This month I made an error. An oops, a lapse, a mistake, an accident. I missed the renewal date on my…
No! Wait!! That was LAST month’s essay. Only guess what? Here I am in September, facing another paperwork catastrophe. Since I am a trained life coach, naturally my response was to flail and moan and shake my fists at the sky. Then I flew into full victim response mode:
But they SAID!
It’s not FAIR!
Those F$%&ing A$%#oles!
My mind raced with enlightened thoughts like: I can’t handle this! I don’t have time to deal with this! I have to write an e-zine about staying centered and balanced and calm and…. Oh.
Oh, shit.
So here I am, in all my imperfect glory. My best credential as a life coach is that I make all the mistakes my clients make. I’ve fallen in all the holes they fall in. I still fall in!
And I am slowly learning how to crawl out.
I swore rather creatively for a few minutes. I did some very deep breathing. I examined the story going on in my head. It was as whiny and cranky as my four-year-old coming down off a sugar trip.
Believe it or not, this is progress. Recognizing that I am telling myself a story is the crucial first step. Instead of believing all the crap flying through my mind, I remind myself that it’s just a version. (This kind of thought work is perfect for literature majors.) I start coming up with other versions.
Version two: I am my own boss. I can do whatever I want with my time.
Version three: I could traipse down to the city office right this minute if I wanted.
Version four: I had promised myself to do some important creative work that day. So I consulted my body. I imagined working for the next few days knowing that a fairly significant piece of paper that keeps us legal is out of order. It didn’t feel good at all.
Version five: I could probably let that piece of paper just sit there, out of whack, and it would bother the people down at the city office even more than me. It would drive them bonkers! Eventually they’d start calling me, sending me mail… but that didn’t feel good either.
So I decided to go to the city office. But it FELT so different than if I’d gone storming down with my head full of angry stories about how I was getting screwed, and how badly this messed up my schedule, and how behind I was now, and how lousy it was and how the ozone layer was depleting and we were all going down in a fiery pot roast.
So here it is. Here is the magic. This little tempest in a teaspoon is the heart of my life coaching. It’s a subtle shift, a slight re-framing, a new interpretation. And just to be clear, here’s what it’s not: it’s NOT me pasting a fake smile on myself and reciting through clenched teeth, “I’m GLAD about this! I’m SMILING! And I’ll see the goddamn silver LINING in this if it kills me!”
No.
But it is about being free. I could have chosen to ignore the problem and let it fester. I could have chosen to stew about it and let it poison my entire day or even week. Instead, I chose to handle it. I chose to table some projects until later. I chose all that in total freedom.
It’s your life; you get to write it. Choose your story.
No! Wait!! That was LAST month’s essay. Only guess what? Here I am in September, facing another paperwork catastrophe. Since I am a trained life coach, naturally my response was to flail and moan and shake my fists at the sky. Then I flew into full victim response mode:
But they SAID!
It’s not FAIR!
Those F$%&ing A$%#oles!
My mind raced with enlightened thoughts like: I can’t handle this! I don’t have time to deal with this! I have to write an e-zine about staying centered and balanced and calm and…. Oh.
Oh, shit.
So here I am, in all my imperfect glory. My best credential as a life coach is that I make all the mistakes my clients make. I’ve fallen in all the holes they fall in. I still fall in!
And I am slowly learning how to crawl out.
I swore rather creatively for a few minutes. I did some very deep breathing. I examined the story going on in my head. It was as whiny and cranky as my four-year-old coming down off a sugar trip.
Believe it or not, this is progress. Recognizing that I am telling myself a story is the crucial first step. Instead of believing all the crap flying through my mind, I remind myself that it’s just a version. (This kind of thought work is perfect for literature majors.) I start coming up with other versions.
Version two: I am my own boss. I can do whatever I want with my time.
Version three: I could traipse down to the city office right this minute if I wanted.
Version four: I had promised myself to do some important creative work that day. So I consulted my body. I imagined working for the next few days knowing that a fairly significant piece of paper that keeps us legal is out of order. It didn’t feel good at all.
Version five: I could probably let that piece of paper just sit there, out of whack, and it would bother the people down at the city office even more than me. It would drive them bonkers! Eventually they’d start calling me, sending me mail… but that didn’t feel good either.
So I decided to go to the city office. But it FELT so different than if I’d gone storming down with my head full of angry stories about how I was getting screwed, and how badly this messed up my schedule, and how behind I was now, and how lousy it was and how the ozone layer was depleting and we were all going down in a fiery pot roast.
So here it is. Here is the magic. This little tempest in a teaspoon is the heart of my life coaching. It’s a subtle shift, a slight re-framing, a new interpretation. And just to be clear, here’s what it’s not: it’s NOT me pasting a fake smile on myself and reciting through clenched teeth, “I’m GLAD about this! I’m SMILING! And I’ll see the goddamn silver LINING in this if it kills me!”
No.
But it is about being free. I could have chosen to ignore the problem and let it fester. I could have chosen to stew about it and let it poison my entire day or even week. Instead, I chose to handle it. I chose to table some projects until later. I chose all that in total freedom.
It’s your life; you get to write it. Choose your story.
Do you want to be the victim or the hero?
That’s what I figured. So I’ll see you at the hero table! Hell, I’ll even buy you a drink.
