Self-Observation: A Gift and Friend

I stood staring at the efforts of my husband in awe. Finally after living in our home for seventeen years he has renovated our eye-sore of a laundry room. It looks magnificent. The faded beige walls with metal anchors still in the wall from previous owners, are now spackled and a cheery yellow. The rusted white shelves sprawling with our laundry room chachkas are now organized white cabinets. The splotched plastic sink is now a vanity. I feel so fulfilled seeing my laundry room’s transformation. But here’s what follows my pleasure thoughts. Why did it take us so long to do this!

Then my thoughts go to this. My niece and her husband moved into an exceptional house in move-in condition and immediately took actions to make it theirs. We are such slow movers on projects.

Ooh! I hate seeing my old habit resurfacing—comparing myself to others. As much as I’m better at setting my own standard, comparing still shows up.

Maybe I should be happy about it.

The Gift of Self-Observation

In my last blog I observed myself sparring with my husband, Gus. By reflecting on my observation I decided not to challenge his statements in an accusatory way. I’m only beginning to change my habit, but here’s how I know I’m making progress: he made a statement last night and then asked, “How come you didn’t say, ‘How do you know that?’ Proud of myself!  

Self-observation is such a powerful tool. It means admitting you are a work in progress. Aren’t we all? I feel as long as I’m alive it’s an opportunity to grow in insights, inner peace, and opening my heart to love fully.

Self-observation is detective work. We notice something we think, say or do and check how it makes us feel. If we feel shame or unhappy with the thought (in my comparing case), it’s an opportunity to make a change—a change founded on kindness.

Working With Your Insights

How human it is to be flawed, to have areas to improve in. Rather than feel bad about ourselves when we notice a habit or behavior we don’t like, an empowered way to handle it is to praise our self for recognizing it. Then look for what you want to and can do with it.

• Self-praise for recognizing my not-so-positive habit . I’m proud of you for catching the comparing! Comparing isn’t all bad. We live in a world amongst others to learn from each other. When you notice others behaviors it can inspire you. If it makes you feel bad, you have the power to catch yourself and STOP.

• What do I want to do with my recognition that Gus and I are slow movers? Accept it. We may be slow movers but we do eventually get things done. And we both possess so many other wonderful traits. Better.

• What can I do from here on out with my comparing habit? Be playful! I know it’s part of me. When I see it next, I think I‘ll greet it like a phone call that I don’t want to take. Oh, it’s you again. Sorry can’t talk.

We are so lucky as humans that we have the ability to be self-aware and that there are so many tools to help us change the way we respond to ourselves. Why not become an action-taking, self-observer!

My award-winning, paperback book is available at Amazon for $14.99 and the ebook for $7.99. If you haven’t already read it, it can help you connect with more love, acceptance and joy to yourself and all others.

Taking Notes: A Love Story

I’m honored to share a guest post by my son Theo’s favorite high school English teacher, Jason Armstrong. His blogs at his website WriteOnFightOn, take my breath away. Jason, a youngish father of three and a passionate writer, is living with Cerebellar Ataxia, a degenerative disease that impacts motor skills, coordination, vision and balance. I mention the disease, because with vulnerability and humor he puts on the page what it means to be challenged and human. After each of his posts I come away feeling deeply touched and more real. Read on and see for yourself.

In a world with Nicholas Sparks it's hard to write something original about love.

Love is a well-traveled topic. One, I'm sure, you've taken plenty of notes on.

Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is engraved your heart and scrolled among the stars.

Love is in air. Love is an open door. And, if you find the right station, love is a battlefield.

Anytime you write about love you ink a fine line between cliche' and Nicholas Sparks. So, in my attempt to avoid such fate, the only thing I can offer is a secret love story about love. So secret that when my wife reads this, she will know it for the first time.

I've written about my health issues and personal shame and failure but writing about love is something I've avoided. For me, writing about love is a little embarrassing. A little too revealing.

And plus, how do I write about love in such an authentic yet impenetrable way that it's not the subject of dissection, comparison and judgment?

Truth is-- you can't.

It's simple emotional physics (which should've totally been a 90's emo band name).

To love is to want. And to want is to have weakness. Therefore, you can't open yourself to love without subjecting yourself to dissection, comparison and judgment.

I fell in love with a girl when I was 16.

The first time I saw her standing in the blue painted threshold of the doorway to her biology class I just knew, with an absolute bone-certainty that I would marry her one day.

And 10 years later I did.

Even though that story is absolutely true, I understand you're skepticism. And I don't blame you.  It seems too easy and yet, at the same time, too impossible. Too Nicholas Sparks.

So I'll tell you another story that's more believable. Yet, in some ways, just as fantastical.

Cindy and I are sitting at large round table, the kind guests sit around at weddings. We're in the back of a Las Vegas hotel ballroom, the kind couples rent for weddings.

Except instead of a DJ, there's a UCLA professor at the far end of the ballroom. He's standing on a stage, behind a podium. To his right is a movie screen holding an MRI of a human brain. A brain whose cerebellum is damaged. A cerebellum that looks a lot like mine.

The room is filled with people of all ages. Some people in wheelchairs. Some people clutching canes and walking sticks. The same haunted glow in everyone's eyes.

We're in Las Vegas attending the National Ataxia Federation's annual conference for patients with neurological disease because seven months earlier I was diagnosed with cerebellar atrophy.

Cindy and I are surrounded by people of all ages stricken with rare neurological diseases. ALS. MS. Huntington's Disease. Brain tumors.

Some people sit with their spouse. Some sit their parents. Some sit alone.

The UCLA professor is discussing advancements in stem cell research as a way of improving and repairing brain growth.

Cindy is beside me taking notes.

Her hand moves in small yet amazing ways. She is writing down what the professor is saying as fast as he is saying it.

Her penmanship is catholic school perfect. Her notes are well-spaced and organized and her margins are aligned.

It was a secret moment in my history. One I've never told Cindy about.

A moment of enormous fear yet as my eyes trace the ink-curls of her words, a small moment of enormous comfort and safety.  A moment where love was learned. A moment when I finally realized I was lucky enough to find a woman who cared more for me than I could possibly care for myself.

A moment that gifted me the eventual courage to roll my shoulders and write these sentences--

Let my cerebellum soften to oatmeal. Let my brain cells explode. Let my eyes go blind. Because there's a girl with green eyes standing in the blue doorway and she's not moving. And she never will.

And that is what love becomes. After all the romance and celestial promises of the initial courtship, love becomes a lifetime of small moments that add up to make something enormous.

But even that seems Sparksian.

A chronically sick man whose hands are shaking, whose body aches, whose teetering on the edge of self-destruction is sitting beside his wife in a Las Vegas ballroom. They're high school sweethearts. They have three children together. But seven months ago things suddenly got harder.

And yet she still takes notes.

As the professor speaks and the damaged brain that holds the screen looms like a thundercloud over the room, with her free hand, she reaches across the table to hold his hand, to ease him, to feel his pain.

Jay is a published author, an award-winning teacher, and speaker. He believes in the power of storytelling and that life favors the brave. You can contact Jay and read more of his writings on his blog writeonfighton. org.

Be Your Own Cheerleader: Dealing with Negative Self-Talk

I am so guilty of beating myself up needlessly with negative self-talk. In my book, The Affirming Way of Life: See the Good, Speak the Good, Spread the Good, I wrote about my negative self-talk habit in the past tense. But, the slow-down of forward movement in my life, thanks to Covid-19, has brought my old, familiar, undermining voice back.

I first became aware of her (my negative voice) again, during a conversation with a friend who’s a life coach.

My Negative Self-Talk

Jamie was telling me a story about coaching someone with a self-defeatist attitude and it was as if my phone alarm was chiming. “I can’t believe you just said that! Gus and I do puzzles after dinner every night. When I’m working on a section that’s hard, I say things like, ’The piece must be missing. I can’t do this, it’s too hard!’’

“How could you reframe that statement?” she asked.

I knew what she was getting at. I had available to me broader, more positive ways of looking at this minor difficulty. “I could say something like, ‘Hang in there. You eventually always connect the pieces.’”

“How does that statement feel compared to the other?”

“Empowered.” Yes. I could see how the words I say to myself could fuel or fizzle my power.

Feeling more discouraged than usual, my ears were perked to listen for any other self-defeatist talk.

A few days later, I began researching bloggers who wrote about similar subjects to me. I hoped to find someone with a large following who might invite me to be a guest blogger. The ones that appealed to me had from 80,000-100,000 followers.

OMG! To have that many followers! They’re in a different universe than me.

And there she was. My old comparing-self-to-others voice. I was intimidated by the disparity between their number of followers and mine, and went right to putting myself down. So mean of me!

So…

Take a Positive Action

In a kind, compassionate voice that I’d offer anyone else, I say to myself, “I am so sorry, Gailie, for speaking to you that way. You are hard-working and capable, you’ve accomplished many other goals, and you will do this, too!”

Through years of living with my nasty self-talk voice, I’ve developed my own inner cheerleader to soothe and uplift myself. I know she may sound very rah rah, but isn’t that what cheerleaders do?

The way my process works, once I have awareness, I instinctively work at shifting my perspective. Sometimes encouraging self-talk is all I need to make the inner change, but often I turn to my inner circle of people who help me see things from a larger more positive perspective.

Shift Your Point of View

Thanks to Covid-19 (I know it’s hard to imagine it has some silver linings), my husband, Gus and I have dinner and talk every night on our deck taking in the beauty of the pines, our silver maple, and the slowly setting sun lighting up our grass a neon green. Sipping chilled sauvignon blanc I say,

“Honey, you know that ‘I’ll never find the puzzle piece’ thing I say every night, well today I noticed that attitude is spreading. I found two bloggers who I’d like to reach out to as a guest blogger, but they have something like 100,000 followers. No way they’d be interested in me.”

“The sky is falling!”

“Aw, come on. I don’t catastrophize like I used to.”

“How long have those bloggers been at it?”

I grabbed my iphone and googled their histories. “One has been at it for thirteen years and the other ten.”

“See! Developing a following takes time. It’s like expecting a fifth grader to write a college thesis. Give yourself a break and be patient, Gailie. You’ll get there.”

Gus gave me perspective, and I could have kissed his feet. I felt all kinds of things: permission to be a beginner, undeserving of self-putdowns, reigning in of my expectations of my number of blog readers. And if Gussie didn’t help me see the bigger picture, I would have called my sister or my closest friend.

Your Takeaways

• Listen to the things you say to yourself. If you catch yourself speaking negatively, know that it is in your power to change the message.

• Take a positive action and respond to your negative self-talk in a kind, compassionate voice. Encourage yourself and remind yourself of past successes as I did. Become your own cheerleader!

• Shift to a broader more positive perspective by speaking to someone you can rely on for that, or by self-reflection or journaling. Another possibility is to turn to a good book, such as Infinite Possibilities by Michael Dooley.

• Develop an affirmation to repeat each time you encounter the situation that gave rise to the negative self-talk. With puzzles I now say: Hang in there, in time you always connect the pieces.” With blogging I say: Be patient. Developing a following takes time. You’re making a difference person by person.” I really repeat these phrases to myself and feel much more confident.

Why not let these Covid-19 times be an impetus to shift your self-talk to the positive side!

If you like what you read here, check out my award-winning book available on Amazon that can help you have more fulfilling connections with everyone in your life:

The Affirming Way of Life: See the Good, Speak the Good, Spread the Good