Confessions of a Protagonist

I am going through a rough patch. There. I said it.

My word of the year is “temperance” but I am finding “control” to be much more applicable. 2017 was a year of stretching me. I quit my public accounting career, choosing not to become partner but instead choosing my own personal “road less traveled”. I went to work for a small nonprofit at the convincing of a friend of mine, who happened to be the CEO. I started traveling to upstate New York around 30-50% of each month. I learned new things – things I had never worked on before. Budgeting, modeling, forecasting, bookkeeping, efficiencies, policy setting, deferred revenue accounting, human resources, payroll, technology implementation, workflows. I learned about whistleblower policies and how detrimental poor leadership can be for the culture of an organization, how limiting selfish leadership can be for the growth of an organization. I learned that people can mask themselves under any façade, but ultimately it is typically a short-lived manipulation of the audience. I learned that I am indeed capable of love. I learned that my family means more to me than I had ever expressed. I learned that I have a lot of walls up, and while I am communicative, I tend to lack grace in those moments. I learned that it is true – if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. I have also learned that there is a time limit to accepting grace, comfort and interest from those around you when a hard period lasts too long. And then I have learned that friendship, for me, is defined more intimately by those who are willing to pick me up when I fall.

Have you experienced a year of this much transition? This much growth? Did you remain hopeful, optimistic, and even charming? Or did you find yourself swirling around the drain of defeat, knowing you likely wouldn’t be sucked in but wondering all the same what it would feel like to have the current take you away?

I wholeheartedly believe that a “breakdown” means that a rebuild is coming. I know the horizon is beautiful and that the sun is coming up. I can practically feel the morning dew now 😊

All allegory aside, this is still (yes, still) a post on control. In nearly all those lessons learned above, I had very little control. 2017 was a choose-your-own-adventure book! It had the elements of a great story – a classically beautiful heroine, a surprising antagonist turns villain, a love interest, and a dog. And what do we learn from good books? The plot generally thickens through the main character’s choices as reactions to external factors. Why? Because those outside factors are WAY MORE FUN. If this was just about the protagonist, it would be called a “diary”.

I have tried for the past month to make myself ok and “just enjoy” this time. On good days, I can manipulate my thoughts into creating a positive environment which is slightly manic, to be honest. It feels fake, like I just put on my mom’s lipstick instead of my own. Might fool people on the outside, but I know inside it is a shade I would never wear. And that makes me uncomfortable. My attempt to control my feelings is not mastery over my thoughts, it is short term manipulation. Right now, I am accepting this position. This is not WHO I am; this is WHAT I am going through.

For anyone reading this, if you are going through a particularly rainy season in life and find your umbrella bending in the wind, here are my suggestions:

  1. Do not force yourself to bury your feelings. Acknowledge that something is difficult, upsetting, unfair, bullshit, and just plain fucked up. That is your own internal high five. Outside validation is unnecessary because those are someone else’s feelings. By giving someone else priority, you are devaluing your own perception.
  2. Do not bury yourself in your feelings. Acknowledgement is one thing. Stewing is another. If you find yourself ruminating, you have a couple options. See #3.
  3. Deal or distract. You can journal – because maybe you just need a listening ear and no one is doing the job as well as you need. Or maybe you need to journal because you need to sort through the swirling thoughts. If that doesn’t work, identify a friend that will listen to you. Not a friend who will placate you or make you feel guilty because “you should be <fill in the blank>.” And finally, find something that is truly fun to you – yoga, running, cooking, spontaneous road trips, hiking, painting. Meditation is where it’s at, but these activities induce a type of meditative mental state. Lose yourself in joy that is unattached to your circumstances.
  4. Accept that this is a season and find some hope in that. There is nothing less hopeful than running 13 miles and hitting mile 5. You are in the middle of some shit, my friend. There is no turning back or undoing. There is only forward progress, one foot in front of the other. So take one day at a time. No need to move faster than that (unless, of course, if you want to!).
  5. Focus on your hopes and dreams and not your fears. Ever watch Patch Adams? It is one of my favorite Robin Williams movies (I miss him, don’t you?). Remember that scene in the beginning of the movie where he is in the mental health ward, talking with another patient about how many fingers he is holding up? “If you focus on the problem, you can’t see the solution… Look beyond the fingers.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBDgLL2de_c

My final suggestion – message me. I am happy to be a ray of sunshine. Together we can make a rainbow.

Temperance

You know what sucks about the start of a New Year? Agonizing over the weight that I gained from October to January. Every single year I fall off the workout bandwagon at the same time, go into hibernation mode, only to realize that I am a HUMAN, not a BEAR and hibernation has been cancelled. So then, I start working out again which seems painful and inconvenient. Until I realize how much I love it. Where has this been for the past 3 months??

The bright side of the New Year: it’s a freaking NEW YEAR. Oh the beauty of “reset”! It’s like a blank canvas. I have the time to reset my intentions, refocus, re-energize. My wonderful friend, Scott, taught me to pick a word at the start of anything new. This word is a focal point; it is the middle bubble on a bubble diagram. This word will build out the rest of the year. So bear with me because my word for 2018 is TEMPERANCE.

Let me tell you a secret – I am not good at balance. More figuratively than literally although if you asked any one of my three older brothers they would engage you in one of their favorite stories of me running down a narrow, one-brick-wide, landscaping wall but couldn’t take two steps on flat ground without tripping or falling down. I am fairly capable of walking on my own two feet now.

One of my favorite yoga instructors (shout out to The Grinning Yogi – check them out here) put the following thought in my head: “Balance effort with ease”. This was during the summer of 2017, and I have not stopped thinking about this phrase.

What does this trigger for you? Does it shine light on those areas of your life that you keep painfully pushing against? Does it open your mind to value your talents and the ease with which you do certain things? Does it bring up warmth when you think of time with family and friends and the ease of being in the presence of people you love?

For the next 12 months, I plan to intentionally focus my energies where they belong. When things come with ease, I am asking my brain and heart to meet each other in a happy, joyful spot with no ambition or task-making. When things are a challenge, I would like to rise to the challenge and use that opportunity to grow and teach myself or learn from those around me or the circumstances presented to me.

The obstacle I face with this is that this phrase – balance effort with ease – asks me to disassociate myself from people, situations, things, etc. It asks me to give up control. Gasp.

Lydia Davis, an American writer known for her brevity (I am attempting to learn from her but found that this is an area that does not come with ease for me) via short stories, wrote this brilliant grouping of short stories called “Can’t and Won’t”. This piece, in particular, gets me every single time I read it:

My Footsteps

I see myself from the back, walking. There are circles of both light and shadow around each of my footsteps. I know that with each step I can now go further and faster than ever before, so of course I want to spring forward and run, But I am told that I must pause at each step, letting my foot rest on the ground for a moment, if I want it to develop its full power and reach, before taking the next.

(Also, for the record, another one of her stories, “I’m Pretty Comfortable, But I Could Be a Little More Comfortable” is FANTASTIC. Please read it when you find yourself disgruntled and discouraged by your life. Link to her book and the fabulous bookstore in NYC, Strand, where I purchased it here.)

Perhaps this balancing thing is more than relinquishing control. Perhaps it has something also to do with savoring each step.