Category: Growth

Surrendering is Not Doing Nothing

~ tmdvir ~ Leave a comment

Something really interesting has been going on in my life lately. Something that makes me wonder. In the past couple of months, I have had opportunities open up for me in the most interesting ways. Some are career related. Some are more about my personal life. But all of them brought to mind something I’ve been contemplating since 2017 when my word of the year was surrender.

You see, at that point in my life, the concept of surrender was totally foreign to me. I was used to planning, to being in control, and to believing that the only way to a fulfilling life is to plan and be in control. Of course, that was challenged at times. Like when I decided to move to Portland with the hopes of getting into a more creative field, but the only job offer I got was not creative and not so different from the job I had just left. I had a plan, but alas that’s not what turned out to happen. And when I got the offer I did, I was wary but excited. I had a good feeling about it. So I took it, even though it was not what I had planned.

The last two-plus years of my life have been a more intentional exercise in surrendering–ironically seeking surrender instead of letting it come to me. They’ve been an exercise in recognizing that control was at the very best a harmless illusion and at the very worst a lie I was using to hold myself back.

But in these two years, I kept struggling with the balance between surrender and action. Could I surrender and still work towards my goals? How can I be both an active participant in my life and passively surrendering to my lack of control?

And I think this week it dawned on me. Maybe.

I am starting to realize that surrender is more about trust than about not doing anything. Surrender is more about believing that there isn’t a right way, a right answer, a right path. It’s about recognizing that there are many paths and trusting that any path will lead you somewhere worthwhile and interesting.

The balance between surrender and action is that surrender is trusting that the doors will appear and open and action is trusting yourself to choose the one that fits you best at that moment. It’s also trusting that more doors will open regardless of the decision you make.

Before I started considering surrender, I was doing all the work. I was designing the door and getting the materials and building the door that I believed wanted to walk through. And I did it because I thought I was the only one that could design the right door for me. The thing was though, sometimes by the time the door was built, I didn’t want to walk through it anymore. And because I was so freaking focused on my door, and so sure that no other door would be good enough, I felt that I had no other options but to walk through the door I was no longer particularly interested in.

Now, I’m letting the doors show up and I’m considering each of them. I’m thinking about what feels right at the moment. I’m gathering information about each door. And I’m making a decision. And the doors keep showing up.

Just to keep it real, though, I don’t want you imagining me peacefully walking through my life by any means. I don’t think that’ll ever be me. I’m still anxious at times that I’m making the wrong decision. I still worry that if I say no to this door now–even if it’s something I think I might want in the future–I won’t get the opportunity again. I’m still scared sometimes that my life will not turn out to be worthwhile or interesting.

And I still keep walking. I still keep picking the door that feels right even through the fear. I still keep letting other doors shut even if I hope to see them again someday.

 

 

Phase Change Philosophy

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So yesterday I was talking to my two best friends from high school about life, what else? We’re all the same age, but feel like we’re in really different places of our lives in some regards. And in other regards, it feels like we’re in the same place. We’ve all been struggling with our careers and jobs for a few years–complaining, jumping around, trying new things.

And it seems like we’re all slowly getting to a point where we’re ok with our jobs not being these grand careers for the time being. We’re starting to get more comfortable with working without these plans that are supposed to get us to huge achievements.

As my friend was talking about being more stagnant at work, my brain flew back to high school and thought freakishly quickly of the phase change graph. Here’s a refresher:

Image result for temperature state of matter graph

I thought about how in those phase change plateaus, the temperature stays the same, but other things are still changing.

I think we often think or are told or are shown that we need to move up quickly at work (take moving up to mean whatever you will, I don’t just mean promotions and such). But the truth of the matter is, sometimes we gotta stay stagnant to do other kinds of work too–maybe work on personal lives, maybe work on side projects, maybe work that’s related to your career.

The truth of the matter is, life if graphed would probably looks more like:

Recovery_Graph

But the nerd side of me still likes this new phase change philosophy.

 

Are Vision Boards Magic?

~ tmdvir ~ 1 Comment

The following like all of my blog posts is purely my perspective. This (unlike some of my blog posts) is not a researched post, but just some observations and thoughts I’ve gathered over the years. Please bear with me. 

I made a vision board this year. This is literally my first vision board. I filled it with images–dusky deserts, vibrant warm colors, otters–and some words–Fun, Content, and United in Protest.

I don’t believe creating a vision board makes room for these things to come into my life. I don’t believe creating a vision board sends a message to the universe that I am ready for these things to enter my life.

What I do believe is that taking the time to sit down and search through images and see what I’m drawn to has helped bring my own attention to what I want from this year. For example, I didn’t realize how much I missed the desert until I kept longing for the images I was seeing during this project. So I decided I should probably find time this year to visit my friend in Arizona.

Another example, this past weekend was Portland’s Womxn’s March. I haven’t been to a lot of marches or protests. In 2017 I went to two. In 2018 I didn’t go to any. But knowing that the phrase “United in Protest” drew me in, I decided that would be something I would focus on. So when the Womxn’s March event went up on Facebook, I decided I would go. When it was pushed back two months, I decided I would still go. When last week came around, I told people I was going, and was slightly less sure in my statement than I’d hoped. I was anxious and nervous. What if I was uniting with something that was flawed? (probably). What if all (or many of) my friends and loved ones, knew something damning about the march and were judging me for wanting to support it? What if something terrible happens at the march?

Ah, the joys of anxiety.

But still, I kept remembering those words on my vision board. I kept telling myself, sure, you’re worried, but you wanted to unite in protest. You wanted to feel powerful in this way, during this often hopeless and frustrating (for me) time.

So I listened to my worries and decided to go anyway. I told my friends I would definitely be there. I asked if anyone wanted to join. I even made a poster! And the day of, still a little nervous and shaky and fearful of the judgment of my fellow public transport users, I headed to the march. I ended up meeting up with three friends (which was a grand surprise) and even a new coworker. I listened to speeches and marched and chanted a little (it was a very quiet march). And then I listened some more. I heard things I agree with wholeheartedly, some that left me thinking, and some that made me cringe with discomfort. And because of all that, I left feeling thoughtful and fulfilled.

For me, a vision board is not a way to communicate with the universe the things I am ready for. If there is a universal power of any sort, my assumption is it kinda knows. For me, a vision board is a way to communicate with myself what some deeper part of myself thinks might be best for me this upcoming year.

My brain is always going, always putting words to my feelings and thoughts. And sometimes, trying to bypass my brain and think a little less, and just pick things that draw me in is a way to get in touch with a different part of myself.

So I’ll plan the trip to Arizona and seek out more marches and protests and try to saturate my life with a little bit more color. I’ll make my vision of this year a reality. And I’ll let the universe do the rest.

 

Daring in February

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**This is a monthly update on Find Your Word.

Looking back on February, to be honest, I am exhausted. And most of the exhaustion, I feel in my bones, comes from the last ten days of this month. But looking back through my bujo, as I often do, and looking at the moments of joy I try to pick every day, I am reminded that in the darkest of times, there is some light the breaks through. Even if we have to squint to see it.

The focus of this month for me, needs to be, and will continue to be deserving.

After a difficult conversation where I felt that all the decisions of my past two years–to leave engineering, to go to school, to live without a long-term plan, to take this new job–were put under the microscope. It is taking time to get back to my place, to my set of values, to the conviction that got me here in the first place.

I deserve to create the life I want for myself. It doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s life. It doesn’t need to be approved by anyone else. It is mine to do with as I please.

I often find there is a distinct difference between standing up for myself and defending myself. The first is tied to my self-worth, my feelings of dignity and of being respected. The second is tied to proving someone else wrong. To showing them how wrong they are. Sure, in the process I am likely dealing with my dignity. But that is not the focus. And in proving to someone how wrong they are, it feels to me that I am proving to them how much I fear their rightness.

I wish I could live a life where the people I cared about supported me in my choices, instead of questioning how and why I’ve made the decision I have. I wish they could see that my choices are not a challenge to their own decisions. That I see us as separate beings whose decisions are our own. I think I deserve that. But that is not something in my control. I cannot force people to act this way. I can only do my best to tell them what’s going on, to ask them for what I need, and to accept that they may or may not give it. And that their decisions to give it or not often has little to do with me.

But I do want to get back to those moments of joy.

Because there was at least one for every day of the month. And I don’t think I often had to dig very deep. Especially on days I was at work. Because kids, even ones that are struggling, are kids. I get to go to work and play giant foursquare with a yoga ball or do origami or watch a movie or go back to middle school (minus the awkward social scene). And that can shift my perspective. And it can just make me laugh.

Because I have done a lot of work to build a strong network of friends here. Strong not necessarily in numbers, but in spirit and support. A network of people that I don’t always get along with seamlessly, but we’re there for each other even with that. A network of people that I can be daring with, eventually, when I’m finally ready to open up about the thing for real.

It is scary sometimes, because life ebbs and flows, and I am 90% sure I’m in an ebb right now. And I’m not so gracious in the ebbs. I’m not so convinced that things will flow again. I know it, but I don’t trust it yet.

I am scared right now that I will get stuck in the ebb.

I am trying to breathe into it and allow things to flow when it’s time.

In the meantime, I’ll remind myself of all the things I am deserving of, of the kids that bring me delight, and of the friends that give me space to be daring when I’m ready. And I’ll breathe.

 

How to…

~ tmdvir ~ Leave a comment

How to cope when someone you love and who loves you questions your entire life philosophy in 21 easy (and sometimes repetitive steps)

  1. Take deep breaths
  2. Stop yourself from crying cause you know they just can’t handle your tears
  3. Regret step 2 and wonder if you’ll be able to get in touch with those feelings again
  4. Try to redirect
  5. Try to redirect
  6. Try to redirect
  7. End the conversation trying to remember that this person whom you love who loves you means well
  8. Remind yourself that just because someone means well doesn’t mean you have to put up with their bullshit
  9. Talk to your friends about it
  10. Talk to your friends about it some more
  11. Talk to your friends about it until you get in touch with the feelings from step 2 again
  12. Cry
  13. Remember that you’ve intentionally picked people for your life who do not do this
  14. Revel in that intentionality
  15. Talk to your friends again
  16. Embrace the funky mood you’re in
  17. Remind yourself that you knew when you started this journey that some people (including ones you love who you know love you) wouldn’t get it
  18. Remind yourself that you are happy with your life and it’s working for you
  19. Count down the days until therapy
  20. Keep living your life doing yoga, reading, seeing friends, writing blog posts, going to your new job
  21. Remind yourself that you’ve got this

The Journey

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Almost exactly three years ago, I suddenly decided to stop torturing my body.

I decided to stop working out to be thin. And that eventually led to my stopping dieting altogether. And that was a start to a journey I couldn’t have ever imagined.

Because dieting tied me to my family in a strangling kind of way. It was how I bought into my family. Dieting was our culture. And when I decided to stop dieting, I took my first step away from my family.

Honestly, at the time, I was hoping they would follow me. I thought if I brought them just the right science, the right articles, explained to them in just the right way what it was I had suddenly discovered, they would come along too. I didn’t mean to leave my family behind.

But they didn’t come. And I decided this was too important for me to retrace my steps and find my way back to them.

That was how my journey began.

That was how a year and a half later I was back in school studying psychology putting my career as an engineer, a career I doubted since college, behind me. That was how, a year and a half later, I left the man I loved the man who had no interest in doing the work to build a remarkable relationship together.

That was how three years later I find myself in a job that pays about a quarter of what I was making before. A hard, emotionally taxing job, but one that means I come home every day filled with a sense that I’ve done something meaningful with my day.

Three years ago, I had no idea what that one decision would lead me to. I didn’t know how scary and alone I would feel at times. I didn’t know how much self-doubt I would feel and withstand and move past.

Three and a half years ago, I was sure of so much that wasn’t true. I was sure that if I just did the right thing (whatever that was) exactly the right thing in the right way, it would unlock the happiest life ever. But the truth is not that. There is no exactly right thing. There is no guarantee. Perfection (be that body, or action, or career, or writing, or whatever) does not guarantee perfection or happiness or love.

Good things don’t always come from good things and bad things don’t always come from bad.

There is no equation.

There is just life.

Feeling vs. Dwelling

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One of the main focuses of my therapy for the past two and a half years-ish, has been letting myself feel my feelings.

Now, those of you who know me well, might be thinking “she doesn’t need help with that!” And it’s true, I have a lot of feelings, and most of them I’m pretty good at feeling. I’m good at feeling momentary feelings that come up:

  • Sadness the night I rehomed my doggo
  • Happiness at a friend’s wedding
  • Loving warmth when I’m playing with my nieces and nephews
  • Irritation when my parents say something annoying

But I’m not so good at feeling the deeply buried things. Feelings associated with decades of beliefs that feel overwhelming to face. Feelings associated with a lack of self-worth, with fears of ending up alone, with surety that there is something deeply deeply wrong with me.

My therapist has slowly and gently pushed me to go there. To go into the depths when something pushes me to do so. Instead of shutting down the moment these deep and scary feelings come up.

Because, really, who wants to go there? Who wants to dive into the abyss of deeply held beliefs, grab something from down there, and bring it to the light. It’s embarrassing. And it’s extremely painful.

When I tell my friends this. When I tell them I’m trying to sit with these heavy feelings that come up. I get three general responses.

  1. Support
  2. Curiosity
  3. Horror

The support is always nice. It means I can lean on someone else while I’m weathering the storm that’s bound to be monstrous. It means I can share the thoughts that come up without fear of being judged or told I’m crazy.

The curiosity is always amusing. And while in the moment I rarely do anything with it, I enjoy touching base with those people later on to explain why I’m doing what I’m doing. Why I’m sitting with these feelings that many of us would rather just push down and walk away from.

The horror makes me sad. The horror are the friends that say “as long as you’re not dwelling” and “how do you know you won’t get stuck?” The horror is me years ago. The me that thought that if I let myself be sad, I’d be sad forever. The me that thought if I let myself feel fear, I’d be bringing bad events into my life (cause bad energy, y’all). The me that thought that feeling some feelings was bad. And if I wasn’t happy all the time it was my fault, my doing, my own negative perspective.

The thing is though, feelings, all feelings, are temporary. Quick side note here: depression and anxiety are not exactly feelings, especially if you have a diagnosis. Those may not be temporary and I urge you to go to a therapist to figure our what’s up. And back to the main show. Feelings are temporary. Happiness, sadness, anger, hurt. With time they really do pass. And they’ll pass either way. But if you let yourself feel them, they’ll pass and be gone. If you fight them and fight them. Push them down. Pretend they’re not there. Pretend you can just ignore them away. They’ll come back. Maybe not for years or decades. But they’ll be there waiting for you. They’ll come up in the weirdest moments and you might not even know what hit you.

Yesterday, I had a really tough day at work. I kept making small mistakes that felt like they were piling on. I wasn’t all there, and this isn’t a job that you can just go through the motions with. You have to be present. I kept being drawn to go down a path where I call myself stupid and judge myself harshly for being so dumb. I kept trying to remind myself that mistakes are a part of life, a learning experience, that that’s how my work sees them too. But my brain wasn’t having it. I needed to go down that path. Face the fear that my mistakes were insurmountable. Wonder what might happen. Cry it out. It’s a weird call to make, I know. To listen to old, maladaptive thought patterns in my head. But the thing is, they’re there anyway. I could fight them and invalidate them and keep telling them that mistakes are good. But what’s the point if they don’t listen?

Yesterday I chose to give them their voice. I chose to let them say “you’re dumb.” But just because they say it, doesn’t mean I have to listen or to believe them.

There’s an art to all of this that I’m not sure I’ve captured yet.

An ease that allows these beliefs to come through without allowing them to take over. A surrender that says: I know you’re there, I hear you and see you, and I’m still gonna do my thing, but I hear that you’re worried and I appreciate your sharing that.

 

Daring in January

~ tmdvir ~ 1 Comment

**This is a monthly update on Find Your Word.

On an early Sunday morning, I got together with some old and new friends and we headed to Sandy, OR. We got to a shop and took longer than expected to rent our gear, but we still made the bus up the mountain. We were going cross country skiing.

I’ve avoided going to the snow since moving to Portland almost four years ago. Last year some friends wanted to go snowshoeing, and still, I wasn’t ready to gear up and face the cold. But this year when a friend mentioned it again, I decided to listen to my word and be a bit more daring this year. We settled on cross country skiing. We started a group text. And we made plans. We found rental locations and trail options. We agreed that the final decisions would have to be made the day of. And, surprisingly, we made it happen.

We did a four-mile trail, and for the first half mile, I think I fell every time there was even the slightest downhill. It was pretty disappointing. But then, instead of going in the middle of the pack, it was my turn to lead, and something just kind of clicked.

I had been cross country skiing once before, in Michigan. And I assumed, based on that experience, that everything had to be perfectly flat, but that’s not how it is, at least not where we were. There were uphills and downhills and small creeks to cross.

At one point, we happened upon an older woman who I’m pretty sure saw me fall (again). She used to teach cross country skiing. She told me to flex my ankles. To be honest, that’s still semi-meaningless to me, but thinking about it during the downhills really helped. I stopped falling! I learned to lean into the downhill, instead of leaning back out of it and falling. It was kind of a magical lesson in living.

By the end of the trail, our group had split, three ahead and two in the back. I stayed on the mountain alone for a while, waiting for the second group. I was worried and feeling oddly accomplished.

This was exactly what I wanted for 2019: adventure and erring on the side of risk. I could have continued to avoid the snow this year, but I’m glad I didn’t. On this trip, I was reminded of my friend’s amazing ability to be filled with child-like delight by nature. It was a good reminder that almost anything can be delightful if you look at it from the right perspective. It was also a reminder that we can turn to our friends for so many things.

So that’s my January summer of daring and delight. I’m also working on deserving. I started a new job this month. I’m starting to build that life. We’ll see how it goes. I’ll keep you posted!

 

 

 

Find Your Word 2019

~ tmdvir ~ 5 Comments

Happy New Year!

For the last couple of years, I’ve been choosing a word to hold onto throughout the year. A friend first told me about this at the end of 2016. It was something she had done for that year, and she wanted to know if I would like to join her for 2017. After a break up that came as a painful shock to me, even as the instigator, I was ready for something to a little bit more spiritual. Something I hoped that would help bring meaning to the life I was slowly shattering. My word that year was surrender. I wanted to learn to give in. Give in to the pain and the hardships, yes, but also to the joy and the ease. I wanted to reclaim this word that I had always seen as weak. I wanted to make surrender a courageous decision. And I believe that it is.

For 2018, my word was embrace, and it quickly fell out of my life. When I chose it, I had been hoping for a more active word and a lot more hugs in 2018. While I got the latter, I found embrace left a bitter taste in my mouth. 2018 felt like a lot for many of us it seems and embracing it felt like the farthest thing from my truth. I lost touch with my word, but looking back there were important things that I embraced this year. I embraced with fierceness new and strengthening female friendships this year. I clung tightly to my belief that the best relationships are strengthened not weakened by the tough conversations. And I accepted begrudgingly that some of the members of my family, while well-intentioned, loving, and supportive, were not willing or able to partake in the types of relationships I wished to cultivate. Most importantly, without even knowing it was happening, I learned to embrace those things that brought meaning and joy to my life (writing, friendship, storytelling events, and many more) while letting go of those things that did not.

I’ll continue to carry the lessons I learned from past years with me. I’m excited as ever for my word for 2019. I can’t believe this year is already here. I remember going back to college a year after I graduated and seeing a sign welcoming the incoming class of 2017. That year passed by in some kind of a blur. And here we are. 2019.

This year I have chosen three words. A word supported by two others.

Daring

My main word for 2019 is DARING. For me, it is a word that brings to mind Daring Greatly by Brene Brown–a book I intend to reread this year. It brings to mind being willing to fail miserably in pursuit of something great. It’s defined in Merriam-Webster as “venturesomely bold in action or thought.” And that’s what I want to be this year. I want to be bold and adventurous. This word, via Brene Brown’s work, reminds me how much I value being vulnerable both with loved ones and people I’ve just met. And finally, it’s bringing to the forefront my intention to take more risks this year. That doesn’t mean I’m going skydiving this year (probably), but it does mean that I’ll try to err on the side of adventure more than the side of caution this year.

My support words are deserving and delight.

Deserving is a difficult word for me. I don’t always believe I am deserving of the things I want. As a Millenial, often being attacked for being entitled, even when I do feel deserving, I start to question if I should. But I’m taking on a big task this year. After leaving my career as an engineer and returning to school to study psychology, I’m in the process of creating a life that looks the way I want it to look, not the way I’ve always been told it should look. And to do that well, I believe I need this word. A word that means “appropriately having or being given something specified.” I don’t know exactly what my life will look like. I can’t. I don’t want to. But I do have ideas of what I value, what’s important to me. I think remembering this word can help me nurture these knowns while I grow my meaningful life.

Finally, we’re left with delight. I wouldn’t be surprised if my friends described me as a deep and thoughtful person. Maybe even eloquent. And I think often I lose track of pure joy in pursuit of deep discussions and meaningful relationships. And so this year, I’d like to remember to enjoy myself. I want to find laughter as I try new things. While my goal in life isn’t to be happy, I think my life would be made more meaningful by the presence of joy. So delight, “a high degree of gratification or pleasure,” is something I’d like to cultivate. I think it will bring warmth to a year that may be very testing. Also, I have two friends who uniquely use the word delightful and it never fails to put a smile on my face.

With these words in mind, I hope to make 2019 a scary and productive year of experimentation, learning, and joy. I’m hopeful today and plan on enjoying the view from the top for as long as I can before this wave crashes and I’m momentarily drowning again.

P.S. This Find Your Word business is based on Susannah Conway’s work and I highly recommend you look her up if you’re interested!