Confessions of a Bride: The Joy Hunt

I woke up super early this morning, early for me anyway. It was one of those mornings where the clock read 5:30am the first time I glanced at it and then seemed to chuckle at me as I rolled over to try and fall back asleep. It’s Sunday after all, and I didn’t have anywhere to be for several hours. Determined to sleep a little longer, I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing while convincing myself I was dozing off again. Nope. Not happening…

5:30am won and I slowly scooted out of bed, surprised by my not too terrible attitude.

Now, if you know me, you probably know I have a wedding coming up, exactly seven days from now (by the time you read this, it will be more like four.) If we’ve ever worked together on a professional level either in therapy or otherwise, you probably know I am a big believer in a relational approach to work, and well, everything! I don’t quite see how trusting relationships of any kind are built without some higher-level awareness of what our personal journeys look like. That being said, I always like to bring honest, if not sometimes unflattering, experiences to the table so they might be helpful learning opportunities for someone else out there. I suppose Brené ruined me with all that talk and research on shame and vulnerability. Permission slip to tastefully self-disclose: granted.

Here is what I’ve learned about the whole wedding planning journey in a laser phrase: don’t do it!! (Ha! Just kidding…I had to.)

Seriously, here we go: protect your joy. What an incredibly joyous occasion and reason for celebration! Yet I have managed to let myself overwhelmingly stress over details I will definitely not remember ten years from now, completely derailing my joy. (Well, besides the fact that my wedding dress alterations were totally botched and I had to start from scratch five days before getting on a plane to tie the knot. Different story. Different day.) Anyways, I pretty much lost it on my sweet, well-meaning wedding planner yesterday and picked a fight with my fiancé over furniture placement post wedding. Really? Despite sleep deprivation and procrastination payback, I needed a healthy dose of perspective or a time-out, whichever came first.

This morning it struck me that I might miss out on the joy of this glorious anticipation if I don’t stay present and grateful for each passing moment. This was both sobering and a relief! Between grinding coffee beans and fumbling through Instagram in the haze of waking up, I caught a glimpse of the most stunning, pillowy fog resting in a valley off in the distance through the back window. I dropped everything to go sit outside and behold this moment. The soft colors of morning began to rise as the symphony of Sunday started it’s warm up. The crisp, chilly air felt clean and waves of leafy green trees stood tall and proud, as if to say, “Finally, she notices what is true and beautiful.”

This present moment is the truest gift we have. You will never be in the exact space reading these words on this same passing day EVER.

I have no way of knowing if the flowers will arrive on time, if our family members all get along and enjoy themselves, if the photographs turn out as beautifully as I hope they do, and if the mascara I bought is as waterproof as it boasts. As far as I know, the groom is still in despite my new appointed position as Mayor of Crazy Town; I found a killer replacement wedding dress on the fly; and there will be tiny, sacred ceremony on a beach in Southern California that will usher in a new appointment of life called marriage.

Life is made up of zillions of moments. As T. S. Eliot so coolly writes, “We must be still, and still moving.” We also must not be afraid to experience our joy fully, without hesitation and cynicism. Let’s find those pockets of joy this week and revel in them, as if to brand them in our beings. If there is a favorite saying I have come to live by and cling to throughout the years, especially these last few months, it is surely this one:

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

St. Julian of Norwich

Space Between the Notes (The Beatles & Benders)

I have a confession to make. I went on a bender this past weekend…a Beatles Bender. It was excessive and glorious and I highly recommend it.

While 34,000 dedicated runners recovered from the St. Jude’s Rock n’ Roll marathon, I was happily sat on my back deck for the better part of Sunday chugging coffee and devouring the brilliant and arguably most influential sounds of all time.

“Music is the space between the notes.” Claude Debussy

Now, I grew up on a steady diet of Jazz and Bossa Nova with a side of classic country. Stan Getz, Astrud Gilberto, and Antonio Carlos Jobim were household names. Crystal Gale (aka childhood hero tied with Princess Leia, of course) and John Denver got thrown around a lot too. Though sophisticated and cool, my early music education had some holes in it. A late bloomer in most areas, I didn’t begin to appreciate the Beatles until well into my mid-twenties. In fact, I’m not sure one can ever fully appreciate all the layers of genius and nuance their music houses.

Mid-way through the White Album, something struck me: music is absolute chaos if it lacks space. My favorite Beatles tunes, including Hey Jude, Something, Eleanor Rigby, While my Guitar Gently Weeps, All You Need is Love, and Blackbird (to barely scratch the surface), all dance around those beautiful and strategic spaces between the notes, lending melody and lyric that simply transcend. (Well, maybe they had some help from other “transcendental” substances as well; it was in fact the ‘60s…and beyond…) Perhaps this truth applies even more, what with the exquisite improvisational stylings of my native tongue, Jazz.

Can you imagine music without the space?

What about life?

Space between the notes is metaphorical for life, and specifically in our case, therapy as well. Rest, play, blank space, stillness, quiet. Pick your poison; however, we need them all in this life for so many reasons. For the sake of congruence, I will use the word “rest” to further my musical narrative (#nerdalert).

First off, we need rest in order to recharge and refuel our beings for more. Sure, there are seasons when we fire on all cylinders, but we can’t sustain them, nor are we meant to. When we go for long stretches without deep rest, our body chemistry changes and certain hormones spike to unhealthy levels. This can be extremely dangerous; something we don’t want to mess around with. Accidents happen, cognitions are blurred, moods swing, health problems surface, metabolisms stall, depression hits, and we lose touch with reality.

Secondly, we need rest in order to show up in a loving and compassionate way for relationships. When I experience high levels of stress and resulting burnout, I lose compassion for the people I love. It is impossible to authentically love and give from a constantly depleted, run-down state.

Lastly, we need rest in order to take inventory and gain new perspective. If we are always in “go mode” somewhere off in the distance, we miss out on the beauty of the here and now. Eckhart Tolle renders, “When you lose touch with your inner stillness, you lose touch with yourself. When you lose touch with yourself, you lose yourself in the world.” Nailed it.

Have you ever woken up at 3 am, unable to get back to sleep? No matter how tired you are, how many sheep you count, or deep breathing exercises you do, you are wired. Not only that, but insignificant details of the day appear and start damning you to hell. You are now considering a new friend group, fitness regime, psychotropic medication, and the local psych hospital even becomes appealing…like the Four Seasons or something. Exhausted and crazed, you finally manage to doze off with all the cognitive acrobatics you just did. You wake up four hours later wondering what on earth the big fuss was about. You just needed sleep, not a life overhaul.

Rest creates space for new perspective when the treadmill of life and busyness has us running at a grueling pace.

Where are the crevices in your week in which you can carve out time for rest? It doesn’t have to be an entire day or afternoon (though that would be nice!). Setting just an hour or two aside can do wonders and reset you physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Rest is NOT a nasty little four-letter word. Rest is also NOT a sign of weekness. Paradoxical as it may seem, we ultimately get ahead in life by taking the time to slow down. Next time you hear your favorite song playing, pay attention to the space between the notes. Let them catch you off guard. Learn from them You may even hear and appreciate that song in a totally new way.

If music is truly the universal language of mankind, then rest must be what keeps us speaking.

In honor of The Beatles and the late, great Prince, I leave you with this… Watch and weep along…

Prince, Tom Petty, Steve Winwood, Jeff Lynne and others perform "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" at the 2004 Hall of Fame Inductions. http://rockhall.com/ ⁍ Buy "While My Guitar Gently Weeps": https://goo.gl/8sEuNp ⁍ Buy the Rock Hall of Fame Vinyl: http://goo.gl/fVR2Go ⁍ Buy the Rock Hall of Fame 3 DVD set: http://goo.gl/W7mKXa Visit us!

World Gone Small: The Isolation Trap

I grew up in Mobile, Alabama. Mobile is a charming southern city, dripping with history, Spanish moss, and extra syllables. My elementary years were challenged as a kid with all that humidity and resulting frizz. However, despite seeming eternal spells of awkward and frizz, my childhood was wonderful in so many ways. I grew up with parents who love and enjoy each other as well as their five wildly colorful kids (still do, I’m pretty sure), and siblings whom I call my closest friends to this day. My Dad is a seasoned entrepreneur, writer, teacher, and visionary. For many years he served in ministry, traveling all over to share his keen insight and passion for our unique calling as Christians in this metastory of life and faith. Even though we grew up in a small town, my world view and hunger for more got off to a big start. I attribute this to my Dad.

One of the most valuable truths Dad instilled in us youngsters was that we were made for something bigger than our experiences, our agendas, and ourselves. My faith journey has been winding to say the least, yet I have always come back to belief in a God who is orchestrating something bigger than what I cling to now and that this God is indeed good. This always gives me hope in times when what I see in front of me is a dark and damaged view of Eden.

When I am cut off from a sense of bigger belonging and purpose, I experience deep depression and anxiety. Remember that scene in Star Wars when Leia, Luke, Han, and Chewbacca get stuck in the Death Star trash compactor? The walls close in on them as they frantically swim through a sea of garbage. Solo dryly remarks, “One thing’s for sure; we’re all gonna be a lot thinner.” Classic. Well, that scene portrays the claustrophobic doom experienced when I feel alone in my struggle. (Sans the charming reframe from Harrison Ford, aka the crush of my youth, and maybe even beyond…  ).

Connectedness to something bigger than self, such as creativity, community, and calling, serves as an emotional umbilical cord. It sustains a steady and nourishing life source of hope.

When depression and/or loneliness hit and that inner dialog goes south, we have two options. We can reach out or we can isolate in our pain. Isolation is a sexy temptress, luring us into her grip one little lie at a time.

I work with countless high achieving, self-aware people in therapy who experience a similar feeling from time to time. Often, this feeling is described as loneliness. Ahh, the “L” word. We have all felt lonely at one point in our lives and from what I have observed, loneliness is part of the human condition. Not to be a buzz-kill, but what if our expectation would allow for those times in life that we feel lonely? What if we could embrace this feeling of loneliness, knowing it is part of the collective human experience as well as one we in fact have control over?

When depression and/or loneliness hit and that inner dialog goes south, we have two options. We can reach out or we can isolate in our pain. Isolation is a sexy temptress, luring us into her grip one little lie at a time.
“No one will understand.”

“No one cares.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” And on and on…

In many ways, isolation confirms a futile story we make up about ourselves that says, “I don’t deserve love and connection, and therefore I will hide out in isolation.” That screwy lie is the very culprit that endangers our existence and smushes a wondrous world of possibility into a tiny marble of a globe.

In her book Radical Acceptance (purchase at Amazon), Tara Brach articulates, “Feeling unworthy goes hand in hand with feeling separate from others, separate from life. If we are defective, how can we possibly belong? It seems like a vicious cycle: the more deficient we feel, the more separate and vulnerable we feel.”

With this in mind, it is vital that we take inventory of our sense of worthiness and connectedness. When the proverbial trash compactor starts closing in, how can we find a way out through resources of support and community? Life can feel lonely even in a room full of people, which demonstrates the faulty belief that we don’t belong. Lie of the century.

You do belong. You are significant, beautiful, and your life matters.

Failure (ish) – Two Tiny Words Pt. 2

Well, It’s been two weeks now since I “failed” my big test and I must say, I feel just fine. The feedback you gave me from last week’s blog post was invaluable and life giving, to say the least. Thank you for taking the time to thoughtfully respond and, as you will read, for widening my vision. There is something palpable and powerful about vulnerability in the face of a painful fall. It cuts through layers of nicety and ego, getting right down to the core of our insecurity. As scary as it was for me to admit my perceived defeat last week, your compassionate responses shed light on a profound truth I have come to believe more than ever as of late.

…explore reframing failure into a learning experience and ask questions instead of cast judgments on ourselves.

So remember that word curiosity from last week? I want to circle back around to it for reasons a bit different than what I originally had in mind. You see, at first, I thought I would crank out a little two-part blog series on failure and the infinite power we possess if we sit in a posture of curiosity to soften the blow of failure. By that, I thought we could explore reframing failure into a learning experience and ask questions instead of cast judgments on ourselves. The vital signs of this approach are good. I learned that the hard way through many stubborn years of trial and error leading me to the knowledge that self-flagellation is just a big fat time and energy suck.

Unexpectedly, what I have learned through your responses to my last blog post is simply beautiful and goes far deeper than the practice of curiosity or reframing or however you want to spin it. You taught me that ultimately, connection is more important than success. Yes, that’s it! Being truly seen, known, and accepted sans the masks of performance and personality is far more significant than passing a test, landing a promotion, receiving a glowing review, or making the cut. You showed me what I was really seeking from my test performance was love and acceptance, things a computer print out with a number on it would not give me even if I’d passed. You also taught me that our shared human experience is a most impressive force, and one that does not require conjuring. It flows freely into that sacred space carved out by vulnerability. Connection calls us to a higher, broader place to stand on so we don’t rot in a den of shameful isolation.

In essence, I do believe a spirit of childlike curiosity is something to cultivate and cherish in life. Perhaps it allows us to more readily reach out or change courses when we hit a roadblock. I once heard a Seth Godin podcast discussing the topic of failure. He said, in so many brilliant words, something to the effect that the smartest people in the world are not actually the most successful. The most successful people in the world are optimists. They are the people who fall down over and over and keep getting up. They are the people who see failure as an invitation to discover what is true about themselves and their work in that moment. I imagine they are also people who don’t take themselves so flipping seriously. That’s my two cents, Seth.

Again, thank you for showing me just how vital two tiny words can be: me too. Let’s get out there and live bravely this week, honoring the beautiful and constant invitation for connection and presence.

Failure (ish) – Beauty in the Breakdown Pt. 1

Last Monday I took the NCMHCE (National Clinical Mental Health Counseling Exam) for the second time. Last Monday I also failed it for the second time. Ouch. I know. Not only did I study literallydaily for three months—a miracle in and of itself as I am a chronic procrastinator and rarely study for stuff—BUT; I shelled out some serious cash twice to take the rugged thing. If I were going into the counseling business to make money, I would surely have pursued the licensure/testing realm of it instead of the practitioner side of it. Those people must make serious bank.  

SUCCESS IS WALKING FROM FAILURE TO FAILURE WITH NO LESS ENTHUSIASM.

– Winston Churchill

All of this aside, perhaps the most humiliating part of the experience is that people want to know how I did, friends and colleagues alike. These are people I admire, and who actually like me and are interested in me too—well, maybe. Talk about a tragic and shameful ego splattering all over the kitchen floor. Upon receiving the heartless print out reading “FAIL” across the top, I said some choice words loudly (sorry Mom), and bawled my eyes out all the way from that sterile, fluorescent-lit lobby in Brentwood to the dark side of the covers on my bed. Yep, I was going under. Even as I sit writing these words I realize God’s wry sense of humor, thinking back to my last blog that oozed of Self-Compassion. Self-What?  Yeah, not that day.  The screwtape sessions of my inner dialog sliced up any shred of kindness or understanding they could find.  

If you sense a bit of drama here and immediately think of those infomercials where they take a minuscule rash or burn and blow it up like a blimp to show how well their magical product works for dramatic effect, well, you might be onto something. As I’ve gotten a bit of space from that fragile state, I realize perspective gently sheds light on what is really true and important. So, if you can in any way identify with my experience, I ask you to put yourself in my shoes and think about how a similar experience of your own might have felt.  

What is failure anyway? And who holds the failure stick to determine if we pass go and proceed to Space Mountain or if we’re stuck with Grandma slowly getting dizzy on It’s a Small World? (Is it just me or was that ride strangely disturbing for anyone?). Seriously though, are we damned to failure every time we don’t meet a set of perceived expectations?  

Perhaps, if we are curious enough, we’ll find an open window letting in the light to more truth and opportunity on the other side of the fall?  

I know, I know, as my five-year-old behavior models, it is a far cry (no pun intended) to act out of a grounded self-awareness when we sit in the hot seat of our painful rejection. What I have learned is when we are triggered emotionally—just as I was after my test bomb—a fiery signal originates in the amygdala, the primal/survival part of our brain, and sends all kinds of emotions rushing through our bodies. Unfortunately, we hasten to make paralyzing self-judgments based on a surge of hormonal energy coursing through our bodies. 

Without making this an anatomy lesson I am unqualified to give, I want to leave you with some homework. For now, I want you to consider one simple word as you go about your days. Don’t overthink it or analyze it…just consider it. Your word is curiosity. 

What comes up for you when you notice that word? Intrigue, familiarity, enjoyment, frustration? Whatever it is…I believe it is important. Curiosity has been powerful for me this year in that it shifts me away from harsh judgment and nudges me toward empathy and openness. 

Try it on for size and let me know how it fits…

Love,

Katie