Saltwater Cures

 

© Mandi Watts

I have loved this quote for as long as I've been aware of it. The truth of it is simple yet so profound, and it absolutely holds up in practice in my life. When I feel stressed or overwhelmed or lost, I can often remedy my situation by adding saltwater in one of these forms. Just in the last week, I have employed all of them at various times, and I can feel healing running through my body and mind.

It's interesting, though, because in that cure there is also pain. A workout that produces sweat is not an easy or lightweight one. It requires much of your body, which may feel difficult in the moment and may leave you sore for days afterward. The grief, hurt, and stress that produce tears do not feel like healing in the moment. In fact, I just read a quote in Sarah Pearse's book, The Sanatorium, that sort of sums up how grief works: "Grief is like a series of bombs exploding, one after another. Every hour, a new detonation. Shock after shock after shock." Sometimes we have to cry loads of tears over the same grief before we start to feel some relief. And the sea, while beautiful to look at, will find every tiny cut or scrape on your body--ones you didn't even know you had--and it will burn like fire. But you will continue walking down the beach with your toes in the water because the reward is greater than the pain. In every instance, the pain is real and can be wildly intense. But on the other side of the pain, there is healing. So I will continue seek out these lovely saltwater cures and allow them to do their work in me. 

Beautifully Broken

I took a walk on the beach yesterday. And, as always, as soon as my feet hit the sand, I turned into a treasure hunter, my eyes scanning the sand and coastline searching for interesting creatures or shells or even bizarre bits of trash. I know myself well enough to know I want to collect every shell or bit of coral I come across because they are all so lovely, so I long ago put limits on myself to keep the collection manageable: only fully intact or truly unique treasures that I can carry in my hands or pockets, which will then be further scrutinized and filtered before I pack up my bag to head home. The beach I am visiting at the moment doesn't have many shells, but yesterday there were tons of sand dollars littering the beach...or, more accurately, sand half-dollars. Every one I came across was broken. Ignoring my own beach combing rules, I couldn't help picking them up. As I continued to walk and think and pick up as many severed sand dollars as my hands would hold, I wondered why. Why was I drawn to these broken things that so many other beachgoers had passed up? And then like a bigger-than-expected wave, it hit me: they reminded me of me. They were broken, yes, but still surprisingly beautiful. And because they were broken, I could see the intricacies of the structure inside, which was also beautiful in its own right. The stories of how they came to be on this beach tumbled out in the palm of my hand--tossed by unpredictable yet consistent waves, pecked apart by birds, trampled on or completely ignored by other beachcombers because they were not perfect or whole. The sand dollars' stories reminded me of my own. I would normally have been one to walk on by, but my own beautiful brokenness allowed me to see the beauty in these objects whose very name implies value. As I thought about it more, I realized that even if I were to find a fully intact sand dollar, it would not be perfect. The edges would be jagged, the surface rough. The only perfect sand dollars are the ones that are manufactured and show up in a souvenir shop. It made me think about all the perfectly curated social media pages that aren't real or authentic but are meant to make a life look put together and flawless. Though I have often been tempted to pick up every sand dollar I've come across on the beach, I have never been tempted to buy a manufactured one. Fabricated sand dollars--and lives--are never interesting to me because I am repelled by fake things. I'll take real and authentic over fake every single time. 

There's no doubt I am broken. But I'm no less beautiful, and my story doesn't matter less. If anything, it matters more. It's real and authentic, and it allows me to see the beauty in the other broken ones around me. I never saw one intact sand dollar on the beach yesterday, but I saw scores of beautifully broken ones. Chances are good that if you're a human (or a sand dollar) you are living a broken life. Getting to where you are now has been hard, and lots of people have not or will not see your beauty. But trust me when I tell you that doesn't make you any less stunning. I see the beauty in your brokenness, and I intend to fill my life with people who can see the beauty in mine.

                  

Enough

From the time I was a child, I have been absorbing spoken and unspoken messages that I am not enough. I have received these messages from people and organizations I know and have experience with personally (friends, family, teachers, religious groups) and those I've never actually met or interacted with in a personal way (advertisers, media, celebrities, strangers). And I've experienced rejection and failure enough times in my life to create insecurities that have caused me to connect with that message and make it my own. Throughout the years, it literally became the voice in my head. You are not smart enough. You are not pretty enough. You are not thin enough. You are not ambitious enough. You are not athletic enough. You are not playful enough. You are not adventurous enough. You are not interesting enough. You are not holy enough. You are not kind enough. You are not funny enough. You are not creative enough. You are not dedicated enough. You are not strong enough. You are not sexy enough. You are not brave enough. You are not relaxed enough. You are not enough as a mom, as a wife, as a daughter, as a person. YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH. 

For whatever reason, I didn't seem to have the mental fortitude to combat these thoughts, and the truth I suspected in them became fear for me. Paralyzing fear. The kind that makes you not want to move or breathe or, for sure, speak because you know that whatever you do or say will not be enough. And you know that when you are not enough, people don't want to have anything to do with you. Because my main love language is Words of Affirmation, I think I kept waiting for someone to say, "No, really, you are enough. Just the way you are." And this last part was important. I knew I was flawed. I knew I wasn't perfect. But I needed to know that was okay. However, people either weren't saying it or my brain had developed the inability to hear it because the voice in my head was too loud. Most likely, both of those things were happening. I wanted to be loved and accepted and included more than pretty much anything, but the only thing I knew for sure was that I wasn't enough, and so I believed that those things were not ever really to be mine. So, I stood there, paralyzed, holding some relationships too tightly and some not at all and losing more and more of myself while I tried not to rock the boat. I waited for some magical event to turn me into someone who was truly enough. Of course, it never happened...at least not the way I expected.

There was no magical event. Wishing I was enough didn't make it so. And there was no outpouring of appreciation for me just as I was. In fact, the very opposite happened. I went through the greatest trauma of my life, and all my suspicions about not being enough were magnified and confirmed and laid bare for all the world to see. The person I trusted most in the world and the one I had truly hoped I could be enough for decided I wasn't and walked out of my life. I'm well aware that there were lots of factors involved in this decision and many things led up to it, but I have wondered sometimes if perhaps my fear of not being enough created a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. I'm not sure, but I don't allow myself to worry about that anymore. It is what it is. 

I had been standing on the edge of a seemingly bottomless pit for a long time, but when this traumatic, rather than magical, event happened, I toppled head first into the hole. As I sat in that dark place with all the pieces of my broken heart strewn around me, I realized no one was coming to save me and I could either die in that pit or figure out a way to pull myself out. I'll be honest: my first inclination was to die in the pit. I already knew I wasn't strong enough, brave enough, capable enough, or resourceful enough to pull myself out of the pit and start my life anew. So why should I even try? 

I sat there a long time, but death didn't come. Nor did a hero come along to save me. And these things sort of pissed me off in equal measure. So, either out of rebellion or boredom or some last-ditch sense of self-preservation, I decided to become my own damn hero and go ahead and pull myself out of the pit. I was going to have to be enough because I was all I had.

Somewhere along the way of that arduous climb, I read something that encouraged me to talk to myself the way I would talk to a friend. I don't have too many close friends, but I would never even tell a stranger they weren't enough. I have an encourager's nature, and I try to make a practice out of building people up rather than tearing them down. But for some reason, it had never occurred to me to offer that same kindness to myself. I decided to experiment with it, and I literally began to speak out loud to myself--in my car, in the shower, staring at myself in the mirror--the way I would speak to a friend, an acquaintance, or even a stranger. I was telling myself I was okay. I was telling myself I just needed to take the next step. I was telling myself I could do it. I was telling myself to take a deep breath. You are strong. You are brave. You are capable. You are creative. You are smart. You are beautiful. You are resourceful. You are dedicated. YOU ARE ENOUGH.

I didn't believe my words at first and kind of just said them to have something to do to pass the time and to distract myself from the seemingly endless climb. But the more I said them and the more I noted the progress I was making, the more true they seemed. I'm not really sure if I will ever be completely free of the pit, but I have climbed far enough up at this point to be able to see the light and to know with certainty that I am enough. I'm still flawed and imperfect, and the the messages of not being enough still buzz all around me. And I still don't always believe the kind words I tell myself. But I've learned enough now to know that I am brave, beautiful, strong, caring, thoughtful, smart, positive, hardworking, and kind of amazing. But even when I'm not, I am still enough. I don't have to prove my enoughness through my performance. I don't have to have it confirmed by someone else. It is simply a fundamental truth of my existence. And in case you don't know, it is a fundamental truth of your existence as well. So say it with me: I AM ENOUGH...JUST THE WAY I AM!

  

Outside the Box

The other day I was visiting with a friend who happens to be a 6'6" athletically built black man. He was telling me how often people come up to him and ask what position he plays in basketball or which team he plays for. Some people say it jokingly, just to have something to say. And some people have actually pestered him almost to the point of harassment trying to get information that doesn't exist out of him. He has participated in many sports at truly competitive levels and been quite successful at them, but basketball is one he has only played recreationally. Still, people see him and immediately make an assumption about him. Notice, they don't ask if he plays basketball. In their minds, they are already confident of that fact and it's only a matter of filling in the details. They put him in the box they want him to be in so they can make sense of him, so they can get him to fit their narrative. 

As my friend and I talked about this, we recognized that people do this all the time--sometimes with regard to race, sometimes gender, sometimes age, sometimes appearance. Really, it could be anything, and it happens in romantic relationships, in work relationships, with friends and family, and even with strangers. Unfortunately, many of our assumptions are much less complimentary than thinking someone may play for a professional basketball team. I have shocked many of my co-workers and customers when they have found out I have a college degree (in biomedical science nonetheless). After all, why would a woman of my age be working at Starbucks if that was true? It doesn't fit their narrative. It doesn't make sense to them. I don't fit in the box they had constructed for me. And assumptions can get much worse than that. It's one of the reasons our country still struggles with racism and why politics can get so ugly. It's why all relationships can be a struggle. Our brains have a need to make sense of things and people and are very good at constructing boxes to help us do that. But the problem with this is--whether we are joking or making small talk or being dead serious, and whether we are expressing our thoughts or keeping them to ourselves--when we do this to people, we become unable to see them as they are and can only see them in a way that makes them be what we need/want/assume them to be. And not seeing a person as they are is the beginning of disrespect. 

I have certainly been guilty of approaching people with the boxes I've built for them more often than I would like to admit. But one of the really cool things about brains is that they can be retrained. Thought processes can be changed. And boxes that have been constructed can also be deconstructed. But it takes work and practice. We need to start to notice when we're making assumptions, when we're creating unrealistic expectations, and when we're trying to make a person fit a narrative we have in our heads (whether we're telling a positive story, a negative one, or a neutral story that simply isn't true). 

Many of us may be trying to figure out others because we've never really figured out ourselves. How arrogant of us to assume we know who or what other people are when we don't even really know ourselves! But we can combat this by sitting with ourselves and trying to know ourselves by digging deep and pondering and analyzing our thoughts and feelings, even though that may be an uncomfortable process. This will do a couple of things: 1. It will take up a huge amount of time and mental focus, which will make it harder for us to have the energy to construct boxes for other people, and 2. When we really and truly know ourselves, we don't need to try to make sense of someone else or get them to fit in a box that makes us feel some sort of way. We can just let them be who they are because we will be confident in who we are regardless of who they are. When you read business books that talk about being successful, there is always some version of "think outside the box" advice. It holds no less true in our relationships. When we approach people without a label or an expectation or a "box," we will have the pleasure of really knowing them and will free ourselves of the pressure to have to make them fit. This will only create stronger, healthier, and more successful relationships. I'm working on putting down the various boxes I carry around because I truly want to see people as they are and not only as I imagine them to be.

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.