We Are the Sum of Our Experiences

Posted on by stilllearning2b

As I mentioned recently, I’m in the early stages of making a major change in my life. This early stage of not-knowing is uncomfortable and so my inclination is to quickly make a decision so that I can disguise my anxiety about the uncertainty as busyness towards the goal.

To help fight that tendency, I’m setting goals for each of the next few months that force me to stay in this open-and-curious and also scared-shitless stage. My goal for January (which I actually started a few weeks ago) was to listen – to myself and to others.

And it’s been eye-opening. First, I’ve had to be very careful with myself as my discomfort with not-knowing has made me prone to all-too-quickly agreeing with the confident wisdom contributed by others.

Secondly, I’ve had to become very cognizant of the filters that the offered wisdom has percolated through before it has reached my eyes or ears.

When it comes to life, we are what we have experienced. This results in the following truisms that become important when we relate to other people:

 

  1. Other people’s experiences do not mirror your own.

  2. Everybody responds from their own experiences.

  3. Somebody else’s experience does not invalidate your own.

Other people’s experiences do not mirror your own.

At some point, all of us have sat through a 6th grade math class. Yet, if I asked each of you to reflect on that class, what it made you feel like and what role it has played in your life, I would receive thousands of different responses.

Were you confident in math or was it a subject that always made you feel like you were lacking? Or, did you excel in elementary school and started to have doubts about your ability creep in during 6th grade? Was your teacher encouraging or a bully? Were you at a new school or surrounded by lifelong friends? Was school a respite from a horrible home life or a place that filled you with dread?

 

Everybody responds from their own experiences.

Think about how that experience will shape your mindset as you prepare to meet your own child’s 6th grade math teacher. Even though your kid may be very different than you were at that age, your experiences are going to impact what advice and feedback you deliver to them. Some of that advice may me pertinent to your child and the situation at hand, and other suggestions may be misinformed because they are a response to your experiences, not your child’s. Yet no matter how much you try to relate to your child only from the present, you cannot erase your own experience. In a very real way, it’s what you know.

 

Somebody else’s experience does not invalidate your own.

Even in a school reunion, where everybody is reflecting on the same teacher and the same class, each person will remember something slightly different. One may recall the taunting afternoon sunlight that always distracted them from the instruction while another student, who sat out of view of the window, has no recollection of the time of day the class was held. One may recount the joy of being challenged by the Problem Of the Week while another remembers those same problems as a source of anxiety and dis-inspiration. Just as one former student shouts out, “She was the best teacher ever!” another announces, “That teacher made me think I was stupid.”

And all of those experiences are simultaneously correct. Just because one student hated the class, does not mean that the teacher was ineffective. That class may have been a turning point for one student and a completely forgettable class for another. One person’s experience has no bearing on another’s.

 

Experiences depend upon two characteristics: perspective and connections.

 

Perspective

Even when we share an experience with others, we all have our own perspective of the event. The perspective is formed based on our relationship to the experience.

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Connections

No experience exists in isolation. We are not blank slates; we come into every experience with our past – even our distant past – setting up certain expectations. Whatever is occurring concurrent with the experience will inevitably alter its greater meaning. Even what happens after can change an experience as you re-evaluate in light of new information.

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So what does this mean?

  • Don’t expect that other people are experiencing the same thing you are even if the external situation is the same.

 

  • Avoid assuming that your experience is identical to theirs and expecting that what worked for you will automatically work for them. We all have different perspectives and assign different meaning to experiences.

 

  • When you feel misunderstood, take a moment and remember that they are responding from their experience. It’s not a matter of them not wanting to understand you; it’s a matter of a different frame of reference.

 

  • Listening is perhaps the biggest gift we can give another.

 

  • Empathy is important in relating to others, yet it also has its limitations. We can imagine what something is like, but it’s important to know that the imagined is not the same as the reality.

 

  • We tend to feel defensive when we feel like somebody’s experience is threatening our own. Remember that both experiences can be true at the same time.

 

  • Be careful with the stories you tell yourself around your experiences. Going back to the 6th grade math class, a student that struggled could hold on to the belief that they’re dumb and bad at math or they could choose to see that as an assumption to be challenged and work to prove it wrong.

 

  • We learn from others, even – maybe especially – when their experiences are different than our own.

The Problem With, “I Can’t Wait For it to Be Over”

Posted on by stilllearning2b

“December 31st can’t get here soon enough!”

“2019 just needs to end already!”

“I can’t wait for this year to be over!”

I’m reading and hearing these refrains on an ever-increasing basis. And sometimes I even find myself agreeing. At least in the moment.

But then, I think about other times I’ve felt that way – waiting for my divorce to be finalized, waiting for a particularly tedious plane trip to end or waiting for a difficult school year to wrap.

And I change my mind about wanting to hurry up and get 2019 over with.

When we focus on the end, we neglect to be in the present.

When we label something as “bad,” we have tendency to overlook the good. Whatever you nurture, grows.

When we assign happiness and success to external things, we neglect to make the internal changes needed to do better once the external circumstances change.

Like any other year (or any other thing at all), 2019 has had both good and not-so-good times. It’s not the worst, it’s not the best. It’s a Jackson Pollock of them both. Stand too close and all you see are the individual spots of joy and suffering. But stand back and take it all in and you see the bigger picture. It’s best to spend time at both vantage points.

As we enter the final hours of 2019…

Take time to remember and be grateful for the beautiful moments the year had to offer. And think about how you can cultivate those in the months to come.

Be present and mindful in these final hours of the year. Practice letting go of expectations and nurturing acceptance.

Refrain from assigning any magical powers to a new number. If you want different, be different.

 

Challenging Fears

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’m the in clarity-seeking and courage-building phase of a major life change. And like any change, it’s scary. Especially in that wind-up to the actual leap.

I’m very aware that I need to manage this anxiety around the transition, otherwise it will keep be stuck in the same place that is sending me clear signals that’s time for change. But it’s time to replace words with actions. To stop making empty promises to myself and start making decisions.

And it all starts by confronting my fears.

My fears are lying to me, telling me the following –

It’s not that bad.

I can’t do anything differently.

The transition will be hard.

What if I make the wrong decision?

I’ll go broke.

I’m failing by quitting.

You won’t be successful.

It’s almost as though my fears earn a commission based off how well they can keep me frozen in place.

Now, I KNOW these are lies. But sometimes I struggle to believe it.

So today, I sat down with a journal selected solely for this transition and challenged each fear in turn-

1 – What is the fear telling me?

2 – What is the worst-case scenario in relation to this fear?

3 – If the worst-case happened, what agency would I still have?

4 – What evidence do I have to refute the claims that this fear is making?

5 – When have I faced a similar fear in the past and what was the result?

Wow. This was powerful stuff. First, simply writing out each fear and exposing it to the light of day helped to reduce some of its power. Exploring what decisions I could make if the worst happened gave me some sense of control and comfort that I would be okay. Counteracting each fear with evidence had the effect of distinguishing between a bark and a bite. And finally, reflecting on how I’ve successfully faced my fears (and worst-case becoming real) in my past helped to build my confidence.

I got this.

And for those of you facing a similar challenge, you got this too!

 

 

What One-Star Reviews Can Teach Us About Personal Rejection

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I recently discovered (and have been devouring) a new-to-me author, Christian Galacar, who is often compared to Stephen King. After I finished my first download of his, I visited the Amazon page to learn more about him and what else he had published. I soon found myself going down the rabbit hole of reading some of the hundreds of posted reviews about the book.

Most were positive. The majority were fair.

And then there were the reviews that accompanied a single star.

And most of those were utter nonsense.

They were interesting reading because they had no emotional associations for me, I could scan them for generalizations and patterns. And in doing so, I realized that there is much in common with these one-star reviews and rejection in personal relationships –

 

One-Star Review Reason – “I haven’t used this product or service.”

I’m planning on surprising my husband with dinner at a local place that promises to serve Maryland-style crab cakes. Since I have never been there, I checked them out online to get a better sense of the establishment. I ran across a one-star review by a woman who admitted to never never eating at the restaurant and then proceeded to slam them for everything from food quality to service. Ummm…. what?

Personal Rejection Equivalent – “I was never present in the relationship.”

“We’re just not connecting,” they may say, ignoring the fact that they haven’t even looked in your direction in months. They are quick to blame you and even quicker to ignore the fact that their claims are based on assumptions.

_______

One-Star Review Reason – “I don’t like this type of thing.”

One of the poor reviews for my new author obsession mentioned that the reader doesn’t appreciate horror novels. Yet they proceeded to download – and negatively review – a book that is clearly marketed as horror. Completely confusing personal preference as being a sign of poor quality.

Personal Rejection Equivalent – “I don’t like this type of person.”

If we give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe they were not aware of their preferences in the beginning. Or maybe they thought that other qualities would somehow make this other thing not matter. Regardless, they made a poor choice for their needs or wants in the beginning and then tried to pass it off as being your fault.

_______

One-Star Review Reason – “I always give one-star reviews.”

For our recent vacation, I perused many Tripadvisor reviews. Before I gave a one-star review any credence, I checked the poster’s other reviews. And oftentimes, I noted that they were all negative. Some people are simply never happy, even when they’re on vacation.

Personal Rejection Equivalent – “I’m never satisfied in a relationship.”

And what’s the common denominator here? Hmmm. If they are never happy, that’s on them. Not you.

_______

One-Star Review Reason – “I can’t get beyond…”

Maybe the food was amazing, but the server seemed a little distracted. Or, the book was amazing but the ending didn’t meet expectations. Whatever the reasons, these reviewers allow one element to taint the entire experience.

Personal Rejection Equivalent – “I expect perfection and have trouble letting go of mistakes.”

This is the person with unrealistic expectations who also likes to hold a grudge. That one time you forgot to pick up milk at the grocery store two years ago? I bet you’re still hearing about it. No matter how much you try to please this person, it will always feel like playing Whack-a-Mole.

_______

One-Star Review Reason – “Through my lens…”

When I first started sharing publicly, the reviews and comments often gutted me. Except this style, which simply confused me at the beginning. “You never showed your husband any affection or attention. It’s no wonder he left you. What did you expect him to do? Live in a loveless marriage unhappy for the rest of his life?” Huh? This in no way described or marriage or matched what I had shared. And then it dawned on me – this man wasn’t really reviewing me. He was reviewing his ex-wife.

Personal Rejection Reason – “I feel this, therefore you feel this.”

Ah, projection. Our old friend. It’s a convenient way to avoid responsibility.

 

Most things in life – and that includes relationships – are neither one-star or five-star. Most things exist in the between, a mixture of both good and bad. There are things to critique and improve upon and also things to recognize and celebrate. And anyone who claims otherwise is either selling something, hiding something or trying to avoid something.

 

A Letter to My Ex On the Eve of My Wedding

Posted on by stilllearning2b

This was first published in The Huffington Post almost seven years ago. It soon became one of my more controversial pieces. Some people claimed I obviously wasn’t over my ex while others related to the way that every relationship we experience becomes a part of our story.

It’s strange to read it now, as it was written on a day when I was feeling particularly nostalgic and contemplative, planning my second wedding naturally bringing up memories of the first. In many ways, this was my “good-bye” letter to him, one born more from compassion than the angry ones I actually sent to him in the beginning.

I wouldn’t pen the same letter today. In fact, today I have nothing to say to him because I’m beyond happy where I am. I rarely think of him anymore and I struggle to capture any images and memories from our time together.

Which is why I am sharing this letter again. It captures a moment in time. A woman standing on the bridge between the long road of healing and the gates to a new chapter.

 

Dear —–,

Fourteen years ago, I was preparing to marry you. I was so excited but, even more, I was so sure. Sure that we were so good together. Sure that we would continue to weather any storm. Sure that we would be together forever.

My belief in our marriage lasted until the day you left. I remember my shock, my disbelief so clearly. I couldn’t understand how you, my beloved husband, could do those things. Even now, four years later, I still don’t understand the choices you made. I suppose I never will.

In an instant, you went from the man I adored to a stranger I feared. In many ways, you have been dead to me since you left. I remember you as you were since I can’t comprehend what you’ve become. It’s almost as though you are two completely separate men to me — the one I was married to and the one who betrayed me. I just can’t understand how you could be both my protector and my persecutor.

I am no longer the same woman you abandoned four years ago; I’m not sure you would even recognize me now. You ripped everything from me — my marriage, my trust, my dogs, my money, my home and even my health. I had to rebuild from nothing except the support of family and friends and my desire to make something good come from all of this. It has not been an easy journey and there have been many moments where I thought I would fail. But then I think of you and I keep going. You have become my motivation to do more, achieve more, trust more, love more. Live more.

I have found a place of forgiveness and acceptance of our past. In fact, I am grateful for you. I’m thankful I had such an amazing and supportive partner for 16 years. You were my best friend. I smile when I think of our teamwork while working on the house or other projects. I’m grateful for your patience teaching me how to slow down and enjoy touch; I still treasure the memory of the hours spent lying astride you with my head on your chest listening to the calming beat of your heart. I’m appreciative of all that you introduced me to — from the comedy of Opie and Anthony to the details of carpentry. I’m thankful that you always made me feel listened to and respected and that you were a husband that I never had reason to complain about. We had a good run.

And, strangely enough, I’m even grateful that this happened. It has been the most difficult and painful experience of my life, one that I’m still paying for literally and emotionally. But it has also opened up a whole new world for me that I would not have realized otherwise. I faced my biggest fears and survived; I’m no longer bound by uncertainty. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been and I’ve experienced enough to be more grateful for that than I would have been before.

I still wish sometimes that things could have been different. That you would have been truthful with yourself and with me at whatever point you started to go down that dark path. That you could have received the help you needed before it was too late and that the collateral damage could have been reduced. But that’s not how it happened and we have both been left with the consequences of your choices, although you have yet to take responsibility for yours.

It’s strange, although you have been out of my life for a full 48 months, you have been very much on my mind. At first, I spent my time cursing you, assuming you were some sociopath bent on destroying me. Then, I started to pity you when I realized how lost and broken you were. I’ve written a book about you (thanks by the way for leaving me with the story that the officer who arrested you still calls “the top story I share after 21 years on the force”) and untold numbers of blog posts. Your spectacular fall from grace has shocked, entertained and enlightened thousands as they learn about the dangers of marital fraud and the reality of bigamy. The story has given hope to the betrayed and comforted others who have been through atypical divorces. It’s what I wanted — some good to come out of the tragedy.

In the typed letter you left me on the kitchen island, you stated that you knew I would move on to live a “happier and more honest life than (you) could ever give me.” You were right, although it has taken me time to see that. I was so afraid that your multiple betrayals had damaged me permanently, that I would never learn to trust or to love again. Luckily, that has not been the case and I have found love again with a man I am to marry soon.

I’m not sure what you would think of him. He is quite different from you — hard where you were soft, decisive where you were contemplative and most importantly, forthcoming where you were secretive. He challenges me in a way you never did; he encourages me to leave my comfort zone and fully live in a way I didn’t before. He has been so patient and so understanding as I have to worked to purge myself of you. I am excited about my upcoming wedding. Even more so than before, as this one is truly a celebration of love arising from the ashes.

You are not invited to the wedding, although in some ways you’ll be there. You will exist as the memory of the husband I loved and lost, without whom I would not be marrying the man in front of me now. Your name will not be mentioned nor your story told, but your influence will be felt by all as we celebrate the enduring power of love.

Thankful to be your ex,
Lisa