groups, halfway through leading a Compassionate Communication class, and I'm taking a class for women entrepreneurs. These things both energize and tire me, but it's the good kind of tired. To fill myself up, I've been taking a drawing class- play! Learning! I am also taking a drumming class- more play! Expression! CommUnity!

My life is full with these and a few smaller things, and it is also more balanced than it was when I received the mug. I can thank both my study and practice of Compassionate Communication and my several times through The Artist's Way for this move toward balance and boundaries. This is a work in progress. I am a work in progress.

I am grateful that the only fire I experience regularly now comes from burning candles and using sage or palo santo for cleansing and ritual (which also bring more balance to my life).

I sincerely hope that you are literally and figuratively fire-free, that you have balance and boundaries that nourish you in whatever ways you most need. This Valentine's week, I hope that you find warmth not from self-sacrifice that burns you up, but from giving profound love and care to yourself and those who are dear to you and from receiving and accepting the love that is offered you.