Three Lies We All Tell Ourselves

Posted on by stilllearning2b

“I Would Never Do That”

“If you were in a survival situation, you would not only eat meat, you would crave it,” declared my husband in a conversation about choices made in life-or-death circumstances.

Intellectually, I knew he was right. The body’s drive for survival easily overrides any normal aversion I have towards animal flesh. Yet even though I know my instincts would temper my usual loathing for meat, I still struggle with the idea of willingly eating something that I view with disgust. But of course, I’m trying to imagine survival when both my stomach and pantry are full.

Just because we have trouble imagining something, does not mean that it cannot happen.

From a safe distance, it’s easy to judge. To think in terms of absolutes, always and nevers. It’s easier to declare something is impossible than to take the uncomfortable mental road of contemplating precursors that may lead to you doing the seemingly impossible.

So what’s the problem with these black-and-white declarations?

When we think in terms of absolutes, we both judge others and leave ourselves vulnerable to sliding into bad decisions.

Consider the common proclamation of, “I could never cheat on my spouse.” It’s an easy statement to make and an agreeable position to believe in.

Yet in taking that headstrong stance, you inevitably judge others that commit adultery. You view them as somehow weak or lacking in character. You take the moral high ground and shove them into a cesspool occupied by those who fail to live up to your standards. Instead of listening to and learning from the mistakes that led to their downfall, you judge their choices while insisting that you could not make the same miscalculations regardless of the circumstances.

I am by no means defending those who have chosen to be unfaithful. I find the behavior reprehensible and unbelievably damaging to everybody in its path. Yet I also see it as part of human fallibility. Not inevitable, but not entirely avoidable on a societal level.

But even though I can’t imagine ever committing adultery, I will not claim that I could never do it. From my current perspective, it is as unfathomable to me as choosing to eat meat. Yet, I cannot claim that a change in situation would not lead to a change in perspective.

If I believed that I could never stray, I would be more likely to slide into infidelity, unaware and unwilling to recognize warning signs and precursors.

So rather than say that, “I would never,” I find it more honest to say, “I never want to” and then make sure that my choices align with that intention.

“I Can’t Help the Way I Feel”

I shake my head every time I read about the every-increasing trigger warnings added to college syllabi and work presentations. On the one hand, I do think it is considerate to prepare somebody ahead of time for something that they may find difficult (I’m thinking of NPR’s habit of a brief warning for parents before broadcasting a story with language or content that may be inappropriate for children). On the other hand, the expectation of trigger warnings sends the message to the triggered that the responsibility for their well-being and mental comfort lies with others.

And that’s where I disagree.

We all have a right to our emotional reactions. We have a right to feel the way we feel and to respond to external stimulus as we choose. But we don’t have a right to demand that other people act in a certain way in order to regulate our emotions.

That’s an inside job.

If somebody does or says something that upsets you, you ultimately have two choices: learn to adjust your response or decide to avoid the person.

And that’s not easy.

It’s something I face on an ongoing basis with my fear of abandonment. There are so many innocuous things that my husband can do or say that can trigger this fear in me. My first instinct is always to shift that responsibility on him, to request that he refrain from the words or actions that make me respond in this way. I want to declare that my reactions are a direct response to his actions and that my fear is an inevitable response.

But that’s not true and that’s not fair.

Because I can help the way I feel.

Not easily and not all at once.

But the only way that I’ll learn to temper my fear of abandonment is by addressing it, not by asking others to protect me from it.

“I’m Right; You’re Wrong”

“Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.” Stephen Covey

Most of us enter into discussions and encounters with the assumption that we are right and we require substantial evidence and persuasion in order to change our minds. We lead with the belief that our perspective is the correct one, our moral code is the superior one and our understanding is the penultimate one.

It’s a limiting view as confirmation bias simply feeds the perspective that we carry rather than challenging us to see something new.

When you enter a conversation with the conviction that you are right, your energy is expended on defending your position. Rather than listen, you grow defensive. Rather than question, you attack alternative viewpoints. Rather than engage in conversation, you end up participating in a debate, complete with scoring.

I know I have a tendency to feel threatened when my views are criticized. My inclination is to respond defensively, enumerating the reasons that my thoughts are right. I can easily interpret an attack on my beliefs as an attack on me.

And maybe you are right. But that doesn’t necessarily mean the other person is wrong. Perhaps they have a different perspective born of different experiences. Maybe they are just at a different point of understanding and they need more time to gain clarity.

And maybe you are wrong. And by allowing the acceptance of that, you can begin to see another perspective.

Because after all, we are all human. Imperfect and messy.

No matter what we tell ourselves.

Past Perspectives

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My husband recently had someone from his past get in touch with him after 20 years. The results have been interesting. It’s made my husband reflect back upon a time in his life where he normally doesn’t trek along memory lane. I’ve enjoyed listening to the stories of the experiences that helped to turn the Brock of then into the Brock I know.

With my ex, I knew those formative experiences. Hell, I was there for many of them. With Brock, I only know what he tells me. And, as we all do, the stories are filtered through the lens of now. Current knowledge and position making sense of the past.

But sometimes those memories are called into question.

From his perspective, that was a time when he was still young and stupid. He possessed big goals and was starting to make the first steps into making them happen, but was still full of more questions than certainty. And many of the tales I’ve heard certainly back that up:)

But the person who contacted him saw him differently – a man who was confident. A leader. Someone who would be successful.

And it’s interesting to watch Brock assimilate that perspective into the one that he has of himself at that age.

It’s so true that we form narratives of ourselves. We craft our stories from within our own minds, perhaps more aware of the fears and the doubts rather than the actions that others witness. Often, others see the strength in us when we focus on our weakness.

What we perceive and what comes through to the outside world can vary greatly. It’s not unlike the shifting view of the world when closing one eye at a time. And the truest picture of ourselves comes when we see with both eyes, our own and those around us.

 

Beneath the Uniform

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Last Sunday found me curled up on the sofa next to Brock, my trusty laptop in my hands, watching the Braves lose to Detroit while I Googled, “Naked baseball players.”

Perhaps an explanation is needed here. I didn’t really want to see naked baseball players; I was looking for baseball players in their underwear.

Stay with me:)

I am relatively new to world of sports; I only started watching when Brock and I began dating three years ago. Since I have an interest in health and fitness, I was immediately drawn to learn about the training programs for the various sports and teams. I was already familiar with football training, thanks to my teenage subscription to Muscle and Fitness. I also knew the effect of that training on their bodies – not only did M&F prominently feature these men, but their nearly bare bodies can be seen in national ads.

But not so with baseball players. They are much more secretive.

My search began with curiosity about  their butts. At my first Braves game, I immediately noticed that the read ends of the players were quite prominent. I wondered if that was a result of selection bias or training. Not surprisingly, it is a bit of both. Scouts look for big butts and thighs because that is where the power comes from. Then, training focuses on developing that explosive force which leads to greater muscular development.

But I still wasn’t satisfied. I was curious about what lay beneath the uniforms, as many of these men appeared to be rather chunky, especially for pro athletes. I made an assumption based upon their thick lower bodies and blousy tucked-in shirts.

Eventually, my curiosity got the best of me and I turned to the all-knowing Google for answers. My first queries were tamer – “baseball player physiques”, “baseball players shirtless” and “baseball players in underwear”. No luck. Apparently, baseball players like to hide their bodies as much as football players like to display theirs.

I summoned my courage and typed, “Naked baseball players.”

Not a search I would necessarily recommend. But it was enlightening.

Not surprisingly, my assumptions were wrong. Some of the players are certainly carrying some extra weight but many others hide six-pack abs under their voluminous shirts. The uniforms may be identical yet the players they cover are unique and resist stereotypes.

It was a reminder about the uniforms that we all wear in our lives. The outward presentation that does not always match the inside.

It takes courage to remove your uniform and reveal the vulnerable self beneath. To show the world who you are without the socially-approved costume disguising your form.

People make assumptions based upon what we show them. Those labels can persist, even though they may not be accurate or inclusive. We can feel comfortable behind the uniform, fearing that to remove it would be to stand out too much from the crowd, perhaps painting us as the weak gazelle at the back of the pack.

The trick to being comfortable revealing what hides behind your outward attire is to accept our naked, authentic selves. To understand that that the seemingly perfect facades worn by others are hiding their own vulnerable  selves.

I learned a parallel lesson as a child who frequented campgrounds with their not-so-private showers and hippie-friendly festivals. I grew up observing all types of bodies – young and old, fat and thin, smooth and wrinkled with age. Those experiences did more for me developing a healthy self-image and attitude about my body than any after school special could ever have achieved. I saw the “perfect” bodies marred by scars that were only visible out of clothes. I grew to appreciate the tales of children born upon the abdomens of the women and the sagging skin over once-filled biceps on the men. Under the clothes, people were at once more unique and more similar than they could ever be when shielded by their attire.

Our internal selves are no different. We shield them from public view.  The men I met while dating who appeared to be the toughest were wearing their tattoos, leather and muscles to hide their insecurities. The women I know who are super polished and put together are often afraid of losing control. I, myself, can hide behind my analytical attire, hiding my more emotional self with the fear that it will not be accepted.

I’m trying to use my lessons from childhood to shed this uniform, this comfortable shield.

It’s scary at first, revealing who you are, but the freedom that comes from shedding the uniform is unbelievable. We are more alike underneath than we often realize and yet we each have our own unique beauty. Don’t hide yourself – you have much to offer as you are.

But I still caution you against Googling “Naked baseball players.”

Fear of Commitment?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Fear & Anticipation

Are you afraid of commitment? Have you been in a relationship with someone who experiences trepidation at the thought of pledging devotion? We tend to think of people who shy away from commitment as being immature or unwilling to make sacrifices. Maybe you use it as an excuse yourself to keep others at arm’s length. Perhaps you generate the term dismissively as a reason to end a budding relationship, stating it as an embedded character flaw.

But what if we are thinking about the fear of commitment all wrong?

What if the true fear is not one of committing and promising to keep, but one of losing? The fear of commitment hides other fears behind its legs. Do you recognize any of these?

Fear of Losing Self

When we commit – to another person, to a career, to children, or even to a lease, we are bonding ourselves to something for a length of time. We can become afraid that we will begin to melt into our commitments, our edges becoming soft and the delineation unclear. Perhaps you fear being swallowed whole by that which you pledged. We all know people who become their jobs or who seem to lose sight of themselves in a marriage. It’s a scary thought to lose yourself. However, it is not inevitable. Be clear who you are. Know your nonnegotiables and your truths and hold to them.

Fear of Losing Freedom

There can be an inverse relationship between commitments and freedom. The more obligations you have to others, the less you can act without regard. Freedom is certainly precious, but it can also be misunderstood. Sometimes we think we want to live in a boundary-less world, but in reality, we tend to want flexible and known limitations. Complete freedom comes with a sense of disconnection and loneliness. We are not that different than the teenager who tests the boundaries, looking for the “no” that tells them they are loved and cared about.

Fear of Failing

When we promise something, we are putting pressure on ourselves to step up and make it work. There is always that doubting voice in the back of our minds that says, “What if I screw up?” There is always a risk of failing. In fact, in many ways, failing is inevitable. It is one of our greatest (and, yes, harshest) teachers but only if we allow it to be. If you try, you might fail. If you don’t try, you certainly will.

Fear of Losing Love

The other losses can apply to any kind of commitment; this one applies to relationships. When we allow ourselves to realize what we have, and to promise to remain faithful to it, we then become aware of the magnitude of its potential loss. The only way to be sure that you will never lose love, is to never allow yourself to taste it. It may be effective, but it is a hell of a tradeoff. This one hit me recently.

So next time you find yourself or another afraid of commitment, look at what may be hiding behind. What are you afraid of losing?