The other night I was snuggled up to Dan in bed, knowing that in a few days he would be leaving for a business trip to Vancouver. While he was fast asleep, I was struggling to relax because my mind was busy scanning everything that could go wrong on his trip. I found myself worrying about whether the plane he was going to be in would crash and all the aftershocks that would follow his death – the funeral, the eulogy…(sigh).
I know. These were some very dark thoughts. I noticed that my throat immediately began to tighten and my heart raced. In one moment of worrying I had triggered the fight or flight response in my body and all systems were on red alert as my brain prepared for the danger, even if it was an imagined one. To reassure myself, I held onto Dan even tighter and as I felt his chest rise and fall my brain was like, “He’s still breathing. He’s still alive!” And then I felt the tears begin to flow. As I felt flooded with gratitude in my heart, here was the exact thought that popped into my head: Even if he died in a plane crash I would be okay because I had married my best friend and experienced true love. (I know these were such crazy thoughts I’m even embarrassed to write them.) But as sadness overcame me, I started to calm down and feel better. The tears made me feel like I was really appreciating what I had… and then I fell asleep. In the morning I woke up, looked at Dan (who was still alive by the way) and I had this WTF moment of epiphany. Did I have to worry that the worst possible thing might happen to him in order to feel grateful and appreciative of my life? That would be pretty messed up. I was so used to this pattern of worrying that it had gone under the radar for so long. It was like I suddenly caught myself in an invisible web. I realized that worrying was the default mode I inherited from my own parents and grandparents. I believe worries are like that, they can be entrusted from one generation to the next like hand me downs, genetically encoded in our DNA. Since my paternal grandparents were both Holocaust survivors, it made sense that worry would be in our bloodstream. After experiencing traumatic events, you learn to stay on guard because you think, “I wasn’t prepared for it last time and look what happened!” Just like holding an amulet or kissing the roof of a car when you enter a tunnel– somehow the ritual of worrying makes us feel protected. It allows us to feel like we’ve defended ourselves preemptively against a strike we can’t anticipate. Since we can’t control many things in life that remain great mysteries, we innocently believe that we can worry them away. As if we can strike first before we’re knocked out. We think, “If I worry about everything that could go wrong before it does, I’ll be able to prepare myself when it hits.” That’s what I was doing when I was worrying about Dan’s business trip. I actually believed that if I thought of all the people in my life I would one day lose, it would somehow protect me from losing them. That if I felt all the pain now, I would be able to avoid feeling it later– but that’s not actually how it works. First of all, gratitude should be coming from a place of love, not fear. Gratitude is supposed to be about lovingly appreciating what we have now, not because we might lose it later but because, as the Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh says, “life is available only in the present moment.” If we’re too busy worrying about every future possibility and tragedy, we actually miss being in the magical presence of the here and now. We miss living our life to the fullest because we can never relax enough to actually enjoy it. If you’ve been a worrier all your life, it doesn’t mean it’s too late to change who you are. Because the truth is, it’s not who you are, it’s just a learned strategy you’ve developed in order to feel a sense of control when you can’t possibly know what’s going to happen throughout your life. I believe there’s another way. Through transformational coaching, I can help you begin to change these stuck old patterns into new strategies that last. Imagine your mind this way: it’s as if all this time you’ve been operating on old software information built by worry, doubt and fear that keeps crashing and slowing you down. But what if we could update to a new operating system built by love, trust and surrender, where you could feel more grateful, calm and self- assured that you can handle whatever stress comes your way. There is a lot more I want to say here about the effect worrying has on the brain, but I will save that for next week’s newsletter. For now I will leave you with some reflective questions that you can journal about or leave your answers in the comment section below:
Love xoxo
0 Comments
This week I was at the gym when I overheard a group of women talking in the changing room,
“I have another story for you ladies about Lynn!" "What happened this time?" "Well you know how she only calls me when she wants something." "She's the worst." "Did you know her marriage is ending?" "Oh my god! Really? Tell us more!" On and on they went talking about that woman. I showered, changed and they were still going at it. Maybe it was a good sign that I didn’t feel like I fit in with them. It had been so long since I took pleasure in gossiping. I had created more authentic relationships where we could be ourselves and talk about the challenges we were having without worrying about feeling ashamed. We could hold each other up, rather than put other people down. I guess it was a sign of growth that I no longer surrounded myself with people who left me feeling drained rather than nourished. It wasn’t all a waste of time because I came away with these lessons to share with you. There’s something eerily comforting about talking about how badly other people are doing. It seems to make us feel better about our own messes. We compare ourselves to them and think, “Well at least I still have my family, my job, my health…” In other words, we don’t have it THAT bad. But when we silver line other people’s problems with “at least…” we’re automatically disconnecting from them and from our own pain. We separate ourselves by imagining that what happened to them could never happen to us. But what if we pre-suppose that we’re all interconnected? You, me, her, him. It’s like trying to separate a wave from the ocean. You can’t. Stay with me here. If we go with this metaphor it would mean that whatever pain you’re going through, I can also feel. When there is a big current, every wave feels its impact, right? So I can’t help but connect with you because I’m a wave and you’re a wave and we’re all part of this great vast ocean that is life. So let’s say you had a really shame-filled moment where you stood up in front of your bosses to give a presentation and you choked and were mortified. In order to empathize, I actually have to allow myself to recall a time when I also felt mortified. Whether you know it or not you’ve sent me an invitation to go to this sacred space with you. And in order to do that I need to feel around for the mortified, embarrassed parts of myself so I can really BE there with you through your pain (instead of just watching it like a bystander at a train wreck). I can say, “I’m sorry, that must have been really hard to choke in front of your boss. You know I had a mortifying moment once too…(be vulnerable tell your story and share your pain).” The same is true for events we‘ve never experienced. Even if I haven’t experienced a loss of a parent, I know what loss feels like. Even though I haven’t been cheated on, I know what betrayal feels like. But if you share your raw painful parts and I don’t want to acknowledge or feel my own pain than I'll create distance between us. I'll pretend that I have no idea what you’ve been through so I can stay over here (safe and dry) while you feel alone in your mess over there. We disconnect from one another in order to protect ourselves. (Brené Brown has an amazing animation I am obsessed with that illustrates this beautifully that you can watch here) Real authentic connection – and I would argue true friendship and intimacy – requires us both to be raw, vulnerable and exposed, again and again. It’s like wearing our insides on the outside as a badge of courage. While we can connect by sharing our “wounds” and battle scars, what I mean is that we connect through compassion and understanding that we are all in this together. It’s much simpler to gossip about “those people” or judge and shame them, than it is to connect with our own vulnerability, to acknowledge that whatever happened to them could or may have happened to us too. This week's mindfulness challenge: This week, notice how often you gossip about or judge other people. Try and catch yourself before you talk about other people. Ask yourself, “What is my intention in sharing this news/story?” The Buddha said it best: “If you propose to speak, always ask yourself, is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind?” If not, then practice holding your tongue and see what happens. As always, if you would like to schedule a 90-minute “Live Full Out” Clarity Session with me where you get to experience powerful coaching first hand to see if we're a good match, please click here so we can create a roadmap that returns you to the fullest essence of who you are. It's my gift to you. All that I ask is that you show up bravely and fully, be totally freakin’ ready to change what’s no longer working for you (even if that feels scary to declare). Be prepared to be called out on your excuses for playing it small. It would be my honor to help support and guide you on your journey to personal fulfillment. With love and light, |