Yes, This Is For You

In case you’re wondering, I’m writing this for you today.  Because I know how much you struggle.  I know how you try to be brave and strong, and try to be positive, and try so very hard to bring only good things into your life.

In an effort to preserve the peace, you’ve swallowed your words for years.  Conflict or even the prospect of conflict – wow, that gives you an ache in the pit of your belly.

How can you be the person everyone expects you to be and say things that are hard to say?  Harder to hear?

What if people heard what you really had to say, and then got mad?  Caused a scene?  Decided they didn’t like you?  Fired you? Or left you?

Academics write books on effective communication and they always envision scenarios where both parties are equally committed to a positive solution. Like this actually happens in the real world.  Usually, one timid person raises a difficult something and a bully turns into rubber and bounces the pain back. You’ve been there, haven’t you?

Honey, I know you.  And I know just how hard this is – but I also know how much you suffer in silence.

Can I tell you something?  Every time you refrain from saying what needs to be said, you lose a little bit of your self. A little bit of your strength.  A little bit of what makes you, you. And one day you may wake up to find that there’s nothing left.

That’s the hollow and vacant space where your soul once was. That’s when you wonder who you are and if your life really has any meaning.

Don’t wait until you’re there.  Start from right here.  Pledge to yourself that you won’t walk away from the difficult subjects lodged in your heart.  Be patient and gentle with yourself – it’ll be a bit overwhelming to start reversing the pattern, because you’ve been out of practice for years.

Know how wonderful children are?  Know how they say the darnedest things?  Kids have the honest heart to ask, “Why?” And they have the presence to say “ouch” when something hurts.

And here’s where I’d like you to focus – on being like a wonderful kid. 

Simply say “ouch” when something hurts.

The easiest way to start having hard conversations is to focus on your own “ouch”.  Too many of us face difficult people and difficult conversations with the intention that we’re going to win by getting someone else to change, or by getting them to validate us by telling us, by golly, that we’re right!

When where you have to start is by claiming your own voice, and knowing that simply expressing yourself is winning.

It doesn’t matter what the other person does.  It doesn’t matter how they react.  What matters is that you have claimed where you hurt, and what that means for you.

Of course, your pain ain’t nobody’s business but your own.  So no blaming, and no name calling, OK?  Simply state, “I feel …” and get it out there.

Sure, it’s scary.  But start small.  Don’t jump out of the box by confronting the biggest, baddest pain you’ve ever faced.  Start with the small pain in the moment, be clear about what feels ouchy, use “I” statements and – guess what? – it’ll probably be no big deal to anyone else but you.  And each time you recognize and voice your ouch, you’ll build your muscles, and feel stronger, and then you can tackle the larger and larger ouches.

Until the long-held pain is gone and all you have to do is manage the little bumps and scrapes you get in the course of a day.

Won’t that feel good?  And instead of relentless, forced happiness, you’ll feel truly happy.

Which, my friend, is everything.

A Generous Spirit

This week, I was going to write about Dan Pink’s new book about motivation, Drive.

Then, I also considered writing about Brigid Schulte’s article in The Washington Post, about a busy working mom’s search for leisure time.

I also thought about writing an arch, sassy essay on New Year’s Resolutions.

But I couldn’t write those posts. They seem so inconsequential.

Because I can’t get Haiti out of my mind.

The scope of the loss there is so hard to grasp. The only way I’ve been able to understand it is like this: It’s as if Land Shark Stadium in Miami, filled to the rafters for the Super Bowl, collapsed and suddenly every single person in the stadium – players, refs, fans, vendors, women selling programs, beer guys, security guards – died.

And as if every single car in the parking lot were filled with people who were hurt by falling debris from the stadium, had no gas, no food, no water, and no where to go.

And everyone in Miami suddenly had no power, no police, no firemen, no nothing.

Imagine if we began burying people in a mass grave in the middle of the football field.

That’s what Haiti is like.

And so much else feels insignificant.

Last Friday as I watched the news coverage out of Port-au-Prince,  I found myself feeling much the same way I did on September 11, 2001. I live four miles from the Pentagon, and I knew someone on that plane. I knew people who worked at the Pentagon, and a security guard who saved lives. Firefighters just down the street were among the first responders. I saw the smoke, I smelled the jet fuel, I saw the scorch marks. The loss felt so heavy.

One hundred and twenty five souls died that day at the Pentagon. Almost 3,000 people died in New York, Pennsylvania and DC as a result of the 9-11 attack. Our attention has been grabbed by other recent situations. Nearly 4,500 soldiers have died in Iraq since 2003.  Eight hundred and fifty in Afghanistan.  Six thousand five hundred people died from swine flu in 2009, worldwide.

All of these instances have received understandable media coverage.

But Haiti’s death toll is almost 1000 times that of the Pentagon. More than thirty times the losses of 9-11. Twenty times the soldiers lost in Iraq. Fifteen times that lost to swine flu.

It is so big.

So what can we do? We can, and have, given to charitable organizations who are on the ground in Haiti, delivering basic supplies, medical assistance and coordinating recovery efforts. In just a few days, $12 million has been generated in ten dollar increments for the American Red Cross by text messaging alone.

We are a generous people.

And catastrophes tend to bring us together, and bring out the best in us.

So I have an idea.

What if we could keep that generosity going? Certainly to Haiti as it rebuilds.

But also to Flint, Michigan, as it recovers.

And to Schenectady and Siler City. And to Des Moines and Danville.

And to Main Street and to your very own street.

Amid our personal concerns about our financial health and prospects for the future, what if we made a commitment to keep on being as generous in the future as we are right now?

What if, as a business owner, you hired someone and accepted a slightly smaller profit margin for yourself?

What if, as a homeowner, you hired someone to repair your roof rather than get up on a ladder?

What if, as a corporation, you added just one percent to your workforce?

What if, as a bank, you lent money to people who will use it to create opportunity for others through employment?

What if, as a society, we figuratively kept texting each other $10 each day?

Why, we’d change everything.

More Than Anything

I dunno. Maybe it’s just me. Or most of my clients. But I have a feeling it could be you, too.

A little exhausted, frazzled, distracted, uncertain? Sound like you? Sounds a teensy-tiny bit familiar to me.

So let me ask us a question:

“What do you want more than anything right now?”

Stop. You have an immediate answer, don’t you?  That’s your gut talking to you.

And you immediately reject your gut, because what it’s saying isn’t politically correct, or is hugely inconvenient, or it’s not what you’re supposed to want.

Am I right?

But, let me tell you that if you want to feel better — more passionate, happier, alive — you have to pay attention to that poor little rejected feeling.  Because the first glimmer is the key to unlocking whatever it is that’s holding you back.

If what you want right now is: a rest, a new job, peace and quiet, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, no friends, children, your children to be quiet, your children to get the hell out of the house — take a deep breath and hold the idea of getting what you want in your mind.  Believe you’ve actually achieved it.  You’re really living it.

How’s that feel?

Blissful?  I’ll bet it does.

Then, my friend, perhaps you should consider pursuing that which you want more than anything. Right now.

Which might mean something might have to change.

Beth recently asked me, “Does all change start with a crisis? Cuz it sure seems like it.”  I answered her with, “There seem to be three ways that change gets started.  In the first instance, there’s some sort of crisis that’s external — the shock of a sudden death, or an accident, or your spouse suddenly announces he’s been seeing a 19 year old pole dancer named Tiffani. It comes, often without warning, from outside sources.

“Another kind of change comes from an internal source — realizing you have to start being yourself, for example, or an uncomfortableness with the status quo — and that’s the second way.  It comes from inside you, and probably doesn’t involve Tiffani.  The third way is perhaps more subtle — it’s change that you’re only aware of after it’s done.  Think of it this way — it’s when you study and practice a language and then one day realize you’re thinking in that new language.”

So, let’s all think in a new language.  The old language may look like this, “I want everyone to think I’m a great, involved mother, so asking the kids to go outside to play would mean I’m a failure”, and the new language is, “I will be a better, rested, more engaged mother if I can get a little time to myself.”

The old language may be, “Everyone expects me to be a CPA for the rest of my life,” and the new language may be, “I really want to be a park ranger.”

The old language may be, “If I show how much I want an intimate partner, I’ll look desperate,” and the new language is, “I can only get what I want if I’m completely honest with myself and others.”

So, be completely honest.  What do you want more than anything right now?

And what does that tell you about what you need to do next?

Doom & Gloom

Imagine for a moment that you work for Lehman Brothers. One day this week you find out the firm has declared bankruptcy and your job and your retirement fund — poof! — gone. Your daughter left last week for her third tour in Iraq. Your son started college two weeks ago, and now your nest is empty. Your wife was just diagnosed with breast cancer. Oh, and you live in Galveston.

Let’s hope that doom and gloom scenario I just concocted didn’t really happen to anyone. But if you pay attention to the news these days, it seems as if everyone is living that kind of life.

Last night I watched so-called experts shout at each other about our global economic situation. One said, “This is the end of the world as we know it.” I thought: Really? You Wall Streeter in your groovy $800 eyeglasses, your bespoke $2000 suit, your trendy haircut delivered by a manicured ego-maniac who is known solely by a two-syllable, vaguely French first name. How exactly is your life going to change? Only going to make $2 million this year? Poor baby.

Another guy said, “This is a lot of ado about nothing. The fundamentals of the economy remain strong and this is merely a minor correction.” Guess he doesn’t live in Galveston. If he did, he might have a different perspective. He might just be freaking out.

So what’s what? If you’re freaking out about… oh, everything at the moment, how do you start to get a grip and find a way to cope? Are the pessmists right? Or the optimists? Where’s the truth?

Voltaire suggested in his satirical novel Candide that “tending one’s own garden” is the antidote to both unbridled optimism and destructive pessimism. So, can you step back in this moment of uncertainty and look at your own plot? Because that’s where the truth of your own situation lies.

How’s the health of your employer? Your industry? How’s your retirement account? Do you have too large a percentage of your assets tied up in your company’s stock? Need to shift anything?

How’s your personal financial health? Are you making your mortgage payment every month? How are home values in your community? How’s your spending? Are you paying your bills? How’s your insurance set-up? Enough coverage?

Check the health of your own garden so you can compare the shouting match hysteria with your own reality. If your house is still standing and it still has value; if your employer is sound and your investments are spread out; if you are managing to pay your bills; if you and your loved ones are healthy — you’re going to be fine.

You can stop freaking out.

If, however, you’ve got stuff going on, tend your own garden, sweetheart, and tune out the hoopla. Work out a refinance on your home, if possible. Arrange payment with your creditors. Take a second job if you need to, while you get your business off the ground. Drive your spouse to chemo. Send a loving email to Iraq. Move in with your best friends while your house is re-built — hey, it’ll be an adventure no one will ever forget!

It seems to me that the only people benefiting from debating the “worst financial situation since the Depression”, are the folks who want their Warholian fifteen minutes of fame. These people are not reporters or journalists, who are, by and large, a responsible and ethical crowd. The shouters, in my opinion, fan the flames of frenzy just so they can get more and more opportunities to be famous.

And we don’t have to listen to them. All we have to do is tend our own gardens. And remember: this, too, shall pass.

Saying Goodbye

It’s hard to say goodbye. As Shakespeare so aptly put it, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” And in this life there is much to be parted from, often with much grief.

One man becomes suddenly, critically ill and must part with the idea of his youth and vigor.

One young mother loses her own mother, and must part with the idea of herself as someone’s beloved child.

One man parts with his wedding ring after his wife’s death, and lets go of the idea of himself as someone’s husband.

One woman parts with her home and possessions and adjusts to the idea that she won’t live independently for the rest of her life.

I’ve written about crisis and how it can change lives. Crisis forces a redefinition of who we are, and what’s important to us. Altering those fundamental views about ourselves is, no surprise, life changing.

Catalytic crisis requires us to move from the cocoon of “known-self” to “unknown-self”. Embracing the unknown is not something many of us handle particularly well… so, in the alternative, we cling fearfully, ferociously to our known-self.

Known-self may have worked for years. We’re comfortable with all the rules in known-self — and we can anticipate with confidence how we and others will act. Even if we know we’re unhappy in our known-self, at least we know what to expect! Who wants to upset the apple cart? But when clinging to known-self feels like pain, you will change it. Sometimes it seems it takes a crisis to show us just how ill-fitting known-self has become.

The prospect of unknown-self is murky, and for those with control issues, it’s precisely the unknowing that’s so hard. Parting with a definition that really doesn’t work should be, on its face, easy to do. However, parting with the known in favor of the unknown — that seems scary. It’s like emerging from the cocoon we’ve constructed as a worm and learning to live as a butterfly. None of the old rules seem to apply.

So, in those moments, remember: “parting is such sweet sorrow.”

When you say goodbye to something old that no longer fits, you open space for something new. It’s the opportunity for “new-self”. Which could be something nicer, better, happier. Could be something that helps you live more fully. Could be something sweet.

Be open to the opportunity for change that life brings. Welcome it. Because it’s your chance to flap your butterfly wings… and fly.

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