5 WAYS TO STOP CARING WHAT PEOPLE THINK
I talk to myself. All the time. If you see me walking down the street alone, you'll probably see me talking to myself. It's how I plan and process ideas. If it stays in my head and doesn't come out of my mouth, it's not tangible to me. It's just the way I work.
I know I look crazy, but it's not really something I can stop doing.
I also run into things and fall. All the time. I've had many a friend laugh at my stumbles over the years. I've actually got great balance, just no spatial awareness. The other day, I twisted my ankle walking down unfamiliar steps because I was reading my email. I fell, cursed, checked my ankle (it was fine), and then looked around immediately to see if anyone saw me. No signs of life. Hooray! Just then a security guard walked up and said, "Are you ok, Ma'am?" I laughed and said, "Oh, I'm just learning the lesson: Don't look at your phone while walking down stairs." He laughed, too and we went our separate ways.
I talk to myself. All the time. If you see me walking down the street alone, you'll probably see me talking to myself. It's how I plan and process ideas. If it stays in my head and doesn't come out of my mouth, it's not tangible to me. It's just the way I work.
I know I look crazy, but it's not really something I can stop doing.
I also run into things and fall. All the time. I've had many a friend laugh at my stumbles over the years. I've actually got great balance, just no spatial awareness. The other day, I twisted my ankle walking down unfamiliar steps because I was reading my email. I fell, cursed, checked my ankle (it was fine), and then looked around immediately to see if anyone saw me. No signs of life. Hooray! Just then a security guard walked up and said, "Are you ok, Ma'am?" I laughed and said, "Oh, I'm just learning the lesson: Don't look at your phone while walking down stairs." He laughed, too and we went our separate ways.
Now, I could walk around for the rest of the day thinking about this incident. I could be mortified and beat myself up about how dumb it was, how much of an idiot I am, and how I should pay better attention, damnit! Or I can learn the lesson, laugh at myself, acknowledge that I'm a human being who makes mistakes (that security guard is human, too, by the way), and move on with my life. I choose the latter.
Because it's a choice.
But the choice isn't, "Care or don't care about what other people think." The choice is really, "Love and trust myself or don't."
I know I'm not crazy. I know I'm not an idiot. So why would I care if someone else thinks I am because of some momentary interaction?
Is this choice always easy? HELL NO. It takes a lot of time and practice. This is especially true if you've spent most of your life valuing external opinions and devaluing your own, relentlessly chiding yourself when you make a mistake, are in a bad mood, or fail at something. In the therapeutic world, we call this "negative self-talk" and in my opinion it's one of the best places to begin when you want to stop caring so much about what others think.
So, how do you get rid of negative self-talk? I've got some suggestions...
1. Look at the actual evidence
Are you really an idiot who can't get anything done? Or are you a person who screws something up every once in awhile? When we've done something wrong, get embarrassed, or someone criticizes us we often feel shame. Not guilt, but shame. As the researcher Brené Brown has noted, guilt tells us "I've done something bad", while shame says, "I am bad." Big difference there. That voice saying, "You're stupid! What were you thinking! They're all gonna laugh at you!" is shame. Give shame a reality check. Are you really dumb? Nope. Are they really all gonna laugh you? Nah. (Unless you're a comedian and you want them to. But even then, not everyone is gonna laugh. Sorry.) When you look at the evidence, you'll probably find that much of it is contrary to that nasty negative self-talk. If you have trouble finding that better evidence, keep digging. It's there. I know it.
2. Talk to yourself like you would talk to a friend
I say this one all the time, but it bears repeating. If you really can't seem to talk to yourself in a helpful, loving way then think about how you would talk to a friend who was in your situation. Would you say hateful, mean things to your friend, calling them stupid over and over again and dwelling on their mistakes? Or would you try to comfort them, contradict their shame, and offer to help out? My guess is you'd choose the second option (if you'd do the first, I doubt you'd be reading this blog). So why do you deserve any different? Because you know better? Because you just should be perfect all the time? Nonsense. Why should you be perfect when everyone else gets to make mistakes? Talk to yourself in that same comforting, reasonable voice you talk to your friends with. You might not believe it at first. It'll probably feel weird. Do it anyway. Just try it a few times and see what happens.
3. Forgive yourself
YOU ARE A HUMAN BEING. I'm sorry, but you're not a robot. Not yet... You are imperfect and you always will be. None of us are perfect. What even is a perfect person, anyway? If you think about it, the opinions on perfection vary pretty widely. So how can you possibly live up to anyone's expectations? Be you and when you screw up, and you will, forgive yourself. Sometimes that even means forgiving yourself for talking to yourself badly.
My father died in May after a long battle with Alzheimer's. This last year, I was just not myself a lot of the time. It was hard to function normally. I made some mistakes in that time and I've worked hard on forgiving myself for them. Recently my energy healer (yes, I've got one of those) said, "You might need to forgive yourself for judging yourself." That was hard to wrap my head around. But really, it's about forgiving myself for that negative self-talk. Because sometimes when we catch ourselves talking to ourselves badly, we can then get down on ourselves for getting down on ourselves! Isn't that ridiculous? Just writing that sentence feels ridiculous. So, when you hear that negative self-talk, shut it down and try not to judge yourself for judging yourself. Forgive yourself. It's ok. You're human.
4. Find the lessons
Talking nice to yourself doesn't mean you get to get away with not learning anything. Life is trial and error. When you make a mistake, think about how the mistake was made, and then decide whether you want to make it again. Error is useful, but you get no use out of focusing on the error and freaking out about it. Stop, look at what happened, learn the lesson, and try again. I like to think of my computer engineer brother who essentially figures out how errors occur for a living. Understanding how something happened is useful, but you can't learn if you're stuck in a shame sprial. Like I said when I fell down those stairs, "Whelp, that's why you don't walk and stare at your phone at the same time." It's a lesson - a funny one - and that's all it has to be.
5. Remember: No one really cares what you do
It's a paradox: People are watching and they aren't. Most people are so wrapped up in their own lives that they really aren't paying much attention to what you're doing. But when they do notice and say something, it's helpful to trust and love yourself, so it's easier to brush it off. Because...
When you're more centered within yourself, you're less likely to get thrown around by the opinions and actions of others.
Now I want to hear from YOU! How does negative self-talk affect your opinion of yourself? What helps you let go of how others think of you? How can you apply these steps to your creative work? Leave a comment or question and I'll be so happy to answer.
FOUR WAYS TO KEEP FEELING LIKE SHIT
I haven't written a blog in awhile. I could say it's because I've been super busy with clients and just "hibernating" with all of my ideas, which is partially true, but really it's because I've been stuck. Now, I've had a good reason to be: my Dad has Alzheimer's and Type 1 Diabetes. He's been hospitalized multiple times since July with complications from both. He's now at the point where he's in assisted living and will never go home again. He just turned 68 last week. I've spent the last few months reeling from this, visiting him, talking to my stepmother and brothers, and processing, processing, processing. I've been through a different sort of grief before, but it doesn't necessarily make this any easier. However, from that prior experience, and from what I see with clients, I've learned a few things about how we keep ourselves emotionally stuck and how to start moving forward again:
I haven't written a blog in awhile. I could say it's because I've been super busy with clients and just "hibernating" with all of my ideas, which is partially true, but really it's because I've been stuck. Now, I've had a good reason to be: my Dad has Alzheimer's and Type 1 Diabetes. He's been hospitalized multiple times since July with complications from both. He's now at the point where he's in assisted living and will never go home again. He just turned 68 last week. I've spent the last few months reeling from this, visiting him, talking to my stepmother and brothers, and processing, processing, processing. I've been through a different sort of grief before, but it doesn't necessarily make this any easier. However, from that prior experience, and from what I see with clients, I've learned a few things about how we keep ourselves emotionally stuck and how to start moving forward again:
We try to pretend we don't feel the way we feel
Sadness, hopelessness, frustration, nervousness - these are all really shitty feelings. It's no wonder we try to push them away - they hurt! But pretending we don't feel the way we feel often just leads to more feeling crappy. Or if we admit how we do feel, we think we should feel differently. I'll let you in on a little secret: when you're really stuck with a feeling, logic will not make you feel any differently. Instead of pushing a feeling away or telling yourself you should feel differently, try validating your feeling. For instance, I feel really sad about what's going on with my Dad. It's a terrible thing and a lot of times I just want the awful feelings to go away. But when I try to pretend, I just get irritable and uncomfortable. Admitting you feel bad won't immediately make you feel better, but it removes the burden of pretending and allows you to just be as you are.
We let our feelings define us
So, now you've admitted you're sad/anxious/angry, but then you think "I've always felt this way and I will feel this way forever. I am a sad/anxious/angry person." Woof. Now that's a difficult thing to overcome! And often it leads to trying to pretend you don't feel the way you feel. If your feeling defines who you are as a person and you don't like that feeling, then of course you're going to try to force it away. But what if your feeling was just temporary? They usually are. Remember the last time you smiled. Remember when you had a good day, hour, or even just a few minutes. I'll bet you'll find that this bad feeling is just a feeling, not the defining factor of your personality. Now, if you've felt consistently bad for more than two weeks, maybe it's time to see your doctor or find a therapist to talk through what you're experiencing.
We think we always have to put our best foot forward in order to connect
Part of the whole "pretending we don't feel the way we feel" thing is that we want to look ok to other people. We think that being happy and shiny all the time is what people want to see. But really, no one wants to be around a person who pretends to perfect all the time. It gets boring and stale, and you know what? People can see through the BS. Connection comes through genuine vulnerability (thank you, Brené Brown). It takes courage to share the real you. If you think a person is appropriate to share with, maybe "How are you?" can have a different answer than "Fine.", when you're really not fine. Now, oversharing is a thing, too. There's certainly a balance between never saying how you really feel and telling a person you just met your whole life story. A big piece of this puzzle is sharing without expecting the other person to take care of your feelings for you.
We overthink in an attempt to control
Now that I've given you all these things to think about when it comes to your feelings, I'm sure it's pretty annoying to hear, "Don't overthink it!" I know, I know, I'm the worst! But it's true - when we overthink every single interaction because we think we can control how we feel or how others feel about us, we can get big time stuck. The truth is, you can't control emotions. All of these points are about letting go, feeling the way you feel, and gathering the courage to share those feelings with others, without expecting a specific response. Maybe you'll find that some people aren't safe to share with, because they try to fix, or they don't respect your privacy, or they simply won't listen. That's ok. Try again with someone else. You have the choice to share with who you want to. You can trust yourself to think, feel, and take care of yourself.
Gratitude without guilt
I have an amazing mother. She is one of the most giving people I know. She's the kind of woman that remembers everyone's birthday (even like, the granddaughter of a co-worker's birthday) and makes sure to send something every single year. She's always given to charity, even when she didn't have all that much. Whenever I see her, she gives me something. She takes me out to lunch, she takes me shopping, or she just hands me some money. I'm her baby and she loves taking care of me. I know that if I'm ever in need, I can turn to her for help. She is the best and I am eternally grateful to her.
But man, do I feel guilty sometimes! I think, "I'm 35, I don't need my mom buying me clothes. I should be buying HER nice things!" When I've actually had to ask her for money, the guilt train really comes barreling in. I feel like I piece of shit when I have to ask for her help and there's no reason for it! She's never made me feel guilty for needing help. Like I said, she's happy to give and the truth is, she's better off than me. I've got graduate school bills to pay and a fledgling business to maintain. A free lunch here, a few bucks there, it's really nice - not to mention the time I get to spend with my awesome mom.
I always thought guilt and gratitude were inseparable. There's a voice in my head that says, "It's ok to accept this, but you'd better feel bad about it." Maybe because it's considered polite to say, "Oh thank you, but you really shouldn't have." Maybe because some people make you feel like you owe them once they give you something. Maybe because I think I don't really deserve it.
I have an amazing mother. She is one of the most giving people I know. She's the kind of woman that remembers everyone's birthday (even like, the granddaughter of a co-worker's birthday) and makes sure to send something every single year. She's always given to charity, even when she didn't have all that much. Whenever I see her, she gives me something. She takes me out to lunch, she takes me shopping, or she just hands me some money. I'm her baby and she loves taking care of me. I know that if I'm ever in need, I can turn to her for help. She is the best and I am eternally grateful to her.
But man, do I feel guilty sometimes! I think, "I'm 35, I don't need my mom buying me clothes. I should be buying HER nice things!" When I've actually had to ask her for money, the guilt train really comes barreling in. I feel like I piece of shit when I have to ask for her help and there's no reason for it! She's never made me feel guilty for needing help. Like I said, she's happy to give and the truth is, she's better off than me. I've got graduate school bills to pay and a fledgling business to maintain. A free lunch here, a few bucks there, it's really nice - not to mention the time I get to spend with my awesome mom.
I always thought guilt and gratitude were inseparable. There's a voice in my head that says, "It's ok to accept this, but you'd better feel bad about it." Maybe because it's considered polite to say, "Oh thank you, but you really shouldn't have." Maybe because some people make you feel like you owe them once they give you something. Maybe because I think I don't really deserve it.
Here's the thing: Feeling like you owe someone kills gratitude. Seriously, there are studies on it. The more you feel like you owe someone - and the more they remind you of it - the less likely you are to feel thankful for the help. By now, you've probably heard about all the great mental, emotional, and even physical benefits of a consistent gratitude practice. But what about separating feelings of guilt and indebtedness from that practice? Imagine how much better you would feel if you could just simply be thankful for the gifts, love, care, and luck you receive, and not experience guilt about how much people have given you or about how little others have in comparison.
So how do we do it? Here are a few things to try:
1. Simply say, "Thank you." There's no need to hem and haw and say, "Oh, no, I can't." or "You shouldn't have!" or "I'll get you back, later." Think of how annoying it is when you genuinely give something to someone and they respond like that.
2. Try this mantra on for size, "I am worthy." Remember what you've done for the person or for other people, or imagine what you WOULD do if you could.
3. Give when you can. Pay it forward, right? I find it helps to balance the flow of giving and receiving.
4. Along these same lines, when someone says "Thank you", try simply responding with "You're welcome" instead of "No problem!" or "No worries!" What you did has value or the person wouldn't be thanking you. Take that on. It's ok to feel good about giving!
Now, I find that these things work for me when I'm feeling guilty about getting. Try them on and see what works for you.
I'd love to hear what you think or hear your ideas about how to separate guilt from gratitude. Leave me a comment to share!
You are not the problem
“I’m anxious… Her depression… My alcoholism… His ADHD…” I hear people make these types of statements all the time. They’re used to label feelings and behaviors that get in the way of personal functioning and progress. They fit with either an official or unofficial diagnosis of “symptoms” that the person demonstrates. Think about this statement for a moment, though: “I am anxious.” The words “I am” serve as markers of our identities. You’re no longer nervous because you’re going through immense change in your life, like grief or loss, a new job, a move, or conquering an addiction, you ARE anxious. You ARE anxiety. Just saying that sentence in my head gives me butterflies! It feels fixed, permanent, and irreversable.
I believe there is a problem with using the medical model for mental health. It stigmatizes our feelings and experiences, turning them into illnesses we have - and often we’re told we’ll have them forever! What if your doctor said, “You have a cold and you’ll have it forever, so just take this medication for the rest of your life?” I’m willing to bet you’d get another doctor. So why do we so easily accept the idea that 1 in 5 of us have a mental illness? That’s about equal to the highest estimate of people who get the flu every year! Now don’t get me wrong, some people have chronic medical conditions and some people have very serious mental illnesses. However, emotional/mental health and human experience are far more spectral, complicated, personal, and contextual to place within a simplified diagnosis. Unlike most diseases, I can’t look at your mental health under a slide or through an Xray or MRI and say, “Yes, you have depression.” Even a pattern of brainwaves doesn’t tell us a definitive story and in fact, doesn’t mean a condition is permanent. Interpersonal neurobiology for instance, argues that connections between neurons are created by our interactions with each other and are even changeable over time.
“I’m anxious… Her depression… My alcoholism… His ADHD…” I hear people make these types of statements all the time. They’re used to label feelings and behaviors that get in the way of personal functioning and progress. They fit with either an official or unofficial diagnosis of “symptoms” that the person demonstrates. Think about this statement for a moment, though: “I am anxious.” The words “I am” serve as markers of our identities. You’re no longer nervous because you’re going through immense change in your life, like grief or loss, a new job, a move, or conquering an addiction, you ARE anxious. You ARE anxiety. Just saying that sentence in my head gives me butterflies! It feels fixed, permanent, and irreversable.
I believe there is a problem with using the medical model for mental health. It stigmatizes our feelings and experiences, turning them into illnesses we have - and often we’re told we’ll have them forever! What if your doctor said, “You have a cold and you’ll have it forever, so just take this medication for the rest of your life?” I’m willing to bet you’d get another doctor. So why do we so easily accept the idea that 1 in 5 of us have a mental illness? That’s about equal to the highest estimate of people who get the flu every year! Now don’t get me wrong, some people have chronic medical conditions and some people have very serious mental illnesses. However, emotional/mental health and human experience are far more spectral, complicated, personal, and contextual to place within a simplified diagnosis. Unlike most diseases, I can’t look at your mental health under a slide or through an Xray or MRI and say, “Yes, you have depression.” Even a pattern of brainwaves doesn’t tell us a definitive story and in fact, doesn’t mean a condition is permanent. Interpersonal neurobiology for instance, argues that connections between neurons are created by our interactions with each other and are even changeable over time.
So, what if we drop ownership of these labels and instead shift them to something external? That doesn’t mean blaming someone else, it means making the problem the problem. What if we said “The anxiety…the depression…the alcoholism…the ADHD”? Take your issue, or your partner’s, child’s, or friend’s, and phrase it this way. For example, “The ADHD won’t let my child finish her homework.” or “When Anxiety shows up, I can’t seem to get the words out.” Do you feel a change in your perspective? Does it let a little Hope in to consider something not as part of your identity, but rather an outside thing you might be able to wrangle?
This is the first step in narrative therapy, a theoretical perspective I use in my work with many of my clients. I operate with the understanding that “my clients are not the problem, the problem is the problem.” Take a moment and think: How does it feel to take your identity out of the diagnosis and focus on it as an external thing you can manipulate? Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments.
Ready to address that problem head on? Contact me for a counseling consultation today.
Vulnerability and creativity
Researcher Brene Brown once said, “To create is to make something that has never existed before. There's nothing more vulnerable than that.” Vulnerability is a difficult concept for our society to grasp. Often, it is considered weak because it involves expressing emotions like sadness, confusion, loneliness, and hurt. It involves showing sensitivity. How difficult it is to be an artist and live in a world that consistently tells us to “stop being so sensitive”! Oh, the hot shame that comes with that statement. I can feel it in my own cheeks right now.
Artists have to embrace vulnerability more than others. We put our thoughts and ideas, our music, our movement, our voices, our words, out there for all to see and judge in order to fulfill our inner need to create and make meaning. We have to conquer fear on a much larger scale because we have to take the deep, dark parts of ourselves and put them on display.
It’s difficult to do.
Researcher Brene Brown once said, “To create is to make something that has never existed before. There's nothing more vulnerable than that.” Vulnerability is a difficult concept for our society to grasp. Often, it is considered weak because it involves expressing emotions like sadness, confusion, loneliness, and hurt. It involves showing sensitivity. How difficult it is to be an artist and live in a world that consistently tells us to “stop being so sensitive”! Oh, the hot shame that comes with that statement. I can feel it in my own cheeks right now.
Artists have to embrace vulnerability more than others. We put our thoughts and ideas, our music, our movement, our voices, our words, out there for all to see and judge in order to fulfill our inner need to create and make meaning. We have to conquer fear on a much larger scale because we have to take the deep, dark parts of ourselves and put them on display.
It’s difficult to do.
I think it’s why we artists tend to be so harsh on ourselves. Often, thinking that what we make is crap. Sometimes when we finally finish something, we can be deathly afraid to put it out there. Because it means being vulnerable. It means opening ourselves up to criticism and judgment. It can be tortuous.
But vulnerability is good for you. I know, the word itself means, “susceptible to being wounded or hurt”, but bear with me here. First, we all know that from great pain comes great art, right? In that same vein, we know that love and joy is only truly appreciated when one has experienced hurt. And what is necessary for those powerful moments of happiness? Connection. And how do we connect? We bravely put ourselves out there. We risk hurt in order to heal.
So what does this all mean? It means that artists are some of the most courageous people in the world. Because we choose to create rather than conform. We conquer fear every time we say to someone, “Here, this is my art.” Whether you are stepping onto a stage in front of thousands of fans or showing a poem to a friend, you are being brave.
How have you been courageously vulnerable through creativity? I’d love to hear your story in the comments below or on my facebook page.