how not to borrow trouble

One thing I've gotten good at in the last 37 years is borrowing trouble.  Making mountains out of molehills.  Playing the end of the act before the curtain even rises.  I look for every way something could go wrong, every way I could mess something up, and then obsess about it... until it actually happens.  Not because it was inevitable, but because I made it inevitable.

I'm a bit of a Girl Scout; I like to be prepared for every possible outcome.  In my purse at (almost) all times there are bandaids, Advil, Pepto Bismol, silverware, water, tampons, kleenex, even moleskin.  (You never know when a pesky blister is going to sprout!)  And there is something to be said for worrying -- it calms me down to look at all the way things could go wrong, and then to make contingency plans for those alternatives.  I'd rather have the bandaid and not need it than need it and not have it.

But that's only good up until a point.  There is a line where preparedness tips over into obsessiveness.  And I dance on that line like Philippe Petit between the towers.  

So what can you do if you're like me to make sure that your worrying hovers closer to self-soothing than obsessing?

1)  Be aware of your relationship to trouble

Know your tendencies.  And if you don't know your tendencies, observe yourself and ask your friends and family.  (I wouldn't phrase the question as "how obsessive do you think I am?" but rather, "can you think of a time my worrying was destructive rather than constructive?")  Watch your stress levels when you are worrying -- do they get better or worse?  And does worrying bring on more problems?  Ask yourself how your worrying is contributing to the continuation of your problems.  And then see what happens if you take a different tack.

2)  Make sure you can do something about what you're worrying about

There's a saying I love: "If you can do something about it, why worry?  And if you can't do something about it, why worry?"  This gets to the point -- do what you can about what you're worrying about and then let it go.  Accept that you can't plan for everything.  Allow yourself to make mistakes.  And if your worrying isn't leading to productive steps (like stocking your purse with bandaids or knowing an alternative route to get home from that party) drop it.

3)  Practice puppy training for the mind

Almost three years ago, my friend Rebecca wrote a guest post about puppy training for the mind, and it's an enormously valuable tool.  Don't let yourself get away with obsessing.  Make sure you're being productive and not just winding yourself up.

 

4) Shift from worrying to problem solving

At my old job, people would come to visit me and my fantastic office mate and complain about all their problems.  Then they'd leave, smogging up our office with their obsessions.  After a week or two of this, we told people they were welcome to visit, and even to talk about their problems, but after five minutes they had to shift from complaining to problem solving, or we would ask them to leave.  This is a great rule to have for yourself vis-a-vis worrying.  Set a timer and after the allotted amount of time, go back to step 3 and force yourself to drop it.

5) Allow yourself to make mistakes

Why do I carry bandaids?  Because if I need one, I don't want to spend $3.99 on a box to get just one.  But in the grand scheme of things, is $3.99 going to break me?  Absolutely not.  And is it worth not having to worry about having bandaids for $3.99?  Sure!  It's a perspective shift.  And if you allow yourself to make mistakes, realizing that some mistakes are more deadly than others, then you prepare only for the higher impact mistakes.

I told my team at work the other day that I know we're going to make mistakes, and that's ok.  I just don't want them to be the obvious ones.  I'm willing to stick a bandaid in my purse, but not an ace bandage.  

6)  Choose to roll with it

I recently got a call from my doctor's office telling me that a test I took required me to come back for another test.  Which sent me on a wild spiral of "what ifs," leading me directly to the big one, "what if I die?"  (Talk about playing the end of the act before the curtain rises!)  I talked to friends and family and calmed myself down with their help, and then decided to package up my worry until I could find out more information.  Since there was nothing I could do about it until my doctor called me back (which, for the record, she still has not done!) there was no point riling myself up about it.  It continues to be a choice I make every time the issue comes up; I have to remind myself I'm not going to worry about this right now.  

There's a great song by one of my favorite artists, Sean Hayes, that touches on this.  He says:

"You're always gonna find problems 

That's just the way things are
Now how you choose to deal with them
make problems what they are
make problems what you are"

So what do you do to keep from letting problems be what you are?

you're not a burden

Have you ever been so bored that you couldn't be bothered to do something to entertain yourself?  Well, the other day I had a similar situation -- I was so lonely that I couldn't stand to reach out to my friends, even though I knew they were just a phone call away.  I didn't want to be a burden.  I knew that I had nothing positive to offer them, just "blah" and "meh" and "waaaah."  And who would want that?

When I thought about it more, though, I realized that I would want that.  I would want my friends to reach out to me when they were sad or lonely or feeling empty.  And we could talk about it.  Or we could talk about nachos.  Or the crazy-assed hairdo I saw at the grocery store this weekend (seriously, it was epic).

Fittingly, not soon after I had that lonely spell, a great post came up on my friend's facebook page from a woman named Alyssa Royse.  I'm posting highlights below, but you can see the whole post here, and I recommend that you do.

She says:

When you allow someone to see you as fully human – good and bad, strong and weak, healthy and sick, brave and scared – you let them know that it’s okay for them to be fully human too. That lessens the burdens of fear and shame that hold us back. It shows us that we can be loved for our humanity rather than rejected and shunned for it.


Hoarding your humanity is a selfish act, when you realize the gift that it is for others.

She also says:

What’s worse, when you don’t let us in to the bad parts, you’re telling us that you didn’t think we could be trusted with them. And you make that knowledge the cause of your greater suffering. You let us increase your pain by not letting us share it. Is that really what you want to do? Tell us you don’t trust as and let us become something that increases your pain? I doubt it. I bet you hate that idea, so think of it that way. Because that’s what it is. We will second guess things that we could have, should have, would have done, if only you’d been honest.


You are not a burden. You are a human. You are a flawed and fabulous multi-faceted thing and when I say that I love you unconditionally, that means ALL OF IT.

So if you're feeling meh, or blah, or really want to talk about nachos, reach out and call someone.  Don't text, don't email, don't poke them on facebook.  Get old school.  Pick up the phone and have a voice-to-voice conversation.  See if it doesn't make things better.

I will.

that which we resist persists

About ten years ago, I was working with a therapist who, after a couple of sessions where I talked about my relationship with food, suggested I go to an Overeaters Anonymous meeting, just to see if it would help.

And the minute she said it, every single cell in my body revolted. I wanted to die. There was absolutely NO WAY I would go to one of those meetings. Never. Ever. Not in a million years, not if you gave me a million dollars. Never. Not if the room was full of hot, eligible bachelors. Not if it meant I would never overeat again. If I happened to be running down the hall of a burning building and the only way out was through an OA meeting, I'd burn up with the industrial carpeting. Not. A. Snowball's. Chance. In. Hell.

A simple suggestion, one that I could take or discard, and my whole essence was ready to drop a very small, very targeted nuclear bomb on the sweet, dear therapist who mentioned the idea.

Needless to say, ten years passed, and my relationship with food has remained interesting.

When I feel good about myself, food is my nourishment. When I feel bad, it's my comfort. And I think that's pretty "normal." But since I don't see anyone else eat, and can't get inside the heads of other eaters, I have no idea whether my relationship is dysfunctional or not. However, some part of me desperately fears that it is. Otherwise I wouldn't be willing to burn up with the carpeting.

So, last week, in honor of the Year of Yes! (well, ok the fourteen months of yes) and in an exploration of Risk, I went. And it was scary. And it was awkward. And the building had some truly horrid industrial carpeting. But what's most important is that I made it out the other side. Was I like some of the women in that room? Yes. We all had tricky relationships with food. Was I not like some of the women in that room? Yes. And for privacy reasons I won't say why.

What I was afraid of was the label. I was afraid of admitting that my relationship with food might have been "abnormal" or "dysfunctional" which would, by association, make me a failure. Yes, it was that simple. If I went to a meeting of people who had trouble controlling their eating and found I was like them in any way, I was a failure.

I'm pleased that I went, and I'm incredibly proud of myself for facing that silly little fear that's been holding me back for ten years. Will I go again? Not to that particular meeting. I'll try another one, just to see, but I don't particularly care for the 12 Step model.

So I'll throw it out to you: what are you afraid of? What one thing does your whole body create a violent reaction to when you consider doing it? And if you could do it safely, what would it take for you to do it?

help from one of my favorite podcasts

Think about the last time you didn't get something that you wanted. When you look back at what got in your way, what was it?

Most of the time, when we're truly honest, the answer to that question is "me." (And I don't mean me, Kate Sandberg. I mean "me," you.)

Radiolab, one of my favorite podcasts that blends science with humanity and storytelling, has done an episode on some of the things you can do when your biggest obstacle is yourself.

(My favorite part is at the beginning, when Elizabeth Gilbert talks about how Tom Waits talks to his muse. Because picturing what she describes is so delightful...)

carrots and sticks and bears, oh my!

I've been reading an interesting book about motivation and sticking to your commitments called Carrots and Sticks, written by a Yale professor of economics. The book proposes two different approaches to goal-reaching; being rewarded for reaching milestones along your journey, and being punished for not doing so.

(Hence, carrots and sticks.)

The interesting thing, though, is that Ian Ayres (the author) has built a website, www.stickk.com, that allows people to put up a certain amount of their own money as a bet against their failure. For example, Ayers himself has been striving to keep his weight under 180 pounds. To aid in this, he has agreed that stickk.com can take the $500 he has put at risk every week if he goes over 180. Even more compellingly, he has agreed that stickk.com can send that money to a cause he does not support.

How does the website know that he's gone over 180 pounds? Well, he tells them. Part of Ayres' commitment is his willingness to participate in the contract (and report honestly) in the first place. Because are you really going to bet $500 that you'll stop a behavior you kindasortakinda want to stop? I doubt it. Stickk.com encourages users to identify an external arbiter to oversee these contracts -- someone like a coach, for example -- to make sure the person is reporting honestly, and really making use of the system.

Because once someone lies about one commitment, the whole thing is shot.

I find this particular type of motivation both exciting and terrifying. Putting $500 of my own money at risk would ensure that any undesired behavior would cease to happen -- especially if that money was going to, say, the NRA, the Tea Party, or Sarah Palin's campaign fund -- and yet, I don't know if I could forgive myself if an emergency happened and I couldn't stick to my commitment. Not only would I be letting myself down, I'd be out $500, and would probably have to drum up another $500 to donate to positive causes to balance out the harm I've done.

And that's what I like about using money as a motivator; it brings the issue into the front of my consciousness. There are a number of things I want to do -- like blogging regularly -- that, if I lost $500 every time I didn't do them would happen more often. At the same time, I'm not sure I'd want to live with the stress of that kind of money hanging over me.

A client of mine is using this approach -- not through the website, but through a verbal agreement with me -- and I'm amazed to see the amount of work he's doing. Will this last longer than one week? I'm not sure. But it definitely is motivating him to make absolutely sure the desired behavior happens seven days in a row.

Who knew Sarah Palin could be so useful?

ooooh, what a little persistence will doooooo....

So here's a little story about Sticking With It (Even Though You Think It's Going To Fail).

I was recently doing some research into graduate psychology programs and discovered that most of them require some form of undergraduate statistics. Now, I haven't studied stats since high school, so if I were interested in pursuing a masters in psychology (which I'm not sure I am, but stick with me on this) I'd have to go back to college and take undergrad statistics.

Ok, fine. Then I got to thinking about application deadlines and stuff. If, I told myself, I want to be able to consider grad school in the winter of 2011, I'd have to take stats... this summer! Otherwise, I'll have to take stats in the fall and apply in the spring for a fall of 2011 admission.

So I dragged my heels a bit, thinking:

• commencement just happened
• the summer session can't be starting just yet
• I probably have a week or two to get it together
• I'm not really sure I want to go to grad school anyway
• I'll look into it later
• etc.

After inspirational conversations with my coach and my mother, however, I decided I would just start investigating it now, just in case.

And when I called the registrar's office at Hunter, I discovered that the application deadline was... TOMORROW.

(This is where the persistence part kicks in.)

The registrar needs a copy of my transcript. (I haven't seen my transcript for 12 years.) I know there's a copy of it in my files at my parents' house so I call home to see if Dad can locate it in the attic. Twenty minutes of looking later, he can't, and I'm ready to give up.

"Kate, I'll go to New Haven to pick up a new copy for you, if you need me to."

Hope comes back. I call Yale for a transcript and they say that I should place the order, but they can't guarantee that it'll be ready by tomorrow. Hope fades again.

"Kate, you're willing to pay Hunter money, they'll probably find a way to accept it."

Hope comes back. I call them and find out the procedure -- they need a filled-out application, registration fee, and transcript before 3pm the next day. Hope fades. Until... I discover on their website that they'll accept a copy of my diploma. Which I know my mother can locate for me!

Hope returns, and I try to register for class and can't. Hope departs.

"Try going to the Registrar's office."

Hope returns, and I can register, but only with permission of the math department, who wants proof that I've taken math before -- and might require me to take a placement test. Hope skedaddles faster than a bug on fire.

But I persist, hope clinging to the edge of me like I'm a canyon. The math department? All they want is for me to tell them my AB Calc grade from nineteen mumbledy mumble.

This back and forth goes on and on, with hurdles and hoops and obstacles at every step of the way, and hope coming and going like junkies on a seesaw. Truth is, if it weren't for the moral support of my parents and my coach, I'd have quit before I even started.

My point in all of this is that it worked out in the end. The obstacles that seemed so looming and permanent were actually made of sawdust -- but I didn't know that until I blew on them. It took grit, a couple of lunch hours, asking for help from people I knew I could count on, and the willingness to persist in the face of adversity.

Needless to say, I'm 1/6 of the way through the course already. What are the odds of that?

a poem

Autobiography in 5 Short Chapters
by Portia Nelson, from the book There's a Hole in My Sidewalk: The Romance of Self-Discovery

Chapter I

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter II

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter III

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit ... but,
my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter IV

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter V

I walk down another street.

Tricks for how to catch yourself in negative self-chatter mode

One of the important ideas to consider when working with the inner voice that’s judgmental of you is that your words can, in fact, create your future. So the more you say unpleasant things to yourself in your head (or even out loud) the more you’re narrowing your future and bringing about the behavior or “fact” that your saboteur is feeding you.

I'm not a huge fan of Henry Ford, but I agree with something he once said -- "Whether you think you can or you think you can't, you're right."

Our actions are created by our thought, and our thoughts are made up of words. So if you’re not really into the power of words, this article may not be for you – and I understand where you are. Before I tried changing the way I said things, I felt the way you do. "It's just WORDS, it's not like it makes a difference." All I can say now is try listening to yourself saying some of the following words and seeing how they impact you. I’m not you and can’t speak for you. But I do know that all of these things have helped me and my clients.

It can be so easy to ignore a negative thought or not even recognize it as negative. Part of the process of catching yourself saying something negative is to know what to listen for. That’s why I’ve come up with a list of words to help trigger your Observer Brain to let it know you’ve just had a negative thought. When you say the following words, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve said something mean, but there’s a pretty good chance that it’s not nice…

“Should”, “ought”, “must”, “have to,”

There are lots of words that assume rules and standards for behavior that do not exist in reality. They also imply a consequence for noncompliance, and often evoke guilt. For example, we may tell ourselves: “I should have lost five pounds by now.” or “I shouldn't eat cake and ice-cream”.

Who says? Challenge the rules and regulations you've enforced on yourself. Replace the words should, ought, or must with the words “could”, “will,” “may” and realize the gift of choices. Cake and ice-cream becomes much less powerful if we know we could, can, and will eat it if we want to.

“Can’t”

There is very little in this world that you can’t do if you really put your mind to it. Thing of something you can’t do. And then I’ll tell you there’s a way you could do it, if you really wanted to. So telling yourself that you can’t do something is just an excuse. It’s also a gateway to a judgment. “I can’t do that, so that means I am _________”

Choose not to. Since you are all-capable, and there’s nothing you can’t do, there are certainly a large number of things on which you choose not to focus your energy. And that’s the difference – ‘can’t” becomes “I choose not to.”

Hate/Angry

Have you ever been to a hospital and noticed how the nurses talk about ‘discomfort’ instead of ‘pain’? This is generally done because ‘pain’ is a much more powerful word, and discussing your ‘pain’ level can actually make your experience of it more intense than if you’re discussing your ‘discomfort’ level.

Tone it down. In talking (to yourself and others) turning powerful negative words to more neutral ones can actually help turn down the emotionality your experience. Instead of using words like “hate” and “angry” (as in, “I hate traffic! It makes me so angry!”), you can use words like “don’t like” and “annoyed” (“I don’t like traffic; it makes me annoyed,” sounds much milder, doesn’t it?)

Hard

When you say something is hard, how does it feel inside your body? Try it. “My job is so hard.” “Losing weight is so hard.” “Finding an affordable apartment in new York is so HARD.” Does it feel like something you can actually do?

Some people are enlivened by this kind of obstacle to overcome. However, others (ahem, most of us) feel defeated by it. So watch out for anything that’s “hard.”

Challenge yourself. Instead, if something is difficult, consider it a challenge. Challenges are not only overcomable, but they can also be fun! Other words you can use to replace “hard” are “difficult,” “tricky,” or another adjective all together that better suits the situation.

Always/Never

If you find yourself talking in absolutes like always and never (or everybody and nobody), there’s a good chance you’re falling into a trap of your own making. “I always eat late at night” is more damning and permanent than “I seem to be eating at night a lot recently.”

Speak to the immediate truth. Are you in a place where you’re engaging in a behavior that makes you unhappy? Maybe you’re ignoring your dishes, being late to work, snapping at your roommate/partner – that doesn’t mean you always do it or never do the opposite. If you speak in terms of the immediate time frame, you give yourself more options for the future, and you’re not pinning your identity to a series of behaviors you happen to be engaging in right now, that may not, in fact, be what you always do.

From Resolutions to Results VIII: Get Support

Now that you've got a Simple, Measurable, Active, Realistic, Timely, and Thrilling goal with due dates assigned, you've got to get going! However, trying to do it alone can be incredibly difficult.

Finding mentors and accountability partners will increase your success rate dramatically. But who do you ask? Your mom? Your husband? Maybe, maybe not. Look at your list of roles and responsibilities from the first post: which relationships on that list would benefit most from you achieving your goal? Who in your life is already achieving your goal at the level at which you’d like to achieve it?

I really recommend accountability partnerships for achieving goals. While it’s tempting to ask those closest to you to be your accountability partners, that could be a trap. Whether we like it or not, there are rules in the relationships we’ve already established. If you’re the fat sister, using your (skinny) sister as your accountability partner for losing weight might backfire.

Instead, setting up a clearly negotiated partnership with someone you don't know quite as well could serve your goal better. With those people, you can explicitly design your relationship and your interactions. You can agree “I will email you about my successes three times a week and no more.” A friend might be confused by this, or feel used, but an accountability partner will reap the same benefits by sharing with you in a similar fashion. Take a few minutes to identify people in your life who can serve you as accountability partners, and then start asking around!

Announcing your goal to others is important, too, and has lots of benefits – it forces you to verbally clarify what it is you want, and allows your ears to hear your mouth committing to a goal. It puts your quest more on display, and can give you more positive feedback from the people around you who hear about it.

So where do you announce your goal? Anywhere! Your facebook status is a great place to start... as are the comments of this blog! (Just sayin'.)

how can I help you?

Has this ever happened to you: the phone rings and it's your friend, crying her eyes out over a guy. And you want to help, but you don't know what to say. Or maybe it's your boyfriend and his boss is doing that thing again that he just hates. Is it better to listen? Or should you chime in?

Lately, one of my best friends has been very depressed. And I don't mean just bummed out or "down," I mean depressed. Lots of crying, lots of tough issues causing her unbearable amounts of pain. And when she calls, I don't even worry about what to say. I'm not stressed out. Eight years ago, though, she was in a similar depression (albeit one less severe and with fewer mitigating circumstances), and at the time, it completely overwhelmed me. She would call, upset, and I wouldn't know what to say or do, and it would make me feel guilty, angry, frustrated, and, really, like a bad friend.


Since then, I've learned five very important words that have saved my sanity (and, arguably, my friendship): how can I help you? Because I want to help, she wants me to help, and yet, trying to read her mind to figure out how to help, and then come up with exactly the right thing to do is exhausting. (I imagine it's like teaching a pig to sing.)

By asking her how I can help, it not only takes the pressure off of me to make things better (or rather, takes the imaginary pressure off of me, since she's not actually doing anything but calling me) but, more importantly, it puts the responsibility for feeling better squarely on her. She has to identify what it is that would make her feel better and then accept it from me when I offer it.

This has worked enormously well for us. And I find I can carry it over into business, too. When my boss comes in with a complaint about so-and-so or a co-worker just can't stand her neighbor, I ask, "how can I help?" (or alternately, "what are you going to do about it?") Because complaining and whining, while it sometime feels good, doesn't solve anything.

"How can I help" shows others that you care about them without bulldozing them with advice they didn't ask for. It keeps you from having to guess what's broken and how best to fix it. And it cuts to the heart of the issue -- getting someone the support he or she needs, without any of our extra crap that they don't need.