True confession time – I still haven’t watched the actual show:)
Here’s the additional footage from after the show! Sorry for the link; it won’t let me embed directly:(
I’ll post more when I can!
Continuing Karma
You’re Getting Warmer
Do you ever react defensively to someone’s words?
I know I do.
I’m the queen of, “Yeah, but” and “I can’t” and “You don’t understand.”
Someone says something that justifies my ex’s actions and I respond with anger and righteousness (actually, this is not so true anymore, but it was for a long time!).
Someone else tells me that I can make this whole elderly car thing work out for the best and I want to stomp my feet like a frustrated two-year-old and scream in indignation.
Even Brock is not immune. When giving advice on my new career in real estate based upon his years of successful sales experience, I felt myself shutting down and becoming defensive rather than receptive.
So why do I respond this way?
It’s certainly not adaptive.
Or rational.
But there is a reason.
In every one of these cases (and in countless others), I picked up the armor and shield (and, yeah, sometimes a sword too) because the person was getting warmer.
They were dangerously close to touching on some hidden fear. Some inner wound that I preferred to protect rather than expose.
The remarks about my ex used to tweak that nerve that still stung with the betrayal and his words that I was the one responsible. I was still struggling to separate myself from his claims and actions and accept myself as whole and lovable and deserving. When someone validated him in some way, I saw it as reinforcing his false blames and devaluing me in the process.
The claims about my future triumph over the conundrum of reliable transportation triggers my deep-seated fears and shame around money and debt. I’ve been a bit head-in-the-sand about my car. I chose to focus on the assurances that it still has years of life remaining while not wanting to face the realities of its aging body. I take it to the mechanic’s and pay the bills as though I’m making a virgin sacrifice to the car gods – I will burn this $500 and in return, you will give me 12 more months of carefree driving. So I don’t always appreciate it when reality buts in.
And the advice from Brock? That tickled yet another insecurity. You see, Brock is a salesman. An excellent salesmen. And me? I literally freeze at the thought of making a cold call. In fact, I get nervous making any kind of call. Luckily, real estate is not sales in the purest sense. In fact, I see it as more customer service, an where I excel. But I’m still insecure, especially as I begin my career while overhearing Brock, confident in his, negotiate with the best of them. So, at the moment, I’m a bit oversensitive until I gain my footing.
In all of these cases, I have worked to address my deep-seated fears that triggered the defensive response. I’ve been very successful with that in terms of my ex and I’ve made progress on the financial anxieties. As for real estate? I suggest you approach with caution:)
Pay attention to your own protective reactions.
Be alert to when your guard goes up.
Or you respond with a firm, “I can’t.”
Because often, those reactions occur right at the area where you have work to do.
So instead of simply building walls and turning away, use that instinct as a sign to dig a little deeper and begin the needed repairs.
When you respond defensively, it means you’re getting warmer.
Keep searching.
You’ll find it.
Let it Go
I’ve been in the classroom for thirteen years. And, in those years, I have accumulated a lot of…stuff. I have games and cards for curriculum I haven’t taught in many years. I have boxes filled with files that speak of units past. I have workbooks and textbooks, long since retired, that no longer correspond to the math that I (or anyone in the state for that matter!) teach. I have hundreds of labeled bags filled with measured out amounts of random items – pennies, pipe cleaners, little foam blocks – all used for math labs that are now curricular dinosaurs.
For years, I’ve carted around more than a dozen file boxes filled with these materials. I held onto them at first because I trusted that the educational pendulum would swing back and I would again be responsible for the teaching of polynomials and imaginary numbers. But with each election and each testing mandate, the chances became more and more slim that those topics would again trickle down to the middle school level.
But even as I let go of the notion of teaching these units again, I still held on to the boxes. Because those boxes held more than just paper and plastic; they contained the years that I considered my best in the classroom.
For a few precious years, I had the perfect storm in education: great curriculum, great class sizes and great students. By holding on to those boxes, I was holding on to the idea that the perfect storm may brew again and I could teach higher-level concepts to small groups of hard working kids. Every time I would move or sort through those boxes, I would grow sad, reminiscing about what was and what was no longer. The newer units didn’t hold the same appeal, not because they were worse but because the older ones were rose-tinted with memory, idealized in time. And with the old taking up permanent residence in my classroom, it was impossible not to compare.
I finally realized this year that keeping those boxes in my classroom is pretty much the equivalent of keeping my old wedding photos on my wall.
Uhh…no thanks.
It’s amazing the mental choreography we will create to attempt to rationalize grasping on to the old. We pretend that we may need it again in some, as yet, unknown future. Anxiety and worry speaking the language of “what ifs” in order to keep us prisoner to the detritus of our pasts. We claim that it serves as a reminder of the good times, even though its presence dulls the new. We allow memory and hope to create value where there is none and, even worse, waste energy and other resources on lugging around the boxes, both real and metaphorical, from our former lives.
So this morning, I sorted through thirteen years of lessons and saved projects. I filled recycle bins and garbage bags and re-gifted the plastic tubs to a new home.
It’s a little scary.
But you can’t reach the next rung until you’re willing to release the last.
And it’s also freeing.
Letting go always is.
Because it’s only in releasing our grasp on the past that we are able to fly towards our future.
The Impersonator
With the advent of the warm weather, Brock and I have taken to practically living on the porch. The house is surrounded by mature trees and shrubs, which provide food and shelter for numerous birds. And squirrels. Always squirrels.
We enjoy sitting with our beverages and watching the live Nat Geo production unfold around us. Several weeks ago, Tiger became interested in the drama, taking an unusual obsession with one corner of the deck where a small tree has wrestled its way through the concrete that surrounds the driveway. We noticed that a blue jay seemed to take special interest in the beast around the same time, often protesting the dog’s presence with loud squawks while practicing an aerial routine fit for the Blue Angels.
During one of these early episodes of bird vs. pit bull, I heard the unmistakable screech of a hawk from high up in a maple that towered above us. I scanned the branches, looking for the large bird that was sounding the warning.
“Look. There it is! It’s a blue jay!” exclaimed Brock, pointing to a much smaller bird than expected whose beak was indeed moving in concert with the avian screams.
I had to chuckle. When the warnings of the blue jay weren’t enough to frighten Tiger, the clever bird decided to impersonate a much larger hunter.
Tiger, being a confident sort of dog, was unimpressed.
But I was.
I had fallen for the ruse, believed that the cry came from a hawk on the hunt rather than its songbird cousin.
It led me to contemplate all of the impostors I have encountered in my own life, from my ex husband pretending to be loving to an innocent basement impersonating a dragon’s lair. I had fallen more than once for the mask, not looking to see what was really hidden in the depths.
Mimicry is ubiquitous in the animal kingdom.
And it’s important to remember that we are members of that kingdom as well.
Things are not always as seem.
Take the time to look. To listen.
Be more like Tiger who approached without assumptions and let his other senses connect the dots to conclude that there was no threat (not that he would find a hawk all that frightening either!).
And less like a human, leading with the ego of experience and expectations.
And I’m happy to report our little deck-side drama has a happy ending. A little searching that day revealed a nest buried down in the small tree next to the deck. Inside the nest were three newly hatched blue jays, blindly looking for their next meal. We trained Tiger to avoid the area for the next several weeks as we watched the young birds grow and eventually leave the safety of their nest.
And we haven’t heard the screech of the false hawk since; the need for the mask has past.
Karma
I’m excited to announce that I will be appearing (along with my always-supportive mom) in an episode of Karma’s A B*tch on Investigation Discovery this Thursday, May 29. Check it out!
And meanwhile…
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 