It isn't love; it isn't hate; it's just indifference

I am a very emotional being. I have big feelings on both the positive and negative sides of the spectrum. I have a tendency to "feel" things that aren't even really feelings. And, as a bonus, I'm an empath, so I also feel the feelings of everyone else as well. For much of my life, I didn't even attempt to control my feelings (or emotional outbursts in certain private situations) because I thought that was just how I was meant to show up in the world--moved, for better or worse, by everything that happened. But in the last couple of years, I have made a practice of studying Stoic philosophy, and have been learning that it is often preferable--possibly even magical--to take a position of indifference. 

One of my favorite Stoic philosophers, Marcus Aurelius, had a lot to say about cultivating an attitude of indifference. Interestingly, most of the things he had to say about it were written in his private journal, which later became a book called Meditations. They were admonitions and reminders to himself about how he wanted to show up in the world, regardless of what his nature might be, which I suspect, based on his writings, might have had a similar emotional bent to mine. His goal was to improve himself as a person, to fight with every breath to combat the baser parts of his innate tendencies, and to become master of his emotions. A quote of his that has been meaningful and empowering to me is this: "You always own the option of having no opinion. There is never any need to get worked up or to trouble your soul about things you can't control. These things are not asking to be judged by you. Leave them alone." In other words: "You have a choice. You don't have to be moved by everything that happens. You have permission to be indifferent." 

Have you ever been betrayed or hurt by someone you cared about deeply? If so, you understand that deep feelings don't just change overnight or because you will them to or even because another person hurts you. So what do you do with all those emotions? Where do they go? Very often, feelings of love or affection quickly turn to hate because loving a person who hurt you feels like it it no longer acceptable. I heard somewhere that the opposite of love is not hate but indifference and that you know you are healing when you start to feel indifference instead of hatred. Love and hate are actually just two ends of the same big emotion, but the opposite of either of them is indifference. This is a somewhat easy concept to understand academically, but for people who feel all the things, it's hard not to get worked up and let hate fester when love doesn't feel like an option. But hate is a heavy burden to carry. And my continued study of Stoic philosophy keeps reminding me that indifference is always an option, and usually a better one. You don't have to love the person who hurt you. But neither do you need to hate them. You own the option of having no opinion, which is where your power lies.

I have similar goals for my emotional life that I imagine Marcus Aurelius had. I want to grow as a person, and I want to combat my baser tendencies. I want to control my emotions and not let them control me. It is very hard work, but good and necessary. I have to consciously capture my thoughts and ask, "Do I need to have an opinion about this? Will it change anything, other than my peace of mind, if I get worked up over it?" I have to constantly remind myself that indifference is a valid option. It doesn't mean that I don't care at all. It means I choose the things to care about, and that I can even care about them deeply. I just don't have to get worked up over things I have no control over. And in that, there is peace and there is power.

I have a sort if silly example of embracing indifference. It was when my oldest son, a natural born debater, hit the logic stage of development--a stage that insists on questioning authority and arguing about anything and everything. At some point, I grew weary of the constant battles and debates over literally everything, and I decided that I simply wouldn't express an opinion and I wouldn't engage. Instead, I would only answer with, "Ok, cool, " neither agreeing nor disagreeing. It drove my son crazy because what he really wanted was to get a rise out of me or best me with his stellar arguments. And when he didn't, the "game" was no longer fun. I chose to have no opinion and to not get worked up about any of it, which created a bit more peace in our household. Being indifferent to all of the little debates did not make me indifferent to my son. I still loved him deeply, but I owned the option of having no opinion in certain situations.

So many situations are not asking to be judged by me, and I can simply leave them alone. I think our culture promotes attitudes of outrage, and people seem to be ready to get worked up over even the smallest things, especially on social media outlets where they feel they have a bit anonymity. But all this getting worked up isn't necessary, and it isn't healthy. Most things are not asking to be judged by us and we can simply leave them alone. This doesn't mean we become heartless, which is sometimes what people think Stoic philosophy is about. I can still shed a few tears with the woman in the drive-thru who just came from a doctor's appointment where she received a diagnosis of cancer. I can still hold my sobbing child who doesn't even know why he's sobbing. I can check in with a friend who is having a rough time and offer listening ears to anyone who needs them. I can care deeply. But I also own the option of having no opinion, of being indifferent. And I can tell you from personal experience, there is something magical about indifference, especially if you are a very feely person. It takes training, and it's not easy, but if you can get to that point, it is very freeing.

Happiest Person You Know

Recently, my middle son came home from school and told me he had been given an attendance quiz in one of his classes that asked, "Who is the happiest person you know?" He told me a little shyly that he had answered that I was that person. I was flattered, of course, but also somewhat surprised. I do try to be positive most of the time, but, I'll be honest, I have cried more tears in the last two years than I have cried in the whole rest of my life combined. And just a few days earlier, he and I had had a disagreement that did not evoke happy feelings from either of us. But somehow, despite all that, he is still able to see me as the happiest person he knows. To me, it was a realization that the effort I put into personal growth every day is paying off. I am definitely not happy all the time. I lose my temper. I get depressed. I have anxious thoughts. But I try really hard to shut down negative thought patterns when I notice them. And I work diligently and consciously at replacing negative thoughts with positive ones. This work creates pockets of peace in a naturally anxious mind, and in those pockets, happiness starts to grow. I felt inspired by my son's answer to the quiz question to try to continue to be that person for him and for the other people I interact with and especially for myself. As I mentioned in yesterday's post, I can't stand fake, so I'm definitely not attempting to gain the appearance of happy for the sake of some social media post. I genuinely want to keep growing into and becoming, not only the happiest person my son knows, but one of the happiest people everyone knows. My outward life is a reflection of my inner peace. And the more I cultivate peace in my mind, the happier I become. 

I'm curious: Who is the happiest person you know, and why?

Pretend You're Good At It

We've all heard the saying, "Fake it 'til you make it." It sounds catchy, but it actually sucks as a life philosophy. Ask me how I know. I know because I have tried many times throughout my life to make it my life philosophy, and have always been disappointed by it. First of all, it starts with a word that immediately gets my hackles up. I can't stand fake. I yearn for real and authentic, and fake things and people just leave me feeling distrustful and annoyed. But my other problem with this way of living is the "make it" part. How do you know when you've "made it?" And what is "it" anyway? It feels like a pretty hollow end goal. In my experience, there are many times when you actually just keep faking it indefinitely because there's really no stopping point once you start faking life. Or you give up trying to "make it" because you grow weary of the faking it.

A friend of mine recently posted on Facebook an alternative life philosophy: "Face it 'til you make it." To me, this is better because instead of faking feelings you don't feel, you can face the ones you do feel and become master of them. 

But the philosophy I'm enjoying even more right now is "Pretend you're good at it," which was a piece of advice given to journalist and author Jenny Lawson after she published her first book and literally ran sick with anxiety from the studio while recording the audio version. She said she felt there was no way she could do this thing that was in front of her and she felt paralyzed with fear and anxiety. She texted a friend from the bathroom and conveyed her panic, and "Pretend you're good at it" was the reply. This piece of advice gave her the strength to go back in the studio and finish the recording with confidence. She says she still often writes that message on her arm when she has to do a task she doesn't like or isn't excited about or one that gives her anxiety. She shared this story in her second book, Furiously Happy, which I recently listened to and highly recommend if you want to laugh out loud--sometimes at wildly inappropriate things--while gaining a greater understanding of and appreciation for depression and anxiety.

Pretending and faking aren't really all that different in practice, I guess, but the connotations are vastly different in my opinion. Whereas faking feels charged with negative energy from the outset, pretending feels fun and whimsical, like something you did as a child--not to be devious but just because your mind was open to a wider variety of possibilities. Also, the end seems more defined, so it doesn't demand you accomplish some nebulous goal. And the time frame seems limited to the present instead of stretching out into the abyss of forever. This philosophy asks you to pretend just for this moment that you are good at just this one thing in front of you that you are struggling with by asking some relatively simple questions. How would a person who is good at this approach it? What would a person who was good at this say or do or think or feel? To me, it seems to take a lot of pressure off and makes facing the challenges of life seem more approachable. 

I spend a significant amount of time at work training new baristas. And though many people don't realize it, it is a pretty demanding job that requires a variety of physical and mental skills in order to be done successfully. All new baristas feel overwhelmed at first and usually struggle with some aspects of the many roles. A girl I recently trained was struggling on our drive-thru training day to make small talk with customers at the drive-thru window. She admitted to me that she is a little shy and doesn't feel comfortable talking to strangers. With Ms. Lawson's book top of mind, I assured her she didn't have to be good at it, but I wondered if she could just pretend she was good at it for a bit while we completed our training. I could see in her perfectionist eyes that she was relieved to not have to be good at it and that pretending she was might not be so bad. She said she would give it a try, and then she stepped up to the window and began chatting with the customer about the weather or some other innocuous topic. A day or two later, I heard from the store manager that she had worked at the window on a subsequent shift and had done a wonderful job connecting with customers. I'm sure she didn't suddenly find an interest in small talk. But I think she must have been able to find a way to pretend she was good at it.

We all struggle with different things from time to time. And it's absolutely okay to struggle. We don't have to be good at everything we try. But maybe we could pretend it be good at those things just long enough to help us get through them. 

Breathe in Happy

Yesterday I wrote about finding quiet places, and I briefly mentioned something that has helped me quiet my mind is meditation. I wanted to expound on my meditation practice a little and share a bit about how it started and how it's going. 

First of all, when I initially envisioned meditation, I pictured silent, robed monks with shaved heads wandering around in beautiful, but ridiculously remote, mountains, who spent the better part of the day engaged in this mysterious practice. Aside from hanging out in beautiful mountains, I could not see myself having this experience. It honestly seemed torturous rather than peaceful and not like something I would be interested in. 

When I got in to yoga several years ago, meditation was sort of part of the package. I didn't have to put on a robe or shave my head and was encouraged instead to simply focus on my breath. I loved the idea of that, but my mind was the furthest thing from quiet you can imagine, and I really couldn't even spend a few minutes focusing just on my breath. My mind kept darting all over the place, which then created anxiety that I was "doing it wrong," which made my mind bounce even more. As with all things, I got better at it the more I did it, but I still felt like I needed something to ground my mind and something that felt a bit more solid than my breath. 

A couple of years ago I went through the most difficult experience of my life to date, and my mind needed grounding more than ever. That was when I created a two-minute meditation routine for myself (because two minutes seemed like a time commitment I could realistically commit to). Since I wanted to focus on my breath, I decided to tie specific thoughts to my in-breaths and my out-breaths. Further, I decided to make those thoughts opposite pairs, taking in the attributes I wanted to see in myself and releasing those that felt like a burden. I would choose five to ten characteristics, always beginning with the same two: Breathe in happy; breathe out sad. I put an alert on my phone to pop up three times a day entitled "Breathe." When I would see the alert, I would give myself permission to stop what I was doing for just two minutes to breathe in the positive and breathe out the negative. I truly think this practice saved me in the early weeks and months of my personal tragedy. (In truth, it may be saving me still.) And eventually, I didn't need to say the words in my head because my body and mind just knew what each breath meant, and my mind was quiet enough to finally just focus on the breathing. And I didn't need the phone reminders anymore because I could engage in the practice any time I needed or wanted to. (However, I still have the alerts in place to this day because they kind of feel like good friends now, and because some days are busier and more distracted than others and it doesn't hurt to be reminded.) My mind is still not as quiet as I would like for it to be, but I don't feel like it's an exaggeration to say the two-minute meditation has been a life-changing practice for me. 

If you're looking for a place to start with meditation, here is a sample of how I got started. It can be done anywhere because it's literally just breathing, and you can adjust your paired thoughts according to your own needs and the amount of time you have available. You can say the same words every time, or change them up to match up with what you are dealing with at any given time. I also incorporate them into my bedtime yoga routine, adding particular stretches to the breaths. Say the words in your mind as you take deep breaths in to a count of four and as you slowly release them:

Breathe in happy;

Breathe out sad.

Breathe in calm;

Breathe out chaos.

Breathe in forgiveness;

Breathe out bitterness.

Breathe in love;

Breathe out hate.

Breathe in confidence;

Breathe out fear.

Breathe in peace;

Breathe out anxiety.

Breathe in kindness;

Breathe out rudeness.

Breathe in patience;

Breathe out impatience.

Breathe in wholeness;

Breathe out brokenness.

Breathe in hope;

Breathe out despair.

"New"vember Resolutions

Today marks a new day, a new week, and a new month. It is also the day I have arbitrarily assigned to myself as a new year of sorts--a time to make a more concentrated effort to take on new habits to improve my life and ditch habits that are not serving me well. 

Interestingly, it's also the beginning of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), which is something I have considered participating in many times throughout the years but have never actually done for one reason or another. It is especially top of mind this year because my 8th grader's English class has been assigned the student version of it as class project and will write 25,000 words of a novel by the end of the month. I genuinely wanted to participate alongside my son as a show of solidarity, and I truly thought I would do that. But, as I started to mentally prepare myself, I realized that the honest truth is I just don't seem to have a story in me right now. My mind feels very loud, and I can't hear characters and stories speaking to me at the moment. I believe they will one day because, when I was a child, writing stories was what I did for fun. It was effortless, and the stories almost wrote themselves. I believe that our child selves--in a time before things had to be done for money or approval but were only done for the sheer pleasure of doing them--are often our truest selves, so I think that story writer spirit still lives in me but has become lost in the noise of adulthood.

The world is so very loud with many voices speaking at once, and sometimes that cacophony leaves little room for true creativity. That's why one of the habits I want to cultivate in myself in this "new year" is the ability to find the silent places and sit in them so I can better hear and know the voice within me. Somehow, the noise of the physical and virtual worlds have become a comfort and an excuse, and sitting in silence now feels hard. 

If you know me in real life, you know sitting is not something I do well (though I have definitely gotten better at it in the last few years as I have become more intentional in my thoughts and actions and more focused on yoga and meditation.) I like to be busy, to be moving, to fill up all the down time with activities or chores or music or really anything as long I don't have to be still in body or mind. When I do sit, I tend to fill up what could be quiet spaces with the loudness of social media, sometimes scrolling for an hour or more, not even engaging in the content but just letting that "noise" wash over me. It's no wonder the voice of creativity can't be heard clearly, and it's not terribly surprising that the storytelling that came so easily in bored, quiet, technology-free moments during childhood is difficult to channel. The need to sit in the silence, in the alone, in the boredom, is very real and is why I am trying, in my spirit of resolution, to take a step back from social media and other similar distractions this month. I don't plan to quit my online "social" life entirely, but I want to stop using it as a crutch, as a time filler, as a means of validation, as a noise to drown out my uncomfortable thoughts. 

Even though I don't feel as if I have a novel in me right now, I do feel the tug to write and to find MY voice in the din. To that end, I am challenging myself to write a blog post a day for the whole month of November. I'm not aiming for 25,000 words (or the loftier 50,000 ascribed to adult participants in NaNoWriMo). I'm just trying to push myself a little and allow myself the space to be still and find my voice and to practice the act of writing so I'll be ready in case the chatter of characters and stories finds its way to the surface of my mind.

I only ever write for myself, and I'm not looking for external approval or validation in this blog space. But if you want to follow along and help keep me accountable to the goals I've set for myself, or if you think there might be a chance my words may strike a cord with you that challenges you or encourages you, I would love to have you join me on this journey.

Getting comfortable with the woman in the mirror

Do you ever stand completely naked in front of a mirror and examine your body with curiosity and wonder? Do you immediately avert your eyes in order to avoid your self-criticism? Do you feel uncomfortable that I just wrote "naked" and "mirror" in the same sentence? 

Unfortunately, we have all been taught to believe that our bodies are inadequate, that they don't measure up to some arbitrary, unrealistic societal standard. We are quick to see our multitude of flaws but very slow to appreciate all the ways that our bodies show up for us every single day and all the unique and glorious beauty they possess. We are occasionally motivated by what the mirror reveals to make positive changes in our lifestyles, but more often, we are simply shamed into putting our clothes on as quickly as possible and hoping no one else will notice our flaws. 

Here's another question: Do you ever look deeply into your own mind and try to examine your thoughts and feelings with curiosity and wonder? Do you look at your naked soul and ask who you really are or what you really need? Or do you immediately avert your eyes, trying not to see who is really there, trying not to know that person, trying to hide your true self from yourself and the world around you because you are so afraid you will be rejected? 

We have a tendency to zealously fill up all the moments of our days with busyness and distractions so we don't have the time or space to examine ourselves. We hold up the distorted, funhouse mirror of social media and measure ourselves against photoshopped (literally and figuratively) versions of people we don't even really respect telling us we are only okay if we think or feel or look certain ways. We are quick to dismiss or ignore our thoughts and feelings, especially the ones that don't line up nicely with arbitrary societal standards. We judge ourselves harshly and refuse to really get to know ourselves because it is kind of an uncomfortable process. And we hide ourselves away, never really knowing ourselves and not allowing anyone else to know us either. 

I have found both of these examinations very difficult in the past. I have shamed my own body and worse, I have shamed my own mind. But recently, I'm getting comfortable staring in the mirror. I'm allowing myself to sit there with myself--physically and emotionally--for as long as I need to to get comfortable with what I see, with what I feel, with who I am. I'm using the feedback not to be critical of myself but to try to know myself, to try to make improvements where I deem necessary, and to see the beauty that has been there all along.

I haven't mastered self-love or self-knowledge by any stretch of the imagination, but I do know it starts and ends in the mirror. It is only my opinion of myself that matters, and my job is to know myself intimately and love myself unconditionally. Someone else can tell me I'm physically beautiful all day long, but it will never be true until I believe it about myself. Likewise, someone else can judge my thoughts and feelings as irrational or untrue, but if I've taken the time to get familiar with myself, I will believe the truth that comes from within and not the lies that come from without. Of course, there are things I won't like, but I don't need to hide from those things. I can always choose to make whatever changes seem appropriate. But I can also choose to appreciate the parts of my mind and body that make me uniquely beautiful just as they are. However, I can only do that if I first get comfortable closely examining my stripped down self. 

Cleaning out the garage (and the mind)

I know there are people in the world who have pristine garages. A place for everything and everything in its place. They use their garage for the purpose for which it was intended and probably feel a flash of pride every time their garage door opens. Unfortunately, I am not one of those people. I tend to use my garage as a catchall storage facility for everything I don't want in my house but can't seem to part with, everything that I have once needed or may ever need again, everything I don't want to deal with in the present but that needs a place to wait while I decide what to do with it. And I have absolutely no system in place to control the chaos. The bigger the mess gets out there, the more overwhelming it becomes and the harder to deal with. I tend to ignore the growing disarray as long as I can. But eventually, the mess has to be dealt with, and today was my day to face mine.

As I forced myself to make a decision about everything I touched--was it trash, something to be donated, a thing to be kept but organized or tidied--I realized that minds sometimes function like garages. We collect thoughts and feelings, all day every day. Some people are really good at keeping their minds in order. They are deeply in tune with their thoughts and feelings and are continually sorting through them to decide which are worth keeping and which need to be removed in order to keep the clutter at bay. But many of us struggle to maintain order, and before we know it, the mess in our heads has gotten big and out of control. But eventually, in order to be sane and happy, we must deal with the mess. We must examine our thoughts and feelings to see which ones are serving us well, which ones are only taking up space, and which ones need to be removed altogether. 

There were things in my garage today that were hard to part with because I've had them for so long or because they had sentimental value or because I thought there was a chance I might need them in the future. There were other things that were easy to dispose of or clean up; it was just a matter of taking the time to do it. As I removed trash and things that no longer serve a particular purpose for me, even though they once did, I began to feel lighter, freer, and happier. I began to feel proud of my effort and proud of the space. I began to have greater access to the things I actually need and want. And I know this is true of minds as well. We all have pet thoughts and feelings that we've clung to for a long time. They may not be serving us well anymore, but still we cling to them. We have sentimentalities that feel like a betrayal to part with. And we all have good and necessary thoughts and feelings that we will enjoy so much more when we can access them easily. 

We have to make decisions about every thought and feeling we have. Will we discard it or keep it, and why? Are the things that are taking up space in our minds actually useful, or are we just too lazy or overwhelmed to filter through them? It's easy to let unhelpful thoughts pile up and become chaotic, but when we are diligent to filter them and clean them up, we become lighter and freer and happier, and we create more space for the good and necessary stuff. The work isn't all easy, but it's definitely work worth doing.