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?

change your thoughts!

I recently attended a Learning Video Boot Camp and made this video -- luckily, it's another one of those times where my training and coaching (and former-acting) worlds overlap.

Enjoy!

book review: The Four Agreements

My book club recently chose to read the Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz and I have to admit that when I first started it, I thought, “dear god, there are going to be some members of the group who are going to think this is a load of hooey-gooey horsecrap.” (The first chapter leans pretty far into the la la la side of things.) But once I got past some of Ruiz’ ideas about the “dream of the human condition,” I found four very valuable, very actionable principles to add to my life.

Agreement 1: Be Impeccable with Your Word

What I love about this agreement is that it’s ostensibly about how you treat others. Do what you say you’re going to do, don’t lie, etc., but where it gets powerful is being impeccable with your word towards yourself. Don’t let the self-talk track you run on the inside put you down. Don’t trash yourself for the sake of comedy or to fit in. Choose words that empower you, not words that belittle or betray you.

Agreement 2: Don’t Take Things Personally

99% of what goes on around us has little or nothing to do with us. But because it’s near us and we’re in its orbit, we take it personally. Not taking things personally hit home with me -- I’m single in New York City. Dating here is a challenge, and people do all kinds of things that, if you can zoom out and take a bigger perspective on things, have nothing to do with me.

Agreement 3: Don’t Make Assumptions

I like to operate under the saying “if you’re going to make it up, make it good.” I still think that concept applies, but Ruiz is encouraging us not to make it up at all. Ask questions. Get confirmations. Have conversations. Take risks. Assumptions and expectations go hand in hand, and the lion’s share of disappointment comes directly from expectations. Let go of both, he argues, and your disappointment will decrease.

Agreement 4: Always Do Your Best

This one is a little tricky. On the surface, it seems to be saying that we should strive, yearn, and aim for perfection. But what it’s really saying is that we should do our best in any given situation, and be satisfied that we have done our best. Not compare it to some external ideal of “perfection,” and not berate ourselves for the times when the outcome isn’t perfect. For me, doing my best can mean only giving 85% when 85% is what’s called for. And there is great peace in looking back on my life and knowing that I did the best that I could in any given situation.

We haven’t yet held our meeting on this book, so I’m excited to hear what others have to say about it, but I find the principles simple, and their application varies for me day to day. Could I do better? Probably. But I’m not going to beat myself up over it.

are rolls and funks self-perpetuating?

I'm in a lucky spot right now:  I'm on a roll.  My job is great, my clients are amazing, and things in my social/dating life are going well.  I feel like I'm putting good vibes out there and the universe is responding with gusto by introducing me to interesting people and giving me good learning experiences.  It's pretty awesome.

This morning, though, I talked to a friend who is in the opposite spot.  She's in a funk.  (And it may just be a bad enough funk to be a phunk.  Or, perhaps the ever-dreaded pfunk.)  She's worried about where her life is going and how she's going to get there.  She's gone down a rabbit hole of doubt and fear, and is worried that not only will the pfunk remain, but maybe the judging voices in her head are right.

From the outside, I can see absolutely nothing wrong with my friend's life right now -- she's just facing some professional challenges and feeling some fear.  But it got me thinking:  what's the difference between where she is (pfunk) and where I am (roll)?  I think it's all about perspective.  I think my life is going well and it feels like the universe is rewarding me with this roll.  She thinks her life isn't going well, and the universe feels like it's rewarding her with a pfunk.

I'm not trying to say that we create our own realities (though I may be kindasortakinda implying that), but on the extreme edges (funks/rolls) I've personally experienced a strong mind-reality connection.  When I want to see crap, I can always find it.  And when all I'm seeing is good, life is sweet.

The challenge for me (and for many people, I think) is that it's hard to flip the switch from funk to roll.  It's kind of a chicken and egg scenario -- at this point, the outside world has to give me some indication that I'm doing well before I can feel like I'm on a roll.  What I'm hoping I might be able to get to is the opposite -- that by thinking I'm on a roll I can start to get out of a funk.

It's a matter of faith in myself and my abilities despite what I'm seeing in the outside world.  And at the moment, that feels like a big stretch.  But I'm willing to take my roll and see just how long I can get it to last.  And maybe that's the first step.

no regrets. (or, well, ok, at least not as many regrets)

Regret. It’s a big, heavy thing that I (like many, if not most people) try to avoid at all costs. I work hard to make sure I live a life I can be proud of and, barring that, that I learn from all my choices, good or bad. And to me, those are two key ingredients to the general lack of regret in my life.

Now, am I saying I have no regrets in my perfectly perfect life? Absolutely not. There are things I wish I hadn’t said, frogs I wish I hadn’t kissed, princes I wish I hadn’t let go, jars of peanut butter I wish I hadn’t eaten, and all sorts of things that, given the opportunity to go back and do it over again (knowing then, of course, what I know now) I’d absolutely do differently. But that doesn’t mean I regret having done them.

As an obvious example, I spent almost a decade of my life pursuing a job as a professional actor. It has had consequences – I’m still behind the eight ball as far as my career and compensation go. But what I learned in that decade, especially as it regards rejection, is invaluable. The benefits of that choice, for the most part, outweigh the costs.

So my guiding principles are: first, aim to live a mindful, well-considered life. Time and energy are precious, so I don’t want to fling them away on nothing. Then second, learn from my choices. What do they mean for me going forward? What will I do differently? How will I change and grow? If I can do this 80% of the time, I’m golden.

However, there are people who have thought about this far more than I have. Martha Beck, a popular and incredible life coach, is one of them. Her advice for “regret-proofing” your life is this:

1. Get past denial. Denial is thinking “this shouldn’t have happened” or “if only…” This only serves to make you more miserable.

2. Separate the feelings. Regret is usually a combo of anger and sadness and if you can articulate what’s making you sad and what’s making you angry, you can let go of them faster.

3. Grieve what’s lost. Take the time to let go of the sadness.

4. Identify and seek out what you were hoping to get. What has regret forced you to give up? And how can you get that back into your life?

5. Analyze your anger. Listen to it for instructions. Talk it out or write it out.

6. Learn to lean towards love. When we make choices based on love, they are harder to regret. At your next choice point, make the decision that is most loving.

You can read her whole article here. I’m betting you won’t regret it.

Combating stuckness with nothing

Ever since I got back from vacation, for a variety of reasons, I’ve been feeling really stuck. And I’ve been trying to motivate myself out of it in all kinds of ways – affirmations, promises, getting out in nature, trying to look on the bright side, eating chocolate, not eating chocolate... You name it, if it’s in a self-help book, I’ve tried it. And I’m still stuck.

I’ve been here before. It’s the stuck paradox. I’m so stuck, no amount of pushing against the stuck is going to unstick it. It’s kind of like when I get really bored – I know that if I just get up and do anything it will be less boring than laying there thinking about how bored I am, but I’m so bored I don’t have the energy to get up and do anything. (This was the story of my life while I was temping.)

What I’m working with now is the Let It Be technique. Basically, I’m just allowing myself to be stuck and trusting that, like the ocean, my life will come along again and sweep me back into itself. I’m talking about it (which is risky because, well, if I promise I can help other people get unstuck, but can’t seem to get unstuck myself, what does that say about me?) and I’m finding that the combo is starting to work.

How do I know it’s working? Well, I’ve been too stuck to write a blog post for the last few weeks and here I am writing again. Is it a full recovery? Not by a mile. But, as I once told a client, baby steps only move forward.

vulnerability

A dear friend of mine recently sent me a podcast about vulnerability that was part of an hour-long TED program created by NPR (a good remix if you're tired of listening to TED talks that rely heavily on visuals).  In this talk, Brene Brown -- a woman I had heretofore avoided because I saw she had been on Oprah and, well, that made me doubt how uncheesy she was going to be -- focuses on shame and vulnerability.  She defines shame as more ore less this fear:  "is there something about me, that if other people know it or see it, that I won't be worthy of connection?"

She tells the story about her struggle with vulnerability and the research she's done around people who are willing to be vulnerable.

It's a great listen:  http://www.npr.org/2013/03/11/174030515/making-mistakes

What evidence do you see?

In a conversation last night I was reminded of how easy it is to be so focused on seeing ourselves negatively – as somehow lacking, in need of improvement, or otherwise deficient – and how quickly life will serve us evidence that what we think is true. For example, if I think I’m imperfect, the enormous bruise on my leg (and my stupid clumsiness that led to it in the first place) will convince me I’m right. If I think I need to be better than I am, the feedback from my boss will convince me that I’m no good at my job. And if I think I’m deficient, not hearing from the guy I gave my card to will seal the deal on that one.

However, and this is the part that takes reminding, the reverse is also true. If we’re focused on seeing ourselves in a gentler, more accepting light, life will serve us evidence of that, too. If I think I’m human, I can laugh at the bruise – it is really nasty and a good story. If I’m patient with myself, I’ll see the helpful kernel in my boss’s advice. And if I believe I’m whole, I’ll let that guy sort his business out without me.

It’s all about selective attention.

Look at the video below and you’ll see what I mean.




Unfortunately, I knew what I was getting into before I saw the video, so I saw the gorilla walk right through the middle. But I could also see how, if I were focused intently (like I am sometimes on being hard on myself), I could miss it.

Think about what you gather evidence for, and if it’s what you really want to prove to yourself. If not, what can you do differently to prove yourself perfect, just the way you are?

more on beginner's mind

My last post mentioned the concept of beginner's mind, and I found an article that expands on it, pointing out 10 different ways to expand your perspective:

1. Take one step at a time.
2. Fall down seven times, get up eight times.
3. Use Don’t Know mind.
4. Live without shoulds.
5. Make use of experience
6. Let go of being an expert.
7. Experience the moment fully.
8. Disregard common sense.
9. Discard fear of failure.
10. Use the spirit of inquiry

Read the rest of the article here.  I enjoyed it and hope you will, too.

give yourself permission for your passion

So many of my clients are incredibly creative.  They have great ideas, spend time thinking about them, planning for them, and dreaming about executing them, but when it comes time to actually make it happen, something always gets in the way. 

I work with dancers, writers, musicians, actors, directors, mothers, teachers, strategists, lawyers, business people, you name it.  I believe creativity is not a what, it's a how.  It's not the content of your job, it's how you execute it.  It's not the title that you have, it's the passion you bring to everything you do (and not just work).

So, given that I work with such fabulously imaginative people, why aren't they all -- and why aren't we all, every one of us -- totally fulfilled, living out our dreams?  Because when it comes time to do something about our dreams, there is very often a voice that says "it's not good enough" or "I don't deserve it."

To that voice I say (fairly unceremoniously), "I appreciate that you're trying to protect me, but now if you wouldn't mind, please shutthefuckupthankyouverymuch."

There is no permission slip for passion.  There is no rule that says you have to be accepted for what you do.  Think about the books you remember -- not all of them are the greatest books you've ever read.  In fact, some are the absolute crappiest books you've read, which is why you remember them. 

One of my favorite creative geniuses, Ira Glass, has been famously quoted as saying, "All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”


Give yourself permission to write your stories, sing your songs, dance your dances, and dream your dreams.  If you don't, who will?

do nothing

Over a recent brunch of silver dollar pancakes and two eggs (scrambled), I was complaining to my dear friend Jimmy about how I feel like I'm not making progress in the things that I want in my life.  He put down his birthday french toast, smiled, and gave me some wise advice. He said:

“You need to spend more time up a tree, with your shoes off, eating jellybeans and watching the clouds go by.”

(Like this, but with jellybeans* ---->)

"You have no idea," he said (and I am here paraphrasing) "how hard you work.  You need to take more time OFF.  Don't push for an outcome, just let it come to you."

"But, but, but..." I stammered.  I'd never get ANYWHERE if I did THAT.  And there are things that I want.  I, I, I... I don't know what to DO.

"Do nothing."  he said. 

After brunch, it started to hit me.  I've gotten much more gentle with my expectations in the past five years but I still drive myself, and hard.  I rarely screw up, but when I do, the gloves come off.  I hold my tongue when others don’t do what I have asked them to do THREE TIMES, but if I spend a weekend without checking off everything on my to do list, it was a “waste” of a weekend.

This isn't working.

Especially because, upon reflection, I have evidence that my weekend wasn't a waste.  I mopped the floor, baked a cake, took my friend out for birthday brunch, downloaded Office 2010 onto my computer, and watched several hours of Planet Earth, the nutritional supplement of television.  I didn't do nothing!

What I'm getting at is that it's time for me, once again, to question what it is that drives me.  Where did I learn my standards for what is and isn't ok, and am I willing to revise them?  Are they serving me?  Or are they holding me back? 

What good is going for perfection if it only makes me feel broken along the way?

Thanks, Jimmy.  Happy birthday!

* I may have made up the part about eating jellybeans, but it really should be in there, so I’m pretending it was.

on getting off auto-pilot

Most mornings I wake up at 6:45 and I get out of bed and do things in a pattern: I check my email, I meditate, I shower, I dress, I pack my lunch, and I leave by 7:30. I'm able to do this because, for the most part, I'm on auto-pilot. I know how much time each step takes, and like an unconscious little soldier, I make sure to get them done in their allotted minutes.

This works well to get me out of the door efficiently, but on weekends, when I have the morning to myself, I do things completely differently. I wake up and putz around, check my email, make some coffee, maybe shower, maybe meditate, it doesn't matter, there's really no pattern to it. Auto-pilot doesn't kick in, and the days are all very different.

Weekdays are efficient, and weekends are fun. Not news to just about every non-self-employed person out there, but I'm trying to find a way to split more of the difference.

Two years ago, I challenged myself to do things differently. (Read more about it here.) Part of the experiment was to get myself unstuck from some negative self-chatter habits that were making me miserable, and part of it was to wake myself up out of auto-pilot. While this was important for my relationship with myself, I'm finding it important in my relationships with others, too.

December is all about "newness" and one of the practices I'm bringing to the month is one I learned in my class at the School of Practical Philosophy (new semester starts in January): meeting others as if for the first time. The idea is to drop all our preconceived notions about others, to drop our expectations about how they will react, and to just meet them as if we knew nothing about them. I like this practice because expectations are really just a set up for disappointment, and when I meet people with an idea of how they'll treat me, they either prove me right or disappoint me. When I don't have that expectation, who knows what'll happen?

In the past I've found it easier to be more forgiving of strangers and people I'm meeting for the first time than it has been for people I've known my whole life. It was always comforting to believe that my sister would tell me what I wanted to hear when I called her, but I find it easier now just to not have that expectation and instead make myself as clear as possible. If I didn't know her, I wouldn't have the expectation, so it's only fair to treat her as well as I would treat a stranger, right?

One of my favorite songs is by a Brooklyn band named Hem, and the lyrics are:

There's a lazy eye that looks at you

And sees you the same as before

Where are your eyes lazy? Where are you on auto-pilot? And what can you do differently to wake up and meet people as if for the first time?

The power of attention (or Hondas, Hondas Everywhere)

Ever notice how, when you buy something, all of a sudden you see that same thing all over the place? Those new shoes? Even the nuns on the subway are wearing them. That recent bestseller? You can’t get out of the coffee shop without seeing six fellow readers. I call this phenomenon “Hondas, Hondas Everywhere” because I first noticed it after buying my first car – a Honda – at age 16. All of a sudden, every car in every parking lot was a Honda. Every commercial was for Hondas. I could even swear Honda debuted a breakfast cereal that year. (Ok, no, not really.)

But that’s the power of attention. What you focus on can take over your whole awareness. And this is great, if what you’re focusing on is positive, uplifting, exciting, or even just neutral. But my experience has been that it tends to be only charged things that swoop in and take over our focus. Things we want, but don’t have. Things that piss us off. Things that stir up something restless inside of us.

I met a guy once who only saw happy couples. Everywhere he turned there was another couple, making out, buying milk together, holding hands, laughing. How dare they?! Hogging up the grocery aisles, giggling in the park, there was no safe haven from the onslaught of perpetually smiling twosomes! And these couples infuriated him, because he wanted to be one of them and wasn’t.

Couples, Couples Everywhere!

It can be the same thing with our bodies. It’s easy to see the flaws, focus in on them, and overlook what’s great about the way we look. One poochy bit, and all of a sudden we think we’re the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. One waggly bit, and the voices in our heads send us running for a muumuu. I, myself, spent almost 25 years between bikinis because I was worried about how my tummy was going to look.

Bellies, Bellies Everywhere!

So what do you do if you’re stuck in this spiral of negative focus? Try focusing on something else. Focus on nature, on smiling, on being in the moment. Feel the sun on your cheek. Hear the rustling of the leaves or the faraway rumble of the subway. The more our minds are focusing on what’s really happening in front of us (instead of the constant yammering of our inner voices) the less we’re likely to be trapped by the neverending train of chatter.

Truth is, there were the same number of Hondas before as there were after.

Hurricane Irene (or, why a restricted media diet is a good thing)

It's one thing to be prepared. And so staying tuned to the news and making sure you have the latest information is important, especially in the event of an emergency (or a Pending Emergency, as this storm really turned out to be). It's another thing all together to continually bombard yourself with images and information that serve to do nothing but raise your blood pressure and anxiety levels. And I don't think it's actually the media's responsibility to monitor how much of the information you take in. That's your call. (Would I like it better if the news channels weren't fear-mongering for ratings? Yes, yes I would. But it's kind of their job to get ratings, right?)

I survived hurricane Irene easily, as did virtually all of my friends, so it's easy for me to be fairly blithe about this. But there was so much build up, so much tension before the actual storm that I started to get worried even though my apartment (and the apartment where I weathered the storm) were not in a threat zone. I made sure we took necessary precautions -- had water on hand, secured items on the roof, etc. -- and then that we turned off the TV. We checked in periodically, just to see if anything had changed, if there was any chance we'd be directly hit or otherwise affected, but as soon as the news looped back around to information we already knew, we turned it off.

Same thing with facebook. Some of my friends online were posting nothing but terrifying updates about the death toll or the misery of the flooding. And I'm not saying they shouldn't post those things, especially because they were true. Facebook can be a good way to get information shared. But I'm saying that I should be careful about how much of it I take in -- especially when the cause of the drama is something that I can't do anything about.

So should we all just sit around and be ignorant? No, of course not. But monitoring how useful the information is that we're processing and balancing that with how anxious it makes us feel is important. And we'll all have different levels of acceptability.

I think people like a little bit of drama in their lives. It helps to make us feel alive. And so a storm like this can provide us with that little bit of adrenaline. But adrenaline, not burnt on some task (like fighting or fleeing, which it was created for) can turn into stress and be quite harmful to our bodies. And the bodies of our friends and families. And we forget this.

So it's your choice as to whether or not you look at the Glenn Beck article that called Irene a blessing. (Yikes!) And it's your choice -- if you read it, how much do you read? (Two paragraphs.) And it's your choice -- you can close that window and focus instead on something where you really can make a difference. Like calling a friend. Helping a neighbor. That kind of thing.

the difference a year can make

Fifty one weeks ago, I went to Midsummer Night's Swing at Lincoln Center on a date. I had always wanted to go, and that night they were teaching the hustle, which (as far as I could tell) seemed fairly harmless. It was a second or third date, so I knew the guy a little, but not terribly well, and I was a little concerned about looking like an idiot.

I'm not a great dancer. I'm very white, and I think I might lack a joint or two. But I love to move. Aerobics? Yes, please. Running? Sure, why not. Kickboxing? You bet! So dancing is something I've wanted to do ever since I moved to the city, and (can you believe it?) I've never really been.

So my date (who, I discovered later, LOVED to dance, and probably would have hustled the hell out of the night) wandered around the periphery of the dance floor with me, and we never bought tickets. We mildly shook our booties and kindasorta hustled, but there was really no dancing to speak of.

Had he gone there without me (which, for the record, he wouldn't have), I feel confident that he would have bought a ticket and danced. And I envied him that.

Fast forward 51 weeks. It's Midsummer Night's Swing again, only this time that date is no longer in the picture. I've invited a number of friends to join me for the evening, but none are available. So I go again, this time all by myself. Because I want to be the kind of person who, when she finds herself faced with something she has always wanted to do, doesn't require an escort.

And that same embarrassment, that same reluctance to get up there and move my body crept back in. The gremlin inside kept saying awful things like, "Don't go out there; everyone will know you're alone. They'll wonder why you have no friends. They'll pity you. It's safer to stay off the dance floor. Save your $20. Just go home. You came to the event. That counts. Now just leave."

For easily 15 minutes, I wandered around Damrosch Park, watching the guy give a dance lesson, watching everyone have fun trying to do 80's hip-hop moves (which most of them really couldn't) and envying them. Why couldn't I just get in there and do it, too?

Finally, after WAY more agony than was required, I bought my ticket, checked my bag, and got on the dance floor.

I want to say it felt triumphant, but really, it didn't.

I'm glad I got over my anxiety, I'm glad I put the notch in my belt, and I'm glad that I showed myself that I can do things alone. But I'm also willing to recognize that there are some things that are just more fun when done with people you know or care about. And I think dancing to 80's covers while avoiding the flailing limbs of people even whiter than you might just be one of those things.

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?

doing The Work

A few weeks ago I went to a two-day workshop with Byron Katie, a teacher and leader who has developed a very clean, streamlined way of digging a little deeper into the thoughts and beliefs that keep you stuck. And while I didn't care for Katie herself (she was a little holier-and-more-transcendental-than-thou than I care for in my teachers), much to my own surprise and consternation, I got a lot out of her workshop.*

The first thing we did when the workshop started was to fill in a Judge Your Neighbor Worksheet. (You can get one, too, for free here.) You're asked to think of a specific situation in the past that has caused you pain and continues to cause you pain or discomfort whenever you think about it. Then, with that scenario in mind, you fill in the statements on the page.

Once your statements about what you needed someone else to do, say, think, or feel in that situation are on the page, you take a deep breath, and go back and question those statements. I'll go through one of mine as an example.

I looked back on a breakup situation and wrote "In that situation, I am angry with Frank because he wasn't ready to be in a relationship with me." (The underlined phrases are what I filled in. And "Frank," as usual, is a pseudonym.)

That statement is then subjected to four questions:

1. Is it true?

2. Can you absolutely know that it's true?

3. How do you react (behave) when you believe that thought?

4. Who would you be without that thought?

So, was it true? It sure seemed true. I was angry. I was angry at Frank. And he wasn't ready to be in a relationship with me -- he even said so. So it seemed pretty true. But when I got to the next question -- can I absolutely know that it's true -- things fell apart. Frank may have told me that to get me off his back. He may have changed in the several months since we split up. He may have been ready, but the timing wasn't right, etc. There was really no way of knowing what was going on outside the confines of my own head.

So the answer to the second question was No.

How I react when I believe that thought is to get frustrated all over again. To feel like I'm not worth being ready to be in a relationship for. To feel like I'll never be in a relationship. I feel angry, and sorry, and frustrated, and fired up, and invested. None of which is pretty.

So who would I be without these thoughts? I'd be more free. I could be more understanding, less judgmental, less angry, less invested. I could be a better friend to him. I could be a better friend to myself.

(See how this is starting to work?)

Then, the final step is to take the statement through a series of turnarounds.

Initial statement: "Frank wasn't ready to be in a relationship with me."

First: I wasn't ready to be in a relationship with me. (Doesn't feel very true, but I sit with it anyway.)

Second: I wasn't ready to be in a relationship with Frank. (Again, doesn't feel very true, but I let the ideas wash over me.)

Third: Frank was ready to be in a relationship with me. (This one had a little more impact, because it allowed me to see what a relationship at that point would have been like. It wouldn't have been the kind of relationship I would choose, that's for sure.)

I used this technique on a series of non-useful beliefs to great results. Imagine this one:

"I'm going to be single for the rest of my life."

First: I'm not going to be single for the rest of my life. (Heard it.)

Second: I'm going to be single only for a short time. (Hmmm, all of a sudden, singlehood is a precious commodity...)

Third: I'm going to be partnered up for the rest of my life. (Wow! I better make the most of this singleness now, that's for sure!)

I recommend picking up a worksheet, taking yourself through it, and sitting with a friend, coach, or trusted advisor and having that person take you through the questions and turnarounds. And when you're done, you can thank me for saving you $295 and a day and a half of uncomfortable hotel seats and recycled air.

* When I don't like a teacher personally, I don't want to like her work. I don't know why, but it probably has to do with a smallness and competitiveness in me that says, "But you don't like her, her work can't be good!"

Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Emotional Coat

A few weeks ago I returned to Yale for a reunion of my comedy group. I knew that going back to campus would be hard -- being in New Haven has always stressed me out, but when I got there, I met up with my best friend from the group (and one of my favorite people of all time) and we caught up.

"I'm just not where I thought I would be," he said, after outlining what's going on in his life. And I knew the feeling. When I graduated, I thought that by 33 I'd be running the world. I'd be some famous Broadway actor at night and running meetings in powersuits during the day. I'd have an apartment uptown and -- get this -- a car! As time has passed, though, I've gotten used to the simpler pleasures in life, and no longer seek stardom or parking. In truth, my friend is exactly where I'd like to be. He has a stable, challenging, great-paying job, a husband, a house, and two new cats. You know... everything!

"I'm not where I thought I'd be, either," I said, and all my doubts came flooding back in. Was I ever going to meet someone? Was I ever going to make enough money to afford a house or a baby? Was I ever going to amount to anything?!

At some point over the weekend, I realized that I was in the passing lane on the expressway to the land of self-doubt that I inhabited as a late teenager. And what better place to reinforce the message of "what have you done with your life?" than one of the most prestigious (and expensive) universities in the country? I felt tense, sick to my stomach, and unable to sleep.

I met a woman who made me feel really safe, and in talking with her I realized that I didn't have to feel so gross. I've accomplished a lot since college, not the least of which was growing into a sense of self that isn't defined by the need to amount to something. The difference between me now and me in college is that now I wear that self-doubt like a big, ugly coat. It gets hot, so I take it off any chance I get. Sometimes I even check it at the door! In college, though, I wore it like a skin, not even aware that it was something to be shed.

I bring this up now because soon, many of us will be headed home for the holidays. And what better place to revert to old habits and old messages of worthlessness than our childhood homes? (I know, sad, right?) I'm blessed. My family is so open that we've talked about these things, and about how much better it feels if we behave like children on purpose instead of by default. We ask for the attention we seek, and I find that I don't need to ask for nearly as much as I used to subliminally (and ineffectually) demand.

It's unpleasant, but I encourage you to put on your coat. Maybe it doesn't look like mine, laden with doubts about how good you are, (though if I had to guess, I'd say it probably does). Whatever material is used to construct it, pick that up. And then, before you go home, practice putting it down again. Hell, put down the coat you're wearing today. See that you have a choice about the thoughts that run through your head, and, in the spirit of the holidays, choose nicer thoughts.

Santa would want you to.

cultivate the good

The other day I was in a session with a client who has a very strong habit of focusing on the negative and totally disregarding the positive. It's a familiar habit, one that I have definitely engaged in myself, and one that leads to nothing but bleakness, sadness, and truly bad train karma.*

I did what I could to help my client to see that focusing on the negative is only going to bring more negative (boooooooo!), and that focusing on the good is only going to bring more good (hooray!). One of the tactics we tried was imagining that she was living in a sci-fi world where goodness was dying out. And that she was one of the few people left who could cultivate and protect goodness. So any time she saw something with even the faintest tinge of good to it, it was her responsibility to take that goodness, plant it in a garden, and tend to it.

She lit up with this idea, recognizing that "goodness" was not a judgment about whether or not an achievement was reached or someone was "worthy" of being deemed good, but rather a quality that could inherently exist inside something -- a situation, a person, herself...

So I closed the session feeling like I had cultivated some good, once again proving to myself that I do an excellent job of living what I teach.

And then the next day came.

I found myself getting twitchy about not having heard back from a guy I am dating. And when I catch myself doing that, I immediately call my sister (my cucumber cheerleader) because I know she's good at easing my twitch.

And, without going into too much detail, do you know what I was doing? Focusing on all the negative, and completely disregarding the positive! With blinders on, I was zeroing in on all the things that seemed "wrong" to me, and paying absolutely no attention to the things that were there to inspire me or give me hope that he was, in fact, interested!

Boy did I feel like a dummy.

But instead of focusing on how stupid I felt about not catching myself doing something it was so easy for me to see my client doing, I looked at how awesome it was that a) I did catch myself doing it, and b) I called someone who could help me get back on my path.

Sure, I could use this experience to prove to myself that I'm a horrible coach and can't possibly offer anything of value since I can't live it myself, or I can recognize (and celebrate!) the fact that I'm human, that I'm living it, too, and that life happens moment to moment.

And every triumph is worth a celebration.

(hooray!)

*the best way to cultivate good train karma? Focus on the times the train comes into the station right when you get there, and ignore the times you spend hours and hours waiting in the sauna for the train to finally come and then not be going to your borough. **

** I haven't gotten really good at this yet, obviously.

playing the end of the game before it's over

Watch out! I'm about to use a sports analogy. (Yes, you are at the right blog.)

I've been enjoying some World Cup games recently, and last week there was a match that reminded me of, well, life.

In final moments of the Ghana vs. Uruguay game (before penalty kicks) there was a melee in the Uruguayan goal -- a shot on goal, blocked by the goalie, then a rebound shot, blocked by a defender, and then a third rebound, blocked by a Uruguayan handball, which, for those of you as unsportsly as I am, is totally illegal -- I mean, so illegal that the guy who had the handball got kicked out of the game and would not be allowed to play again in the tournament.

So, while he blocked a goal, he was mortified because he earned Ghana a free penalty kick, AND he lost his right to keep playing.

As he walked off the field, you could see how sick he felt, knowing he had just handed the game over to Ghana.

However, things didn't go so well for Ghana on that kick. The ball hit the crossbar at the top of the goal and flew out of bounds, leading the game into a shoot out, which, in the end was won by Uruguay.

The best moment captured on video, in my opinion, is of the player who was kicked out of the game (and it almost looks like he's been kicked out of the stadium) for a move that in his mind lost them the game, when, in fact, it didn't.

The plain truth is, whether in soccer or relationships or job interviews or auditions or family gatherings or asking for a raise or taking a risk, whatever the situation, you never know how it's going to end until it ends. And there's absolutely no value to beating yourself up for something you've done "wrong" because the game you're playing may be much bigger than the one you seem to be playing.

For example, this is only one game in that Uruguayan player's career. Maybe it sends him to the bottom of the soccer heap, and maybe it starts him on a road to stardom. Who knows? What we do know is that the game did not end the way he thought it would.

And the chances are good that yours won't either.