Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Strange Letters
You don't know me and I don't know you. I don't know the particulars of the situation or what personal demons have taken hold of you. This lack of knowledge doesn't blunt my anger.
You don't deserve what you've been given. You were the one who brought light to her eyes; I was the one who encouraged her to bask in it. We're both guilty, but I at least acted out of love. Can you say the same?
You don't deserve her. She is kind; she is honest; she is more genuine than anyone you'll meet in this life or the next. Behind the walls she's built, there is vulnerability. You took advantage of that, and I'm disinclined to forgive you.
Second chances are rare. If you want one with me (and why would you, except that knowing you're the object of someone's passionate disgust must rankle), choose your next step carefully. I will not suffer by ensuring that you know exactly what you are. It's a testament to her gentle nature that she'll defend you to me - I do the same for the one who puts light in my eyes. Lovers forgive insults easily; friends are less kind.
Perhaps the particulars would compound my rage; perhaps they would temper it with sadness, or understanding, or regret. But know this, and know it well: I am patient. I am strong. And I defend what matters to me. She matters to me. You, I couldn't care less about.
Hurt her again, and I will end you. If you doubt me, ask what kept ten years worth of bullies at bay. Ask what brought me through suffering and hell. Ask if I can be made to do something against my will. Doubt me then. I dare you.
You don't deserve what you've been given. I understand well enough that shields can become prisons; in the end, it's her decision how to proceed.
She wouldn't have opened to you without a reason. I listened to her grapple with accepting you. I don't know if it's stupidity or arrogance or fear that had you turning her away; I don't really care. You did. In your stupidity or arrogance or fear you struck a blow that will leave a scar.
Fortunately for you, her soul is bright enough to absorb it.
WG
You don't deserve what you've been given. You were the one who brought light to her eyes; I was the one who encouraged her to bask in it. We're both guilty, but I at least acted out of love. Can you say the same?
You don't deserve her. She is kind; she is honest; she is more genuine than anyone you'll meet in this life or the next. Behind the walls she's built, there is vulnerability. You took advantage of that, and I'm disinclined to forgive you.
Second chances are rare. If you want one with me (and why would you, except that knowing you're the object of someone's passionate disgust must rankle), choose your next step carefully. I will not suffer by ensuring that you know exactly what you are. It's a testament to her gentle nature that she'll defend you to me - I do the same for the one who puts light in my eyes. Lovers forgive insults easily; friends are less kind.
Perhaps the particulars would compound my rage; perhaps they would temper it with sadness, or understanding, or regret. But know this, and know it well: I am patient. I am strong. And I defend what matters to me. She matters to me. You, I couldn't care less about.
Hurt her again, and I will end you. If you doubt me, ask what kept ten years worth of bullies at bay. Ask what brought me through suffering and hell. Ask if I can be made to do something against my will. Doubt me then. I dare you.
You don't deserve what you've been given. I understand well enough that shields can become prisons; in the end, it's her decision how to proceed.
She wouldn't have opened to you without a reason. I listened to her grapple with accepting you. I don't know if it's stupidity or arrogance or fear that had you turning her away; I don't really care. You did. In your stupidity or arrogance or fear you struck a blow that will leave a scar.
Fortunately for you, her soul is bright enough to absorb it.
WG
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Today I Learned
Today I learned that the daughter of a family friend has anorexia. Readers with a passing acquaintance of myself will know that I, too, have faced this demon. My immediate response to the news was a crack in my heart - even the anonymous girls I see around campus tug at me when I cross their paths. To have this happen to someone I know - to a girl I watched grow up - is particularly wrenching.
There's so much I want to say, both to her and her family. There's so little I know about their situation. I only know about myself, and my situation.
I want to say that anorexics are intelligent people frightened of themselves and the world.
I want to say that anorexia is a way of breaking the familial bond, of asserting independence.
I want to say that screaming, and crying, and yelling and endlessly driving in the car will help...over time.
Anorexia is not a cancer; it doesn't grow in the flesh. Anorexia is the result of a fearful mind mastering imperfect matter. Anorexics seek perfection in the world and take out their disappointment on themselves. Anorexia is a hatred of self and others - but mostly self. It is a demand for space, acknowledgement, and agency.
I write these words because they seem honest. They might not be. I'll acknowledge that; my own experience has begun to fade, with time and love and therapy easing the scars back into some semblance of smooth skin. But, I cannot forget that I lived this nightmare and worse, that I forced others to live it with me.
We do not intend to hurt and deny the ones that love us. We simply cannot see anything beyond our own self-loathing. I dislike metaphors that paint cancer or horrific accidents as an opportunity for personal growth (an excess of positivity isn't in my nature) but, in some cases - certainly my own - I think the metaphor is justified. I changed as a result of my anorexia. I learned what kind of person I am under the social mask. It was unpleasant, often brutal, but change isn't pleasant. Change isn't easy. For some of us, for those of us intelligent enough to see the vast scope of possibility, the only way we can handle change is by turning it into a monster we can fight.
Anorexia is both monster and fight: it is the product of a terrified mind trying to establish boundaries. Anorexia is about control; it is about development; it is about personal understanding.
Until I am the one loving someone seemingly bent on destroying herself, I cannot tell you the other side of this story. What I can do is offer advice, little things that will help make the anorexic seem rational and human and perhaps lessen - or soften - the overall experience.
Avoid adjectives. Ethereal, fey, elegant, pretty, slender - avoid confirming adjectives as you'd avoid offensive ones. They stick in the mind and fester, providing the disease with impetus.
Listen to the screams. Highly intelligent, highly controlled individuals do not let themselves go easily. When they do, it's because the pressure has become unbearable. They will be relieved; they will feel exhausted afterwards. A quiet, consistent presence will be most beneficial, despite the blank, emotionless, or physically ill response. Listen without judgment. This is hard. Being judged is harder.
Acknowledge defeat, but don't give in to it. Every morning is a victory and a new beginning. Every meal is a battle between two sets of scales. The scale of desire will always weigh more. The only way to recover is to want to recover.
The only way to recover is to want to recover. Think of what a confession by torture is worth. Now think of what being forced into recovery is worth to the anorexic. She must do the work, suffer the guilt and the pain and the fury. She must choose to change.
Learn to let go. This one is probably the hardest for both parties. Personal understanding comes from destruction as much as growth; mistakes must be made, consequences must be felt. Anorexia is learning how painful and fruitless the pursuit of perfection truly is. I had to learn that I am more than my body. My mother had to learn that she can't fight all my battles.
Get help early, and choose that help well. Trust the person you choose to know their job, to know the signs, and to make the hard decisions. They are there to help. They will be your sanctuary and your drill sergeant, but in the end they will help you find the straight road again.
I think, in some ways, we do this to ourselves in order to shed a stubborn skin. People who are resistant to change require an enormous incentive to accept it - this incentive changes constantly, a process that slowly teaches the individual to let go of absolutes and embrace reality. In the beginning, my incentive was to lose weight, to get in shape. Then the incentive was to prove to my mother that I ate a certain number of calories. Then it became the maintenance of a routine. Eventually, I lost control of my routine as my body circumvented the demands of my mind. No one chooses to starve; it's something our bodies do in response to environmental alterations. One can choose to restrict food intake or increase activity, but starvation is a natural response.
I spent a lot of time avoiding thinking about anorexia. I spent a lot of time trying to go backwards, to be the person who counted every goldfish and saw every lump of flesh, real or imagined. I made the mistake of thinking this was happiness. At the time, it might have been, but it pales in comparison to what I have learned and experienced since.
Humans are durable because they are stubborn. We do not want to die. No one wants to die. We do not want to acknowledge change, so we subsume that fear in others. You can't panic about the future if your sole focus is the number of calories in that steak, or the number of hours you ran, or the number of pounds the scale registered.
I am making this up as I go. It's midnight, and I am balancing three separate worlds in my head and on the tips of my fingers. One is the world I remember. Two is the world of what I've learned. Three is the world as it is right now, right here in my bed in a house in the most beautiful country on earth.
I guess my last words are just to...remember what anorexia is and is not. It's not a punishment; it is a way of handling change. It's not an invitation to Death; it is a way of altering perspectives.
Hold onto hope. If hope is impossible...well, I hope that you're stubborn enough to always hope.
Wanting to recover is the hardest part. The rest is a dangerous, beautiful routine.
WolfGrrl
There's so much I want to say, both to her and her family. There's so little I know about their situation. I only know about myself, and my situation.
I want to say that anorexics are intelligent people frightened of themselves and the world.
I want to say that anorexia is a way of breaking the familial bond, of asserting independence.
I want to say that screaming, and crying, and yelling and endlessly driving in the car will help...over time.
Anorexia is not a cancer; it doesn't grow in the flesh. Anorexia is the result of a fearful mind mastering imperfect matter. Anorexics seek perfection in the world and take out their disappointment on themselves. Anorexia is a hatred of self and others - but mostly self. It is a demand for space, acknowledgement, and agency.
I write these words because they seem honest. They might not be. I'll acknowledge that; my own experience has begun to fade, with time and love and therapy easing the scars back into some semblance of smooth skin. But, I cannot forget that I lived this nightmare and worse, that I forced others to live it with me.
We do not intend to hurt and deny the ones that love us. We simply cannot see anything beyond our own self-loathing. I dislike metaphors that paint cancer or horrific accidents as an opportunity for personal growth (an excess of positivity isn't in my nature) but, in some cases - certainly my own - I think the metaphor is justified. I changed as a result of my anorexia. I learned what kind of person I am under the social mask. It was unpleasant, often brutal, but change isn't pleasant. Change isn't easy. For some of us, for those of us intelligent enough to see the vast scope of possibility, the only way we can handle change is by turning it into a monster we can fight.
Anorexia is both monster and fight: it is the product of a terrified mind trying to establish boundaries. Anorexia is about control; it is about development; it is about personal understanding.
Until I am the one loving someone seemingly bent on destroying herself, I cannot tell you the other side of this story. What I can do is offer advice, little things that will help make the anorexic seem rational and human and perhaps lessen - or soften - the overall experience.
Avoid adjectives. Ethereal, fey, elegant, pretty, slender - avoid confirming adjectives as you'd avoid offensive ones. They stick in the mind and fester, providing the disease with impetus.
Listen to the screams. Highly intelligent, highly controlled individuals do not let themselves go easily. When they do, it's because the pressure has become unbearable. They will be relieved; they will feel exhausted afterwards. A quiet, consistent presence will be most beneficial, despite the blank, emotionless, or physically ill response. Listen without judgment. This is hard. Being judged is harder.
Acknowledge defeat, but don't give in to it. Every morning is a victory and a new beginning. Every meal is a battle between two sets of scales. The scale of desire will always weigh more. The only way to recover is to want to recover.
The only way to recover is to want to recover. Think of what a confession by torture is worth. Now think of what being forced into recovery is worth to the anorexic. She must do the work, suffer the guilt and the pain and the fury. She must choose to change.
Learn to let go. This one is probably the hardest for both parties. Personal understanding comes from destruction as much as growth; mistakes must be made, consequences must be felt. Anorexia is learning how painful and fruitless the pursuit of perfection truly is. I had to learn that I am more than my body. My mother had to learn that she can't fight all my battles.
Get help early, and choose that help well. Trust the person you choose to know their job, to know the signs, and to make the hard decisions. They are there to help. They will be your sanctuary and your drill sergeant, but in the end they will help you find the straight road again.
I think, in some ways, we do this to ourselves in order to shed a stubborn skin. People who are resistant to change require an enormous incentive to accept it - this incentive changes constantly, a process that slowly teaches the individual to let go of absolutes and embrace reality. In the beginning, my incentive was to lose weight, to get in shape. Then the incentive was to prove to my mother that I ate a certain number of calories. Then it became the maintenance of a routine. Eventually, I lost control of my routine as my body circumvented the demands of my mind. No one chooses to starve; it's something our bodies do in response to environmental alterations. One can choose to restrict food intake or increase activity, but starvation is a natural response.
I spent a lot of time avoiding thinking about anorexia. I spent a lot of time trying to go backwards, to be the person who counted every goldfish and saw every lump of flesh, real or imagined. I made the mistake of thinking this was happiness. At the time, it might have been, but it pales in comparison to what I have learned and experienced since.
Humans are durable because they are stubborn. We do not want to die. No one wants to die. We do not want to acknowledge change, so we subsume that fear in others. You can't panic about the future if your sole focus is the number of calories in that steak, or the number of hours you ran, or the number of pounds the scale registered.
I am making this up as I go. It's midnight, and I am balancing three separate worlds in my head and on the tips of my fingers. One is the world I remember. Two is the world of what I've learned. Three is the world as it is right now, right here in my bed in a house in the most beautiful country on earth.
I guess my last words are just to...remember what anorexia is and is not. It's not a punishment; it is a way of handling change. It's not an invitation to Death; it is a way of altering perspectives.
Hold onto hope. If hope is impossible...well, I hope that you're stubborn enough to always hope.
Wanting to recover is the hardest part. The rest is a dangerous, beautiful routine.
WolfGrrl
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Sunday, March 3, 2013
What About Them?
What about those moments of absolute terror and despair that strike you from nowhere? What about those, huh? I know I'm not the only one that has them.
When I told my mother that I didn't want to disappoint her and my father by not going to graduate school, I thought I was going to be sick. In the US, school is considered to be of the utmost importance and a good education is seen by many as a gateway to a better life - to the "American Dream."
Folks, the American Dream has air quotes because it's a myth. It isn't the American Dream we need to be chasing, but our own.
I don't want to continue my formal education. I love to learn, but not when it comes to regimented, assessed and cemented knowledge. I like to learn from people who are passionate about what they're teaching. I like to engage with minds greater than my own. I believe that I learn all the time, whether I'm buying shoes, getting ripped off, or talking through a problem with a friend. I don't think formal education will prevent me from making mistakes: it might, in some strange way, encourage me.
American society has raised its children to be so terrified of failure that we cannot imagine a future that deviates from the most vocally advertised path. So many of my friends are beating themselves bloody trying to 'get ahead' and forge a career that will make their parents, their society, and their culture happy.
Forget them. Make yourself happy.
I suck at it too, you know. I'm completely guilty of telling myself I 'should' be this or I 'should' do that. Now I'm calling bullshit (sorry) on that technique. The rest of the world, while it has its share of societal and cultural fuckwittage, manages to produce more confident and secure individuals than the US.
Americans, don't give me crap about this; you know it's true. You see it in our economy, our military-industrial complex and our foreign relations. We chase the American Dream to the exclusion of progress, creativity, personal growth and personal happiness. We work too damn hard to be so damn miserable.
I want to be a person that makes other people happy (and makes a decent living). Is that such an impossible dream? SERIOUSLY? I want to watch my kids become happy, well-adjusted and mature individuals with a sense of communitas. Is that such an impossible dream? I want to love my husband, be there for my friends and herd my family together when we scatter.
Pooh Bear is a bear of very little brain, but often there's wisdom in that little brain. What makes his adventures so comforting is that he manages to learn and grow without losing himself. WE DON'T WANT TO LOSE OURSELVES, yet everything we do drives us further and further from who we think we are. A person can only make so many compromises before the deal loses meaning (mixing my metaphors; oops).
Listen to Christopher Robin, who, with the wisdom of childhood and the affection of an honest friend, told Pooh:
You're braver than you believe
Stronger than you seem and
Smarter than you think
So am I. So are you. So are the dreams you nurture in the shadow of the "American Dream."
Chase those dreams, dammit. Life's too short to spend time on cultural fuckwittage.
WolfGrrl
I don't want to continue my formal education. I love to learn, but not when it comes to regimented, assessed and cemented knowledge. I like to learn from people who are passionate about what they're teaching. I like to engage with minds greater than my own. I believe that I learn all the time, whether I'm buying shoes, getting ripped off, or talking through a problem with a friend. I don't think formal education will prevent me from making mistakes: it might, in some strange way, encourage me.
American society has raised its children to be so terrified of failure that we cannot imagine a future that deviates from the most vocally advertised path. So many of my friends are beating themselves bloody trying to 'get ahead' and forge a career that will make their parents, their society, and their culture happy.
Forget them. Make yourself happy.
I suck at it too, you know. I'm completely guilty of telling myself I 'should' be this or I 'should' do that. Now I'm calling bullshit (sorry) on that technique. The rest of the world, while it has its share of societal and cultural fuckwittage, manages to produce more confident and secure individuals than the US.
Americans, don't give me crap about this; you know it's true. You see it in our economy, our military-industrial complex and our foreign relations. We chase the American Dream to the exclusion of progress, creativity, personal growth and personal happiness. We work too damn hard to be so damn miserable.
I want to be a person that makes other people happy (and makes a decent living). Is that such an impossible dream? SERIOUSLY? I want to watch my kids become happy, well-adjusted and mature individuals with a sense of communitas. Is that such an impossible dream? I want to love my husband, be there for my friends and herd my family together when we scatter.
Pooh Bear is a bear of very little brain, but often there's wisdom in that little brain. What makes his adventures so comforting is that he manages to learn and grow without losing himself. WE DON'T WANT TO LOSE OURSELVES, yet everything we do drives us further and further from who we think we are. A person can only make so many compromises before the deal loses meaning (mixing my metaphors; oops).
Listen to Christopher Robin, who, with the wisdom of childhood and the affection of an honest friend, told Pooh:
You're braver than you believe
Stronger than you seem and
Smarter than you think
So am I. So are you. So are the dreams you nurture in the shadow of the "American Dream."
Chase those dreams, dammit. Life's too short to spend time on cultural fuckwittage.
WolfGrrl
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Dickensian
Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, a touch that never hurts.
Charles Dickens
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Where Finals Go
What I should be doing right now is studying. Instead, I am trolling through the online syllabi for my current classes to figure out my approximate final grades. Needless to say, I severely underestimated my ability this semester. Even if I should bomb the finals (and I refuse to let that happen, because what happened to my GPA in that scenario made me saaaaaad) I will emerge with decent enough grades.
I have already been told by my advisor that all hopes of a 4.0 flew away my second semester. That's all right. My therapist pointed out that, hey, does it really matter what your GPA is in the real world? Obviously, one would like to have a good record for future employers, but it's entirely unnecessary to spend your entire life slaving away at school. There are so many good things that I've done this year that aren't school related; so many relationships I've grown or nurtured. I have made great strides in my personal epiphanies. I am healthy, mentally and physically. I am going abroad (OMG, OMG, OMG).
So, I say "whatever" to my academics at the moment. I will study for my finals; I will take them as seriously as I always do. I will bemoan stupid mistakes and gloat over easy triumphs. And then I will forget it all, and focus on what lies ahead. Even if what lies ahead are the rather dismal chores of vacuuming the corners of my room and compiling lists of what to do before I leave.
It's a good day. I must not be 'doing' finals' week correctly if I can find happiness and amusement where my peers find despair and gallows humor.
Meh. It's a good day (for me). Here's my secret: Blow it off when you feel despair. At that point, there's nothing you can do anyway.
Cheers!
WolfGrrl
I have already been told by my advisor that all hopes of a 4.0 flew away my second semester. That's all right. My therapist pointed out that, hey, does it really matter what your GPA is in the real world? Obviously, one would like to have a good record for future employers, but it's entirely unnecessary to spend your entire life slaving away at school. There are so many good things that I've done this year that aren't school related; so many relationships I've grown or nurtured. I have made great strides in my personal epiphanies. I am healthy, mentally and physically. I am going abroad (OMG, OMG, OMG).
So, I say "whatever" to my academics at the moment. I will study for my finals; I will take them as seriously as I always do. I will bemoan stupid mistakes and gloat over easy triumphs. And then I will forget it all, and focus on what lies ahead. Even if what lies ahead are the rather dismal chores of vacuuming the corners of my room and compiling lists of what to do before I leave.
It's a good day. I must not be 'doing' finals' week correctly if I can find happiness and amusement where my peers find despair and gallows humor.
Meh. It's a good day (for me). Here's my secret: Blow it off when you feel despair. At that point, there's nothing you can do anyway.
Cheers!
WolfGrrl
Monday, October 22, 2012
So Close, So Far
I understand how it feels to be powerless. Sometimes, the hurts aren't things you can fix. Sometimes, the reasons your loved ones suffer are unknown. I am so close to my friends, my sisters of the heart, that holding out my hand to them feels like everything I can do, and yet not enough. These girls, these women, are so strong; the strongest people, after all, are those who can smile at the little things, and whose hearts haven't been hardened by the big, tough things.
I wish I knew the words to let them know that the tunnel, the darkness, the sadness and defeat and confusion doesn't last forever. But we struggle in different ways; we come from different places, different worlds and views. The common ground we've built is strong enough to weather any storm, but our storms are unique.
I know I love them both, and that I would bleed if I thought blood would save them. But that's not helpful. That's just words.
I remember how it feels. I don't remember how it feels for them, but I remember feeling worthless and beaten down, a pawn of the world - and an unimportant pawn at that. I remember feeling like a failure. I still sometimes feel like a failure.
Those memories bring me close to them; so close, and yet so far. Everyone always pretends (and I'm guilty of this myself) that nothing takes any effort. That's a lie. Do you hear me, you two? That. Is. A. Lie. It all takes effort. Living takes effort. Failing takes effort. Overcoming the sense that you're failing takes incredible effort. It's up to you to decide if what you have, or what you can have, is worth expending that effort.
No one can tell you to expend that effort. Not me, not the school, not your parents, not the president or the military or God. No one but you can tell you to live, love, laugh, cry, do or die. I promise you that. It's terrifying to realize you are in control. It sucks sometimes when you screw up and you want to blame someone, but it's only you.
Do not blame yourself. Stop it right now, both of you. Stop, pause, rewind, listen. Listen to yourselves.
I had to hurt myself before I learned that it's ok to cry. I had to cry in the dark for years before I learned that it's ok to cry in the light. Cry, loves. Eventually you'll start to laugh. Let it go. Let it out. Scream. Throw something. Sob. Swear. Run. I tried running from my problems. I tried screaming. I tried the most passive form of action: dying. You can absolutely do what I did; I'm not sure that I would have listened if someone told me what I'm trying to tell you. But I'll never know. I'll never remember.
It feels like work and the world control your lives; don't let them. Give work and the world faces and personalities. Are they bullies? Control freaks? Parents? Overachieving classmates? Overly helpful friends? If they have faces, they have personalities, and they have something you can push against. Work and the world do not own you. You own them. You walk them beside you like well-heeled dogs. You look them in the eye and say, "This is my life. I understand my choices and what they mean. You won't make me feel guilty for choosing myself over you. I am Me, and I want to know Me without you."
It sounds silly. It sounds childish. It might even sound impossible. Pick something easy. Boss your cat around. Make your stuffed animal into a Homework Nazi. Practice saying No. Sing it in the shower. Run to its rhythm. Beat a pillow, kick a ball. Crumple up piece after piece of paper. Throw the squishy. Talk at someone. (Not to someone, but AT someone.)
It will be ok. I promise. I promise you that. The only way it won't be ok is if you give in.
Just remember: giving in isn't giving up or changing course. Giving in is doing nothing at all.
WolfGrrl
I wish I knew the words to let them know that the tunnel, the darkness, the sadness and defeat and confusion doesn't last forever. But we struggle in different ways; we come from different places, different worlds and views. The common ground we've built is strong enough to weather any storm, but our storms are unique.
I know I love them both, and that I would bleed if I thought blood would save them. But that's not helpful. That's just words.
I remember how it feels. I don't remember how it feels for them, but I remember feeling worthless and beaten down, a pawn of the world - and an unimportant pawn at that. I remember feeling like a failure. I still sometimes feel like a failure.
Those memories bring me close to them; so close, and yet so far. Everyone always pretends (and I'm guilty of this myself) that nothing takes any effort. That's a lie. Do you hear me, you two? That. Is. A. Lie. It all takes effort. Living takes effort. Failing takes effort. Overcoming the sense that you're failing takes incredible effort. It's up to you to decide if what you have, or what you can have, is worth expending that effort.
No one can tell you to expend that effort. Not me, not the school, not your parents, not the president or the military or God. No one but you can tell you to live, love, laugh, cry, do or die. I promise you that. It's terrifying to realize you are in control. It sucks sometimes when you screw up and you want to blame someone, but it's only you.
Do not blame yourself. Stop it right now, both of you. Stop, pause, rewind, listen. Listen to yourselves.
I had to hurt myself before I learned that it's ok to cry. I had to cry in the dark for years before I learned that it's ok to cry in the light. Cry, loves. Eventually you'll start to laugh. Let it go. Let it out. Scream. Throw something. Sob. Swear. Run. I tried running from my problems. I tried screaming. I tried the most passive form of action: dying. You can absolutely do what I did; I'm not sure that I would have listened if someone told me what I'm trying to tell you. But I'll never know. I'll never remember.
It feels like work and the world control your lives; don't let them. Give work and the world faces and personalities. Are they bullies? Control freaks? Parents? Overachieving classmates? Overly helpful friends? If they have faces, they have personalities, and they have something you can push against. Work and the world do not own you. You own them. You walk them beside you like well-heeled dogs. You look them in the eye and say, "This is my life. I understand my choices and what they mean. You won't make me feel guilty for choosing myself over you. I am Me, and I want to know Me without you."
It sounds silly. It sounds childish. It might even sound impossible. Pick something easy. Boss your cat around. Make your stuffed animal into a Homework Nazi. Practice saying No. Sing it in the shower. Run to its rhythm. Beat a pillow, kick a ball. Crumple up piece after piece of paper. Throw the squishy. Talk at someone. (Not to someone, but AT someone.)
It will be ok. I promise. I promise you that. The only way it won't be ok is if you give in.
Just remember: giving in isn't giving up or changing course. Giving in is doing nothing at all.
WolfGrrl
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Advice Skills
I wish I was better at giving advice. Part of the reason I feel that I don't contribute as much to others' lives is that I'm not so good at either giving or asking for advice. I don't know if I should work to develop this skill, or not.
As I grow older I realize that everyone has problems. Everyone suffers, some more vocally or publically than others. I am a judgmental person. I don't intend to be; I don't go out into the world with the idea of comparing myself to others. It happens, less so than it used to, but it still happens. That I am working to mitigate. I don't want to derive pleasure from making others seem small, even if the shrinking process is only in my mind.
Maybe one day I'll be able to ask for advice and apply it, rather than just listening to it and then doing what I think is best. As I've said before, my best choices have occurred when I followed my instincts or asked for help.
I also have trouble following my own advice. Most of what I know I've learned through trial and error, aka personal experience. No, I've never caught and killed and eaten a fish (my sister has though). I've never been in an automobile accident, or a personal trauma. I'm ordinary, and moderately functional. Yay me! (Yes, I do celebrate little things.)
A friend of mine from overseas recently came to visit, and she had each of us write some words of advice in a book for her to keep. They could be useful, funny, bizarre, or downright disturbing bits of advice; the point was, it gave her something to connect to us. The idea made me think and now I'd like to try a slightly different version of that.
I know a lot of you don't leave comments (most of you, I believe, read, nod, laugh or frown, and move on with your lives). But if you have a moment, or you find yourself particularly inspired, please leave me a piece of advice in the comments below. I promise to read, keep, and try to apply them to my life!
In the meantime, here are some of mine:
- If you look good, you'll feel OK
- Celebrate the small things
- Always be polite and prompt(ish)
- Write your paper a week before it's due, ignore it for two days, then edit it
- If the guilt outweighs the pleasure, don't do it
- Traffic lights are perverse; you can't win against them so don't try
- Failure is a good motivator
- Driving on the wrong side of the road isn't a good idea
- You'll always make a mistake within the first three attempts
- Ask yourself what kind of person this choice/action would make you
- Have faith (the type is up to you)
- Just keep walking, no matter how cold, dark, or alone you feel
- Look at the stars sometimes
- Go for walks
- Naptime is not just for babies
- Music is good
- Factor in travel time
WolfGrrl
As I grow older I realize that everyone has problems. Everyone suffers, some more vocally or publically than others. I am a judgmental person. I don't intend to be; I don't go out into the world with the idea of comparing myself to others. It happens, less so than it used to, but it still happens. That I am working to mitigate. I don't want to derive pleasure from making others seem small, even if the shrinking process is only in my mind.
Maybe one day I'll be able to ask for advice and apply it, rather than just listening to it and then doing what I think is best. As I've said before, my best choices have occurred when I followed my instincts or asked for help.
I also have trouble following my own advice. Most of what I know I've learned through trial and error, aka personal experience. No, I've never caught and killed and eaten a fish (my sister has though). I've never been in an automobile accident, or a personal trauma. I'm ordinary, and moderately functional. Yay me! (Yes, I do celebrate little things.)
A friend of mine from overseas recently came to visit, and she had each of us write some words of advice in a book for her to keep. They could be useful, funny, bizarre, or downright disturbing bits of advice; the point was, it gave her something to connect to us. The idea made me think and now I'd like to try a slightly different version of that.
I know a lot of you don't leave comments (most of you, I believe, read, nod, laugh or frown, and move on with your lives). But if you have a moment, or you find yourself particularly inspired, please leave me a piece of advice in the comments below. I promise to read, keep, and try to apply them to my life!
In the meantime, here are some of mine:
- If you look good, you'll feel OK
- Celebrate the small things
- Always be polite and prompt(ish)
- Write your paper a week before it's due, ignore it for two days, then edit it
- If the guilt outweighs the pleasure, don't do it
- Traffic lights are perverse; you can't win against them so don't try
- Failure is a good motivator
- Driving on the wrong side of the road isn't a good idea
- You'll always make a mistake within the first three attempts
- Ask yourself what kind of person this choice/action would make you
- Have faith (the type is up to you)
- Just keep walking, no matter how cold, dark, or alone you feel
- Look at the stars sometimes
- Go for walks
- Naptime is not just for babies
- Music is good
- Factor in travel time
WolfGrrl
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)