Two minutes after dropping my kids off at camp, I saw pain in her eyes.  My 5 year old daughter was distraught because her older sister would not play with her on the playground.  She was feeling the pain of rejection.  As I looked into those tear streaked brown eyes my first impulse was to make the pain go away.  My mind quickly contempated the possibilites.

I could order or convince her sister to play with her.
I could find something more fun to do.
I could distract her from the hurt.
I could offer her a snack.
I could tell her to think positively.
I could promise her a present.
I could tell her not to worry about it, her sister really did love her.
I could pretend as if this wasn’t worth being sad about.

Part of me desperately wanted to make the pain go away.

My impulses were there because most of us have been trained to avoid our feelings, to be happy above all else, to not outwardly show how we’ve been hurt.  We inacurately label this as strength.  We develop elaborate decoy or distraction systems to keep from feeling our uncomfortable feelings.  Many of us are never taught how to feel our sadness, anger, or disapointment.  It stays inside, behind those beautiful and increasingly desperate eyes.  (Don’t get me wrong.  There are some times when outwardly showing emotions is a mistake, but most of the time its ok.)

Before I allowed myself to speak, I took some deep breaths, grounded myself, and felt her hand in mine for a good long minute.  Then I knew what to do.  I sat down with her and took her into my arms.  It felt good to just hold her and allow her to be sad.  I said, “You are sad, and that’s okay.  Can you allow the sadness?”  She nodded her head.

After crying for a minute, she wiped her tears on my dress (I haven’t yet figured out how to have enough tissues on hand to always avoid becoming a human napkin.  Please mention suggestions in the comments section.)  Then she ran off and started playing with another classmate.

What we resist persists

February 23, 2009

A cliche, Yes, but in my experience it’s true.   I was just reading about this and reaching for another tissue.  Suddenly it hit me, the cold I’ve had for the last week and the accompanying mucus, I’ve been totally resisting them.  As a friend of mine recently said about his cold, “I didn’t know my head was capable of producing so much mucus”.   But what if I make peace with mucus and embrace it (figuratively).  By the way, googling mucus is not highly advisable for sensitive readers.  I am reminded of a quote from Gary Wagenback, a biology professor I had in college.  “Don’t denigrate mucus.”  Somehow in college this kept us endlessly amused.  I started remembering and researching all the wonderful things mucus does for us.  Mucus lubricates the respiratory and digestive tracts.  It acts as an antiseptic and contains immunoglobulins.  It moistens and cleans the air we breathe, keeps dust, germs, pollen and dirt from our lungs!  That beautiful mucus is trying to flush nasty viruses from the system.   The mucus prevents us from having an awful problem called empty nose syndrome.  How remarkable our bodies and mucus are!   Whoopie!  Yeah mucus!  I’m deeply grateful to my body for taking care of me so well!

I am scared, and that’s okay

February 19, 2009

My four year old daughter would not budge!  Please go and dance, I shamelessly pleaded with her.  This was her third dance lesson and she refused to do anything.  I tried pleading, bribing her with treats and sparkly clothes, getting a friend of hers to join the class, getting my husband and then a neighbor to take her (maybe I was the problem).  I consulted my friends for advice.  No dice. No dancing.  After 6 expensive sessions, where she only sat watching with her head down, we gave up.  The problem was I knew she wanted to dance.  During the first session (which was free) she danced up a storm and had a blast.  She smiled non-stop!  When we went for the second session she wouldn’t dance.  When I asked her why, she quietly mumbled, “I’m scared”.  I replied soothingly, “It’s okay, there is nothing to be afraid of.  Come on, let’s go.”  This did not seem to help.

Fast forward to a year later, we’ve moved across the country and now she wants to take gymnastics lessons.  I agreed.  During the first two sessions she had a blast.  As we were hurrying to get ready for the 3rd session she was just sitting there and not getting ready to go.  I asked, “What’s wrong?”  “I don’t want to go.” she replied.  “Why not?” I inquired.  No answer.  “Are you scared?” I asked.  She nodded.  “Well, of course you are scared.  Everyone is scared, especially when they start something new.” She looked up at me, somewhat surprised.  “I remember the first time I tried riding a bike and I was super scared.  But I did it, and it was fun!  I know you are scared, and that’s okay, I still love you.”  Her body visibly relaxed.  Without saying anything she got up and got ready to go.   Ten classes later, she is super excited about class.  I regularly hear, “Mom, how many more days to gymnastics?”

What changed?  She is older, more mature, and confident.  I am also different.  I’d spent the last year changing careers.   I knew intense fear firsthand.  Though dissolving the fear is most desirable, sometimes it helps to acknowledge the fear and do it anyways.  Simply denying or discounting the fear does not work.  So if you too are afraid to do something, take a deep breath and try repeating this mantra.

“I’m terrified to ask him out on a date, and that’s okay.”
“I’m terrified to quit my job and work for myself, and that’s okay.”
“I’m terrified to run the marathon, and that’s okay.”
“I’m terrified to put my new toe nail clipper designs up for sale, and that’s okay.”
“I’m terrified to go skinny dipping, and that’s okay.
“I’m terrified to leave academia, and that’s okay.

Whatever it is that you are afraid of, if you still really want to do it, acknowledge the fear and do it anyways.

Barack Obama and Role Models

November 5, 2008

A black man is President-elect of the United States.  Does this make a difference for women and minorities in science?  Yes, you bet your booty it does.

When we hold a limiting belief such as “No one like me could ever be a respected leader in my field.”  We look around for evidence to support our beliefs.  And trust me, most of us are very good at finding evidence to support our false beliefs.  When there is an example like Barack Obama, this false belief system develops a crack in the facade.

My husband was a track star in High School and he talks about establishing a winning tradition with his team.  They won the league and county championships and he was one of the top 5 runners in his state. No one at his school had ever done this before.  He attributes his success to innocence and hard work.  In other words, he didn’t know enough to have a limiting belief.  In the early 1950s popular belief suggested running a mile under 4 minutes was physiologically impossible. Roger Bannister, a medical student at the time, knew enough to believe that it was possible. In 1954, he broke the world record and the 4-minute mile barrier. Roger Bannister showed the world that it was possible and other runners soon after him went on to better his performance.

I used to hold the belief that as a woman in science I couldn’t have it all.  Either I could devote myself to science or have kids and a balanced family life.  When I met women who contradicted this belief, I would immediately look for evidence that they don’t have it all.  Are they sacrificing personal time for work?  Have they put off having children?

One woman in particular seemed to have everything, a great marriage, a highly successful career in which she traveled extensively. She was extremely fit and an accomplished athlete, she had great adoring friends nearby, and adorable well-behaved kids.  Every time I looked for evidence to support my belief that we can’t have it all, I didn’t find any.  I felt uncomfortable around her because she contradicted my belief system.

This is why role models are so important, they show us what is possible.  Role models like Barack Obama show us that if we believe in something we can make it happen.  With high achievers around us, we automatically start questioning false beliefs.  The other big lesson I am learning is that we can literally design our own lives and make it work.  Do you want to work part-time and still be a star at work?  Are you waiting for a role model in science to show you what is possible, to do what you really want to do?   By identifying and questioning our limiting beliefs now, there is nothing to stop us from becoming the role models we are looking for.

Painless Relocation?

September 4, 2008

I’ve just moved my family across the country to a place I’ve fantasized about for years. My husband found a great academic job here. Members of my tribe live here, people I vote for will be elected. I’ll be content and joyfully happy here.

The only problem is that we are all cranky, underslept, and generally miserable. Did we make the wrong decision to move? My gut response is a strong “NO”. Staying gets a big fat gut “YES”. In reality, we are miserable because of thoughts like, “We’ll never be able to afford the right house”, “Will our old house ever sell?”, “No one will want to be friends with us.”, “Pre-school is too expensive and there are no openings anyway.”

Whoa. It is time to take a step back from relocation stress syndrome and practice what I’ve learned from Martha Beck and her master coaches. I need to examine my fears carefully before I can trust my gut feeling that everything will be okay. When moving a family across the country we start from scratch in many ways. Life suddenly turns from routine to chaotic.

We need time to mourn the past lifestyle even if we volunteered to move on. I begin this process with a methodical examination of these fears using an approach developed by Byron Katie, called “The Work”. When I simply ask myself whether these thoughts are true and look for evidence to support the opposite thoughts, I find a new and much better outlook. Here is an example.

The thought: We’ll never be able to afford the right house.

Is it true? What is the “right” house? A house with space for friends to stay, an open, airy feel, and close to restaurants, metro, and good schools. The house means love, acceptance, and freedom. We can absolutely afford this house!

Who am I when I think the original thought? I am needy and longing for a house beyond our means. I covet what the neighbors have.

Without the thought, I am excited to see houses and imagine possibilities. I imagine houses alive with friends and family.

Turnarounds (Looking for truth in the opposite):
We will be able to afford the right house. There are wonderful houses in the neighborhood we want within our budget. The right house is about the feeling of friends and family close by. We create that no matter what the space.

The right house can’t afford us. A house that is too big or fancy takes a lot of work to clean and maintain, taking time away from social activities. An expensive house feels oppressive, “shackles on”.

Eventually I see that these turnaround statements feel more true to me than my original thought. I see how totally ridiculous and melodramatic the original thought sounds.

If all else fails, repeating one of Martha Beck’s “mantras” is always good in a pinch: “I don’t know what the hell is going on, and that’s okay.”

Cleaning your room won’t make your mother happy

I cringe every time I tell my kids that if they do something it will make me happy. Yesterday it was “It will make me happy if you share with your sister.” I quickly backpedaled. “Actually, it won’t make me happy or sad, but it might make you feel good.” Or the time I said, “if you clean your room, I will be glad.” Oops. I mean, “if you clean your room, then well… you will have a clean room, and don’t you like to play in a clean room?” We are socialized to do things that will supposedly make others happy. Even though I know better, I have to constantly catch myself from socializing my children in the same way. In actuality we have no control over another person’s sadness or happiness, no matter what we do.

For example, It doesn’t make me sad when my kids tell a good friend of mine to go away and that they don’t like her. I know the kids’ comments are not a reflection on me — it doesn’t mean I’m a bad parent and it doesn’t mean I share their thoughts — what it really does mean is that there is a misunderstanding between them. My kids have also told me to go away and have wished I would never come back. I also know they didn’t really mean it. I did, however, take the time to explain to them what that would mean. I will attempt to explain the misunderstanding to my kids and friend so they will understand each other better and I will spend some time discussing how kids can more constructively express their feelings. I will clearly communicate the consequences if they do it again. But strangely, I don’t feel bad about it.

This sense of detachment is new for me. During the years I spent worrying about whether I’m a good mother or not, I would have been deeply pained by these events, taking them as evidence that I’m doing a poor job of raising kids. But in actuality, my kids can’t live my life for me. If I expect them to be responsible for my happiness and sense of self-worth, how will they be able to work on their own? They can’t make me a good mother or bad mother. Despite their or anyone else’s opinion, I think I’m doing a pretty fine job.