What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Ask Havi #21: No idea why I do this.
Note: it is almost impossible to get on the Ask Havi list. This person got in by a. being one of my clients or students, b. flattering the hell out of my duck, and c. making life easy on me by being clear about what the question was and what details I could use.
Here’s the question:
Okay, so I’m procrastinating on this thing and I have no idea at all why on earth I would be procrastinating on it, except that I am.
I loved your post on why it’s normal to avoid stuff that’s really meaningful and that was helpful, but this seems different. I mean, I get that this project is meaningful for me and I’m still not doing anything with it.
What do I do? Do I need to find out why I’m not working on this? Help!
Seriously. Not knowing can be really, really frustrating.
Wow. So you’re feeling pretty frustrated because you just want to get moving on this and you’re not sure what you need to know or not know in order to make something shift. That’s no fun.
And yeah, the hardest part of not doing the thing is so often that point where you just cannot figure out why you would be avoiding it to begin with. So let’s talk about this.
There is always a good reason for why you’re not doing the thing.
Always. But it’s totally okay if you don’t know what it is.
Best way to start destuckifying is to just remind yourself:
“Even though I’m not working on this thing — and am feeling guilty and upset about it — I am allowed to feel what I’m feeling. I am sure there is a perfectly good reason for why I’m getting stuck on this.”
You don’t necessarily always need to find out what that reason is.
So you don’t know the reason. Or: you don’t know the reason yet.
Either way, not the end of the world. You can still make your way out of the stuckified cycle even if you never end up figuring out the cause.
So you can keep talking:
“Even though I don’t know why I’m not doing the thing, I’m willing to keep learning about my stucknesses.
And even though I may never discover the real reason behind this, at least I’m working on it. At least I’m spending time trying to find out what I need instead of just treating myself like some whip-wielding slave-driver jerk .”
If you do want to find out, the worst way to do it is by asking WHY.
Not that this is your situation, of course. But it’s very tempting to make “why” the first question we ask.
If we make it about “But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy is it like this?” and “How cooooooommmmmmme it isn’t the way I want it to be?”, everything gets more stuck.
Because then we head straight into resistance mode and that’s never fun.
You want to keep reassuring yourself that yes, there is a good reason even if you don’t know what it is yet, and then you can start exploring by asking smart questions.
Smart questions that work better than “why” and “why-why-why-why-WHY?” and “how come”:
- What happens (or what might happen) when I start working on this thing? When I am close to finishing this thing? When I am done with this thing?
- If we assume for a minute that it’s natural and normal for me to be avoiding this thing, what might be some of the reasons for that? If someone else were arguing my case, what would he say?
- Is there anyone in my life who will not be pleased while I am doing the thing or when I am done with the thing? Who loses from this thing?
- When I imagine having this thing or being done with this thing or having this thing behind me, what are my regrets? Or: does this situation/experience remind me of anything?
Three examples
Hidden reason right after the finish line.
One of my clients couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t working on the project she needed to finish in order to graduate.
She wanted to graduate. In fact, she needed to in order to stay in the country. And in the meantime her avoidance patterns were driving her crazy.
Guess what we found out? Something really, really horrible was going to occur the same week that she was scheduled to graduate — something that she’s really dreading.
And this horrible bit is directly in opposition to all the reasons she wants to finish her studies. Of course she’s avoiding it.
To the point that she completely blanked out the thing she was dreading, and made her avoidance about the graduation instead.
Hidden reason in the past.
Another client wanted to get back to working on the book she’s been busily avoiding for the past few years.
Turned out that something seriously awful and unpleasant happened while she was writing her first book. There was a part of her that had become convinced that both the writing and the finishing had to be tied up with pain and loss and regret.
Makes sense.
Hidden reason in the thing itself.
One of my students has a huge photography project that she’s not working on.
Because a couple of the photos are tied to a relationship or a past experience that’s uncomfortable and hurt-ey.
Of course she was avoiding it.
There’s a weird magical thing that happens when you let the reason have legitimacy.
Whatever the reason is. Even if you don’t know what it is.
Letting that reason have the right to exist is hugely important.
Because in all of three cases that I mentioned, something incredible happened.
As far as I had been concerned, finding out more about what was going on had just been preamble. I was all ready with my super-genius techniques to start doing some pattern-shifting and stuck-zapping. You know, the real work.
But you know what? Once we figured out the source, they didn’t need my help anymore. The avoidance started to clear as soon as the stuck became visible and obvious.
Once they knew what the stuck was, it didn’t work anymore. It couldn’t scare them or keep them frozen in place.
Soft of like your neighbor’s child doing his stealth ninja thing. The first time he jumps out of the tree at you is completely traumatic. Once you know it’s a 5-year-old in a mask, it kind of takes the edge off.
Maybe you’ll find out what the reason is. Maybe you won’t.
Either way, if you’re spending time working on this whole “having a conscious relationship with yourself” thing, good stuff will happen.
Every time you give yourself permission to not do the thing, something shifts. Every time you practice active not-doing for its own sake, more stuck gets dissolved.
Before you know it, you’re learning Useful Things about yourself and how you interact with the world around you. And you find yourself feeling a bit more patient.
And all of a sudden, you don’t really care why you’re not doing the thing. You’re just ready to do it.
Or you aren’t. But at least you’re not feeling guilty about not being ready, which is the fastest way to getting ready. So either way, you win.
Hope that helps!
Good luck with this.
As always, Selma and I are wishing you (and everyone else who reads this) support and comfort and lots of everything you need … all the time, but especially when you need it most. Keep us posted.
Item! I am feeling exclaim-ey!
A somewhat goofy mini-collection of stuff I’ve been reading, stuff I’ve been thinking about and oh, some completely random crap.
Basically the stuff that never gets mentioned here because I’m not the kind of person who can just make some teeny little point. Not into the whole brevity thing, as the Dude would say.
Actually, I’m under the strict compulsion to write ten pages about anything on my mind. So this is me. Practicing brevity.
Oh boy.
Even more stuff to read.
I include links to Twitter handles too, when I can. If you’re not a fellow Twitterite, here’s my post about why it’s so great.
Item! Post No. 17 in a semi-ongoing series that lets me blurt things out excitedly and tell you what I’m reading and thinking about.
Item! My NPR name is Hanvi Aachen!
Loved this post from Liana Maeby.
“Eric and I recently discovered a shared fascination with the slew of impossibly named NPR hosts we listen to every day: Renee Montagne, Steve Inskeep, Corey Flintoff, Korva Coleman, Kai Ryssdal, Dina Temple-Raston.
“In fact, we’ve often wondered what it would be like to be one of them. A Nina Totenberg or a Renita Jablonski. A David Kestenbaum or a Lakshmi Singh. Even (on our most ambitious days) a Cherry Glaser or a Sylvia Poggioli.”
Oh yes. My gentleman friend and I have had this conversation many a time.
Actually, we end up talking about how poor Nina can never go to a German-speaking country because “mountain of corpses” is pretty much the worst surname ever.
Anyway … here’s Liana’s excellent tip:
To make your own NPR name, you stick your middle initial somewhere into your first name. Your new last name is the smallest foreign town you’ve ever been to.
Reporting from Portland, Oregon: I’m Hanvi Aachen.
Liana is @lianamaeby on Twitter. Hat-tip to @sally_j for sending me there!
Item! Art Picnic!
The wonderful Leah Piken Kolidas is doing an Art Picnic class this Saturday,
It takes place by phone and it’s all about giving your creativity some love, being playful, working through some blocks.
You don’t need to be a working artist (though you can) and you don’t need special supplies.
You just need to be up for spending some time with your creative side and finding out what happens (which somehow always turns out to be astonishingly therapeutic)
It’s $25, which is ridiculously reasonable, and she’s also giving away an mp3 recording of a grounding exercise to use before any creative activities to tune into your intuition. I love Leah so much.
She’s @leah_art on Twitter.
Item! Taking on grammar! Take that, pretentious asshats!
Loved this piece on Fifty Years of Stupid Grammar Advice.
“English syntax is a deep and interesting subject.
It is much too important to be reduced to a bunch of trivial don’t-do-this prescriptions by a pair of idiosyncratic bumblers who can’t even tell when they’ve broken their own misbegotten rules.”
Thanks to @tumblemoose (George!) for getting me to read this.
Item! Design and print your own fabric!
This is such a completely fantastic idea that I almost can’t stand it.
It’s not so much the words “print custom fabric on demand” (though yes, fabulous) as the possibility.
Go drool over the lovely pictures and then do what I did yesterday: spend a few minutes daydreaming over all the fabulousness that is now possible.
In other, uh, unrelated news, I’m totally making Destuckification Station curtains for my office. Ooh, and maybe a Shivanaut poodle skirt.
Thanks to @pdxlilly for the nudge. Now my gentleman friend will blame her for the curtains, but it will be worth it.
Item! Talking truth.
Kyeli wrote an amazing post this week called It was me all along.
It’s pretty heavy, and deals with some hard, hard stuff (abuse, rape, awfulness). It’s also surprisingly uplifting, and makes some very important points about what it means to take care of yourself with awareness and intention.
Very useful. Very strong.
Love to sweet Kyeli. Thanks for being an inspiration and an all-around good person.
EDIT: Gah! I love her stuff so much that I accidentally sent you to a *different* great post. The one I wanted to link to was It was me all along. And the one I referenced here was expanding your edges as growth. Sorry. Read both!
She’s @kyeli on Twitter and is one of my favorites.
Item! 25 more people to like!
My friend (and now almost-neighbor … since I strong-armed him into moving to Portland) Chris Guillebeau put me in his list of 26 people he highly respects.
What an honor. Chris is such a genuinely lovely person.
We first connected over the whole “whoah, someone else running an online business who is totally not a sleazebag but is also willing to be a. themselves and b. successful” thing. But now we just hang out because it’s fun.
Ooh, and my favorite part of this post is when he refers to my gigantic family in a way that makes it sound as though I have a brood of nine children or something.
When in fact it’s just my semi-alternative living situation. You know. Me, my gentleman friend, my younger brother, my duck (who is also my business partner) and her pet chicken.
Also: if you have not read the 279 Days to Overnight Success Manifesto that Chris wrote, something is seriously wrong. It’s free. It’s terrific. There is some very useful advice in there that everyone should have.
He’s @chrisguillebeau on Twitter.
Item! Generate a meaningless corporate mission statement!
I spent way too much time this week playing around on this site.
Because generating a meaningless corporate mission statement is just too much fun.
My latest is:
We sincerely believe in following the highest quality stakeholder value by questionable methods and functionality overcoming all obstacles.
Awesome.
I cannot remember (argh! sorry!) who sent me to the mission statement generator. Please remind me if it’s you!
Item! Speaking of sounding like a robot …
If you don’t actually want to sound like a robot, my genius copywriter friend Kelly specializes in non-sounding-like-a-robot fighting off robot invasions.
Go drool over her Website Jetpack offer and admire the gorgeous illustration from Sparky Firepants, whom I wrote about last week.
Kelly is @copylicious and Mr. Pants (aka David Billings) is @sparkyfirepants.
That is all.
Happy reading.
And happy Blustery Windsday. See you tomorrow.
Why people don’t give you testimonials.
One of the things my clients want help with the most is getting really great testimonials for the cool stuff they do. Or, really, at this point, getting any testimonials.
And they’re absolutely right to want help with it because yes, this is one of those “make or break it” things in business.
A couple of good, well-placed testimonials will totally [oh, I don’t know, insert exciting verb!] up the number of people who enthusiastically throw money at you, hire you, buy your stuff, tell other people about you, etc.
The two reasons you’re not getting testimonials.
1. Reason number one: you feel weird about asking.
Just to be clear: I’m so not criticizing you for not asking, if that’s what’s going on for you.
Of course you’re not asking. It’s completely legitimate to feel uncomfortable, weird and possibly extremely icky about asking people for testimonials.
It’s hard to get around that creepy feeling that you’re just begging people to say something nice about you. And that’s kind of awkward, yes.
So I’m definitely not going to tell you “just get over yourself” or “just start asking people already”, because that would just be stupid.
And guess what? The fact that you’re not asking is actually a good thing, because when you do ask, you often bump straight into Reason number two.
Reason number two: you asked and now you’re screwed.
People hate being asked for testimonials. Most people.*
*There’s pretty much only one exception to that rule and that’s the person who writes to someone like me saying “I wrote a testimonial for your thing that I don’t even own and you should put it on your website and then link to me!” This does happen. But not too often.
Here’s a little clip of what’s happening inside the average person’s head when you ask them for a testimonial:
Panic (stage one):
“Oh no. Crap. What do I say? I never know what to say. I mean, yeah, I love his stuff but what do I saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay?”
Avoidance (stage 2):
“Okay. Breathe. Breathe. I’ll deal with this later. I’ll think it over and maybe — eventually — I’ll come up with something that won’t make me sound like a total freaking idiot.”
Resentment and projection (stage 3):
“No, you know what? No matter what I come up with, I’ll sound stupid and it will take me forever and I don’t have time for this right now. Argh. Why won’t people leave me alone?”
Embarrassment and annoyance (stage 4):
“Is this still in my inbox? I can’t believe I haven’t done this yet. I hate this. I hate it. And now he probably thinks I’m the world’s biggest ass. And every time I go into my inbox I feel like dirt. I suck. And he’s the reason I’m feeling like this. It’s not fair.”
Awesome. Now they despise themselves and the situation they’re in AND they (unconsciously, yes?) resent you too. Even though they love you and your work.
True story. This is incredible.
A friend of mine owns a yoga studio. Beautiful place.
She bought some all-natural good-for-the-world candles to light during class. And she loved them. They were local and hand-made and they smelled good and the whole thing was in perfect alignment with her green studio philosophy.
She was planning on ordering another enormous batch of them. And then the guy who makes the candles asked her for a testimonial.
My friend is not in any way inarticulate. She’s a really good writer. An amazing teacher.
But she just kind of froze. She could not for the life of her come up with a single thing to say about the candles. Everything that came to mind seemed insipid and bland.
So she didn’t write back. And some time went by. So much time that she felt awkward even answering it at all. Okay, over a year. And it’s sitting in her inbox this whole time.
Meanwhile, she’s out of candles for the studio. Out of the candles that she loves — plus she’s too embarrassed to order more, because she’s afraid he’s going to ask her about the testimonial.
Meanwhile, he’s probably thinking that she didn’t even really like them in the first place. Disaster.
Here’s what happens when you ask for testimonials.
Admittedly, the story with my friend is a slightly extreme case. But not as extreme as you’d might think.
Typically, when you just ask for a testimonial there are two possible results.
- Result #1: You don’t get one and the person you asked feels awkward and uncomfortable and now you’ve also lost future business and referrals. Great.
- Result #2: You get a testimonial, but it sucks because they (understandably) put on their “I’m an authority” hat to write it so it’s blandified.**
**And it sounds like it was written by a robot: “As a trained coach of blabbity-blah, I find that So-And-So’s services are inspiring, insightful and individual. They will lead you to success. Call her today!”
Why I’ve stopped helping clients with this.
So yeah, I’ve taught a lot of people how to get really, really good testimonials without feeling gross about it or having the person they’ve asked start to resent them.
And I have a LOT to say about this topic, not to mention some seriously genius techniques. Much more than I could fit into a few blog posts.
At this point, though, you can’t hire me to help you with this, because I’ve stopped letting people hire me for anything that doesn’t use my superpower.
My superpower is zapping stucknesses. I’m really good at it. Really really good. Ridiculously good. So good that using me for other stuff is a waste of my time. And, of course, your time too.
So instead, apparently I’m going to have to teach a course on it. (And if this isn’t your thing, stop right here and come back tomorrow for regular Fluent Self-ified curriculum).
A course on how to get really really great testimonials and referrals.
Okay. You twisted my arm. And it’s called… uh …
Stuff Havi thinks you should know about how to get really really great testimonials and referrals.
Yeah, I didn’t have time to come up with a title so Selma wrote it.
Anyway, here’s some of what my clients now know that I’ll be covering in the course:
- EXACTLY what to say to people so that when you ask you don’t have to feel gross about it and they won’t resent you for asking.
- Why I never give testimonials, but the one thing you could do to get a really good one from me anyway.
- How to get referrals even when you can’t talk about what you do.
- How to get referrals in a seamless, natural way where other people won’t feel weird about giving them.
- How to ask for testimonials and/or referrals without making it seem like you’re asking.
- Every step you need to cover in order to get the kind of testimonials that make people want to drop everything they’re doing and happily throw money at you.
- How to approach famous people. I was astonished by how much my own sales went up once I got testimonials from people like Pam Slim and Naomi Dunford. I’ll tell you what to do.
All the details. The bonus. The price. The discount. Yes. That.
The details:
Two 90 minute teleclasses. And one 90 minute Q&A session where I’ll answer whatever you throw at me.
The bonus: Course tuition includes the digital version of the homestudy.
Which means that whether or not you come to any of the actual classes you’ll be able to listen to the recordings and read the notes.
You can also send your questions by email and I’ll answer them during the Q&A call.
The price (without the discount for blog readers)
The price of the class is $154.*
*Just, you know, a little perspective: my hourly rate is $485. You’re getting 4.5 hours for a fraction of one hour.
This is low.**
** So low you should write me letters complaining about it but then your chances of me letting you in the course are also low.
And the discount for blog readers. That might be you?
BUT I’m doing a way lower (like, a hundred dollars lower) price for those of you who hang out here and read my stuff all the time. because I like you.
The CATCH. Here it is.
» If you want the lower price, you have to be able to:
A. correctly answer the question “who is Selma?” or “who is Stu?” and
B. put that answer into the comments box in the shopping cart. The comments box is the box where it asks if you want to make a comment. I know, right?
Price for Havi fans |
Regular price |
 |
 |
*** REGISTRATION IS NOW CLOSED. ***
This course will be available later in homestudy form – you can look for it in the Fluent Self store.
First class is Sunday, May 3rd at 1:00 p.m. Pacific (again, you don’t have to be at the actual class — you get the recordings and notes!). Registration will END before the course begins. Probably significantly before. If you’re thinking it over, sign up.
Good.
Now I don’t have to feel bad about refusing to help my clients with this anymore. 🙂
p.s. Don’t buy this if you are a current member of my Kitchen Table program!
p.p.s. First person to point out that there are no testimonials for this course gets mocked mercilessly. Oh, how I amuse myself.
My “Things to be insanely grateful for much, much later” list
Yesterday I talked about how annoying deliciously ironic it is that the thing that sucks most can so often end up morphing into the best thing that ever happened (even though at the time it was awful and we still wouldn’t do it again).
And I said I had a list of “Things I’m Going To Be Insanely Grateful For Later On” for my agonizing months of not being able to use my arms.
Here it is. Eight of them.
Some of these have to do with my business. Some are — very — personal. Some are long. Some are short. And each one makes me shake my head in a mix of aggravation and bewilderment, awe and wonder.
Thing 1: I’m over my fear of having a staff.
Over the past year or so, I’ve watched biggified friends (like Mark Silver) and other colleagues start hiring part-time or full-time assistants to work with them in their actual office.
Gah. Terrifying.
Okay, I have an excellent virtual assistant who works in Texas. And I have the lovely Marissa, my personal assistant and shining star, who is in Indiana. And I have a guy in Germany who sets up my workshops in Europe. And a part-time programs coordinator.
But it’s all extremely …. you know, online.
The thought of having someone in my home has always seemed like a total nightmare. For one thing, my desk is a chaise lounge and I have a trampoline in the middle of my office.
For another, one of the perks of working from home is the pajamas.
In the meantime, I’ve been getting time-management help and um, “productivity” coaching from the amazing Cairene McDonald. Who, by the way, will kill me for just having used the word “productivity” because she despises that word. With a passion.
In fact, her hatred of that word is so awesome that it’s one of the biggest reasons that I hired her. She gets me. She really, really gets me. But I’m using the “p”-word just so you’ll know what I’m talking about.
Anyway, Cairene had been hinting that this would probably be the next step in my business and I had been pushing back.
Not anymore, though. Now that I can’t type, scroll or click things, I need someone to do my work for me while I’m sitting next to them telling them what to do.
And it’s life-changingly great. Never going back.
Thing 2: A new non-yucky relationship with massage (and with bodywork in general)
I’ve never liked massage. Had some really uncomfortable experiences with it, and I don’t mean the kind of uncomfortable where they work your muscles harder than you’d like.
And, like many people with some kind of abuse history, I don’t exactly enjoy being alone, passive, and unclothed with someone who has even the tiniest hint of authority. I dread checkups. I have issues with doctors. I cry a lot.
So massage therapy has always been one of the healing arts that I appreciate theoretically, but in reality don’t actually want to have anything to do with.
But massage (for me a combination of myofascial release and reiki and wacky-stuff-with-stones as well as some old-fashioned pummeling) has been hugely helpful for my arms.
And I’ve gone from thinking of it as something I “have to” do … to something that I genuinely look forward to. I’m planning on continuing with my weekly 90 minute massage ritual long after my arms have healed.
Thing 3: My business is all grown up. And now I recognize that.
I hadn’t realized to what extent I’d been treating my business as if it were still a little kid … until I wasn’t physically able to run things anymore.
The truth is that since January, I’ve barely been able to work and everything I do is at a hugely reduced pace.
Some days it’s all I can do just to get a blog post “written” (with Stu, my voice to text software), edited (by my gentleman friend), and formatted and posted (one of my assistants).
But you know what? My business is doing fine. Every day people go into my wonderful online store of treasures and they buy things. And this is keeping my business afloat.
To the point that I can still afford to turn down private clients when I want to, and there are still more people who want to work with me and my duck than we are willing/able to work with.
I don’t want to say that it hasn’t been scary, because it totally has. I haven’t wanted to learn to trust it, and what trust I have learned… let’s just say I got there kicking and screaming the whole way.
It’s almost as if my business has been saying, “You can rest, sweetie. I can carry you. It’s okay.” And I’ve been ignoring it. Or not taking it seriously.
No, my baby is all grown up now. So no more curfew and no more nagging. I’m impressed.
Thing 4: My meditation practice.
I’ve had a daily morning meditation practice for a long time. But the experience of chronic pain has taken it in a new direction.
Sometimes sitting and breathing and practicing the art of not doing is just too hard. And when that’s the case, I use the meditation time as a way to go inside my body and talk to myself. And I’ve documented many of these conversations for you.
And this has been an incredible experience for me.
Thing 5: I’ve had to get over my dislike of asking for help.
Of course asking for help is something I’m constantly advising other people to do.
I just don’t like doing it myself. And now I’ve had to. A lot.
You find out who your friends are when you can’t operate a pair of tweezers. 🙂
Seriously. I’ve had to lean on my friends. To test how much my gentleman friend can put up with me (answer: a lot). To ask my brother to give me an hour or so of help every day. It’s been intense.
Thing 6: I now work half days. Which is what I’d so dearly wanted.
When I first read “The 4 Hour Workweek” (some of you will recall that I’m not exactly the world’s biggest fan), it was clear to me that I wasn’t willing to put in the kind of 18 hour days you need to do in order to get to the point where you can do a four hour week.
But when Milana Leshinsky (I’m not her Right People either, but it doesn’t matter because this is brilliant) started talking about a 20 hour workweek … I was in.
Because twenty hours a week was something I could actually imagine happening. And it was something I was actively working towards.
Well. Now I’m there. Not by choice. Just because that is the absolute limit of what I can do. But still.
Going through this painful experience has forced me to transition to half-days. And made me realize that it really is possible for me to do. It’s made me re-examine my relationship with time and make different choices about time.
It’s exactly what I wished for. Just not the way I wished for it. But at this point, I’m just happy to have it.
Thing 7: I get stuff done. Like a madwoman.
When you can only work a little, you do it right.
In the past few weeks I’ve finished projects that normally would have taken way, way longer. Because I’m focused. I have to be.
In fact, there’s no time not to be.
Because what’s happening is that I’m paying someone to sit next to me and do what I would do … and we only have three hours to do it in. So stuff gets done.
We got the new Fluent Self store page up. We’ve transformed the way everyone on my team communicates with each other. We’re launching new stuff all over the place.
It’s knocking me out. In a good way.
Thing 8: It’s made me take my email sabbatical seriously.
I can’t cheat on my email sabbatical. And that’s a good thing. A really, really, really good thing.
That’s it.
It’s a lot. It’s enough.
I’d say more, but this is a ridiculously long post as it is. Plus, all this gratitude stuff is making me sleepy. Bed.
I’ll laugh about this later.
The other day I was on the phone with an old, old friend. And I mean “old” like we’ve been friends for too many years to not be able to laugh about really horrible things.
Which is exactly what we were doing.
Actually, we were laughing (and really only somewhat bitterly) about how completely miserable experiences so often turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you.
“Remember…?” she said, choking back another giggle. “Your nasty, nasty ear infection that lasted six months? The one where you were just gushing goo and blood, and we all thought you’re going to die?”
“How could I forget? That was hysterical. Ohmygod. The pain was so bad that I’d wake myself from my own screams,” I said, now laughing so hard that I was flailing around for tissues to wipe the tears.
Oh, hindsight. You are so funny.
Obviously, not all pain = gain. And not all gain comes from pain. But sometimes there’s a connection.
The truth is that I never want to know pain like that again. It was awful and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.
And at the same time, I’m aware that there is a direct connection between that experience of oozing goo from my ear and the one we’re having right now, the one in which you’re reading something I wrote … on my blog.
Because it was that illness that ultimately caused me to realize that I’m a writer.
It was that illness that resulted in me essentially downloading the entire Fluent Self system, which is what led to me launching my business.
It was that illness that introduced me to half the techniques in my repertoire, just because nothing else would work. And so many other things.
My desperation was a matchmaker. Things worked out. Almost suspiciously well.
But back to right now.
It is completely clear to me that I’m going to be ridiculously grateful (at least, at some point in the future) for the past few months of agonizing arm pain.
So if I’m going to end up feeling all appreciative of the thing that totally sucks right now anyway, I might as well take a moment or two to acknowledge all the good stuff that I will be loving later.
Not as a way of negating what is true for me right now. Not as a way of bulldozing through my discomfort and pain.
And definitely not making myself commit to some cheesy gratitude practice for its own sake, because forced compassion? Not very compassionate.
I totally don’t believe in making yourself say thank you. You don’t have to find every silver lining. Or count every blessing. Unless, of course, you feel like it.
For me it’s more about just actively noticing all the things that this pain — and this painful experience — have given me.
And then finding out: If I’m already thinking about the results of this awful experience that I will be so happy about in a month or two … is it possible that I could just be happy about them now? Hmmm. Maybe not.
Okay, so — if I really can’t be happy about them yet (ahhh, that’s more like it) — why not get used to the idea of eventually being happy about them? Yes.
That I can do.
So I’ve been working on my “Things to be insanely grateful for much, much later” list. And I want to share it with you. Not today though.
Tomorrow.
My teacher has an expression for this (insert heavy Ukrainian accent and serious expression here):
“There is good experience … and then there is useful experience.”
This is one of those sticky philosophical points that is much easier said than internalized. Easier believed than implemented.
And when it doesn’t work for you … and there are certain situations where — in that moment — it just can’t, you have my permission to toss it.
As a general principle, though, I like it.
A lot. It’s kind of like my use of “the good” and “the hard” in the Friday Chicken posts.
Just looking at my own situation here … this ordeal with my arms and not being able to use them? I’m not ready to call it good. But definitely useful.
When I talk about it with my girlfriends in a couple years? Oh, by then it will probably have found its way to the “good”.
Either way, this pain is giving me some seriously great stuff. It’s not the way I’d have liked to receive either the information or the results. It’s the way that it’s happened though.
And I’m ready to (okay, fine, however long it takes) get to the point where I can look back on this as one of the big symbolic turning points. Because really, that’s exactly what it is.
My big, fat “Things to be insanely grateful for much, much later on” list. Coming tomorrow.
COMMENT ZEN for today’s post:
You are more than welcome, as always, to chime in with thoughts, ideas, insights, reactions, similar experiences, and so on. Support is always welcome too.
What I’m NOT looking for: It’s really important to me that gratitude always be a choice and never turn into a “should” for me. So I’m not interested in anything along the lines of “oh good, you’re finally being grateful like you should be and that’s what will make you heal and it’s about time you started attracting sunbeams and rainbows” thing. Thanks!