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Monthly Archives: December 2017

Starting Over

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I’m always a little disappointed when people say they don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. Call me Pollyannaish, but I believe in starting the new year with the intention to improve on the person I was before. Even if it means renewing my commitment to the same resolution, year after year.

Here’s why. After years of practicing and teaching mindfulness and self-compassion, and helping people choose goals that are actually in their control, I’ve come to realize that we don’t have control over a lot of things. Our genes. Our upbringing. The circumstances we find ourselves in. The behavior of others. None of this is in our control.

In fact, we can have the goal of being mindful and do something mindless a few minutes later. We can say I’m giving up chocolate and then eat some right before working out and get sick. (Which I did last night.) We can have the goal of working out but then decide to start tomorrow. (Which I didn’t do. I talked myself into working out. Yay!)

As intentional as I try to be, I make the same mistakes over and over. Pick ill-advised shots in tennis. Weigh myself three times in a row. Screw my sleep cycle up. Say yes instead of no.

But I don’t beat myself up over it…as much. I am more self-forgiving. Recently on my blog FB page I posted quotes from Mother Teresa, one of which says “God doesn’t require us to succeed, he only requires that you try.” I have always believed this to be true. This is how I reconcile the goal of being good with the inevitability of failure, given that we’re human. Knowing that we’re going to fail isn’t a reason not to try. It’s not about the end goal; it’s about how you choose to live your life.

I think of New Year’s resolutions as a way to embrace this philosophy, whether or not you believe in God. It’s a chance for us to decide what intention we want to begin the year with. How do we want to try to live our lives? If it happens to be the same resolution that you had last year, then that just means that your values haven’t changed.

This year my goal is to be more disciplined. Which seems simple but it applies to every aspect of my life. Disciplined in my sleep routine. In watching the ball. In practicing mindfulness. But mainly the 2 things I’m working on are strength training, because you don’t have to be athletic or talented to get in shape, and cooking, because I struggle with feeding myself.

I actually started working on these goals a few months ago. I joined the gym where Romeo works and work out at home when I can’t make it. And we started doing the Hello Fresh meals, which are expensive and a chore to cook and we’re both still hungry afterwards. But we don’t have to come up with meals on our own or grocery shop as much, and we’re becoming better cooks. And it’s harder to blow off cooking if you know you spent 20 freaking dollars on that meal.

Before I wrote this post I looked up my New Year’s resolutions for last year, and they were to focus on being mindful, compassionate, and accepting. And to write more blog posts. Being mindful, compassionate, and accepting have become a way of life for me, so I would say that I “succeeded” in those goals. But I only wrote half as many blog posts as I did in 2016. So I guess I’ll renew my commitment to blogging and see if I can improve in 2018.

Accepting Love

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I always find reading previous journal entries enlightening. Here’s an excerpt from 7 years ago about my struggle to be “normal”:

There’s always this doubt that I’m doing things right. Like if I’m passing for a normal human being. I have to learn what normal people do from observation and piece it all together. Like maybe the way someone feels when they have a learning disability in a non-disabled world. You kind of don’t want to have to point out to people that you don’t get it so you pretend that you do.

A clear precursor to Normal in Training.

I mentioned in my last post that I’ve been reading journals from way back. Once I got past the entries about Rick Springfield and started having real relationships, it was difficult to read some of them with compassion because I was so frickin’ crazy. I know I still struggle with accepting love, but back then I was downright out of touch with reality.

In one entry, a friend of mine would repeatedly call me in the middle of the night to tell me that he loved me. Granted, he was drunk every time, but based on my experience in working with college students, it is when a person is drunk that they often reveal their deep, dark secrets. I have an eating disorder. I think about suicide. I’m in love with you.

My response in my journal was, I wonder what he means by that? I’m going to have to ask him next time. As I read this, I was like, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you delusional?! Is it not obvious what someone means when they tell you they love you? And then the next line was, why doesn’t anyone like me? Which was even more maddening to read. No wonder my ex boyfriends would tell me that nothing was ever enough.

I get it now, though. I couldn’t take in anything good. I didn’t believe I was lovable, and there was nothing that anyone could say to convince me otherwise.

I have been depressed for the past few weeks because, even though I did a much better job of saying no and conserving my psychological energy, eventually my work load was beyond what I am capable of carrying. Because I have such good friends, many of them recognized the signs (not being social, turning down tennis) and checked on me, invited me to dinner, sent me food. Because they know me well enough to know that I never have food.

It was difficult for me to accept their love. I have the same reaction to love as I do to pain. I can feel myself tightening up, trying to brace myself against it. It’s the craziest thing. But since I was practicing mindfulness, I did what I do when I realize I’m trying not to experience pain–I let myself feel it. Consent to it. I imagined giving the love space, letting it move within me and around me, and to express itself in whatever way it wanted to. I told myself that it was OK to let them love me.

I often tell clients that receiving love is not selfish. It is a gift, and refusing it hurts the person who is giving it. That it is more generous to accept it with gratitude than to tell the person that you don’t deserve it and list all of the reasons why. I actually told a client this yesterday.

I also told a friend that this is what I’ve been trying to do to make myself feel better, so now he reminds me that I have great friends who love me, and that I need to let them. Which pisses me off. Because even though it’s good advice–my advice–I still don’t like to be told what to do. He knows about this flaw, as well as all of my other flaws, but he loves me, anyway. I’m trying to let myself believe that, at least.

And you know what? It really did help. So I’m going to add it to my list of strategies of what to do when I’m depressed–to let people love me.