My thoughts were easily released today with the ticker tape, and I wasn’t as absorbed in creative naming. Afterward, I turned on my electronic appointment calendar and discovered that I had accidentally wiped out all of my future appointments while trying to back it up last night.
My stomach began to burn. At some point I emailed my clients, asking for help. My teaching schedule and my airline ticket could be retrieved from saved emails. Everything else must not be too important.
The crisis was over, but my stomach still ached. I observed myself looking for someone else to blame. (The tech support people at the Apple Store?) Then, I remembered the guiding principle of my childhood: “I cannot make a mistake.” Still around.
It took about 30 minutes today to recover. I was able to observe myself in the process of thinking of who I could blame. About six months ago, I was mostly unconscious of this process within me. Here’s how it went last spring:
When a colleague asked a question about something I’d done on a group coaching call, it felt like criticism. The question, or at least what I made of it in my mind, pushed a big, hot button in me. I paced in little circles, muttering “I can’t believe her nerve.”
I couldn’t forget about it. Psychologists call this attentional hijacking, and my attention for anything else was nowhere to be found.
Donning my imaginary power suit and stilettos, I called forth my inner trial lawyer. I gathered supporting evidence, consulted potential allies, and crafted my arguments. In the process, my judgments about my colleague got very creative, for example: “I bet she was intentionally trying to make me look bad.”
At some point, I came to my senses enough to call a coaching buddy for a session. I began to understand that my old childhood belief, “I cannot ever make a mistake,” was alive and well. I began to breathe more easily, and my attention returned.
And guess what? No less than an hour after the storm was over, someone else questioned something I said. I’d love to report that this time, I saw through myself. Nope, out came the power suit and stilettos. It felt just as overwhelming as the first round had. I defended myself with a swift montage of thoughts: “She didn’t understand. She wasn’t listening, She set me up for that.”
I called my coaching buddy again. I wrote in my journal. Soon, my internal gyroscope righted me, and my attention came back.
And guess what? The next day, I posted a short note on a coaching forum. I thought it was particularly insightful and eagerly awaited the opinions of the other coaches. The first comment that was posted noted that I used a comma where I should have used a semi-colon, and quoted the rule of semi-colon usage for my convenience.
And guess what? Yep. Again, I rushed to my defense, and compiled a short, funny, but firm response, explaining that as journalism major, and a former lawyer who made a living for years through writing, ha ha, I certainly knew the rules of semi-colon usage, and ….
It clobbered me over the head, and I began laughing and crying at once. Old images swirled up–missing a question on a second-grade reading test, forgetting to return a library book, being scolded for talking in class. My childhood strategy–performance beyond criticism, straight A’s in every aspect of life–was looking pretty silly. My biggest, most heartless critic was an eight-year-old-me. I saw how messily human I am, and how that’s both hilarious and profound.
So maybe next time, I’ll smile wisely. If not, if I reach for my legal pad and stilettos, compiling my defense of blame and evasion, and the process can unfold again. Again and again until I get it.
0 responses so far ↓
1 Suzanne // Oct 2, 2008 at 12:49 pm
This morning I took Missy for a walk before going to the art studio, and thinking of taking a short cut as I was getting late for my time there, well I decided to go for it….big mistake…Missy decided to go where there were thisles (don’t know the spelling) her front left paw was covered of the prickly flowers and she couldn’t finish the walk . I picked her up and brought her home, thank goodness she is only a Yorkshire! Well I got home and had to cut her hair around that paw…funny looking dog now… and yes I was pretty late and cut my time short at the studio.
Was this a mistake taking a short cut. Well for a moment I was mad at myself. I caught my thought of criticizing myself… and I let this thought go as I remembered that I am not my thought, I only had the thought….
This Joy Diet class is teaching me awareness on how I think.
Missy was my teacher today and unfortunately I will bring her back to her owners tonight after I finish cooking this meal for them. Marc is home now and I volunteered to cook for him and Maya.
2 Bridgette Boudreau // Oct 2, 2008 at 2:08 pm
Terry, you inspire me. I’m loving these daily postings and am enjoying following your journey.
3 Dawn // Oct 2, 2008 at 3:56 pm
It’s almost time to go down to the rocks. I love those rocks…boulders of every color and size that have been placed along a long section of our lakefrontage so that the point…now sort-of point…is no longer eaten away by high water and wicked winds. It is amazing how easily I can forget about going down to the lakeshore…I can go later, tomorrow, Sunday, etc. I thought that this must surely be my 15 minute zone. Nope..the world is just a better place for me when I walk those rocks …My 15 minute zone is found around 3 a.m., waiting in my featherbed. In the past, 3 a.m. signified a struggle in my niggle zone…not quite worry, not quite creativity, definitely not restful. Now, I calmly roll over onto my to-do list, smothering all its’ attempts to wriggle out…eventually it expires and I am floating in mindfulness…peaceful, fluid mindfulness… warmth, silence, muted tones of Lee breathing sleep into our bedroom, lake sounds, forest sounds… the northern lights are singing.
4 Linda // Oct 3, 2008 at 4:38 am
Suzanne, so happy for you that Marc’s procedure went well and he is home.
This morning there is a hazy amber glow at the horizon. Mists rise from the lake and melt into nothingness. Like thought while doing nothing.
At first irked that Mishka urged me from sleep so early, I’m now grateful for this vista. I sit and breathe it in.
5 gladdoggett // Oct 3, 2008 at 7:43 am
I have an inner troll who admonishes me for so many things. Its favorite is “You will never be good enough.” I am on the journey of learning to silence this mean beast, but I stumble every day.
What you are doing in this blog is important and meaningful. Keep it up!!
6 Suzanne // Oct 3, 2008 at 11:40 am
Thank you Linda for your comment.
This morning was the first day that I did not have a dog to walk and I did the 15 minutes of nothing…my thoughts were coming in fast and I was able to let them go. When the timer went off I jumped out of my skin, that is when I realized that I was able to be still for a short moment.
I tried to find a happy place well it did not come, it did not matter as for a short time I was able to be still and what a feeling it was. This is certainly a learning process.
7 Bridget // Oct 6, 2008 at 3:28 pm
Today, I found myself taking a bath, and meditating for several minutes…..not to say that the thoughts came…..some times it was a Ticker Tape Parade, but they then marched on and I was still there….whole.
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