Success

I have always struggled to really feel successful, especially when I look around at what American culture deems successful. Money, power, possessions, and "coolness" are successes that just don't resonate with my soul, and even when attained don't feel like real success to me. They just feel empty and pointless. I have written about my struggle with defining success before in an essay that was published on The Art of Simple blog a couple of years ago, and it's something I've been pondering again recently, as I start to gather the necessary information to prepare my taxes and see numbers upon numbers that declare my "worth" but that feel completely meaningless. 

I imagine I don't much look like a picture of success to those peeping in from the outside, especially in the affluent part of the world I live in. I live in an older, smallish house with nothing in the way of fanciness. I drive a car with 108,000 miles on it and a huge gash down one side. I'm a barista at Starbucks and will never get rich doing that, even with the recent raise I received. But interestingly, it is in this line of work that I have begun to understand different, more meaningful (to me) definitions of success and where I have finally felt the greatest success of my life. 

Early on, when every part of the job still felt a bit overwhelming and I wondered if I would ever really get it, a manager said to me at the end of a shift, " I can really tell that you are improving. Be patient with yourself; everything will click before too long." For much of my life, "perfection" felt like the definition of success, but this word "improvement" resonated deeply with me and felt like actual success. "Improvement" is a level of success I can handle. "Perfection" is just ridiculous. Another time at work, a co-worker said, "I love working with you, Mandi, because you are always so proactive." Seeing what needs to be done and doing it, anticipating the needs of those around me and helping reduce the frustration an unmet need could cause: This feels like success. I don't get paid extra to be proactive, and I have plenty of co-workers that are not and get paid the same as me, but being "proactive" matters, at least to me, and feels like a true contribution to the team. Another time, a manager said, "I appreciate you because no matter which role I ask you to fill, I know you will do a good job and that you will do the job without complaining," which triggered that same feeling of success within me. On several occasions I have had co-workers say how much they enjoy working with me because I'm always so kind and encouraging. More feelings of success. And, recently, I had a customer come through the drive-thru and tell me at the window that I was "absolutely the most pleasant person" and that she could "feel [my] positive energy radiating through the speaker." After work, I relayed this moment a friend, ending the story with, "this is what success feels like to me because it's truly the kind of person I aspire to be." And, it's true. Being a person of character, who makes my little piece of the world a better place, even in a job that will never be considered "important" by the American success gurus, is what matters most to me. I'm glad I'm finally at the point in my life where I can stop shaming myself for not being "successful" as the world sees success and truly appreciate and celebrate those things that my heart recognizes as successful. 

20 Things I'm Thankful for in 2020

This year has without a doubt been the most challenging of my life. It was filled with heartache and disappointment on so many levels. But weeks before I ever opened the first page of my 2020 calendar, I came up with my word of the year, which was "gratitude." And I have been intentional to seek that out every single day of this crazy year, even on the days when it was really hard to pin down. I don't think it would be much of an exaggeration to say it has been the anchor that has held me steady in the midst of the storm that was this year. So, without further ado, here is a list of 20 things I'm thankful for in 2020, in no particular order:

1. I didn't come into the year planning to start a new job, but I've actually had the opportunity to do two new jobs this year, both of which have been just what I needed. I am incredibly thankful I found work I love, is super flexible, and has excellent benefits. 

2. Like most of the rest of the world, my kids and I were not thrilled to be thrown into lockdown in the spring. However, when I look back on it, I am extremely thankful for that time with my kids. Together, we played games, went for walks, cooked meals, baked goodies, worked on projects, found creative outlets, figured out Zoom meetings, cried and raged at circumstances beyond our control, watched movies, laughed hysterically, engaged in meaningful conversations, and bonded in ways I'm sure we would not have been able to under normal life circumstances.

3. This year, more than any other, has taught me how fleeting time with my kids is and how special it is to have them in my daily life. I am thankful I was chosen to be their mom. And I'm thankful I get to be here to drive them to/from school; I get to have dinner with them most evenings; I get to attend their activities; I get to talk with them about the big and little things; I get to live life with them on the easy days AND on the hard days. 

4. I'm thankful I have made some new friends this year. Some I deliberately sought out by joining groups, and some just fell into my life while I was going about my regular business, like waiting on my car at the mechanic shop.

5. I'm also thankful I had opportunities to reconnect with old friends. Whether it was local friends I hadn't seen or heard from in a while or friends spread out all over the world, I relished every phone call, text, DM, card, package, and in-person get together.

6. Money in and of itself is not one of my main motivators, though I certainly understand and appreciate that it is necessary. But in a year that had the potential to wreak economic havoc (and did for many), I am thankful for the financial stability I experienced. 

7. I am so very thankful that my kids and I managed to get through this pandemic year in excellent physical health and that we were able to work through mental health issues as they came up. 

8. A couple of years ago, I felt like I kind of "lost my words," which is a hard thing for someone who considers herself a writer. I am thankful I seem to be finding them again through journaling and this blog.

9. Nature and exercise are two of the things that keep me sane and make me happy. I'm thankful this year has provided even more opportunities than usual to go on walks and hikes. 

10. Speaking of nature, I have developed an obsession with the sky this year, and I'm thankful for so many incredible sunrises, sunsets, cloud formations, rainbows, stars, and other celestial wonders.

11. I'm thankful that, in a year where travel wasn't really possible for me like it has been in the past, I was able to find and create lots of local adventures. Sometimes we miss the great things that are right in front of us if we're too busy looking for adventure in the elusive "elsewhere." I'm glad I've been able to find it right where I am.

12. All but one of my kids started attending new schools this year. This could have been difficult in normal times. It could have been devastating in this year of chaos. But I am beyond thankful that all of the kids have adjusted well and are happy and thriving in their respective schools.

13. So many people show up every day to do the work that needs to be done, whether there's a pandemic on or not. I am so thankful for the essential workers who kept the world running when the need was greater than ever. 

14. Likewise, I am thankful for people who have extended kindness, empathy, support, and offers to help--both in my personal life and in the world at large. Mr. Rogers said when he was young and would see scary things in the news, he was comforted by his mother's words: "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." This year of crisis has certainly brought out the helpers, and what a comfort they've been!

15. Before I go to bed every night, I spend a few minutes practicing yoga and meditation. I am so thankful I established this routine before the chaos of 2020 hit and that I have been able to maintain this restorative practice throughout this year. I believe it has been important in helping me maintain health in mind, body, and spirit. 

16. I'm thankful I have become reacquainted with Stoic philosophy this year. There is so much timeless wisdom there, which I have enjoyed exploring and being challenged by.

17. In the past couple of years, personal growth has been one of my greatest interests and pursuits. The difficulty with this is that it most often comes at the hands of a crisis, which no one ever really wishes for. I'm thankful that 2020 has provided so many opportunities for personal growth. Truly, that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

18. I'm thankful for new skills learned this year, either through necessity or desire. 

19. In this year when the world shut down, there have been more quiet moments than in years past, as plans were cancelled (or never made) and free time became abundant. There have been times in my life when quiet moments felt like something to be feared because they meant I was left alone with my churning, whirling thoughts that I had difficulty making sense of. And to be perfectly honest, many of the quiet moments were uncomfortable for me this year as well. But I'm thankful that this year forced the issue and allowed me to embrace those quiet moments and sit with myself so I could know myself better and become a better version of me.  

20. In the course of the contemplations and thought work that took place in those quiet moments, I have learned some things about myself. I'm thankful I have been able to realize this year that I am strong, brave, beautiful, capable, enough, and kind of amazing. 

What are the things you are most thankful for this year?

People Do Well If They Can

In the last few years, in an effort to help one of my kids navigate anxiety that manifests in big emotional and sometimes physical outbursts, I have spent a lot of time seeking out the wisdom of people who are much more knowledgable than I am about brain function and psychology. In the course of my research, I came across the work of Dr. Ross Greene, a clinical child psychologist, author of several books, and developer of a model of intervention called Collaborative and Proactive Solutions (CPS). When I read his book, The Explosive Child, and then watched some of his YouTube videos, I was struck by a particular phrase he used repeatedly: "Kids do well if they can." He explains that no one likes feeling out of control. No one enjoys experiencing negative emotions. He says parents often assume that kids do well if they want to, assigning them the roles of rebels or attention seekers or even little brats. And they assign themselves the role of having to make the child "want to" through punishment or rewards, which are often not great long term solutions. To be sure, kids, like adults, can sometimes engage in these manipulative roles, but even then, it is usually because they feel that is the best they can do in that moment to meet a need they have. More often than not, the child doesn't want to feel that way or act that way; they just don't yet have the mental or physical tools available to them to behave differently. So, as the adults who care about them, it behooves us to drop the "kids do well if they want to" line and adopt the "kids do well if they can" idea instead. This allows us to approach the child with grace and an attitude of helpfulness. We need to learn to see what may be getting in the way and try to help remove the obstacle or give them new tools to deal with the problem. We can think of it like a person with a broken leg. They likely want to run, jump, climb, or even just walk normally, but there is something keeping them from doing that. It would be pretty foolish and unkind of us to demand they do those things anyway. Instead, we offer them grace and give them tools to get around as best they can until the injury is healed. 

As I began to meditate on Dr. Greene's philosophy, I realized it applied to every single person I interacted with, whether they were children or adults. In general, people don't want to behave poorly, but there may be some trauma, a lack of learning to deal with emotions properly, extenuating circumstances, or simply mental fatigue that keeps people from doing well. Even if people can generally do well, we all go through times when we just can't muster up the emotional fortitude to behave the way we or others would prefer. In most cases, if a person is behaving like a jerk, they aren't particularly enjoying the way that feels inside for them and they aren't behaving that way because they necessarily want to. There is almost always something going on beneath the surface that we don't know about. There is something getting in their way of doing well at that time. I truly believe most people are doing the best they can with the resources they have available to them in any given moment.

I received a potent reminder of this at work this week. I was working in the drive-thru, and a lady pulled up to the box to place her order. She was very curt with me and almost downright rude. After I took her order and before she arrived at the window, another co-worker, who was wearing a headset and heard the whole exchange, commented to me about how rude the customer was, and I heartily agreed. When the customer arrived at the window, I recognized her as one of our regular customers who is usually bubbly and sweet. She was wiping tears from her eyes, and I asked if she was okay while we waited for her order to be finished. At first she just nodded, but clearly, she wasn't okay. So after a bit, I asked again. She broke down then and told me she had just received a phone call that a family member had passed away, and then she apologized for being rude when she placed her order. I offered what kindness and comfort I could, but I was instantly humbled. I had judged a person's behavior without knowing the whole situation. I had momentarily forgotten that people do well if they can, and that if they aren't doing well, there is likely something getting in their way. It doesn't really cost anything to be kind, so I will continue to strive to make that my default setting.

Freedom in Forgiveness

Human beings are a tricky lot. We have some brilliant qualities, but we are also capable of inflicting serious emotional damage on one another, both intentionally and unintentionally. If you belong to the human race, you know that people can be rude and uncaring and difficult. You know they can disrespect you, disregard you, and disengage from you. They can use their words and actions (or their lack of them) to make you feel unloved, unworthy, and unappreciated in so many ways. People will make you cry and hurt and suffer, and sometimes--many times--they will not even feel sorry for it. 

Our natural inclination is to gather these hurts into neat little piles of resentment and bitterness. And we justify our grudges and feel entitled to wallow in our pain because we were wronged and they should pay. Somehow, we have the mixed up idea that our holding on to these grievances will make the other person behave differently or that it will make us feel better. But the only person we hurt when we choose to hold on to these resentments is ourselves. We become slaves to those thoughts and we sacrifice our peace of mind. Real power and freedom come when we offer forgiveness to our offender. They will likely not ask for it. They will almost certainly not deserve it. But we don't offer it for their sakes. The forgiveness I give is for me--for my healing, my well-being, my peace of mind. When I forgive, my mind is set free. And when I am free, I can pursue those things which contribute most to my happiness instead of dwelling on those that only steal it away. 

Another tricky thing about humans is that the inflicting of emotional damage is not limited to those dwelling outside of our minds. In fact, we are often our own worst offenders. We do things we aren't proud of. We say things we wish we could take back. We think thoughts we would rather not think. We sabotage ourselves constantly and beat ourselves up for it relentlessly. If there is hurt in our lives, we are even more responsible for it that anyone else because we control our thoughts. While forgiving those who have hurt us can seem like an exceedingly difficult task, forgiving ourselves can often feel impossible. We are always our own worst critics and often hold grudges against ourselves for not living up to ridiculous standards we've set for ourselves. Hard as it may seem, we must forgive ourselves and allow ourselves to move on. 

On a personal note, in the last month I have experienced the sting of rejection from multiple people, on several different occasions. This, combined with an already fragile emotional state, caused a storm of grief, anger, hurt, resentment, and depression to begin building up inside of me. At first, it was almost unnoticeable. But as the clouds continued to gather in my mind and I became tired of just trying to survive the storm, I decided to sit with my negative and uncomfortable feelings and see if I could get to the root of them. At some point, I realized I had a lot of forgiving I needed to do, and I began slowly to do it. I didn't confront any of the people I felt had slighted me. I simply offered the forgiveness in my mind. (I did also write some of it down in my journal and speak some of it aloud when I was alone in my shower or my car.) Honestly, it didn't come easy for me and I had to wrestle with myself for many days because my mind wanted to hold on to the grudges, which it deemed justified. But when I finally got to the point of being able to sincerely offer forgiveness to those who had hurt me--intentionally or unintentionally--and to myself for perpetuating hurt in my life through my thoughts, I immediately felt relief. I felt peace. I felt power. I felt free. The forgiveness I offered was for my healing and my healing alone. It didn't change another person or any of the hurtful situations. It didn't exonerate the other people or necessarily make their actions okay. But it changed me, and so it was absolutely worth it. I'm so glad I finally let go of that emotional baggage that was weighing me down so I could step into a more beautiful head space and move through my days with the confidence and peace of mind that come with freedom. 

The Good and Necessary Crisis

I'm looking for volunteers to sign up for an event they can't predict, that they might not be able to prepare for, that will hurt either a little or a lot, and that will almost certainly rock their world. Specifically, I'm looking for someone to be the FIRST to sign up. "What's the event?" you ask. The answer is: a crisis. Need more info? Well, here's the definition: a time of intense difficulty, trouble, or danger. Who's in? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? 

Of course, none of us wants a crisis to befall our lives. And especially at this point in 2020, we feel like we've had more than enough time of "intense difficulty, trouble, and danger" to last a lifetime. So let's put a different event on our volunteer sign-up sheet. One that will almost certainly make the participants feel strong, brave, grateful, content, and satisfied. Wait, do I already see some hands going up for volunteers before the event--personal growth--has even been announced?

The thing is, before we can get to that beautiful place of personal growth with all it's lovely attributes and benefits, we almost always have to go through some sort of crisis. To be sure, it feels like there is one happening every day--in our world, in our countries, in our states, in our cities, in our neighborhoods, in our homes, and in our minds. Some crises are sort of universally recognized as such: natural disasters, loss of a job, major illnesses and diseases, the death of a loved one, to name a few. They're big and catastrophic and in your face. But many crises are very personal and would be completely unrecognizable as such to anyone but the person experiencing them. That doesn't mean they aren't as intense. And I think it's important that we try extra hard to show grace to the people around us because we usually never know what crisis someone is facing. We don't normally get to choose the crisis we endure, so we're left to endure the ones that are foisted upon us by Fate. But for the one enduring it, a crisis is a crisis and it isn't comparable to someone else's. Crises are hard by definition, and there is often a feeling that they won't/can't be survived. And sometimes they can't be. But in most cases, they can and will be survived as we fortify our minds, put one foot in front of the other, and just do the next thing that needs doing. The key, I think, is to lean in to the crisis and open our eyes to see what it may be teaching us. We may not know the answer to that for quite some time, but in retrospect, we can often pinpoint the crisis as the event that led to the growth. It wasn't the thing we wanted, but it was the thing we needed to push us to be our next-level selves. Susan L. Taylor says it so well: "In every crisis there is a message. Crises are nature's way of forcing change--breaking down old structures, shaking loose negative habits so that something new and better can take their place." 

I doubt anyone reading this is now eager to be the first to sign up for a crisis, but I hope we can all see that the old adage is true: "That which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger." Whatever crisis you're facing today--and I know you're facing at least one--probably feels terrible right now. You may be wondering if you'll survive. There is a very good chance you will, so I hope you will be encouraged by these words. This crisis has a message for you. Something new and better is coming.

Should Doesn't Exist

Human brains are absolutely amazing machines, and they are terrific at creating order and solving problems. One reason for that is their ability to anticipate outcomes by manufacturing a list of possible scenarios and then deciding what is the most likely thing to happen as well as what the most desirable outcome is. In other words, the brain comes up with what it thinks SHOULD happen and then it reacts in ways to try to meet that expectation. Because if the expectation is met, the brain feels safe and cozy and just a little smug. It has no threats to deal with because everything turned out just as expected. And the human brain is designed to minimize as many threats as possible. This is why social norms exist and why we can sometimes feel uncomfortable when we experience people acting outside of them or when we ourselves decide to ignore them. 

In the English language (as well as some other languages), "should" is a verb in the subjunctive mood, which, by definition, implies a condition contrary to fact or expresses a wish. You see, "should" doesn't exist, but our brains have convinced us that it does. And honestly, that is where we create a lot of trouble and heartache for ourselves. We believe circumstances should or shouldn't be a certain way and people (ourselves included) should or shouldn't behave in certain ways, and then we pile up regrets and disappointments like autumn leaves that we can jump and roll around in, making ourselves miserable over something that was just make believe in the first place. Some brains are better at dealing with unmet expectations than others, but everyone gets caught in this trap at some point, on some level, and the outcome is never positive. Like Shakespeare said, "Expectation is the root of all heartache." 

The brain invests heavily in the outcomes it has predicted and perceives it as a threat when they aren't met. Then it reacts with frustration, disappointment, sadness, anger, and despair--ranging from light and momentary to deep and debilitating. Whether we're talking about the weather ("It SHOULD be cooler; it's October, for crying out loud."), traffic flow ("The light is green; the car in front of me SHOULD be moving."), parenting ("My kids SHOULD listen to me/pick up their toys/take out the trash/get better grades/etc. etc.), or how people behave in the context of any relationship ("That person SHOULD do things that make me feel good/SHOULD NOT do things that make me feel bad.") From the almost comically minor, to the very seriously major parts of our lives, when unmet expectations rule us, even for a moment, we lose joy. The happier person is the one who learns, through actively disciplining his/her mind, what Terry Prachett said so well, "There isn't a way things should be. There's just what happens and what we do." We are better served and happier if we learn to react to the real things that happen rather than the imagined "shoulds."

I remember very well the first time this lesson began to really sink in for me. I was experiencing the deepest pain of my life, and I literally felt like I couldn't breathe. I hadn't really eaten or slept in weeks. My head was pounding, and I needed to escape the hubbub of the speech and debate tournament happening around me. I retreated to my car during a lull in the contest and allowed my tears to flow freely in rhythm with the rain streaming down from the Arkansas sky. I was speaking out loud to myself and asking why the pain was so intense and wondering if I would survive it. And then, light a lightning bolt, the thought landed: "This is not at all how I think things should be, but SHOULD DOESN'T EXIST and I am grieving for the way I thought things were supposed to be. It doesn't really matter how things were supposed to be. It only matters how things are." It was a game changer. I dried up my face, and marched myself back into the building and carried on with my duties as a parent and contest judge. And from that moment, "Should doesn't exist" kind of became my mantra. I say it to myself, I preach it to my kids, and I share it with friends who are struggling in big and little ways. It's one way of telling my brain to chill. That the threat, like the monster a child perceives under his bed, isn't as big and scary as it seems because what I'm upset about never was real in the first place. 

At the time of this breakthrough in my life, I hadn't thought of the TV show, Frasier, in years. But just recently, I came across a quote from Frasier Crane, the main character of the show, that expresses exactly the thought that struck me in my car on a rainy day in Arkansas: "You're mourning the loss of what you thought your life was going to be. Let it go. Things don't always work out how you plan. That's not necessarily bad. Things have a way of working out anyway." We create heartache for ourselves when we mourn the loss of what we think should be (or should not be). It's true: things don't always work out the way we plan. But also true is that it's not necessarily a bad thing. When we train ourselves to let go of expectations, we create a space to experience joy instead of pain. And we free ourselves up to deal with what actually is rather than expending all our energy on the negative emotions that come from unmet expectations. 

Healing Hurts...But It's Worth It

A good friend of mine posted a beautiful bit of wisdom on Instagram about the pain of healing, and it struck a deep, resonating chord with me, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. He talked about how painful physical therapy is for a person trying to recover from an injury, but how the experts in that field know just how much pressure to put and just how hard to push to ensure that the damaged and weakened body part becomes functional and strong again. His post was talking about how stoic philosophy can work in similar ways, touching us in ways that may feel uncomfortable at first, but that eventually lead to our healing. The truth of it met me where I was. 

But as I pondered the physical therapy analogy, my mind snapped to a few years ago when I obliterated my ACL and tore my meniscus to shreds, and I realized it might also be experiences, and not just philosophies, that hit those pressure points to make us stronger. I was pleased to recognize that my knee injury still had lessons to teach me even after all this time. The moment of the injury was shocking and painful, but honestly, that pain was nothing compared to the surgery and months of physical therapy I had to endure to get back to the point of normal functionality. I can't tell you how many times I sat on the therapy table with tears streaming down my face because what the therapist was asking me to do was truly excruciating. Some days I wanted to quit. Some days I wanted to feel sorry for myself. My mind wanted to say, "I CAN'T do this. And, even if I could, I'm not at all sure I WANT to. The pain is just too much." But then the therapist would ask me to do just one more rep, and I would wipe away the tears and do it because ultimately I wanted to be stronger, and I knew the only way to the other side of the pain was through it. 

Hiking at Machu Picchu was the particular goal I had in mind as I endured those torture sessions, and I didn't want my lack of effort months before a trip that was already booked to hinder me from experiencing everything amazing that destination promised. So, I cried and I cussed and I called my therapist a sadist, but I did what was asked of me. I didn't have to put in the work, of course. I could have quit at any time. But I knew there was something beautiful waiting for me on the other side of it. I sometimes didn't know if I would reach that goal, especially early on in my therapy. But I kept working and celebrating the little victories along the way. Nine months later, I was fully rewarded for my efforts when I traversed the difficult landscape of Machu Picchu and saw with my own eyes the awe-inspiring dream destination I had fallen in love with on the pages of National Geographic when I was a child. It was even more awe-inspiring to realize I had been carried there on a knee that had once been barely functional. The healing process was absolute hell, but the view from the mountain was worth every minute. 

I am currently in another season of healing. But this time it isn't a physical injury I'm recovering from. It doesn't matter. The process is the same. I have often sat on the edge of my bed with tears running down my face saying to myself, "I CAN'T do this. And even if I could, I'm not sure I WANT to. The pain is just too much." I'm sometimes tempted to just give up and wallow in self-pity. But then, from somewhere deep inside me, a little voice says, "Go ahead and see if you can get through just one more day. See if you can get just a little bit stronger." So, I wipe away the tears and lean into that pain so that I can come out on the other side and enjoy the mountaintop experience. This mountain, like Machu Picchu, isn't a place you just accidently arrive. It requires steady effort, determination, philosophies, and experiences that push and prod the tender places. I could certainly quit any time, but I would miss out on the growth and strengthening that leads to the awe-inspiring destination. No doubt: healing hurts. But coming out on the other side is definitely worth the effort put in.