Childhood Do-Over

Have you ever wished that you could redo your childhood—repeat the good memories, make changes to the bad memories? Of course we can’t erase the traumatic events or recapture the innocence of our youth, but we can nurture and heal the child that is still within us.

We all have different personal narratives, thus, our needs and desires will be varied. If you had a wonderful childhood, you might just want to repeat some of the experiences. Others might want to make up for what they missed out on. One of the differences between childhood and adulthood is that children have very little power over their circumstances. As adults, we now have choices. We can choose to nourish ourselves and not accept abuse from ourselves or from others.

“It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.” (Regina Brett)

After I read the above quote, I sat down and thought about different ways I could feed and care for my inner child. I thought about all the things that were important to me as a child, the things I craved. I distilled these desires into manageable, grown-up treats that I could grant myself:

Time—More than anything, I wanted someone to take time for me, to be present, to be there for me. Now, I can choose to take time for myself.

Privacy and Quiet—I had very little privacy as a child. Now, I can choose to have my own space, to get away from crowds, even if it means running outside, or shutting the door to a room, or putting on earplugs.

Stability—We moved around a lot when I was a child. I craved routine, order, and a sense of belonging. Now, I can choose to maintain a routine for myself. I can keep my home in order (or at least clean my desk). I’ve created all sorts of traditions for my family—from theme dinners on certain nights of the week and weekly dates with my husband, to our own unique, holiday customs.

Love—I wanted to love and feel loved. I wanted someone/something to take care of and to feel cherished by someone. Now, I have my husband, my son, my dog, my friends, my home, my yard, and the birds on my porch to take care of—and I feel this love coming back to me.

Little Pleasures—There are many little pleasures that bring me great joy even though I’m grown up: books, journals, office supplies, cookies, salty snacks, eating in bed, pretty earrings, shoes, nesting supplies (home décor), being in nature, running, making lists, writing, etc. I’m reluctant to allow myself these little pleasures—it feels indulgent. Now, I can choose to give myself little pleasures, especially when it doesn’t take much away from others.

Playdates—I don’t ever remember having a ‘playdate’ as a child. Unfortunately, my parents’ friends rarely had kids our age, and we came from a culture that didn’t see much need for catering to kids. Now, I can choose to have ‘playdates’—I can invite my friends to my home, or go out for a walk with them, or meet them for coffee, or go to the library with them. This is one of my favorite parts of being a grown-up. I get to hang out with the people I enjoy rather than always being stuck with people I dread.

How about you? What are the ways that you would choose to nourish and cherish your inner child? 

Bird on the Edge

I saw a sparrow sitting on the edge of a branch on our maple tree. The wind was whipping the branches around, and the little bird was hanging on tightly. I wondered why it didn’t just perch closer to the center of the tree where it would be more protected. The branches didn’t sway as much closer to the trunk. But then I realized that a sparrow’s tiny feet couldn’t grip those thick central branches. It sat on the edge, because that is all it could grasp. 

Why do we hang on to the fringes of faith—to prepackaged, processed religion, adaptive social behavior, and mindless rituals? Why do we hesitate to go to the center of God—where we are safer from disturbance? We stay on the edge, because it is easier to grasp. We choose to be wind-whipped and unstable, because we feel like we are still in control. The periphery of faith is within our power of understanding. The deep center is beyond our comprehension. So we choose to sway back and forth, in a state of constant agitation—rather than be still and know God. 

Reacting to Negative Stimuli

“Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” (-Charles Swindoll)

Sigh! I do not want to hear this right now! If you told me that life was 70% what happens to me and 30% how I reacted to it—I could accept that. Surely my circumstances are more responsible for my misery than my reactions!

The road that encircles my neighborhood is full of ruts and potholes. The Homeowners Association is responsible for its repair and maintenance. Every few years they patch the pot holes, but heavy rains tend to wash out the repair work. Since I drive down this road regularly, I should know where the potholes are—but sometimes I’m not paying attention or I’m driving too fast, and my tires get caught in these holes.

We all have fissures and fractures that we have attempted to patch up and pave over. Negative stimuli, like extreme weather, tend to wash out our repair work and expose our holes. Mental fatigue leads to inattention, which, in turn, causes us to get caught in the same ruts and crevices over and over again. It’s just a matter of time before we feel punctured, deflated, and stuck.

Do I have the power to choose how I respond to negative stimuli?

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” (-Victor Frankl)

We know, from experience, where the potholes are likely to be in our lives. The weak places, the low-lying areas which tend to get washed out during storms of adversity. There are spaces between the potholes in our life. We have to carefully maneuver our responses—drive slowly on whatever small patches of pavement are left.  

Freeing Ourselves from Shame

(Continuation of last Post titled Straightjackets)

Freeing ourselves from the bondage of shame involves recognizing it. I often confuse shame and guilt. Previously, I had read somewhere that guilt is what you feel when you don’t meet your own standards, and shame is what you feel when you don’t meet other people’s standards. I found this quote to be a useful tool in sorting out my standards from those that I had absorbed merely through exposure.

Recently, I read a different definition of guilt and shame. According to Brene Brown, guilt is a feeling about behavior, while shame is about identity. Guilt says I did something bad. Shame says I am bad. Guilt says I did something selfish; shame says I am selfish.

Once we differentiate shame from guilt, then the next step is to identify our personal triggers--what or who makes you feel like you are not good enough?

My shame triggers are any situation or person that makes me feel useless, incompetent, lazy, stupid, selfish, or neglectful. When I am going through shame, I often don’t identify it correctly. I just know I feel yucky. I can’t think straight. I react in unhealthy and unproductive ways. Either I say or do things I regret or cave in to the shame.

According to Brown, the final step out of shame involves reaching out to a confidante—someone you can trust. Be careful not to confide in those who attempt to shrink you further so that they may control you, or make you feel smaller so that they can feel bigger. Shame thrives in secrecy. Opening up to an empathetic person who gives you space to be vulnerable may finally release you from the shackles of shame.

(I listened to several talks by Brene Brown on the subject of shame. Most of today’s post is my interpretation on her ideas.)

Straightjackets

Imagine you are hosting a party at your house, and everyone you ever knew happens to be there. You suddenly feel sick and run to the bathroom. As soon as you shut the door behind you, you either vomit/or have diarrhea. (Pick whichever is most yucky to you.) Your clothes are a mess, but there is no way to discreetly clean up yourself and the surroundings. You need someone to fetch you a set of clean clothes and some cleaning supplies. You have your cell phone, and you can contact anybody at that party. Who would you call? Who would you trust enough to open up to in your yuckiest, most vulnerable moments? Would you call anyone? Or try to stay in the bathroom until everyone eventually leaves? Which one of your friends/relatives would be the last person you would call?

Or maybe involuntary bodily functions are not so embarrassing for you. If so, imagine you have just been caught driving while intoxicated, and you are sure to lose your job over this crime. Who would you call?  

When I am feeling vulnerable, yucky, humiliated—I would rather be by myself. However, if I couldn’t extricate myself from the situation, I would call my husband, my sis, or one of my good friends. I am blessed to have these loved ones whom I can trust in times of vulnerability. There were times in my life when I wasn’t so lucky. In some of my darkest moments, I have felt like I couldn’t open up to anyone for fear of judgment or rejection.

Sociologist and author Brene Brown speaks eloquently about the subject of shame and shame resilience. Several of her talks are available online, and I highly recommend them. Below is something that she said that resonated with me:

“Shame, for women, is this web of unobtainable, conflicting, competing expectations about who we’re supposed to be. And it’s a straightjacket.” (Brene Brown) 

There are some people in our lives that we would never call in times of trouble—those whom we suspect would bring us the straightjacket of shame and degradation, rather than empathy and grace; those who are likely to belittle and disparage, rather than encourage and defend us. What if someone brings you a straightjacket and says: “Here, I think this jacket is just your size, try it on?” When we allow someone to manipulate us through shame, we are voluntarily sticking our arms into a straightjacket. Once we are strapped into shame, we are pretty much ineffective.

(Continued)

Shield vs. Yield

“The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.” (Thomas Merton)
We often try to mold our loved ones to fit our vision, rather than accepting them for the unique individuals they are. This is partly because we assume that in order to fulfill our vision, our true calling, we need everyone else to stay in line and do their part. This creates a great deal of conflict between people who share the same physical and mental space.

Here are a few different examples: if you live with a smoker, his desire to smoke infringes on your desire to stay healthy. If you share a cubicle with a co-worker who thrives on chaos and drama, this may encroach on your need for peace. If you like to play loud music at night, this may intrude on your neighbor’s wish to sleep. If you insist that your son get a crew cut and dress in clothes that you feel are appropriate, this may violate your son’s ideas of how he wants to express himself. If your aging parents want you to remain at their beck and call, this might prevent you from doing much of anything else.   

I’ve been wondering: How can I be myself—live according to my own value system—without infringing on others’ right to be themselves? How far do you yield your values in order to accommodate someone else’s values?

My 18-year-old son had some wise words to say about this. He said: “It depends on the relationship--it’s okay for spouses to yield a bit to each other. Parents of minor children may have to yield even more. However, with relatives, friends, neighbors, coworkers, acquaintances, etc., you have to know when to shield rather than yield.”

Protect your values, rather than yield to someone else’s vision. Shield others too—don’t impose your ideas on them. Give yourself and others plenty of personal space for full expression. If your vision of an ideal life requires other people to yield their values, then it’s time to revise your ambitions. Accept yourself. Accept others. Know when to shield rather than yield. 

Lifework

If you had unlimited resources of time, energy, health, wealth, peace, quiet, self-confidence, acceptance, and privacy—what would you find satisfaction in doing? This might be your lifework.

The other night, I watched a biologist promoting his latest book on TV. He had spent most of his life systematically studying ants and ant behavior. He had traveled all over the world—observing, researching, writing, and teaching—about ants. I wonder if he ever felt ridiculous that his lifework revolved around such a minuscule insect. He seemed quite happy and excited to share his knowledge about this subject.

If this man was content to make the study of ants his lifework, I wondered why I felt apologetic about the time I spent studying God.

“God’s works are so great, worth a lifetime of study—endless enjoyment.” (Ps. 111:2 MSG)

I want to make the study of God—His truth, His word/expressions, His glorious works, His splendor, His miracles, His kindness and generosity, His order, His plans—my lifework. I admit, sometimes I feel ridiculous. I’m reluctant to mention my fascination for this subject. I don’t want others to think of me as weird, nerdy, or fanatic. I feel the need to hide away, to indulge my curiosity and passion in private. Even though I’m not eager to share this side of me, sometimes my enthusiasm spills out—mostly in my writing.

I don’t think of writing as my vocation; it is merely a by-product of my pursuit of learning and understanding. I wish I could be more unselfconscious. I wish I could uninstall all the previous societal programming that says that studying, merely for the pleasure of it, is a waste of time. I wish I could unreservedly pursue my passion for God.