Help is the Sunny Side of Control

Help is the Sunny Side of Control

“No one mentioned until I was in late middle age that – horribly! – my good, helpful ideas for other grown-ups were not helpful. That my help was in fact sometimes toxic. That people needed to defend themselves from my passionate belief that I had good ideas for other people’s lives.

I did not know that help is the sunny side of control.”

This beautiful quote is from the great Anne Lamott’s Facebook page. When I read it, something vital and primal leaped to recognition in my own soul, like a light switch being turned on to illuminate a dark space.

In this life, we have to experience an idea to fully understand it. We must inhabit it by walking it out. Simply thinking through it is not enough to change us. We need to taste it, grapple with it, fight it and then eventually surrender to it.

Help is the sunny side of controlI did not know that help is the sunny side of control. This tidy phrase encapsulates what I’ve been wrestling with for several years now. I feel like I’m finally ready to accept this bold truth: when help is mostly about me and what I want the other person to do in return, it is not actually help. It’s manipulation, expectation, control.

Learning to face ourselves honestly is a lifelong process. It’s far too horrifying to do all at once. We must take it in tiny stages, lest we be blinded by the outrageous shame of our dysfunction.

If you grew up like I did, help was not free. It was a transaction. For a people pleaser, this meant confusion and anger a lot of the time, because there were no words around this. The system was built on glances, silences, tense body language, raised voices, narrowed eyes and other not-so-subtle clues. You picked your way through this minefield, hoping not to be blown up while trying to earn love and gold stars from others by being so good and helpful that you ached from it.

I learned to control by offering help, while refusing it from others so I wouldn’t owe anyone and they would all owe me. Perhaps not so sunny, but true nonetheless.

Now I practice offering help with no strings attached. It’s new and radical. It’s also hard. I push myself to receive help, support and care from others without feeling that I must repay a silent debt. Unspooling these complex, dysfunctional behaviours is a lengthy job. I must remember that it’s okay to go slow. Many people never even try to face their unvarnished souls – it’s simply too shocking and painful.

Progress towards health is preferable to remaining in denial and darkness. I yearn for light, for beauty, for healing, for restoration. True help is freely given, not bartered for something else or held over another’s head as a ransom demand. That is control. Just because I grew up with that doesn’t mean I can’t change these patterns for my children and for the last half of my life.

I know there is a better way because I’ve seen it in action and felt its warmth on my skin. Love does not demand to be noticed. It is offered with no guarantee it will be returned. I’m going to lean in to this truth, to wear it like a coat and see where it will take me.

Redefining Bravery

Redefining Bravery

Last week, a friend redefined bravery to me. I was searching for the escape hatch, the red nuclear “launch” button, the excuse to reboot and start over instead of facing up to a difficult and messy situation.

She said, “Showing up when it’s hard is brave, too.” I really, really needed to hear this. When it gets dark all around us and we can no longer find our way, it’s human nature to want to flee. And sometimes, of course, this is the right course of action. But many times, the courageous act is to stay strong when the storm is blowing. To refuse to run, even though it would relieve the pressure and make things easier for a while. But there are also great lessons to be learned from staying put.

I’m so grateful to this friend, for she had the guts to give me her honest thoughts. She did not say what I hoped she would, in my moment of desperation with my bold plan to sell everything we own and go on a madcap family adventure. Instead, she listened and offered another perspective, one born from her own painful experiences with loss and growth.

redefining braveryBravery takes many forms. When life is unforgivingly tough, as it often is, our courage can desert us when we need it most. This is why the community of loved ones we have invested in and built up is so critical. When we lose all perspective and a good deal of our common sense and optimism, we need people who know us and love us to talk us out of the darkness and back to the light.

Stability is no small thing. It matters, to us and to those who count on us. When we feel lost and bereft, it’s tempting to go for the rash and daring option; to shake up the status quo and let the damn chips fall where they may. In certain seasons and stages, this can be entirely appropriate and helpful to jump-start a necessary change, but at other times it’s the coward’s way.

Everything shifted for me during the course of our conversation. It was like putting on glasses so the fuzzy edges came into focus. The fever dream had passed and I could stop thinking about surviving each day and move my vision out by a year or two. Jason and I needed a fresh heart-to-heart, so we could redefine the future we committed to when we joined our lives together nearly eighteen years ago.

It all looks different again, even though nothing outwardly has changed. Life is still hard. I continue to long for something new and hopeful. Every one of us needs extra breathing space in our soul from time to time. We are birds who must summon the courage to stretch our wings and take flight. We all need each other, for support, encouragement and care.

5 Minutes of Encouragement

5 Minutes of Encouragement

5 Minutes

I’m planning to offer a service at our local farmer’s market this summer called 5 Minutes of Encouragement. The idea is me sitting in a lawn chair under a small white tent, talking with anyone who is interested for five minute slots.

I plan to ask what the person would like encouragement for and then offer it the best I can. This experiment feels vulnerable, unusual, outside-of-the-box and highly unpredictable. I think of those things as strengths, not weaknesses.

Lately I’m tired of living small. I want to swing for the fences and try things that I would’ve been terrified of a few years ago. What if no one comes to my tent for encouragement? What if I draw a blank and can’t think of anything helpful to say? What if the whole shebang is a massive embarrassing flop?

Who the hell cares?

I’m done waiting around for the right conditions to exist before I take risks. “What if” is not a helpful exercise. I want to follow my curiosity, as one of my mentors, Rob Bell, advises me to do.

Life is about much more than our net worth, our fears, our preoccupation with personal safety and our addictions to smartphones and busyness. I long for connection on a deep, true level. I love encouragement, appreciation and kindness, both giving these things away and receiving them back. If I want more of this, then I have to pursue it, without fearing the consequences.

5 Minutes of Encouragement could be a beautiful social experiment. It could also be a flaming turd of a failure. I won’t know unless I try. I’m grateful for a friend at our town office who is willing to gamble on this venture with me. When I pitched it to her last week, I said, “I’ve got this crazy idea – any chance you want to try it?” Bless her heart, she said, “I like encouragement. Let’s give it a shot!”

Part of being alive is pushing ourselves beyond the predictable. When we commit to staying true to our interests and convictions, wonderful surprises await. Risk is a large piece of the equation. We have to be equally prepared for failure as for success.

We live in a world where almost everyone is shouting. Social media posts, selfies, blogs, tweets – most of it screams, “Look at me!” I’m desperate for some one-on-one interaction, driven by kind words of encouragement. Often I just want another flesh-and-blood person to tell me I’m doing okay and that I’m going to make it through.

With my 5 Minutes of Encouragement tent, I’m hoping to give this away to others. I’ll be sure to report back. Would you come to hear 5 Minutes of Encouragement from me (or from anyone)?

Rejection

Rejection

 

rejection

Rejection is a bitch. It can take you out at the knees and severely bruise your confidence.

I received a rejection this week for a government grant I applied for. I wanted to take the Literary Salon experience of meaningful conversation to as many high school English classes as possible in the 2016-17 school year.

I thought this project fit well in the Spoken Word category, but the deciding committee did not agree.

 

Expectations

I fully recognize that a huge part of my problem with rejection is the expectation that I build around certain outcomes. This is my fault. I’d love to be breezy about every aspect of my life (hell, even a few areas would be a good start!) but find this immensely challenging.

In theory, I should’ve applied for this grant and then carried on with my other work – writing a manuscript and a screenplay, querying agents, submitting to magazines, developing new workshop topics, sending out speaking proposals, creating another grant application – and allowed the chips to fall wherever they are meant to without investing in any desired future result.

I need to practice this. I have no shortage of other projects to work on, but I seem hardwired to daydream my way into what I long for most, and then become righteously pissed-off when the reality veers away from my carefully-laid plans.

We all face rejection, in one way or another. As a writer, I’ve stuck my damn hand up in the air and volunteered for it, but some still hurt more than others. Perhaps it’s the cumulative effect of too many “no’s” without a “yes” thrown in to break up the monotony.

Internal Monologue

Our internal monologue is what gets us into the deepest trouble. I should know by now that saying to myself, “It’s okay, Julianne. You tried and that’s what matters. This particular committee didn’t see the value in this work but that doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile. Keep on going – you’re doing fine” is healthier and more productive than the alternative, “You suck and everyone knows it. Why don’t you do the world a favour and stop writing, speaking and creating altogether. You’re only embarrassing yourself.”

Rejection is a part of life. How we handle it is what matters most. I’m going to allow myself to feel this one by having a good cry and then summoning the courage to call the grant office and try to understand why my application failed. If I can learn from this for the next setback, it will help me in the long run.

Where I go from here is the important part. Which voice will I listen to? The angry, critical, shaming one or the loving, hopeful, supportive one? I get to choose that. So do you.

Preparing for Change

Preparing for Change

Change is a process. We can’t see it clearly peering into the future, but when we look back it’s easier to plot the high and low points on our individual graph.

I’ve come to recognize that the groundwork for change gets laid days, weeks, months and years ahead of the actual shift that we can point to and identify. Extreme patience is required in the preparation stage. It’s the seeds, deep underground, beginning to grow but nowhere near ready to burst through the soil and make themselves visible.

So much of this life is preparing. We must wait, whether we like it or not, until the time is right for the longed-for change to take place. As humans, we are wired to become bored and discontent when our existence becomes too predictable and safe. We crave adventure, change, new scenery and experiences. It’s in our DNA.

preparing forBut between the desire and the reality there is a gap. Sometimes it’s short and other times it’s dishearteningly long. Most of us would not make big changes unless we first felt motivated by boredom or loss or an inner compulsion to inject fresh vitality back into our lives. It’s easy for inertia to set in, to lull us into complacency, but when the spark ignites for something new, we begin to stir up our excitement and then we usually have to wait.

I’m trying to change the way I view this preparatory period. I know that work is happening, deep in my soul, just as surely as flowers bloom out of buried seeds and not by accident. We’ve been painting our house and boy, oh boy, painting is mostly prep work. And the preparation doesn’t look like much, but without it you’d never get to those beautifully altered, crisp and clean walls.

Change is a long, messy, unpredictable process. You get great news and you’ll be flying high, then a rejection or a disappointment hits and you feel abject despair, all of that inspirational hope erased like a whiteboard. Life is a series of hurdles. Some you clear with room to spare and you are filled to the brim with success and optimism. Others you smack into and fall hard, occasionally breaking a bone or bruising your confidence, and you have no choice but to muster the courage to stand up and try for the next one.

Preparation is critical to implement change at some point in the future. We wait, we dream, we continue to work even when the odds are stacked against us. It’s better to believe that those seeds are, in fact, growing, even if we can’t see them. We show up, day after day, learning what we can and refusing to give up on what we long for most. And one day, perhaps when we least expect it, all of that prep work will turn into actual change, just in time to start the process over again with something else.