Do You Ever Hear That Voice?

Do you ever hear that voice? The one that tells you that you’re not (good/smart/strong/thin/pretty/rich) enough?

The voice that finds your insecurities and broadcasts them back to you?

The voice that makes you question your choices. Your life. Your worth.

Do you ever hear it? Do you listen?

I’ve been listening to it lately.

It started innocently enough. I needed to buy a new pair of sandals to replace a pair that self-destructed. I made a stop at the shoe store on my way to gym. At the store, I took off my gym shoes and peeled off my socks only to discover that the polish on my toenails was chipped and half rubbed off (the natural consequence of spending more time running than on toe painting).

I looked up and noticed that all of the other women in the store were perfectly polished – nails and otherwise.

I felt embarrassed. I felt ashamed.

The voice whispered to me that I was not good enough.

I got over it enough to locate a pair of sandals and escape to gym, where I thought I would be safe.

But the voice followed.

It watched the other women in the gym and was quick to point out comparisons.

“Look at that! She can squat 140 pounds. You can’t do that!”

“Oh, look. She’s wearing that cute Athleta outfit you wanted. Too bad you only have your old race t-shirt on.”

“Look at her form on leg lifts! You’ll never be flexible enough to do that.”

Over the next couple weeks, the voice was like a malignant parrot on my shoulder. I’d shake it off for a time, but it kept coming home to roost. It seemed to feel the need to comment on every area of my life:

When a pair of shorts I wore last summer wouldn’t quite make the journey over my hips, “Well, look at that. Getting a little chunky there, are we?”

When one of my students complained about a boring lesson, “Wow, you can’t even make M&Ms entertaining. That’s pretty bad.”

When I looked at my book sales and saw that they had slipped, “What did you expect? It’s not like you’re any good at this.”

When another week went by and I hadn’t finished a piece I started for Huffpo, “You’re just a fraud anyways. Just give up on it.”

Yesterday, after more than a week of this verbal abuse by my own critical mind, I decided I would take some action. I stopped at Walmart on the way to yoga, thinking that some new makeup would do the trick. Maybe eye liner has some magical gag order action. The eyeliner is nice (and much easier to apply than the broken, stubby pencil I had been using that always threatened to leave splinters along with its color) but it didn’t shut up the voice.

That’s because I was allowing the voice to distract me from the true insecurities.

I wasn’t really upset about unpainted toenails or curvier hips.

It’s bigger than that.

The life of a teacher has a rhythm: frantic action in August and September settle into a routine that slowly builds in intensity until it peaks in May. And then we breathe.

Except I’m not content to simply breathe.

I’m not content to simply be a teacher.

I want more.

But I don’t know how.

Last summer, I was singularly focused on finishing the book and getting the wellness coaching business up and running.

I succeeded on both fronts.

This year, I have so much I want to do.

But I also have doubts. Am I wasting my time and energy? Which paths do I explore and which should I ignore?

Last summer, I posted four small bulletin boards above my desk, labeled body (marathon training), book (notes, etc. for writing it), blog (goals and post ideas) and business (goals and info for the coaching). I have not altered the boards much since the summer. As I look through the pages tacked to the squares, I realize that I am accomplished most of what I intended last summer.

So why is it not enough?

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Change is scary. Risk is scarier still. My inner critic is telling me to maintain the status quo, to not dare to post bigger goals and intentions. The voice tells me not to try so that I do not risk failure.

Today, I am telling my inner voice to shove it.

I am dedicating today to rebuilding my boards. I am committing to posting bigger goals and aspirations than before. I am pledging to sort through my ideas and clarify my paths. I am promising to use those boards as inspiration and motivation this summer.

So, yeah, I hear that voice. But today, I’m telling it to shut up. After I paint my toenails, that is:)

(This post makes me think of that old SNL skit with Stewart Smally: “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me.” πŸ™‚ )

Don’t Miss Out!

book saleAvailable on Kindle for only $2.99 for a limited time!

5.0 out of 5 stars Incredible story of loss and growth, February 22, 2013
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)
This review is from: Lessons From the End of a Marriage (Kindle Edition)

I purchased this book after reading an article by the author about having symptoms of PTSD after sudden and unexpected spousal abandonment, something that I was unfortunate enough to experience a few months ago. The article really slow to me and I decided to buy the book to read the author’s story.

The book is beautifully written and extremely engrossing. I couldn’t put it down. Although it is written from a female perspective, I found a lot to relate to as a man. In the end, this book validated my feelings and offered me great hope for the future.

5.0 out of 5 stars Phoenix Rising, November 21, 2012
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)

Phoenix rising from the ashes is a myth conveying an inherent message. “LESSONS…” is a true story. It is poignant story, yet the lessons herald inspiration and hope. It is the bona fide story of a real Phoenix who, in the crux of tsunamic devastation, determined to transcend that moment! “LESSONS From the End of a Marriage” is FOR ANY and EVERY ONE who seeks to know that it is possible to sift through cataclysmic debris, and not only rise and walk… YES! You can even run through mud and fire!

The author’s writing style is raw gut honest, laced with sparks of wit and ever-growing wisdom. You’ll find out that it’s ok to crumble, cry, rage, curse… because then you will also find yourself able to laugh, hope, believe, love and live — stronger, better, healthier and more fully alive than before!

Read Lisa Arends story and realize that it is indeed possible to metamorphose tragedy into triumphs!

Read “LESSONS…” and learn more about what Lisa has to offer you! She not only tells a riveting story, she walks her talk and wants nothing more than for you to be encouraged to actualize your full potential. You will see that it is possible to not only survive, you can soar by learning to see life from perspectives that will empower you to live your life with a vibrance and appreciation like never before! And you don’t have to turn into a vampire πŸ™‚

4 of 4 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Couldn’t Put It Down, October 17, 2012
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)

This is an extraordinarily well written book that looks into the mind and heart of a woman whose life topples, but who finds the strength to not only get it back, but learn from it and thrive. One doesn’t have to have a troubled marriage, or a marriage on the brink, to be captivated by this book. I took away many insights that remain with me. GREAT BOOK; GREAT READ.

Read about the journey behind the book: Adventures In Publishing

Thought Patterns

The way we pattern our thoughts has an enormous impact on our mental health and happiness. Thought patterns can be divided into two main categories. I’m going to call these recursive and input-output. A note to those who are math-phobic: I am going to use some math concepts to explain these thinking patterns. Stay with me; I promise I’ll make it simple:)

Recursive Thinking

In math, we can look at functions (think of these like a rule or pattern) recursively by only considering the output. The rule ignores the input completely and only considers the starting output and the pattern to get from one term to the next. For example, in the table below, the rule would say, “Start with 12 and add 3 each time.” Recursive rules feed upon themselves, with each output based on the one before. They are like a chain, with each term linked to the one before and the one after.

InputIn recursive thinking, your thought pattern is initiated by something: a memory, a trauma, a comment. Your thoughts then feed upon themselves with no regard for any external input. This type of thinking can lead to depression or anxiety as the brain simply continues the emotionally equivalent of “plus 3” with no end in sight. When you feel stuck emotionally, this is the type of pattern you are experiencing. When your reaction builds well beyond the initial stimulus, you are thinking recursively. When you feel sad or angry or anxious even in the face of calm, you are allowing the chain of thought to continue unbroken.

Input-Output Thinking

An input-output rule in math relates the output to the input. For example, in the (identical) table below, the input-output rule would say, “Multiply the input by 3 and add 9.” The output is dependent upon the input. Change the input, and you alter the output.

In input-output thinking, your reactions are based upon the external stimulus rather than your previous thoughts. You may be sad, but the emotion and associated thought patterns are due to your situation. You may respond in anger or feel fear but these are due to the inputs you experience. If you change the input, the associated thoughts will change with it.

Recursion is easy, effortless – which is why it is so valuable in computer programming. Its endless loops create the self-similarity needed for programs to run unaltered. Recursive thinking can be beneficial when it is positive in nature, but all too often it is the negative thoughts that pull us into its pattern.

Recursion has a weakness. Since each output is dependent upon the one before, if you break the chain, you break the pattern. If you catch yourself in this cycling thought pattern, find a way to interrupt the flow. Do something differently to break the cycle. Whatever you normally do or say, don’t. Recursion requires a hands-off approach to survive. So get your hands dirty and change it.

Then, consciously shift your thinking to input-output and deliberately choose positive inputs to encourage positive outputs. Surround yourself with nature, connect with friends, do something that feels good. Change the input and your thoughts will follow.

Input

Mom: A Mother’s Day Tribute

Mom. Such a simple word, yet so loaded with meaning and memory. It’s where we all come from. It’s what we simultaneously yearn for and yet try to escape from. My own mother often jokes that the umbilical cord is never fully cut. It just stretches to accommodate.

There’s some truth in that.

Although I’ve only been able to admit that more recently.

For most of my childhood, it was just my mom and I. She worked long hours (Five Ways You Know You’ve Been Raised by a Therapist) so that we could stay in the house and I could stay in the same schools. That consistency provided early security that gave me roots from which to grow. We were close. Sometimes too close. A perimenopausal woman and a hormonal teenager can be quite the powder keg at times!

She tackled a lot as a single mom. She and my dad had purchased a VW Vanagon when I was little. That blue box on wheels became home base for my mom and I as we started our traditions of camping at Lost Maples every Thanksgiving and spending weeks at the Kerrville Folk Festival every summer. I learned the importance of layering against the cold and staying wet in defense of the heat. I learned how to play miniature golf on a closed course using a croquet set (The trick? Spanish moss in the hole so that you can retrieve the ball). I learned that it’s important to secure the screens against the racoons and that butane curling irons let a self-conscious 11 year old girl fix her hair even while she’s camping. I learned the joy of being silly as we played our kazoos on the drives to the campgrounds and invented crazy dances (don’t even ask – not putting the pumpkin dance on YouTube:) ). She instilled in me a love of nature, simple laughter and of quiet escape. I am so thankful to have had those experiences and to be able to continue them forward. Only without the kazoos!

The van:) Notice my fashionable early 90s plaid flannel in the heat of a Texas summer!
The van:) Notice my fashionable early 90s plaid flannel in the heat of a Texas summer!

She didn’t always have it easy raising me. I was a willful child, prone to impatience and peppered with perfectionism. Some things don’t change:) She did a great job of adjusting her parenting to fit me rather than trying to get me to fit into some standard mold. I may have to only mom who had to get onto her kid about the importance of NOT doing my homework (I would beg to leave some of those camping trips early so that I could get back to my work)!. She knew that I pushed myself hard enough (or even too hard) and that her usual role was to encourage me to ease up, not to push me further. At the same time, she recognized those situations where I needed some encouragement and she would not let me weasel my way out (Vanilla, Please).

Yet still, I spent most of my life trying to separate from my mom, as though I could not find myself while till securely tied to her. That’s the thing with moms – we need them but we don’t always want to need them.

Several years ago, my mom prepared a gift for her own mother. She obtained photographs of the matriarchal line in the family going back 7 generations. She worked to size and crop the images to provide uniformity and then mounted them in a long rectangular frame, each woman’s face peering out from a separate oval cut into the tawny mat.

It took my breath away. That line of mothers and daughters. Beginning with a woman that I had never met yet whose lineage I carried and ending with a picture of me. Each daughter a product of the mother before.

Many of those closest to me have lost their mothers, either through death, distance or dementia. Some had their moms for much of a lifetime, some for only a number of years and others never met them at all. Yet they all still carry the imprint of their mothers on their hearts.

They have taught me to be thankful for my own mother. To be grateful for the moments and memories we share.

She is my biggest cheerleader when things are going well and my biggest supporter when my world collapses.

I love the relationship I now have with my mom. I need her and I’m okay with that. Love you, mom:)

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Community

Yesterday was my favorite day of the entire school year. We took over a thousand students, over a hundred teachers and staff and a couple hundred parents out into the community for a day of giving back. Classes were dispersed to children’s shelters, the Human Society and nursing homes. Students helped set up for Relay for Life and assisted food pantries with organizing and packaging their donations. My class was sent to a local park where they helped move logs that were causing trail erosion and dragged debris onto social trails to obliterate them so that hikers are directed to the primary trails. Back the school, we learned that we raised over $3,000 to donate to three different organizations and collected over $12,000 worth of food that is going to two local shelters.

It’s a beautiful day. Being 8th graders, they usually grumble about it before hand and refuse to admit the significance of the day after, but it is in their faces. I saw quiet students come to life on that trail, no longer worried about their appearance or cool factor as they drug branches and scattered leaves. I saw the pride in their faces as they turned back down the hill and witnessed the transformation they had created in the woods beneath. I saw them connect to the specialness of the place and the bond of working together to achieve a goal. I even saw tears on some of their faces as the donations were awarded to the selected organizations that afternoon.

It is a day that teaches them the importance of looking beyond themselves. Of giving back. Of being connected and belonging to a community.

Those are lessons that will hopefully persist well beyond the day.

The view from the top of the trail the students helped to maintain.
The view from the top of the trail the students helped to maintain.

This also happens to be the weekend that Brock’s martial arts instructor is in town to host a biannual seminar. As is tradition, we will celebrate tonight with the entire group at dinner: Brock’s teacher, Brock’s students and their families and even former group members. It is a diverse group yet we have become a community. Members support each other and look out for each other. It is a family where each person has a sense of belonging and contributing; they know they always have a home in the group. I am so proud of Brock and his effort to bring and keep the group together. It a beautiful thing.

I hope to develop my own community where those who have been through the end of a relationship can find understanding and support. A place that can help to alleviate some that crushing isolation in the early days and where those who have found their way can help those behind them.

This weekend, I celebrate community.

β€œI alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.”
― Mother Teresa