STOP.
Stop it.
Stop comparing yourself to everyone else.
Stop judging.
Stop telling yourself you're not good enough.
No more flogging yourself internally.
Take your heart, take your gut, take your mind
Take them in your arms
And embrace them.
Embrace them like you would a lover
Or a trusted friend.
Tell them you love them.
Tell them you trust them.
Tell them they deserve everything they want.
Tell them until they start to glow
Then take that light and shine it
So the world can see.
Stop it.
Stop comparing yourself to everyone else.
Stop judging.
Stop telling yourself you're not good enough.
No more flogging yourself internally.
Take your heart, take your gut, take your mind
Take them in your arms
And embrace them.
Embrace them like you would a lover
Or a trusted friend.
Tell them you love them.
Tell them you trust them.
Tell them they deserve everything they want.
Tell them until they start to glow
Then take that light and shine it
So the world can see.
Your city needs your art
Something incredible happened in Baltimore last week. In the face of injustice, the city came together like never before. We knew about the disparities - the "two Baltimores." We acknowledged it, sometimes. We discussed it, sometimes. Some of us volunteer or work for organizations year round that support the betterment of all. Some of us live it every day.
But when we all watched as people fought back en masse against the tyranny, when we saw how much pain our fellow citizens were in and how the rest of the nation was once again poised to shake its head and look down upon Baltimore, we took to the streets. Some helped clean up; some marched in solidarity; some stepped up to volunteer in staggering numbers.
I've had discussions with many of my creative friends and clients in the past few days. I've read lots of posts and watched video blogs from others artists in the community. Many have done some incredibly powerful artwork already: photography, illustrations, poetry. Even Prince was inspired to record a song.
Others seem to struggle with the question - "How can we, as artists, help?" I've heard a common feeling of uselessness - stuck with the empathy that naturally comes with being a creative person, and the self-doubt that seems to plague many of us.
Something incredible happened in Baltimore last week. In the face of injustice, the city came together like never before. We knew about the disparities - the "two Baltimores." We acknowledged it, sometimes. We discussed it, sometimes. Some of us volunteer or work for organizations year round that support the betterment of all. Some of us live it every day.
But when we all watched as people fought back en masse against the tyranny, when we saw how much pain our fellow citizens were in and how the rest of the nation was once again poised to shake its head and look down upon Baltimore, we took to the streets. Some helped clean up; some marched in solidarity; some stepped up to volunteer in staggering numbers.
I've had discussions with many of my creative friends and clients in the past few days. I've read lots of posts and watched video blogs from others artists in the community. Many have done some incredibly powerful artwork already: photography, illustrations, poetry. Even Prince was inspired to record a song.
Others seem to struggle with the question - "How can we, as artists, help?" I've heard a common feeling of uselessness - stuck with the empathy that naturally comes with being a creative person, and the self-doubt that seems to plague many of us.
When I wrote to Alix Tobey Southwick about using her image for this post, she agreed with the sentiment: "Stuck and useless describes how I felt when I started the piece, then my muscle memory took over the pencil in my hand and drew the sketch for the painting. I was so afraid of creating some jingoistic piece of crap. I was so relieved that it was received with such enthusiasm."
Now she is auctioning her painting off at the We Love Baltimore Art Exhibition at the Metro Gallery this month. Not only does her work have meaning, evoking feelings of social justice and the nostalgia of Mr. Rogers, but it will also directly go to help the cause, with all proceeds going to the Baltimore Community Foundation's Rebuilding Fund.
So, if you're sitting around thinking, "I should just drop this art nonsense and go do something 'useful'," ask yourself, "What impact can I make with my art?" Perhaps you can write a short story involving a metaphor for inequality; create a performance piece about the pain of injustice; go out and take photos of the "two Baltimores"; compose a song evoking the anger of the oppressed.
Of course, if you feel called to volunteer, make a career shift, or finally open up that huge non-profit arts organization, by all means go do it! But please, I'm begging you, don't drop your art. We need your voice. Your unique perspective has the power to create lasting change.
You can bid on Baltimore artist Alix Tobey Southwick's piece and many others at:
We Love Baltimore Art Exhibition and Silent auctionMetro Gallery 1700 N Charles Street Baltimore, MD 21201 Tuesday May 12, 7pm to 11pm, opening and silent auction Proceeds going to Baltimore Community Foundation's Rebuilding Fund
Alix also has an upcoming show:
FABRICATION new paintings by Alix Tobey Southwick Opening reception June 11, 6pm to 9pmOn view for the month of June at Captain Larry's , 601 E. Fort Ave. Baltimore , MD 21230 Captain Larry's has wonderful food and is family friendly.
You can contact Alix at lx2bso@gmail.com
I am so grateful for all of you
This holiday season I just want to say, "Thank you" to each and every one of you. To my loved ones, thank you for supporting me and giving me the confidence to do what I love. To my fellow helpers and artists, thank you for inspiring me to think big and different. To my clients, thank you for sharing your lives with me - for trusting me with your most intimate emotions, thoughts, and desires. You allow me to do what I dream. Your willingness to work on your lives shows great courage. It may feel like it is only about you, but your work really does make the world a better place. You generate hope and eventually, you'll hand that hope on to someone else.
Happy Holidays!
<3
Lauren
This holiday season I just want to say, "Thank you" to each and every one of you. To my loved ones, thank you for supporting me and giving me the confidence to do what I love. To my fellow helpers and artists, thank you for inspiring me to think big and different. To my clients, thank you for sharing your lives with me - for trusting me with your most intimate emotions, thoughts, and desires. You allow me to do what I dream. Your willingness to work on your lives shows great courage. It may feel like it is only about you, but your work really does make the world a better place. You generate hope and eventually, you'll hand that hope on to someone else.
Happy Holidays!
<3
Lauren
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.