Use that Radio

I am not in this alone.  None of us are. 

In this new venture of self-employment, I sometimes feel like a sailboat out to sea.  I’m not a sailor, but I can imagine it would be pretty scary to ride the winds out into the middle of the ocean, until you can’t see any other ships, only to have the wind suddenly stop. Okay, the ride out there is great, but once you're there, what do you do?  Wait until the wind starts back up? What if it doesn't start blowing?  Do you get out oars and start paddling, even though you don't know exactly where the shore is?  What do you do?

Life feels lonely like that at times, mostly because I spent so long in a regular 9-5 world.  It’s fun, believe you me, to wake up each day and get to choose which projects to pursue, which avenue to search.  It’s like having that giant wind at my back, propelling me out into the ocean.  The possibilities are endless.  I am capable and confident that I will make this work, that new clients are coming, that I am going to make a new album, find a great place to live, and have all sorts of adventures along the way.

That wind keeps me moving, keeps me actively sailing. I stay preoccupied with the wind, managing the wind, enjoying the wind.  But then, periodically, the wind stops.  It’s a lot less fun out there on my own with no wind. When I get tired, or my mind starts playing discouraging loops, or I start believing old lies about how I never do anything well enough, I feel alone and momentumless.  It’s not that I lack hope; I just get tired. 

I have to rest sometimes; I know that. But I avoid rest because when I rest, fear bubbles to the surface.  I'm not alone in wanting to avoid this. Fear can paralyze, but it can also motivate. Today, I choose to use the energy of fear to fuel me moving forward. Fear can stop my motivational wind from blowing, leaving me feeling stranded. But if I can move past the fear, I think more clearly. I think of alternative solutions, or I might look and discover a backup motor on my boat to keep me going.

But what about when moving past the fear doesn’t work?  What about those times when I keep trying to work and only feel like I’m going in circles?  Although I don't always use it, I think I've figured out the secret: I reach out.

In my little, stalled boat, I use the radio.  Yes, the radio.  I ask other people what to do.  I ask for help.  That is the secret of success. Sailing solo is great, but I will never get anywhere without help. I have to ask other people how they run their businesses.  I need financial advice.  I need leads on new clients.

I saw a financial counselor last week, and our simple hour-long discussion gave me tools I certainly didn’t have before.  Some elements left me feeling a bit overwhelmed by all I have to do, but mostly, I felt empowered because at least I now know a few steps to takes.  I don’t have to do them tomorrow, but I can start thinking about it and planning for those steps so that I am ready to do them when they get here.

So many of us who strike out on our own have long histories of getting things done ourselves.  We have false notions that we should be able to do everything on our own, that it is a sign of weakness to ask for help. But frankly, how are we supposed to start up a wind on our own?  It’s impossible.  We need help to get to where we want to be. 

That’s what I’m doing, asking for help.  It’s essential.  You can do it, too.  No matter where you are in life, it’s always good to know how other people have tacked situations so that we can tackle them with as much information as possible.

After asking for help, my next step is trusting myself to act on that information in my own time.  I don’t have to implement everything today or follow the suggestions at all.  I can wait until the time is right and my heart knows exactly what is best for me.

Reach out today!  You won't regret it.

Authentic Discomfort

Sitting down to write this blog entry, two ideas come to mind:

1. What is most comfortable is not always what is most authentic.
2. We must push our limits to figure out what is best for us.

I’ll start with number one.  Just because something comes easily does not mean it accurately represents who we are.  There are many things I do, not because they are true self expressions, but because I’ve learned that they are means to be accepted and get rewards.  It basically amounts to rerouting my desires to please other people. 

Society teaches us that to be successful, we must adhere to certain social mores or participate in particular activities so that others will accept and promote us.  Because of this, many of us have trained ourselves—since childhood usually—to say what we think others will like rather than what we truly feel.  Even if we don’t want to do X activity, if someone says we must and that it won’t hurt anyone, we do it. 

Over time, these alternate responses overshadow our natural inclinations.  For people with eating disorders, this can mean always choosing the “good” food rather than what we are really craving.  Often, the decision to select the “good” food or the “healthiest” food on the menu is so engrained that we don’t even think we want anything else.  Many anorexics (including myself) say quite honestly, “But I don’t LIKE cookies,” or, “I don’t LIKE cheese,” or any other kind of food that might be frightening. They may not realize that fear is fueling these responses.  The anorexic may actually like cookies, but she doesn’t like the anxiety that comes along with eating them. 

It takes time to decipher which foods we honestly don’t like from those that we have simply decided, at some point, are not an option for us.  It’s okay to genuinely dislike cookies, but I suggest testing the assumption of dislike first.

For me, I had to try all kinds of foods I thought I hated, consequently discovering that I actually enjoyed many of them.  I had to face those fears.  Now, I can choose foods I truly like, even if it might be food that scares me a little.  I can usually tell now when I want something but am simply afraid.  That’s an opportunity to push my boundaries.

And so I come to number two.  We have to push our limits to know what we are truly comfortable with.  Sometimes, the most authentic thing we can do is test our own boundaries.  Even as children, we intuitively know that when it’s time to grow, it’s time to push things.  Kids eat too many cookies and learn what is enough for them.  Kids act out emotionally in public and wait for responses to tell them if it was appropriate or not. 

Kids try to climb things they’ve never scaled. They wear impractical outfits and find out later why their mother tried to make them wear layers.  Kids run as far and as fast as they can, eventually learning just how much they can push those limits so that the next time, they can run a little farther and a little faster.

We have to do the same thing.  Again, I’ve demonstrated this with food.  To know what full feels like, I had to eat beyond it.  Of course, when overeating becomes habitual, something is off-kilter, but to reach fullness, a person has to know what it feels like.  Only then can a person appreciate all the different levels of satiation that feel good to her.

To learn to eat new foods, I have to actually try them. To learn what I feel comfortable wearing in public, I have to purchase and put on different clothing.  To refine new songs, I have to play them in public. To learn how to trust, I have to open up to trusted friends.  These actions all feel uncomfortable at first.

Discomfort isn’t always a signal that something is wrong.  It’s a signal that something is happening that we don’t know what to do with yet.  Sometimes, we need to pull back and reach a more comfortable spot.  Other times, we need to try that new thing, sit in the discomfort, and see if we find peace instead.

I know it’s time to push my limits when a little urge inside of me crops up repeatedly, asking me to try something new.  Often, that urge scares me in the beginning.  But if it stays with me, I know I have to try it.  With the eating disorder, the urge may have been to eat a brownie fudge sundae.  In other areas of my life, it was to try a new singing style, to reach a new level of honesty, or to visit a place where I’d never been.

So many things in life are uncomfortable.  That discomfort doesn’t mean that what we’re doing is wrong or doesn’t express our true selves.  Going beyond boundaries is how we find out whether those boundaries are safety guards or prison walls.  Sure, I may eat too much now and then.  Sure, I may say things I regret.  Sure, I may end up going to places where I am utterly bored and disappointed.  But after those experiences, I know how much is enough, what is truly me, and where I feel most alive.  I can also learn to ask forgiveness when my tests infringe on someone else. 

When it’s time to grow, it’s time to get honest, ask ourselves if we are really being authentic, and live in different that reflect our true selves a little better. Stretch yourselves, people!  I’ll be right there with you.

Boxes

We all grow up with certain pictures in our heads—certain patterns, images, routines, sayings, and models that we are taught (or teach ourselves) are right and wrong.  Absolutes, or near-absolutes:  This is the way a nice person behaves.  This is what anger looks like.  This is what a job is.  This is how good people feel.  These are the things I have to do before inviting people over.  This is a good food; this is a bad food.  I am capable of X only if Y is present. These are the milestones I must achieve to be successful. The list of possible notions goes on and on. 

In my view, these are all boxes.  As human beings, we feel compelled to organize, describe, and categorize our lives.  Doing so makes it easier to see our place in the world.  It helps us make decisions.  It helps us build a sense of who we are based on what we are not.  We put things in boxes so that we can move forward and live.  We have to have some basis for choosing our next moves, so we wrap them up neatly in boxes. 

Many people cling all their lives to the boxes they were given as children.  They operate according to rules that worked for others—or rules they were told work for others.  For me, however, growing up has been, if anything, a string of opened boxes.

To understand the world and live in a fulfilling, satisfying way, I have had to face the fear that my most deeply held beliefs may not be true.  And even if I couldn’t prove some of my boxes false to a scientific certainty, I have determined that many of them no longer work for me and are impossible ways for me to live.  The boxes must be opened.

We all open boxes in big and small ways.  A baby eventually learns that mommy is not magically disappearing when the baby can no longer see her.  Mommy goes out, does other things, and remains alive and present somewhere even when she is not with her child.  This realization is essential for the baby to understand what people inherently are and how the world works. 

Other boxes are opened in less natural ways.  Some people who grew up in an environment where one race or gender was valued more than another may discover one day that the undervalued part of society has the same worth as everyone else.  A person who was taught that being attractive is the only way to succeed in life might meet a few people who, although they are not the image of perfection our society worships, are highly successful and likeable people.  Those encounters can alter that person’s paradigm. 

Someone may think that people who live in a certain country or city behave in particular ways.  Then, she visits that place and sees that nothing is how she imagined.  In another case, someone may grow up in a given religion and, at a certain point, start questioning it and eventually leave or radically change his spiritual practice. 

I have had to question deep-down beliefs about how people should behave.  I thought that I had to always be prepared, always have a full-time job, always regard family with sacred awe.  None of those ideas are bad, but to view them as absolutes is completely limiting.  It’s like thinking some foods are bad and others are good or that being a certain weight will equal a happy life.  It feels comforting because choices are limited, and I can easily see where I stand success-wise.  If I eat X, I’m good.  If I weigh X, I’m good.  If I am kind to my parents, I’m good.  If I am gainfully employed, I’m good. 

None of those statements are true.  But it felt safe to have concrete measures to stack myself up against. 

I have grown the most when I followed the courage to question my core beliefs.  I haven’t necessarily made radical changes in every area of my life.  Some values I picked up as a child still guide me.  But most have been tweaked, and many are no longer part of how I view the world.

 I no longer have the same spiritual beliefs I grew up with.  I no longer dress in certain ways, just to fit in.  I’m no longer quiet about my emotions or ideas in order to be considered a “nice person.” 

I’m still in the process of ridding myself of a few boxes.  The “what other people think about me matters” box is still duct taped on some edges.  The fact is, sometimes what other people think DOES matter to me.  The question is, do I care?  And then, of course, I wonder, “Maybe it really never does matter.”  In this case, I made a new box: the “what other people think about me does not matter” box.  Although I’m not entirely rid of the first one, I can choose which box to apply in any instance.  I usually pick up the latter, but having the earlier one available is a comfort.  Perhaps it will deteriorate eventually from disuse. 

Boxes are not bad.  We need them in order to function in the world, make decisions, and form ideas about who we are.  But we need to realize that boxes are not unchanging.  They are not permanent fixtures.  And the boxes we own are not the only ones in the world.  We can pick up new ones, discard old ones, and refashion ones so that they fit better. 

Most of all, even when using boxes, I try to remember to open the tops and see how much more is out there.  It may be comforting to live in a tiny box for a while, but the wonders of life cannot be contained in a small space like that.  Or maybe they can…  This is the beauty of opening the lid.  Nothing has to be true forever.  I can be open to any possibility and learn new things all the time. 

Maybe I don’t need to be in X profession.  Maybe I can go back to school at age XX.  Maybe I can move to another country.  Maybe what he thinks doesn’t matter.  Maybe she is wrong.  

Life is enriched when we learn to remain open to all possibilities.  We can choose particular beliefs we want to vouch for, but we can also listen and learn from other ways of thinking.  When I see someone in a box, I’m reminded of how limited it is, but I am also sensitive to how difficult living without boxes can be—and that living entirely without them might even drive a person insane.  

As for me, I’m learning that I can trust myself to question life.  When I lived in Spain and went through a deep depression, I made a conscious decision to question my deepest beliefs.  Nothing I knew was working for me anymore, but I felt deathly afraid of leaving old values behind.  Instead of giving in to the fear, I made the choice to live life differently, under different parameters, trusting that I would be okay.  I believed that if the values I left behind turned out to be right, I would be led back to them. 

I questioned religion, family, school, music, and everything I’d ever been afraid to walk away from.  Bidding my old beliefs goodbye was the only route to sanity for me.  I have never regretted the choice I made in Spain and the decisions that have followed along that path of rethinking and investigation.  

Whenever I haven’t had my core notions challenged or learned anything new for a while, I start feeling less satisfied and more off-balanced.  Mental and emotional issues surface, and my eating typically goes at least a little wonky, too.  I may feel depressed or hopeless.  When those stretches of stagnation hit, it’s time to break out the box cutters.

Perspective for a Better Day

The difference between a good day and a bad day for me is sometimes as simple as this:

On a bad day, I constantly wonder how I'm going to make it through.

On a good day, I know I will make it through and that the adventure is watching how it happens.

She Moves Intuitively

She moves intuitively. I just wrote a song with that title while envisioning the woman inside me who moves according to the tides within herself. And that takes her to exactly where she needs to be. Yes, I certainly want to be her.

Over the past few weeks, I have been trying to move according to my intuitions. It amuses me, however, how often I’m not sure exactly what I intuitively want to do! My intuition feels buried under other things I’ve learned throughout the years.

I was taught to do certain things to survive or to supposedly make my path through life smoother. I pay my bills immediately, clean my house at regular intervals, and behave in particular ways around different groups of people. I say this instead of that, do this when I mean that, eat this not that… Do you see where I’m going?

For all of us, our parents and society have given us a lot of shoulds. Sometimes, those shoulds are wise. We can use advice a lot of the time from people more experienced than ourselves. However, some of that advice does not apply to particular situations—or it may never apply at all.

What if the world says I need to eat at X time but I am hungry at a different time? What if I’m “supposed” to say X thing to be polite or if I’m supposed to behave a certain way to climb the corporate ladder, but I don’t mean those words or like behaving that way? What if the way the world says I should dress and move through it runs contrary to who I know I am?

I have every right to say no and behave in ways that people might sneer at. So be it. I have that right.

So, I’m moving along with the flow of me, not with the world. I’ve come up against some snags, but I can offer a bit of advice to others trying to act according to their intuitions:

1. Take quiet time every day to stop and do NOTHING. You may meditate during this time or just stop and breathe. The main thing is to quiet your mind and spirit. You can’t know what you want unless you provide time to communicate with yourself.
2. Don’t always respond immediately to every request you receive. You don’t have to accept invitations without thinking about them first. If your heart jumps when you get an invitation and you KNOW you want to go, then accept that one. But if you feel neutral, give yourself time to check in and see what you really want. You’ll probably be sure of the yeses. Take time to figure out the nos.
3. Get enough sleep. I have been low on this commodity for quite some time. This week showed me just how detrimental sleep deprivation is to my ability to make decisions. Sleep is necessary. Everything gets muddled when our minds can’t operate at optimum capacity.
4. Eat when you are hungry. For those of use with eating disorders, this is a serious struggle. And for many others, it’s hard to do, too. Our culture does not show us how meaningful it is to stop and ask ourselves whether or not we are really hungry before we eat. It also advocates “saving up” for the next meal. Why not just eat when we’re hungry? We think better and feel less frantic when fully satisfied. And feeling frantic is not conducive to decision making.
5. Love yourself, whether or not you think you chose the “right” thing. Enough said.
6. Remind yourself that every decision can be the right one, that all are equal. If you imagine that every step you take throughout the day is equal, it can be easier to see what you really want. Equality strips away the different weights that society, family, friends, or eating disorders place on things, leaving only what you truly value.

Those are just a few tips from me.

In other news, I baked a cake this week and LOVED it. It was a big hit and reminded me of how much I enjoy the meditative act of baking (and the tasty results!). And Lime-A-Way toilet bowl cleaner is a gift from heaven! Hard water stains GONE—in a flash. That counts as a miracle to me, and we all need those :)