Navigating Your Growth Path

When I got to the end of my rope and let go, it did not mean I gave up. I continued to practice the things that I ask others to do in recovery - exercise, eat healthily, get sleep, phone a friend, ask for hugs, lean in. But I also knew that I needed MORE.

So I reassessed. I acknowledged how difficult things actually were for me. I told my friends. I spilled the beans to my husband. I even told my kids. This was not natural nor was it voluntary. It was my children who first called my attention to my despair, "Mom, you do not seem yourself." Over and over they said it until I could agree.

Next, I tried to apply what I would tell someone else in my situation. I spent one day in front of a roaring fire with an afghan and a bottomless up of coffee (decaf). I decided that I was standing at a crossroads and although I did not know which road to travel, I accepted that I was staring into the face of opportunity.

I also chose to study the masters, my friends who do hard things well. What I noticed is that the suffering ultimately can be beneficial and I couldn't help but notice that doing HARD things seems to build more muscles than doing EASY things. I want to be strong in a healthy way. I do. I do not want to live with a vague sense that I have somehow allowed myself to be a victim of my circumstances.

So what could I do? Stay tuned. But before you leave, think about who you want to be - do you want to be the person who would rather change their circumstances so that they feel more comfortable or do you want to be the kind of person who is willing to change yourself and shift your goals as needed to continue on a growth path?

Searching for Shells

In July, Pete and I received and accepted a lovely invitation to go on a beach vacation with our granddaughter, Norah. Norah let her parents come too. I love the beach. But what I love even more is seeing the beach through the eyes of a three year old. Talk about awe!

Norah would stay on the beach and at the water's edge to infinity and beyond. But she spends her time behaving in ways that are exactly opposite of how adults spend their time. I learned a lot watching her. First, Norah does not hoard.

At Folly Beach, research reports that there are two BIG unique components to Folly. 1. More sharks come here to birth their babies in the spring than other places and 2. It has a ton of shells. No one seemed overly concerned about sharks, but the adults are obsessed with collecting shells.

They walk slowly along the water's edge, humped over, scanning the shell-line (yes, there is one) for the perfect shell. Most have small satchels slung over their shoulder to hold their finds. They never look up or around; they do not gaze lovingly at the sea wondering what lies beyond the horizon. They do not watch the birds dive for fish. They pay no attention to the young children learning to surf. They are on a mission and it is all-consuming.

Norah, on the other hand, spent the entire week returning things to the sea. She would find a shell and run into the ocean, hurling it back into the same water that spit it out moments before she found it. She threw handfuls of sand back too. Anything that seemed like it came from the sea, she sent it back with peels of laughter and delight.

Her eyes glanced down to find shells or sand for recycling even as she feasted on sights unique to the beach - on Folly Beach there are many sights to see.

I couldn't help but think about the difference between the two experiences of Norah and the shell-seekers. One looked as if they were afraid of missing something, while Norah assumed that the world was created to give her things that she could turn around and give back.

Which are you? Do you feel that you have to grab in order to get? Or do you believe the world is an abundant place with much to offer with plenty of opportunities to give back as an act of gratitude?

Re-Train Your Brain!

I have a friend who is not as old as I am but old enough to make up her own mind about everything. She can drink or not, smoke or not, work or not, marry or stay single, be sexually active or celibate. These are her choices. But she struggles to make choices because every time she makes a decision her mother gives her grief. Nothing she does is quite right. She's either selfish or not taking good care of herself. She is either too frugal or a spendthrift. The feedback, contrary and inconsistent, would be funny if my friend did not care so much about her mother's approval.

My friend has a boundary problem. I'm thinking about buying her a hoola hoop and suggesting she learn how to wear it as a shield against her mother's intrusion. It's easy to poke at the mom and blame her for my friend's distress, but that violates my core value of taking responsibility for every single part of life.

My friend shares this value but she is struggling to practice it. So is it a value for her? Yes, I believe it is and I have seen her over the years develop good skills with others. But her mom might just be her final test in taking responsibility for her life. All of it. Including learning to reject, let go of, activity resist HER REACTION to her mother's words.

Yes, that's it I think. She cannot control her mother but she can learn how to practice new ways of responding. Her brain, lazy as all brains can be, prefers that my friend respond with despair just like she always did when faced with so much negativity as a child. She will have to try all sorts of new tricks of the trade to re-train her brain to stop caring so darn much about her mother's opinions.

This is hard work. It will be learned clumsily over time, so long as she practices. She's practicing and I'm excited to hear, over time, how it works for her. This I know - if she figures this out, she will be able to be more loving to herself and maybe even her mom. That's a big win from my perspective.

Just Say No

Just say no. Although this slogan was a complete failure in the war against drugs, it could still serve a purpose. When my friend Anne decided to become a goat and chicken mother on a little plot of land that certainly resembles heaven, she didn't get transported there through magic fairy dust. She had to DO a lot of purging.

For months I watched Anne let go of paintings, outfits, jackets, children's tea sets, matchbox cars, extra dishes and furniture. She had to actively reject the doubters and naysayers who thought a woman of a certain age might consider a lovely retirement home but perhaps should refrain from daring to dream that life could be MORE with LESS. Anne ignored it all; she discarded the advice of those who knew her but did not know the inclinations of her heart. Anne finally learned how to just say no so she could say yes to her life - not her friends' life or her children's life or even her beloved husband's life - her life.

I wonder if sometimes she felt the weight of rejection when not every single person jumped up and down with glee over her news to sell the family home and move. I myself remember floating the idea of downsizing one time with my adult kids and our son Michael said, "Who's going to pack up my childhood memories?"

I didn't know how to answer Michael then, but I do now - thanks to Anne. Now I would say to my son, "You. You carry your memories in your heart. You own the ones you save and the ones you pitch. You get to take the memories you treasure with you everywhere you go. Dad and I will text you our new address when we move."

Now, unlike Anne, Pete and I chose a different path of reinvention which required a home renovation. This means that all my children's memories are still packed away in storage bins with regular invitations from us to come retrieve them any time they want. We're still waiting on Michael to retrieve his precious memories - I suspect there is a lesson to be found in that small fact.

The word "NO" looks different for each of us but it does involve rejecting one thing for another. If we are not willing to purge, how will we ever make room for the newer, better problems and joys that await as we get more clarity about who we want to be when we grow up?

A New View of Letting Go

For a month’s worth of posts, I (Scott) am critiquing my own past blog posts. I’m viewing this as an experiment in being willing to admit when I’m wrong, change my mind, and to do so publicly.

When we speak of "letting go" we are, on the one hand, saying something about the release of control but, on the other hand, we're suggesting that we don't release control just for the sake of releasing control.  We "let go" so that we can see the world clearly.  It is only through proper orientation to that which is "ours to do" that we can live in the reality of what is and resist the temptation to ground ourselves in fantasy.  

Fantasy is what happens when we're utterly disoriented over what is "ours to do."  

Scott’s updated take as of 2021:

I wish I would speak more positively about you (us). I like the idea that we “let go” for a purpose, and not just to say that we let go. The phrase “letting go” is a nice little shorthand that describes the process of realizing how one thing in our lives is maybe getting in the way of our ability to maximize thriving. 

But, as of today, I see no reason to frame this in terms of “Fantasy v. Reality.”  It’s hard to let go of things. Often enough we have a long history with the things that we’re clinging so tightly to and this means it’s easy to be afraid of letting go. So I’ll close today by asking you a few questions instead of making more comments:

Are you holding on to some things that you wish you could let go of?

If you could let go of them, how would you do it?

When you let go of them, what else would you like to be doing with your time?