Taking Candy From Strangers

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My usual grocery trip this morning was anything but usual.

There were four lines open, four registers with glowing beacons welcoming customers.

But only one register had a line.

Employees kept trying to persuade the queued customers to relocate, to shift a few feet to the right or left in order to shave ten or fifteen minutes off their wait.

All refused.

And when they turned their faces towards me, I could the tears in their eyes.

You see, this was not a usual day.

This was Mary’s last day.

I met Mary almost three years ago when I moved and first visited that store. It was just chance, that first meeting, her register was open and the line was short. Her smile that day was genuine. Her “How are you?” was more than just a memorized line uttered for the benefit of management. Her gaze alternated between the groceries she scanned and the customers she served.

That was chance. The rest was intentional. My grocery trips were timed around Mary’s hours. I looked forward to our weekly visits. Our friendship was built in ten minutes a week, milestones exchanged and stories told over produce weighed and coupons scanned. We learned to read each other, able to tell at a glance what kind of a day the other was having. She was one of the first to learn of my new marriage and one of the first to recognize when I was headed for work overload. I learned of her struggles and triumphs as we dialoged and celebrated.

Yet, in many ways, we remain strangers, limited by the constraints of the environment where we rendezvous.

 

But some of the most important people in my life have been relative strangers.

Some of the most touching kindness has come from people I barely know.

From the policeman that arrested my ex husband.

To the gas station clerk that frequently comped my morning coffee during that year of tear-stained cheeks.

People that touched my life more than they will ever know.

 

We have expectations of kindness when it comes to friends and family. When the expectation is met, we are satisfied but not surprised.

Yet with strangers, we lead with no expectations. So when they reach out with kindness, it is even more remarkable.

A hand extended out of compassion rather than obligation.

 

So thank the Marys in your life and strive to be the Mary for someone else.

Forget what your mother taught you. Life is better when we take candy from strangers.

 

Sacrifice

Posted on by stilllearning2b

There’s a simple reason most diets ultimately fail.

 

Mindset at the outset.

 

Most diets possess at their core a sense of giving up something that you want. Relinquishing that which you desire.

A sacrifice.

But we don’t view sacrifice as simply releasing something from our lives.

We see it as a trade. A bargaining tool. A giving up of one thing with the promise of gaining (or, in the case of dieting, losing) something else.

The rational mind realizes that the short-term denial of dessert will lead to the longer-term goal of a smaller waistline.

But the rational mind isn’t always at the reins.

And the more emotional brain steps up to the podium to present its case:

I went to the gym today. I deserve a cookie.

I ate well at breakfast and lunch; dinner out won’t kill me.

And those statements are literally true. A single cookie won’t derail a diet. Indulging at a single meal won’t make much difference. But it rarely stops there.

The problem comes from our deeper psychology. Because when we feel deprived, panicked that we may lose something, we quickly go from scarcity to splurge.

So, before any diet books are purchased or points tallied, the successful “dieter” begins with the mindset. Shifts the thinking from a perspective of paucity to one of abundance, focusing on what is to be gained rather than the feared losses. When approached from this angle, it’s amazing that what once were viewed as sacrifices, simply become matter-of-fact. The martyr mindset is replaced with an appreciative one.

This sacrificial mindset doesn’t only derail diets.

It also derails relationships.

When someone approaches a deepening relationship or marriage focusing on what is being given up, it creates a sense of loss and lays the groundwork for future binges.

Yes, relationships require change.

But healthy ones demand compromise.

Not sacrifice.

You’re not giving up.

You’re growing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Loving the ADHD Brain

Posted on by stilllearning2b

On one of our early dates, Brock and I loaded Tiger in the car and drove a few minutes away to a trail along the river. Almost immediately upon arrival, we realized that there was no leash in the car. While my brain was stuck on the idea that we had to drive back to his place to retrieve a leash, his brain, quickly and smoothly, had already solved the problem. Without a word and with no hesitation, Brock popped open the trunk, removed the strap from a briefcase-style work bag and promptly attached one of the hooks to Tiger’s collar.

I was impressed.

And I told him as such while we began our stroll. And his explanation made me laugh.

“I’m good at getting myself into predicaments, so I’ve had to learn to be good at getting out of them.”

At some point in childhood, Brock acquired the label of ADHD. As I’ve discussed before, I see labels as a type of shorthand. A sticky note version of reality, meant to give an overview and then to be discarded once the person is known in his or her entirety.

In the case of our relationship, the label was helpful in the beginning because it helped give me some framework for our differences and helped me develop an understanding of the bigger picture.

Before we started dating, I was no stranger to ADHD. As a teacher, I have several kids a year that meet the clinical diagnosis (and, yes, many more that don’t seem to yet are still labeled and often medicated). I have friends who qualify and so I’ve seen the strengths and struggles the diagnosis provided with work and family life.

But it’s different when it’s your partner. For one, it’s much harder not to take it personally. It also becomes something that you have to learn to work with rather than fight against, as that battle only feeds frustration.

From the beginning, I was impressed with how aware of his ADHD Brock was and of the strategies he implemented in his life to mitigate its impacts. Wrestling and martial arts allowed him to bleed the excess physical energy. Self-imposed structure helped to reduce forgetfulness or impulsivity. As with the leash incident, Brock became adept at problem solving in the moment, working around any minor catastrophes instead of letting them derail him.

He was an expert when we met. I was still a novice.

But I think we’ve done pretty well at navigating ADHD in the context of a relationship. We laugh more than we snarl and we’ve found solutions where they could be found and understanding where there is no easy answer.

As with any label, the people who live under the umbrella of ADHD are not all alike. They have their own personalities and experiences that greatly outshine the characteristics that tend to come with the label. Nonetheless, there are certain traits that are commonly associated with ADHD. And without understanding, these attributes can have a negative impact on a relationship.

As with anything, your perception is your reality. If you see the deficits in ADHD, your focus will be on the struggle. Each deficit or difficulty also has an asset. Strive to see the gifts and your focus will shift.

 

Difficulty: Distractibility

Asset: Multi-Level Processing

The ADHD brain is receiving and processing information at several levels simultaneously. Whereas my brain my looks like a four-lane freeway, his looks like a busy interchange. It took me some time to truly appreciate how much Brock is listening (and considering), even when his attention is divided. At first, I took it very personally when he would pick up his phone or interrupt with a random observation while I was talking. But those disruptions were not because of a lack of attention or interest on his part; he was simply vocalizing what happens in his brain much of the time. I’m often amazed at the conclusions or solutions he can arrive at while attaining to other tasks.

I’ve started to master his rhythms and learned when he is more likely to be operating at multiple levels and when he has an easier time focusing on one. I’ve become comfortable with being assertive about asking for focus and attention. And, I’ve discovered that our best conversations often occur while we are moving, the body’s actions helping to still the mind.

The flip side of ADHD’s distractibility is the capacity of the person to have hyper-focus. It’s amazing what can be accomplished during these periods. Just stay out of the way and let it happen:)

 

Difficulty: Forgetfulness

Asset: Problem Solving

 

This was the upside I first discovered on that walk with Tiger. I was so impressed because coming up with a novel solution in a pressured moment is something I struggle with. In fact, one of the reasons I like to plan so much is so that I don’t have to be put on the spot!

This difficulty definitely has its frustrating side. I frequently find myself engaged in hunts for remotes, keys, wallet, phone…you name it, he’s lost it. But it always turns up again and, while we’re looking, we may as well laugh about it. The long-standing joke in our house is that I find some perverse pleasure in hiding his belongings when he’s not looking.

But we have also witnessed the amazing responses of strangers, from the countless restaurants that have called regarding his wallet left behind to the man who found Brock’s keys and tracked him down through a PetSmart tag.

And its blessed me with an ease I now carry. I no longer feel as compelled to over plan and over stress. I trust that he’ll be able to find a solution even if we forget something. And that’s pretty cool:)

 

Difficulty: Neatness

Asset: Acceptance

 

This was the biggest stressor for me. My preference is for a neat and clutter-free environment. In my first marriage, everything in the house matched and the home was always picked up and everything had a place. It was easy; my ex and I had a similar threshold for messiness and we worked together to maintain that ideal.

With Brock, that state of neatness is simply not attainable. He makes an effort, but the ADHD brain is simply not as tuned in (or bothered by) clutter as mine is.

Cabinet doors remain open, clothes litter the bedroom floor and random items clutter the kitchen island. He’s not messy in a normal sense, he just leaves a trail behind him because his brain is working on other tasks. It used to drive me completely crazy. The clutter would make me tense, my anxiety increasing with every stain or sock.

But then I adapted. And I accepted. And, you know what? The house may not look perfect, but I’m relaxed. I learned tricks to hide the inevitable stains like buying removable covers for the throw pillows and replacing the white kitchen towels with black ones. I implemented a few systems to help with organization. I have my own bathroom and my own office, so I always have a couple spaces that don’t sprout clutter. I don’t worry anymore about creating perfection before a friend comes over, which leads to many more visits.

We made a joint decision before I moved in that we would hire someone to clean once a month. That investment is critical for us; it keeps a cluttered house from becoming an issue in the marriage. I love the feeling when I come home right after the house cleaner leaves. And now, I accept that it won’t last so I just appreciate it in the moment. And then just let it be 🙂

 

 

Difficulty: Impulsivity

Asset: Fun

 

I live my life largely by plans and procedures. Even my lists have lists. But the most fun I have comes in those unplanned moments. And Brock is great at those.

The first time he caught me off guard was very early on in our relationship. I was working on moving out of my friend’s house and into an apartment and I had just discovered hundreds of dollars of unpaid utility bills left by my ex. I was upset (understatement) as I was trying to come to terms with yet another financial assault. I pulled into Brock’s driveway, shaking and teary-eyed with anger. His response? He flipped over into a handstand and made a goofy face at me. I couldn’t help but laugh, the anger dissipating with my smile.

We actually balance each other really well in this area. He speaks planning well enough that we can sketch out vacations or schedule dates. And I’m flexible enough to change that plan. We make sure the important stuff gets done and we’re not afraid to have some unplanned fun along the way. Spontaneity keeps life interesting:)

 

Every relationship has its challenges. Every person brings areas of weakness and of strength into the partnership. It’s worth taking the time to learn how to work with those differences. And maybe even appreciate them. I know I do.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go hide his keys:)

 

I liked this description of what it’s like living with ADHD.

 

 

 

 

 

Meet Where You Are

Posted on by stilllearning2b

This post originally appeared on the site Eat live life, which is dedicated to empowering people with knowledge so that they can maximize their own wellness. Check out the site; there’s some great information for everyone!

 

Meet Where You Are

When I walked into my first yoga class after my divorce, I had no idea what I was about to encounter. I signed up simply looking for some relief for my tense muscles and maybe some balm for my anxious mind. I had hopes of the class providing structure for my unraveling life and maybe even a dash of eye candy thrown in as a bonus. What I found instead was wisdom that really had nothing to do with yoga.

Upon signing in, I warned the instructor that I was a runner and about as supple as a lead pipe. I didn’t mention the recent divorce, but the fact that my shoulders had taken up permanent residence by my ears hinted to some sort of life stress. The teacher laughed, and said, “You’ll need these then,” as she handed me two dense foam blocks. “In yoga, you meet the body where it is.”

I smiled politely back at her after uttering a “Thanks,” having no idea what she meant by her declaration; it sounded more like new age mumbo jumbo than anything that would actually help. After all, even those this was my first bona fide class, I had been down dogging from DVDs (or even VHS) for years and, as far as I knew, I had never “met” my body.

I was fine through the first few poses; none of them placed any demands on my perpetually shortened hamstrings. As I stood strong in warrior, I started to gain confidence in my body and my strength. That confidence quickly faded as we were instructed to straighten our front leg and fold over towards the floor. I was engaged in a battle of wills with my hamstring and I was determined to win.

I strained my body down as I forced the leg back. Beads of sweat flowed down my face mixed with tears born of frustration. I was accustomed to using my strength to see me through, to lowering my head and fighting through the pain.

Just as I re-intensified my efforts, I felt a gentle hand on my lower back. “In yoga, we meet the body where it is,” the instructor reminded, placing two blocks under my hands. Immediately, my brain stopped sending its panic signals. My hamstrings relaxed and opened as the gripping faded in both mind and body. I started to tease the boundary of discomfort, finding that there was a place where I could push without panic. As my breath flowed back into my body, I realized that I had been holding it.

Not just during the class.

But during the last few months.

I had been approaching my divorce much like I started that yoga class – head strong and patience weak. I hardened in the face of the pain, the situations that caused me to stretch beyond my current abilities. I gripped in both mind and breath and tensed for the next wave of suffering.

In life, we can meet ourselves where we are.
We can accept help.

We can make adjustments.

We can approach change as we’re able, slowly stretching into the discomfort.

We can limit suffering, not by pretending it doesn’t exist, but by letting the breath cushion its impact.

When I walked out of that yoga class that day, my hamstrings were more pliable. But even more importantly, my mind had softened.

 

What Are You Waiting For?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Have you ever had the flu?

I mean the full-on, full-body type that leaves you shivering and feverish, an aching human husk collapsed beneath the covers. The rising temperature somehow short circuiting your brain until all thoughts are amorphous jello and the mind doesn’t even recognize its own attached body. The kind of illness where all you can do is stay beneath the sweat-stained sheets and wait it out, praying that it will slip out peacefully before it kills its hostage.

In those moments of acute illness, we have no choice; we are a prisoner of the poisons coursing through our bodies. All we can do is wait for the battle to be won before we begin the process of rebuilding strength and vitality.

But not all illnesses are so severe as to be debilitating.

Have you ever had a cold?

The kind that starts with that tell-tale scratch down the back of the throat before it progresses into a log jam in your sinuses. An illness that leaves you feeling depleted and irritated, especially when the cough lingers and refuses to vacate your rattled lungs. The encroaching mucus dampening your thoughts, like a heavy blanket slowing you down.

In those moments of lingering illness, we have a choice. We can back off from life and retreat to the blanket on the sofa, waiting weeks for the symptoms to retreat. Or, we can address the features of the illness with medicines and modalities while we continue to live our lives, even if they are slightly reserved.

 

The first days and weeks of divorce certainly feel like the flu.

You may well be flattened. Dependent upon others for every care.

Disconnected from your life and from your self.

But divorce is not an acute illness.

It’s a lingering one.

If you wait until you are healed to begin living, you will be wasting many precious days while sitting under the covers.

 

So, what are you waiting for?

 

I know you hurt.

But pain does not preclude life.

I know you think about the past.

But the past only steals the present if you let it.

I know you feel the empty ache of loss.

But wallowing in the hole won’t help to fill it.

I know you’re not healed.

But you’re also not contagious and life itself acts as a soothing balm.

 

So, what are you waiting for?

Get out there and live your life.

Embrace the possibilities and celebrate the successes.

The healing will happen alongside.