Category Archives: Self-Acceptance

Can We Really Learn From the Past?

We are facing a difficult time in American history. A time that is eerily similar to previous periods of history where lots of bad things happened–in our country and around the world. People often say that we study history so that we can avoid repeating it. But I’m not sure that’s a given. Take the Bible, for example. In Genesis we learn early on about a sibling rivalry that turned murderous. And when God asked Cain where his brother was, he asked sarcastiically if he was his brother’s keeper. So murdering of family members, denial, lies, and gaslighting have been around for the entire existence of the human race.

Moreover, when Jesus was preaching about how to enter the kingdom of God, he did not primarily use history lessons from the Old Testament as teaching tools. He didn’t have a parable on the Ten Commandments that talked about how not killing others came from the first murder with Cain slaying his brother Abel. In fact, he primarily utilized parables about made-up people like the Prodigal Son, the Good Samaritan, and that poor guy who made a donation even though he had nothing, and therefore will more likely make it to the kingdom of God than some rich dude who donates a lot of money.

For those of you who don’t take the Bible literally or don’t see it as a historical text to be studied in this manner, I’ll use some examples from history. While it’s true that I’m no historian, I read a lot of historical fiction, and I’ve learned a lot more about history from books than I ever did in history classes. And in piecing together all the information I’ve learned from different books, it has become clear to me that war never ends. There is rarely a period of peace before we have to worry about another enemy who we eventually end up fighting.

For example, I just finished reading The Huntress, by Kate Quinn, which I highly recommend. This is not an important detail of the story, so just as a heads up, I’m not ruining anything for you. I learned from the book that after WWII, the US was not particularly concerned about bringing Nazis to justice. That was in the past, and we should just forget about it and move on. In addition, I remember from the movie Oppenheimer that even before we got involved in the war, we were much more worried about Communists. And as soon as WWII was over, we went back to snuffing out Communists. And this fear of Communism eventually led to another war, the Vietnam War, among other related wars around the world, without a whole lot of peace resulting from the war that was supposed to end all wars.

As a psychologist, I do feel confident in my observations about whether knowing about our personal history can help us from repeating our past, both from a personal perspective and from being a licensed therapist for 25 years. Spoiler alert: the short answer is yes, it’s possible, but it’s not easy, and in my opinion, not common.

A lot of psychologists have discredited Freud, the grandfather of talk therapy, but he actually made some fairly astute observations, in addition to his wacky ones. One of the astute observations was the idea of the repetition compulsion. This term refers to a pattern of behavior in which we continue to choose partners who are similar to someone from our past where the relationship didn’t go so well. Usually this person is a parent, since they are the first people we have a meaningful relationship with. Often this repetition is unconscious, and our goal, unbeknownst to us, is to have a similar relationship to the one from our past and to have it turn out better than it did the first time. We believe this will give us some sense of mastery, some assurance that it wasn’t our fault, a sense of agency, and hope that that not everyone who is broken (our parent, ourselves) is doomed to a miserable existence. Unfortunately, usually what happens in a repetition compulsion is that things turn out exactly as they did in the past, and we end up getting hurt over and over again in the exact same way.

One of the goals of therapy is to help the person see that they are making the same mistake over and over again in their choice of partner so that they can learn to choose something different and have a chance of a different outcome. But this is not easy to do. People like Cain, who hurt others and use denial, lies, and gaslighting to blame others for their mistakes, don’t usually go to therapy, and when they’re forced to go they don’t usually benefit from therapy. They don’t learn why they were so jealous in the first place, and what they can do besides murdering people when jealousy arises. So the violence usually gets repeated.

Even with the people who are sincere about wanting to change, to learn from their mistakes, change happens very slowly. Take me and my blog, for example. If you’ve been reading it all these years, then you know that I keep making the same mistakes over again, despite practicing, being in therapy, being a therapist, and writing about my experiences. Have things gotten better? Yes. I’m way better off than before I started therapy, my blog, my job, and my mindfulness practice. But it has taken a long time. And I’m still in therapy. And I still keep making the same mistakes.

Changing history is akin to making a big life change, like changing your eating and exercise habits because you’ve had a heart attack. It’s a lifelong practice that you have to work on regularly. The more effort you put in, the sooner you see results, but it will still take a while. And as soon as you stop putting in effort, you lose all your progress and have to start over again.

So can we learn from our mistakes and keep from repeating history? Yes, but it will require hard work. And we all have to be on board, because like in the military or as a member of a sports team, one person’s mistake makes the whole group suffer.

Going back to the Bible, the best way to start is by taking Jesus’s non-historical advice: rather than looking at the speck in your brother’s eye, pay attention to the log in your own eye. In other words, spend less time worrying about what’s wrong with what other people are doing and think about how you can free yourself from your own mistakes.

P.S. For a closer read on the sibling rivalry between Cain and Abel, check out John Steinbeck’s East of Eden.

Lovingkindness Experiment: Month 1

Since my announcement that I am offering a group lovingkindness meditation once a week to anyone who is interested, I’ve had 5 meditation sessions so far with varying numbers of people attending. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, and so far the group meditation has been small in number but powerful in impact. Here are some of the things I’ve witnessed so far:

  1. It really works. I’ve been doing the lovingkindness meditation on my own for several months and I can already tell it’s changing me. Like, one day I was lost in this huge medical complex and couldn’t figure out what building I was supposed to go to for my appointment. When I parked and got out of my car, after driving the entire perimeter of the complex, I looked around and thought, wow, so many people hurting in this small space. So I decided to send out lovingkindness to everyone in the area. It was just a spur or the moment thing. I had even forgotten that I had done it until much letter. But lately, I’ve had the urge to do that sort of thing.
  2. It’s even more powerful with others. I know Jesus said something like “when 2 or more are gathered together in my name…” something happens. Maybe it’s something like your prayers will be answered, but I don’t necessarily believe that all prayers are answered. Like God is a genie in a bottle or something. But I think when people come together for loving purposes, the love is magnified. A synergistic effect. Like mixing benzos with alcohol. But don’t do that. That’s bad for you. Come to the meditation instead and see what it’s like to feel the power of love magnified.
  3. We can ease our own pain. I decided on a whim that rather than just focusing on the lovingkindness I would start with a breathing meditation and body scan just to give people the feel of what a full meditation is like. After the first session, the people who had attended that session acknowledged that they had all been experiencing chronic pain but by the end of the meditation it was gone. Not forever, of course. But that’s why it’s called a practice. Check in with yourself every now and then. Send comfort to where you feel pain. It will make you feel better.
  4. It’s getting easier to “love my enemy.” This step is one of the hardest parts of the practice–sending lovingkindness to someone who you find difficult to love. Perhaps because they’ve hurt you, someone you care about, or people in general. But people who hurt are hurting, and if they weren’t hurting they might be lifting others up instead, as this group has committed to do. Sometimes you have to send them different gifts. Maybe things like, may they feel compassion. May they be self-aware. May they feel their feelings. These are, after all, the things that help people in therapy.
  5. I will show up for myself. In my first post, I said that even if only one person shows up, I will meditate with them. It has never been the case yet that no one has shown up, but if that happens, I’ve decided that I’m going to do the lovingkindness meditation anyway and send the recording out to people on the list. Maybe no one will listen, but maybe someone will and it will make a difference. And ultimately, the practice is for me first and foremost. So I will show up for myself every week.

I’m continuing to do the weekly lovingkindness meditation, so if you were toying with the idea of joining before, you can still do so and see for yourself if it has any benefits for you. There are no obligations to stay the whole session, to speak, or to continue to participate after signing up. Just email me at cbarongan@gmail.com and let me know that you’d like the information.

Hope to see you there!

Self-Awareness

I recently finished reading The Tenth Circle by Jodi Picoult. It is about the sexual assault of Trixie Stone and the secrets and lies that are unveiled in her family as a result. The title is in reference to Dante’s Inferno–part 1 of the poem The Divine Comedy. If you didn’t have the pleasure of taking the class in college, I’ll give you the soundbite version. Dante’s Inferno describes nine realms of hell in which sins are rated in terms of how egregious they are. From least to worst, the sins in each realm are 1) limbo, 2) lust, 3) gluttony, 4) greed, 5) wrath, 6) heresy, 7) violence, 8) fraud, and 9) treachery.

In the novel mother, wife, and classics professor Laura Stone muses that perhaps there should be a 10th circle of hell with a sin even worse than betrayal: lying to oneself. For me, this is the most intriguing idea in the book. On the one hand, lying to ourselves seems so commonplace that it seems like it would be a minor offense, rather than something so treacherous that it that places you even deeper in hell than Lucifer in the ninth realm, half submerged in a frozen lake, suffering for eternity. But then again, it’s the people who lie to themselves about their intentions who can sleep at night even though they are causing millions of other people needless suffering. Like Putin, for example.

This theme of self-deception brings to mind another book I read recently–Dopamine Nation, by Anna Lembke. It’s about a psychiatrist’s work with people who suffer from addiction. This may seem totally unrelated to Dante’s Inferno, but hear me out. Lembke argues that the best way to overcome any addiction is through the 12 step model, with perhaps the most important step being radical honesty. Robert Brault said “every lie is two lies, the lie we tell others and the lie we tell ourselves to justify it.” That is an apt description of what it’s like to be in the midst of an addiction.

Ever since I read Dopamine Nation I’ve made a more concerted effort to encourage clients and myself to engage in more radical honesty. For example, my recent breakup has been a betrayal that comes only second to my first marriage, in which my husband asking if we could have an open marriage in response to my asking him what he thought about having a baby. It’s been very, very hard to deal with feelings of hatred, resentment, jealousy, and regret that have emerged since the breakup. I feel like I’ve become a completely different person, and not someone that I find very interesting. Which is why I haven’t written.

At the same time, when I talk to my therapist about the breakup, she repeatedly tells me that she thought I was the one who broke up with him. So how can I feel so betrayed if I’m the one who ended things? I mean, I guess they can both be true, but still. There has to be some self-deception of my part. Some unwillingness to see how I contributed to the demise of the relationship. Some unwillingness to take responsibility for how I have hurt him.

So I’ve been trying to be more honest with myself about the things I haven’t wanted to see. Trying to remove the log in my own eye rather than focus on what he has done to hurt me. It is painful stuff, let me tell you. The biggest problem I’m facing is that, while lying to ourselves may be letting ourselves off the hook for our sins, the problem with radical honesty is that we run the risk of blaming ourselves for things that aren’t in our control.

I said no when he asked me if I wanted to be in a relationship. My brother was living with me and I was barely holding myself together. I had no personal space in my own home, and even though I was barely able to feed myself, now I had to make sure my brother who just had open heart surgery had healthy meals. My performance at work was suffering as a result. I had to cut back on my hours, which meant less pay, even though I had another mouth to feed. I was not in the head space to be in a relationship. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. In moments where I tried to be radically honest, I told myself that maybe I didn’t say no often enough, convincingly enough. Maybe it was my own weakness that made me ultimately go along with it even though I wasn’t ready. But in reality, no means no.

Perhaps a more compassionate approach to radical honesty is the concept of self-awareness. Jesus and Buddha both say in their teachings that it is self-awareness that leads us to the most moral version of ourselves. Self-awareness is the goal of therapy, too. To truly acknowledge your thoughts, feelings, and motivations. To have your eyes wide open. Self-awareness means that we recognize that we aren’t better than anyone else. Any sin we can accuse others of is something that we have committed, too. Once you realize this, you understand why you can’t cast the first stone. Hence, you cannot help but have compassion for everyone, including yourself. Because we are all ultimately the same. Just trying to get through life without a road map, stumbling along, doing the best that we can.

And that’s the truth.

Self-Care, Part 3

Lately I’ve been reading old blog posts in an effort to reconnect with myself. I have gotten better at practicing self-care. I am better able to recognize when I’m hungry, when I’m anxious, and when I have to pee. Those 3 used to feel really similar for some reason. Now I feed myself. Last week I cooked 3 meals, and I hate cooking. I just came back from the grocery store, which I also hate. My sleep cycle is more similar to the average person, although still night owlish. I don’t go to bed past 1 am, and I don’t sleep past 10 am anymore. I even do chores on the weekend, rather than lie around because I’m too exhausted to do anything. I don’t overstimulate my brain with games in an effort to prepare for some kind of mental apocalypse.

I’m working on taking care of my health. I just went to an orthopedic appointment last week because my shoulder hurts so much that I can’t even swing a racket. When the woman took me back for an x-ray she asked me how long it has been hurting, and I said since January. She was like, that long? What, did you think it was just going to get better on its own? It made me realize that I don’t take my pain seriously. I wanted to get my hip checked out, too, but I have to schedule a separate appointment. It’s been hurting for several years so I wonder what she’s going to say about that.

I also realized that I don’t get to decide what is strenuous enough to require an inhaler. My body decides. I may think it’s pathetic to need to take a few puffs to bring my trash can up and down the hill, which only takes about a minute. Or that cleaning doesn’t count as exercise. But if it makes me throw up, then I have to accept that my asthma is that bad and just take the darn thing.

I’ve gotten better at solitude. In one of my first posts, I talk about my newly single status and how challenging it is to live and be alone. At that time, I had never been without a romantic relationship because I thought being alone was worse than being miserable. I was terrified of something happening to me and no one knowing about it so I played tennis every night just so that people would worry if I didn’t show up.

At the time I figured out that feeling bad about yourself for being in a sucky relationship was not better than being alone. But I had no clue the extent to which boundaries were an issue for me. Now I do, and I feel fiercely protective of my boundaries. My home has become my safe space, and I am happy to have it all to myself. I am happy that everything in it, including the color of the paint on the walls and the art work that I created, is a projection of myself. I am not ready to have anyone in my space. If someone else is in it, then I feel them instead of me, and I need to know what’s me. I need to know what it is that I want. Even if the other person doesn’t ask, I intuit what they want and give it to them anyway without asking myself how I feel.

I try not to beat myself up for my codependency. It’s not my fault that I had to develop this skill. I’ve always told my therapist that I feel like I have a crack in my foundation. That something was broken from the very beginning, although I didn’t know what it was at the time. Recently she told me that those cracks can be repaired. That a house is a metaphor for our personality, and the first floor is our relationship to ourselves. Only after we’ve spent time on the first floor can we move to the second floor.

I do have some advantages this time around that I didn’t have last time. One is that my family lives nearby, so if I’m too tired to eat I don’t have to lie on my couch and starve to death. I can just go over there and let them feed me, which I do with some regularity.

The other advantage is my Apple Watch. Before I used to obsess about throwing out my back and not being able to crawl to my phone to call for help. Because one time my back was in spasm and I couldn’t move for a few minutes. I used to try to remember to keep a device in every room and to tell my friends that if they received a text or saw a Facebook post saying Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up! to take it seriously. They suggested getting one of those Life Alert buttons to wear around my neck, but that seemed extreme. But now that I have my Apple Watch, I will be able to call for help in any room of my house even if I can’t move thanks to Siri.

So thank you, Apple, for making solitude a little less scary.

A Downside to Optimism?

I was talking to a friend today about how much harder starting a new life has been than I expected. My new job has misled me about a lot of things that will result in working longer hours for less pay. I thought that when they pre-approved you for a loan, they couldn’t revoke it on the day you were supposed to close. I’ve never spent 6 weeks unpacking before. I still haven’t touched a racket yet. I still don’t have any friends.

In retrospect, I don’t know why I thought all of these changes would be easy. I was so focused on how great everything was going to be that I had completely forgotten I had a mental breakdown during my last move just 3 years ago. Such is the nature of my optimism.

My friend, who is full of words of wisdom, many of which I have included in previous posts (e.g., sometimes you can try too hard; surgery is not a competitive sport), told me that there’s a downside to optimism. We both pride ourselves on never giving up. 0-6, 0-5 in a tennis match? Then channel your inner warrior! Don’t turn off the TV, even when there’s .9 left on the clock, because it is still possible to win (e.g., see UVA basketball vs. Louisville in 2018). Knit that complicated dress! Solve everyone’s problems! Get 2 surgeries, quit your job, sell your house, buy a house, start a new job, and move to a new state!

Perhaps it wasn’t just that I was being optimistic. Perhaps I was being ever so slightly delusional.

Almost every day after some new disappointment I do the “move math.” What if I had stayed in my job? What if I had stayed in my townhouse? What if I had stayed in Virginia? Could I have made it work? And every time the answer is no. These are the changes I had to make to have a chance at freedom.

On the plus side, I’ve gotten a lot of steps from unpacking my house. I’m saving a lot of money on food by eating at my brother’s house and taking all the leftovers. My house feels more peaceful than my 2 previous townhouses did. I save a lot of money on gas because I work from home. And I don’t have to get one of those “Help! I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up!” buttons because I’ve told my family to check on me if they haven’t heard from me in 24 hours. And I have an Apple Watch.

Sometimes my inner critic uses a lot of gratitude shaming to try to make me “feel better.” What are you complaining about? Your house could have burned down. Someone you love could have died. You could have a broken leg and not be able to walk up and down your stairs. All true, but definitely not compassionate.

But I’ve been practicing genuine gratitude to put things in perspective. My friends check on me and tell me that they miss me. My family here has supported me financially, emotionally, and socially. God cares.

So it’s going to take longer to have a life here. That’s OK. My relentless optimism is what has helped me survived all this time. Yes, there’s a downside to it. But even when I’m down, I can still get a blog post out of it.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Boxes

We all have aspects of our identities that have been rejected or belittled. One of mine was being Filipino. I grew up in a small rural town in Southwest Virginia where there were only a handful of Filipino families. When I was in elementary school, the other kids would call me names. They would say I had a pig nose. That I was ugly.

Once I wore a sleeveless dress that I got from our trip to the Philippines. I thought it was beautiful. It was red and had a pleated skirt, so you could twirl in it and the skirt would make a circle. It had this beautiful embroidery of flowers in the front. But my Kindergarten class was not impressed. Everybody said I was naked and didn’t want to play with me. Granted, it was winter, so they were all dressed more warmly, but nakedness was a stretch.

Kids would also say I wasn’t American. I wasn’t sure what it meant to be American so I asked my parents if I was one, and they said I was an American citizen. But I didn’t really know what that was, either. Maybe no one knew–the kids, their parents, my parents. Even to this day, people debate what it means to be an American.

Once when we were on vacation, my brothers and I sat near a fountain in a mall while my dad did something. I can’t remember what, but hopefully he had a good reason for leaving us there. My youngest brother had ice cream all over his face and some adult guy came over and wiped his face off. Then he hung around and asked us a bunch of questions. Where are we from? Norton, we said. I mean, where were you born? New York. Where were your parents born? Oh. The Philippines. Ding ding ding! Right answer!

When my dad came back the two had a good laugh about it. I was too young to be offended, and really I never have been offended when someone asks about my ethnicity. But sometimes it does take you by surprise when someone reminds you that you stand out.

I would also get questions when I ran into other Filipinos, and honestly, those questions made me feel worse. They would ask me if I spoke Tagalog in Tagalog, because they assumed that I did. No. Eat Filipino food? Sort of? Do you at least go to the Philippines? I did when I was 5. I got this really pretty red dress. Oh, you’re one of those Americanized Filipinos. Even my parents would call me Americanized because we preferred McDonald’s over my mom’s homemade meatballs.

Real Filipinos have gigantic wooden spoons and forks in their kitchen. They have a picture of “The Last Supper” in their dining room. They eat rice with every meal. My friends and brothers would joke about this, but it’s really true. It gives us this common history now and it helped us to make sense of being bicultural. But back then I felt like I was failing at being Filipino.

Back then, people didn’t talk much about being bicultural, or bi anything for that matter. People need to be able to categorize. Our brains are designed to do it. Sesame Street teaches it. (Which of these things is not like the other?) It doesn’t make a person bad if they need to know what box you fit in. But the more cognitively complex we become, the more we see that people fit in many boxes at the same time. Even boxes that seem mutually exclusive. My spiritual guru, Richard Rohr, calls this nondualistic thinking, and it requires some soul searching to get there. So when you don’t fit in, maybe that gives you an advantage. I am an American. I am Filipino. It can look just like this. There is no wrong answer.

This struggle is not unique to me. Everyone has something about them, or their upbringing, or their family that makes them different from everyone else. We all have to make the journey from being put in a box and judged to understanding that we’re not supposed to fit. We can have a box all to ourselves that no one else gets to be in. I still struggle with self-acceptance, but every now and then, I really like my box.

Cultivating Solidarity

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Last week I read an anecdote from Richard Rohr’s daily mediations about a man working in a food pantry who was feeling overwhelmed by the number of people they had to serve since the pandemic. After meditating on it, he was able to shift his thinking about his work in the food pantry from an act of service to an act of solidarity. When we are serving others, it implies a vertical relationship where someone is up and someone is down. In contrast, solidarity is a horizontal relationship where both parties are equal, committing to being there for one another.

This anecdote struck me on a personal level because, as a therapist and someone taking care of my brother, I spend a lot of time helping people but not a lot of time receiving help. Not because people haven’t offered. I have lots of people who care about me and who encourage me to reach out to them. I just don’t do it very often. Because deep down I think I’m undeserving–of help, of a release from my pain, of happiness. I am serving other people because I’m the person in the one down position.

But the idea of shifting my mindset from service to solidarity reminds me that I am as deserving of help as anyone else. If we’re all in this together, then we can rely on one another for support. Which means it’s OK to ask for and receive help. It’s still hard to ask, but I’m committed to practicing.

I think, too, about what’s going on in the world right now. Arguments about masks vs. freedom, protests vs. riots. This is one of the few times that you would think we could all be on the same page. I often imagined that the only way we could accomplish this was in some alien invasion where we had a unified enemy. In a way, that’s what COVID is. But it seems that even something akin to an alien invasion is not enough to get us to fight the enemy rather than one another. Apparently, we are one another’s greatest enemy. It’s us vs. them. I’m right and you’re wrong. I’m up and you’re down. What will it take for us to be on the same page? Reason, force, shaming, and blaming are not going to do it.

For me, the answer always begins with self-compassion. What is making me feel vulnerable? How can I listen to my own thoughts and feelings with acceptance and forgiveness, even when I have been controlling, judgmental, and condescending. And wrong. Once I can sit with the discomfort inside me, it makes it easier to remember that we’re all in the same boat, doing the best we can to feel valuable, deserving, and equal to everyone else. The best way to fight the enemy within and without is to rely on one another.

We’re all in this together. Let’s help each other get to where we need to be.

Does This Shirt Make Me Look Fat?

Remember that time when I was getting a massage and I had to leave the office to go into another office to get to the bathroom and I was just wearing a robe and someone saw me, even though usually no one is ever in there? It was like one of those dreams where you’re forced to walk around naked. Or without shoes. Or in your bathrobe. Except in real life.

Isn’t it funny how things that are funny on TV are mortifying in real life? Like, that would have been a great episode on Seinfeld. I guess watching it on TV is sort of like dreaming, because in both scenarios you think, I’m so glad that didn’t happen to me!

Well, I just got an embarrassing massage story that tops the bathrobe one. 

Yesterday I had my first massage in about 3 months. I was long overdue and was really looking forward to easing my muscle tension. But then the very first thing massage lady says to me is, “I thought last time you were pregnant and now I see you really are! Congratulations!” 

There are so many insulting things about that sentence. Three months ago, before COVID weight gain, she already thought I was pregnant. But now I look 3 months-into-pregnancy fatter than that. Which would be around 8 months pregnant, maybe.

And she didn’t just ask if I was pregnant, which would have been bad enough. When I was in 5th grade, my family was at this elementary school festival and my brother asked this teacher if she was pregnant, and she wasn’t. And even at the tender age of 10, I understood that you should never ask a woman if she’s pregnant. Let alone tell someone that they are for sure pregnant. That the only thing left to say is congratulations. 

I admit, I wasn’t very active during quarantine. Like many people, even though I had time to work out, I was unmotivated, struggling with depression and anxiety. I’m still struggling with depression and anxiety, actually, but since things have opened up I’ve been playing more tennis. And I just started working with a personal trainer. So I’m doing the best that I can.

And as you know, I do obsess about feeling fat, gaining weight, aging, and all that stuff. Even though people say I look young, and my boyfriend thinks I look great. I try to reassure myself it’s all in my head. But apparently it’s in my gut, too.

My boyfriend said he felt sorry for her. And I do, too. I would never be able to forget a faux pas that big. Or any mistake I’ve ever made because of my OCD. But I feel sorrier for me, because I’m never going to be able to forget what she said either because of my OCD. I gave her $1 less of a tip than I ordinarily do as a way to discourage her from insulting me. But it was still 20%, so I was still pretty generous, in case you’re judging me.

On the bright side, there are 2 positives that came out of this incident. When I told my friend about what happened, she said that was actually a compliment because she thought I was young enough to get pregnant. Which is true. I can get in better shape, but I can’t get any younger.

The other plus is that I can write a funny blog post and take a break from trauma and family crises. Which is something.

Resolutions vs Intentions

Resolutions

This year I started out with too many New Year’s Resolutions, so I had to do something equivalent to an upgrade to eliminate the bugs. Version NYR2020.1, you might say. This version focuses on discipline in 3 areas:

  1. physical activity most days of the week
  2. going to the grocery store 2x/week
  3. cooking most days of the week

My drill sergeant had a lot more goals in mind. For the new year, for today, tomorrow, the weekend. Lots and lots of goals. For example, my drill sergeant would like #1 to be something like do one day of yoga, one day of strength training, one day of cardio, and show up for all of your court times. When, in reality, I’m not even able to make it to my court times. And that’s actually more like 5-6 goals masquerading as 1.

I’ve read that by the 3 week point, which is today–January 21–most people have abandoned their New Year’s Resolutions. In my opinion, failure to adhere to our goals is due at least in part to our inner critic (drill sergeant in my case), who

  • sets unreasonable goals
  • tries to motivate us with guilt, shame, and fear of failure
  • reminds us of how terribly we are doing compared to others
  • tells us that we are weak and lazy
  • creates more goals when we’ve checked everything off our list
  • never praises us when we do well
  • has an all or none approach to success, which usually means failure

I have to remind myself that I don’t have to listen to what he says (mine is a he). I guess this is resolution #4: to be more discerning about my goals. Does it come from the drill sergeant, or is it something that will directly benefit me?

For example, the drill sergeant doesn’t like it when I have clothes that have not been folded and put away. It is an incomplete laundry cycle if you have clean clothes piled on your bed. Or dirty clothes lying all over the floor because your clean clothes are in your laundry basket. This doesn’t even count as doing laundry, the drill sergeant says. The drill sergeant’s goal is to keep repeating this to me over and over again until I do what it says or lose my mind.

But that is one of the places where the drill sergeant tricks you. My goals do not always align with his goals. I can ask myself, does that really benefit me? Putting my clothes away? Compared to using that time to pack lunch for tomorrow so that I don’t have to spend money? If I only have so much energy left at the end of the day, I’d be better off packing lunch. Which still requires that I go to the grocery store. Which is already hard for me. But at least it’s consistent with my goals. Whereas having a complete laundry cycle is not.

Other reasons why we often give up on our New Year’s Resolutions is that we forget. We’re tired. We are unmotivated. We’re hungry. We want comfort. We want something to be easy. In other words, we are human. Which is OK, because not being human isn’t an option.

In fact, I try to think of my resolutions as intentions. Every day, these are my goals. And when I am too tired to exercise, too hungry to go to the grocery store or cook, then I practice self-compassion and do whatever will be most helpful for me in that moment. And the next day I start again, because intentions are renewable. Indefinitely.

The drill sergeant is usually saying negative stuff the whole time that I deviate from his plan, but I try cultivate an attitude of acceptance, forgiveness, and kindness in the midst of his negativity. Because I am my most motivated self in a loving environment, so that’s what I try to create.

Adventures in Blogging: Six Years Later

warrior push up

I wrote my first blog post on September 24, 2013.  At that time, my goals were to take some preliminary steps towards writing a book. Like writing stuff down and letting people read it. Because I had never written anything about myself that I thought was good enough to share. I figured blogging could be my version of exposure therapy–just throw myself out there, with all my weaknesses, secrets, and embarrassing moments. Make myself vulnerable to the world.

Fortunately, not many people read my blog, so it wasn’t too painful. And the people who read it were mostly my friends and family. And people who could relate to my problems. Which turns out to be almost everyone. The response has been overwhelmingly positive, in fact. It turns out that the things I was so reluctant to share are the very things that have improved through the process of blogging. So I thought I’d share my progress with you, since you helped me to be the person I am today.

  1. Self-care. This has actually become one of my areas of expertise. Which is kind of ironic, because I was pretty terrible at it when I started my blog. I never got enough sleep and often had to binge sleep on weekends and breaks. I would get hypoglycemic because I wouldn’t make eating a priority. I coughed all the time, couldn’t breathe, and threw up on occasion but didn’t bother to find out what was wrong with me. I would only allow myself to consult my therapist in emergency situations. I had a terrible relationship with my body. To be honest, I still struggle with all of these things, but the difference is that I’m committed to making self-care a priority. When I falter, I forgive myself and renew my vow. And it makes a big difference, having someone who is committed to caring for me.
  2. Self-compassion. At the time I started my blog 6 years ago, I was separated from my second husband and dating someone who I couldn’t stand and filled me with self-loathing. We broke up shortly thereafter, and that was the first time I had ever been single. Most people never knew what was going on in my relationships because I feared that people would judge me, and I already judged myself harshly enough. I didn’t need the extra guilt and shame. But in freeing myself from the pressure of seeming like I had it all together, I was able to forgive myself for my mistakes. And I have become less judgmental of other people, too. Or at least I am committed to being less judgmental of myself and others.
  3. Boundaries. Before I started my blog, I only had a vague idea of what boundaries were. Probably because I didn’t have any. I never said no. If someone needed something and I could provide it, I felt it was my duty to give them what they wanted. I couldn’t distinguish my feelings from someone else’s feelings. I knew what other people wanted but I had no idea what I wanted. There were no boundaries in my thoughts, either. Everything ran together in this litany of worry that played over and over, like an anxiety playlist on repeat. Practicing mindfulness has helped me to put some boundaries in place, but I still struggle in all of these areas. But that’s OK. In mindfulness, there is no goal to achieve. No grade to earn. I just need to keep practicing.
  4. Warriorism. I love a challenge. A difficult relationship. A complicated knitting pattern. Being so tough that I can throw up during a match but keep going, win or lose. But I have learned that, while it’s good to know that you are capable of doing hard things, that doesn’t mean that you need to make everything hard to do. So now I take my drugs for all my conditions, take time off from playing when my body tells me to, let go of people who do more harm than good, and sometimes knit really easy things, like scarves. Because I imagine even warriors take it easy when they’re not in battle.

2019 has been a tough year, and the school year has already begun with some unique challenges. But I feel up to the task. I am committed to caring for myself. Being kind to myself. Saying yes to what I want and no to what I don’t want. Being selective about the challenges I take on. And blogging.