A Generous Assumption

I’m a shameless fan of the meditation app, Headspace.  I know, I know, I should be well beyond guided meditation and floating cross-legged amidst the wafting nirvana of Transcendental Meditation.  Oh well, I suppose I’m quite fine in my elementary, yet devoted practice of guided meds.  

Last week I started a new pack (there are all these helpful packs you can choose from that focus on things like sleep, anxiety, change, and the like).  For some reason I was really drawn to the new meditation pack focusing on generosity.  God must have know I’d need a little extra nudge in this direction because unbeknownst to me at the time, I desperately did by about Thursday.

Each day I’d sit to meditate, Andy--the adorable British guide--dropped these punchy insights about generosity. One that stood out was the importance of practicing generosity inward to ourselves regularly before we expect ourselves to extend it outwardtoward others.  

Now, generosity is a quality and practice I highly value.  It’s right up there with authenticity, gratitude, and consistency...in no specific order.  In my research along the way, I’ve learned that the happiest, most whole-hearted people in the world practice six core things regularly: mindfulness, gratitude, vulnerability, belief in a higher power, self-care (exercise being a big part of this), and you guessed it, generosity. 

Later on in the week, I started to feel myself slowly slipping into the abyss of a judgy, resentful sludge.  You know the feeling: you’ve given someone something special, such as a meaningful compliment or thoughtful gift, and don’t get as much as a “thank you” in return.  Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Ouch! 

You start to realize this is happening quite often and that beautiful spirit of generosity you pride yourself in has come to a screeching halt. You now have a strange resemblance to Cinderella’s evil step sisters combined and on Adderall.  Not a good look.  What went wrong?  Why do people suck so much? Why do I even care? 

Does this sound familiar?

When this happens to me, I want to pull the reigns of generosity wayyyyy back and self-protect in the recess of isolation.  I go into scarcity mode.  I plop down heavy on the high and mighty throne of victimhood and swiftly wave my entitled wand of criticism.

Perhaps the most life-giving truth I’ve learned about generosity from Brené Brown’s work is that the most generous people are also  those with the strongest boundaries, meaning they are crystal clear with others about what’s okay and what’s not okay.  The only way we can practice intrinsic, unbridled generosity with others is to beef up our own boundaries.  Why?  Because the healthiest, most loving relationships are the ones with the clearest guidelines.  

I can only assume the best about people if I’m honest with myself and others about my needs.  If I don’t first extend generosity and compassion to myself, I will expect this need to be filled externally by someone who hasn’t the foggiest idea what I’m looking for.  

This messy brand of generosity never ends well...much like a shot of apple cider vinegar without the honey.  The good intentions don’t quite balance out the bitterness.  Without boundaries, making generous assumptions about others is tricky, if not impossible.  

Constantly overextending yourself emotionally, physically, or financially in the name of being nice, flexible, and fun isn’t really generosity after all.   It’s an attempt to “fit in” and be liked as opposed to authentic and true.   

The ones who don’t return your lovely, if not misguided, attempt at generosity are your most valuable teachers.  Learn from them. They are your constant crash-course in Boundaries 101.  

Show up to class, pay attention, take good notes, oh, and save me a seat next to you. 

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

The Problem with Peace

There's this glorious, if not intimidating, box that sits square at the bottom of the first page of my intake paperwork.  Every time I meet with a new client, we go over this paperwork, namely, the content of that glorious little box.  Scribbled down in that box you’ll find the holy grail of said paperwork…the hallowed treatment goals.  In other words, what do you want to accomplish in therapy?  What do you want to get out of our therapeutic work together?  It gives me a final destination from which we co-create a roadmap that will hopefully take you there.  Housed in that box lives a very powerful thing--desire.

There’s one whopping problem though.  More times than not, I read a familiar phrase that goes something like this: “I’d like to find more peace in my life.”

You’re probably thinking to yourself right about now, “Umm…and why is that a problem?”  

Fair enough. Yet, what if constant peace is not actually what we need in order to heal, grow, and thrive?  

What if we are really mistaking peace for comfort?

Expansion is by nature an uncomfortable process.  I’m thinking of growing pains here.  Take pregnancy for example.  Throughout the course of forty weeks (give or take a couple), a mother undergoes serious expansion and changes in her body to facilitate the birth of a tiny human.  

Not only this, but baked into the change process is a heap of loss.  In step with our pregnancy example, this same woman will inevitably incur losses: loss of some control, loss of a certain independence and “freedom”, loss of a waistline, loss of sleep, and loss of energy to name a few.  This type of physical expansion is certainly not comfortable, and at times, even terrifying I can imagine.  My guess is that peace is not a constant companion, yet there is no more beautiful expansion in my mind.

When we seek to find peace in the self-development sense, we must keep in mind that in order to grow and live into our highest selves, we must be open to the discomfort that accompanies expansion and change.  Peace is not always the litmus test here.  In fact, often times, quite the contrary.   

Make no mistake, feeding the narrative of your existing anxiety is not recommended.  If you are suffering from debilitating anxiety due to trauma or situational depression, the goal is always to reduce that.  However, part of our work as human beings is always to learn how to relate to negative feeling emotions better, with openness and curiosity, as opposed to avoiding them like your mother’s dry, overcooked meatloaf.  No amount of salt will make it palatable.

Perhaps the real goal here is learning to lean into the tension and be okay with it as opposed to being free from all discomfort.   As Harvard Medical School psychologist, Susan David, says in her brilliant TedTalk, the desire to be free from negative feeling emotions is really just “dead peoples goals.”  I love this because to be free of all discomfort in this life is not really living at all!  It’s actually hiding.

Are you mistaking peace for comfort?  If so, guess what?  You’re not alone.  But I’ve got really good news for you--your fear, anxiety, or guilt won’t kill you.   When these feelings come up they are  actually signaling you to growth and, you guessed it, expansion.  Your emotions speak in order to be heard and create balance where there is imbalance.  Ten years ago I would have punched myself in the face and pulled out all my hair reading this as panic was something I experienced nearly every day at least once.  

I’ll never forget my pragmatic and cool as a cucumber therapist saying, “You know Katie, your panic won’t kill you, I promise.” The brightest “aha moment” in my personal work was learning how to breathe deeply and say (out loud and with feeling) “I’m okay” in the midst of that panic.  It was believing no emotion is final and to quote St. Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” As I surrendered and let those terrifying waves wash over me, feeling all of it down into my weary bones, a hauntingly beautiful reckoning was beheld.  I didn’t know it then…but now I see that that reckoning broke me in all the best places.  

Peace comes when we are willing to experience all the stuff...the good, and the bad, and the ugly.  Peace comes when we learn to stay present when it sucks.  I believe peace does in fact surpass our effort and understanding.  

Peace will catch you, embrace you, the minute you let go.

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

P.S. Didn't catch my invite to this week's event? I'm hosting a FREE Intro to Essential Oils Class with my good friend, Mary Hyatt. This Thursday from 6-7:30.

RSVP HERE: introtooilsclass.splashthat.com

Dancing With Shadows

I grew up in the crown jewel of the deep south, Mobile, AL.  We did many strange things like take ballroom dancing in fifth grade.  Yes, you heard me, fifth grade. It was hands down the most awkward thing I’d experienced until then, and I’ve always felt at home on a dance floor.

This was different though.  Kids from a couple neighboring schools would gather on a Thursday night at 5 o’clock in a big gymnasium at St. Ignatius Catholic church and learn all the old-school couples' dances like the fox trot, waltz, and others I’ve purposely erased from my memory.  The most unbearable part of it wasn’t learning the dances, it was learning the dances with the boys.  They were hyper, smelly, and had no rhythm.  They also thought they were beyond cool.  Ya’ll, it was torture.  My favorite part of the night was when I spotted my mom’s minivan headlights in the carpool line.  She’d swoop in and pick me up and then we’d proceed to Checkers for the long-awaited chocolate milkshake(s).  I had to take the edge off somehow. 

Learning to dance with our shadow, or shameful parts, can feel just as unpleasant.  Oh you’ve got them too, I promise.  They are those parts of us we’d rather not talk about.  In fact, we try desperately to hide them from the world around us.  They are the parts of you that you swear, if someone saw, they’d ultimately reject.  It might cost you their affection—their acceptance.  You'd be exposed…and deemed unloveable. 

For so long, I tried to hide and change the fact that I was a quiet observer as opposed to the popular party girl.  Large groups of girls made me uncomfortable. I absolutely hated summer camp, gossip, and sleep-overs.  I followed southern suit and joined a sorority in college, but it was really more for my mother than for me.  Eventually, I dropped out but nearly died trying to show up and fit in.  I’d much rather hang with my older friend, Liz.  We’d smoke Marlboro lights, listen to Dave Matthews, and talk about evolved things like boys, music, and what we dreamed of doing when we “grew up.”

More recently in my late thirties, I’ve felt shame around not taking the traditional route as a stay-at-home mom.  Instead, I’ve chosen, albeit indirectly, to focus on my career, (or that’s what I tell myself and others). At 39, I may or may not ever be a mother of children. Even though the ballot’s still out, this feels a bit shameful to me.  Regardless, I build up the more admirable, palatable case that, “I’ve chosen to build out other areas of my life.” It feels cleaner—safer.  At the core, however, this is really my shadow part and her name is inadequacy.  I’ve never really cared for her.

What are the shadow parts you’d rather forget about?  Is it depression, body shame, singleness, or even sexual trauma as a child?  If so, I can fully resonate with you.  Guess what?  Just like the smelly boys at ballroom, we’ve got to learn to lean in, let go, and learn to dance with them.  

One of my favorite concepts in self-development is integration.  This feels incredibly expansive and powerful to me.  The less compartmentalized, or fragmented we are, the more integrated and whole we will become.  Just as we are made up of hundreds of different body parts, muscles, and organs, we also have so many different parts of our emotional, relational, and creative beings.  

Oftentimes in therapy sessions with clients, these parts come up.  Take anxiety for example.  Anxiety is an emotion, or part of us that can be immobilizing.  The common misconception is in order to deal with anxiety, we must numb, fix, or run from it.  But anxiety is really just a shadow part of us that needs compassion and understanding just like, say, the creative part of us.  When we stuff our anxiety and try to avoid it, we really just give it more power and as a result, create imbalance.

What might dancing with this anxious shadow look like?  Well, first we must listen to and get to know it.  This allows us to cultivate empathy for that anxious part of us.  After all, she has been working overtime for a while now to keep us performing, staying safe and “on the ball.”  

Shadow work is really a reckoning with parts of ourselves we’ve misjudged for a long time.  The payoff is wholeness—flow.  It’s realizing those parts we’ve been hiding for so long aren’t so terrible after all.  In fact, they end up being the best parts because they are the most loving, consistent teachers.  

That anxious part of you desperately wants you to see her for who she really is: someone who deeply cares about your future yet may go about it clumsily.  She wants you to sit with her, commune with her, and realize the worst thing that can happen isn’t so bad in the end because you have other resilient parts of you that can step in and take over when she needs to sit the next song out.  

Second, simply take a minute and visualize the part of you that you dislike, a lot.  Perhaps you feel guilty about this part or constantly judge her.  What does she look like?  What is she doing?  How does she seem? In the same minute, take one step towards her… then another, and another.  You left her alone a long time ago and she feels abandoned, even scared.  She knows you dislike her but she desperately longs to know you and play on the same team.  She needs you big time.  

If this feels completely terrifying, it should.  Your brain is freaking out because it has no idea what it’s doing.  Hang in there though, this is perhaps the most life-giving work you’ve ever done.  Dancing with strangers or smelly boys is probably not on your bucket list. But I bet I know what is…

To be loved…fully.

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

Reaction Formation

Back in May, I attended an Enneagram retreat led by Ian Cron, author, Enneagram Jedi, songwriter, priest, and therapist. (Yeah, he’s a real bump on a log.) It’s taken me nearly a month to fully unpack it… SO good. I consider myself an Enneagram enthusiast. I’m no expert, yet I’m eager to grow that base of knowledge because I still feel, after a decade of self-study and implementation, it is the most powerful tool for self-understanding and transformation we have. Ian took around forty of us deeper into the tool over the course of two and a half days, and I’m beyond grateful for the new and powerful insight gleaned.

One of the many golden nuggets I walked away with was the above Victor Frankl quote. It kills me. I sincerely believe that most of our perceived problems would dissolve if we cultivated, or grew, that space between what life throws at us and how we respond. Let’s stop right there. Even just the word “respond” is generous. I tend to default to cruise-control living more days than not, reacting out of emotion instead of responding out of presence. Why? Because the space between the stimulus and response is so stinking small! What is not so small, however, is the old ego blaring at full-volume when I live like this. 

For example, let’s look at a scenario we can all relate to—traffic. If you live in a large-ish city like Nashville (especially in the last 2-3 years), chances are, you have been tweaked by traffic. One of my absolute biggest pet peeves is when I’m stopped at a four-way stop and instead of obeying traffic laws, people try to be sweet and “let you go” when it’s not your turn. I’m all for southern charm and hospitality, but somebody’s going to get hurt if we all play nice instead of following the basic order.

This happened the other day. A well-meaning lady in a heavy black sedan with red lipstick and statement earrings sat across from me at a four-way stop. It was her turn to go. She flashed a toothy grin my way and waved her hand for me to go. I mean come ON. I played along but rolled my eyes and may have even shrugged my shoulders very dramatically. Small space alert! I reacted out of frustration instead of responding from curiosity and openness. Ew.

I was also asleep in trans, living out of a really crappy story that read something like this, “Why are people so lame? She should see traffic laws (and life for that matter) the way I do.”  

Zero compassion. Zero patience. Bags of judgement.  

Sure, anger was at the surface. But guess what was really going on underneath that jagged reaction? The real underlying story was fear. It went something like this, “Things won’t work out unless I try to control them.”  

Do you have a particular narrative that gets you into trouble?

Here’s some good news: the thing that separates us as humans from animals is the ability to make up stories. We’ve also been given the glorious gift of imagination in order to write them well. Guess what we need in order to write good and truthful stories? We need space. Why? Because we write best out of stillness, not chaos. Also, because reactionary, fear-based living will drive us mad (and others away). 

If you and I are courageous enough to sit in that space, feel our feelings, and simply observe the moment at hand, we have stepped out of ego— the need for control—and into the freedom of essence. By essence, I’m referring to the loving, open, and authentic “true self.”

From that space, you create meaning, thought, feeling, and action that is powerful beyond belief. This is the space where you get to use your God-given gift to write really compelling stories.

This all sounds so lovely and airy-fairy, but how do we grow that space and find our freedom— our power? 

Meditation is the most effective tool I’ve found to cultivate the inner observer, or witness, we all have, yet tend to neglect. Any mindful awareness exercise or guided breathing and meditation allow us to relate to our thoughts and experiences in a softer, more open way. Most importantly, it broadens the space and cushions the fall when life throws us the inevitable curveballs.  

Yes, it feels boring, uncomfortable, and frustrating at first, but after a while, you will start to crave it. If you’d like to deepen your own practice or learn more, I’d recommend a guided meditation app such as Headspace or Calm.

We are spirit beings living in a physical world. It’s time we tend to that pure, loving part of us in order to create some distance between how we experience the world and how we respond. Your imagination is your MVP here. Break it open. Look around. Make a home.

Stay awhile.

“The opposite of home is not distance, but forgetfulness.”
- Elie Wiesel

Love & Gratitude,
Katie

Failure School: All the Things You Never Learned

I just googled the definition of “failure.” Here’s the most comprehensive and concise meaning I found: “The omission of expected or required action.” Sounds pretty benign, right? So matter of fact?

The brand of fear I’ve experienced along the way as it pertains to failure has been a far cry from this bland “omission” situation. Quite the contrary, it’s been a crippling and immobilizing force that has stunted growth, joy, and relationships. In fact, I imagine you’ve bought into a similar lie at some point along: “My worth and value are a direct result of my level of success.” I’ve heard the record spin round and round in my office. I’ve seen its death grip on friends and family alike. As a culture, we are terrified of failure.

I’m fascinated by this unruly expectation we place on ourselves to avoid failure. After all, WD-40, bubble wrap, and pacemakers are all inventions conceived through “failure.” I’m fairly certain those guys are not still sulking over why their original ideas didn’t pan out the way they’d hoped. No, they all own islands, strange looking outfits, and private jets.

In light of this, I want to pepper your thoughts with some key insights that have made a lynchpin shift I in my understanding and approach to failure.

1) Expectation is a set-up

The operative word in the above definition is “expect” not “omission” as it pertains to our study here. Why? Well, simply put, because it’s the subjective that we tend to personalize, not theobjective facts. If we could see failure through the lens of objective curiosity as opposed to an extension of who we are, we would be able to live out of a much softer narrative. For example, “I either deliver or I don’t, and my life’s worth and value aren’t tied up in that slice of history.” Now that’s freedom from the fall!

We’re so tightly wound and attached to the narrow expectation of who we should be and how we should perform that we lose sight of the incredibly vast and curious horizons that result in a deviation.

2) Resilience matters more than outcome

I’ve bombed so many performances it might lead you to wonder if I had a screw loose as I continued pursuing music early on. For some ungodly reason, I kept going even though it felt like cruel and unusual self-harm. Strangely, no one ever told me I sucked or bombed it or that I should definitely not quit my day job. I only received encouragement and kindness. I realize, we are in the South, yet I’m a pretty good read, and they seemed genuine. Building those resilience muscles eventually led to lots of bigger opportunities.

Have you ever watched a toddler on the cusp of walking? First of all, it’s high and hilarious art. Also, the ONLY way their tiny muscles are made stronger is by falling and getting up—over and over and over again. And we “ooh” and “ahh” and gawk like grown chimpanzees about to be fed at the circus in response. Go figure. Instead of asking the paralyzing question, “How can I avoid failure?”, we need to ask, “How can I better practice resilience?”

3) The real fear is the feeling

So why is it so terrifying to fail? I believe it’s because we are afraid of the way we will treat ourselves on the other side. We’re really afraid to feel our feelings of disappointment, embarrassment, and shame. However, these are all valid emotions we will absolutely rub up against along the way! Wouldn’t it be better to learn to relate to them a bit differently?

Like the poem says, nearly every shred of our fears live in the stories we make up about them, our imagination. Our fears are rarely tethered to reality, yet we drive the shame ship around as a result. We’re typically our own worst enemy, not the failures we experience. 

Sure, the outcome is humbling at first, but by elevating our belief about failure, we construct a new brain pathway or go-to storyline that facilitates self-compassion instead of self-flagellation. 

We don’t evolve by playing it safe in a mole hole, but by staying present at the crossroads of failure and opportunity.

4) There are two kinds of failure

Before you go poking holes in my sunshine, I’ll clarify an exception to the rule. There are two types of failure, and I'm referring to failure as something necessary for growth and success.

There is all-in failure and half-ass failure. All-in failure is when we’ve shown up, given our all, and fully engaged in the pursuit at hand, yet for whatever reason didn’t quite make the cut. The passion and effort are there, but the outcome is not—not yet anyway.

Half-ass failure, as you might imagine, is missing the mark without giving it a fighting, bleeding-heart chance. We’ve all been there, yet it’s not a helpful pattern as it ultimately becomes a self-fulling prophecy. Oftentimes, this is simply a good indicator that we may not really want what we’re limping for and a redirect is necessary.

I’ll be coming in hot this Thursday with a very interesting practical tool for you. Be looking for that as you won’t want to miss it. For now, I leave you with the words of the man who’s been quoted as many times as Oprah. He’s a mixed bag of courage, success, excess, bull-headed stubbornness, and legend all in one. He’s also a man very acquainted with failure. His stories and words have a vibrant life of their own, well after his last breath.

“Success is not final. Failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts.

- Winston Churchill

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

#failforward, #designyourlife, #winstonchurchill, #resilience, #couragetofall