Starting Over

“I can’t do this.”

“Why should I try again? I’m just going to fail.”

“Maybe I’m just no good at this.”

“I’m tired of trying.”

I hear those refrains from my coaching clients about lifestyle changes. I hear them from my blog followers about relationships. And, most of all, I hear them from my students about algebra.

My days are filled with students groaning  in frustration, papers wadded up and thrown away in disgust. Every day, I reach into my supply of pencil-topping erasers and provide students with a way to obliterate their mistakes. Sometimes, they become too defeated by even the faintest echoes of work gone wrong, and I have to provide them with a fresh copy, unsullied by their past choices. Some students thrive when they can write on the Activeboard or even with dry erase markers on the desk, where the marks of any error erase without a trace. I model starting over, capitalizing upon rather than hiding my own mistakes at the board.

So much of my day is spent coaching people in starting over – motivating past the initial resistance and guiding new attempts. And even though I coach students on algebra and adults on life, much of the lessons are the same.

We would rather fail because we didn’t try than fail because we couldn’t do.

This was a powerful realization in my early teaching days. I would get so frustrated with students who would just give up and refuse to attempt anything. I saw it as lazy. Or obstinacy. But usually it was a form of self protection. You see, if we try and fail, it reflects upon on abilities. Whereas if we do not try, it only discloses our choices. I learned that in order to reach these students, I had to first convince them that they were worthy in spite of their failures. I found ways to build them up. To let them know that it was safe to try and fail; I would not ridicule mistakes and I would not allow other to either. And then I would find ways to create successes so that they could feel the joy of finally getting something right.

Failure means you’re learning. Starting over means you’re applying the lessons.

We may me more mature than those kids in some ways, but we also shy away from trying because of a fear of how it reflects upon us. We internalize failure rather than see it as a sign of growth. We want to play it safe, stay in known zone where the risks are not too great and the effort not too imposing. We look at the past effort as wasted and we fear starting over because it may lead to another dead end. But the reality is that nothing is ever wasted if you learn from it.

Starting over is overwhelming.

Whether it’s one of students having to re-do a page long problem or a person facing dating again after the end of a long marriage, starting over is hard. Very hard. It’s like taking your first step of thousands in a marathon – your leg is moving forward even as your brain is screaming, “Don’t! It’s impossible!” As with any feat of endurance, the trick is to focus on one step at a time. Starting over requires energy and if you’re mentally biting off more than you can chew, you’re exhausting your resources before you even begin.

When we focus only on the results, we grow frustrated. Celebrate the steps along the way.

I get a strange look from students when I praise their reasoning or skill on one step of a problem but still advise them that their answer is incorrect. “But, Mrs. Arends, I got it wrong. Why are you telling me I did something good?” Learning is a process. Starting over is a process. When we attach too much meaning to the outcome, whether it be a date or an algebra problem, we may miss the signs that we are getting better. So even when the results aren’t what you wanted, celebrate any signs of improvement.

Defeat only occurs when you give up. It’s better to change your goal than to throw in the towel.

In spite of the message put forth by the “everybody gets a trophy” mentality, not everybody can do everything. There are times that you may be trying to accomplish something that is beyond your reach and requires an endless amount of starting over. Rather than just give up completely, shift your goal to something you can do.

When we begin again, the possibilities are endless.

There is something about a blank slate that cultivates enthusiasm. It’s an empty canvas ready to accept whatever you put down. It’s easier to start from the actions of the past, rewriting what we have already tried. But this is your chance to do something new. Different. If one way didn’t work, toss it out and play around with another. If you allow it, starting over can have a sense of playfulness. Curiosity. Wonder and excitement.

Starting over is not doing the same thing again. Starting over is a gift of being able to apply the wisdom of your past to create the image of your future. 

Try. You just might amaze yourself with what you can do.

 

Why I Never Want to Get REmarried

Marriage
Marriage (Photo credit: auddess)

Remarriage

I recently met a fellow divorcee and runner over breakfast in a hotel lobby. We bonded over talk about our respective divorces and our motivations to run the race we had both completed the previous morning. Eventually, she asked the inevitable question: “Do you want to get remarried?”

I bristled. Read the rest on the Huffington Post.

Love After Divorce: Reflection on a Journey, Part 2

This was taken in the moment I realized I was in love.
This was taken in the moment I realized I was in love.

Love After Divorce: Reflection on a Journey, Part 1

Brock and I had only been dating exclusively for a few weeks when I moved into an apartment 0.8 miles from his house. I know that seems crazy and impulsive, but hear me out:) I had been living in my friend’s spare bedroom for a year (in the same community as my old house) and it was time to go. I was ready for my independence, I no longer worked at the school nearby, and I needed to get out of the area where I spent the entirety of my married life. Brock lived 3o minutes away in an area that was not contaminated with too many marital memories. It was a young, active community with less focus on children than where I had been. I loved the access to the river and parks and, in particular, his tree-lined street brought back positive childhood memories of my grandparent’s house on Washington Island in Wisconsin. I decided to move to that street since it was an area I liked, regardless of what happened with the nascent relationship. I made sure to communicate this to Brock; I didn’t want him thinking I was trying to push things. Luckily, he understood.

One of many trails nearby
One of many trails nearby

That year was a period for really getting to know each other. We met the other’s friends and family. We made it through trips, illnesses, and snowstorms. We had quiet evenings on the couch and wild adventures (Tough Mudder!). We both became comfortable with being paired (yup, that took me longer) and started to operate as a team.

It turned out that eight tenths of a mile was perfect. I enjoyed my space. I had never really lived alone before. In college, I started out living in a co-op and then my ex and I moved in together. I did have 7 months on my own in my twenties when my ex first moved to Atlanta and I stayed behind to complete the semester. But this was different. After living with a busy family with a young baby, I enjoyed the quiet and the solitude. And it was a nice respite at times from Brock’s place with its energy from the dog, martial arts, and a television (I didn’t own one).

Simple and neat:)
Simple and neat:)

We ended up moving in together in stages, which was perfect. For much of that year, I would spend three nights a week at his place. It was easy, as I could always drive (or walk!) the short distance back to my place to eat or get ready for work. Having two places kept the pressure off and gave us each our space but the proximity made it easy to spend blocks of time together. Considering that we both have different styles of living, this period was critical to working out some issues in stages.

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I like things neat and organized. I abhor clutter and I love to institute systems to make things run more efficiently. My ex was similar. In fact, in our 15 years living together, we never once had any friction regarding the house or chores. We didn’t have assigned jobs; we just saw something needed doing and we did it. Brock? Yeah, not so much. He can leave an impressive trail of clutter in his wake. He somehow doesn’t see the scum in the shower or the spill on the counter. And chores? Let’s just say he could never fall back on a career as a launderer. This has been our greatest source of friction. On my part, I have had to learn to let go of perfection (Perfection in a Chipped Plate) and to not let my environment dictate my mental state. Brock has had to learn that his actions impact me and that he may have to do more than he wants to keep things running smoothly. Oh, and we also decided jointly that if we ever lived together, we would hire a cleaning service.

The friction between us may have come from the physical space, but we both still had emotional baggage we were working through. His previous relationship had been drama filled and cycled from very good to very bad. Any sign of a repeat of that pattern with  would cause him to panic. My marriage had been the opposite; we rarely had conflict. Of course, that was because my husband had been a con man. I was not used to heated disagreements, so any sign of discord also caused me to panic. I mean, if my ex walked out with no signs of disagreement, what would Brock do? Yeah, we were quite a pair. Luckily, we don’t disagree much, but we are now both much more comfortable when it does happen. I’ve learned that it doesn’t mean he is about to disappear and he has learned it doesn’t mean our lives are filled with drama. I’m becoming more comfortable with voicing my needs and he is getting better at listening.

It’s interesting. My ex was very good at saying the right things. When I was upset, he would pull my body against his, flesh to flesh, knowing that the proximity lowered my anxiety. He would then say exactly the right things to calm me down. Brock isn’t as good at that. But I’m glad. I don’t think I can ever trust a smooth talker again. Brock isn’t nearly as demonstrative with his affections, but when it comes, I know it is authentic.He frequently sends me messages of love from Tiger, letting the dog filter his emotions for him. He may have trouble putting his feelings in words, but I get the sweetest notes and drawings on a frequent basis. I trust his kisses and his notes; they leave no room for doubt in how he feels.

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Most of our troubles were not with each other, but with our pasts. I never pined for my ex; I fell out of love with with immediately upon receiving the text. However, I still carried a lot of anger and it would flare every time I took another financial hit because of the con man, and those seemed to come every couple of months. I also needed to work through my fears of abandonment. The thought didn’t petrify me like it did in my marriage (I knew now that I could survive), but I was living waiting for the other shoe to drop, expecting to be left again. Of course, if I expect Brock to do that, eventually he probably would. There was no magic moment when I fully trusted he was in it for the long haul. Instead, every day we made a choice to be together. Eventually, I relaxed. I still have my moments of doubt. It’s not him; it’s the ghosts of the past whispering in my ears. I’ve learned to discount them. They are operating out of a place of fear and I don’t live there any more. Although our pasts are different and have left different scars, we both have always been determined not to be defined by our pasts.

baggage

Brock and I are both passionate about learning and growing. For him, much of that centers around martial arts. I am not nearly as consistent in my endeavors, but I always have projects. We have learned how to find the balance between fueling our passions and fueling the relationship. We each have a respect for the others time and interests. And, I’ve learned to ask for more time when I feel like the relationship needs it.

One passion we share is for fitness. We bonded through walks, hikes, runs, and races. I love having someone that understands my need to move and will share that movement with me. We have learned that difficult conversations are best had on the trail and that the trails also are wonderful for speculating and dreaming about the future.

At one point that year, while I was reading in my clean and organized apartment living room, I received a text.

“Do you want to move in together when your lease is up? Tiger”

My response?

“I don’t think your crate is big enough for both of us.”

But I did move in at the end of that year:)

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