You know that panicky feeling you get when you’re about to make a big move? Don’t let it deter you – it’s only old ghosts and shadows that will disappear as the sun rises.
Sitting at my desk a few weeks ago, about to hit the button that would send out the announcement about the publication of “By The Way, You Look Really Great Today” to my whole list, I started to feel a little nauseated.
I started to wonder if maybe I shouldn’t wait until tomorrow.
I started to think that maybe the book wasn’t really complete after all, and perhaps I should go back and revise it.
I started to doubt the cover art, the literary merit and the wisdom of even trying such a project.
Yep – me – the person who spends all day telling other people to screw up their courage and share their art – was shocked to find out that what I really wanted was to run away and hide.
And I remembered back to previous experiences like it, and realized that that panicky feeling had led me to do things like:
– get sick
– set a nearly-finished project down and start something new
– create a crisis or emergency
– go clean out my sock drawer
– pick a fight with someone I love
– talk myself out of the launch
Sad, and kind of funny, too.
So next time you’re getting that top-of-the-roller-coaster feeling, just acknowledge it and keep moving. Say a prayer for the best possible outcome for all concerned, release your attachment to the results (sure, that’s easy, right? 🙂 and just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
You’ve come this far – don’t abandon yourself now.
You have good taste and strong opinions.
Use ’em.
In Praise Of Those
Last Ten (…Or Twenty…) Pounds
Oh, you ten (…or
twenty…) pounds…
You remind me:
I am not a teenager
anymore
(Thank God)
My life is not lived
just for me alone anymore
(Thank God)
I’ve got good food and
good wine and good appetite
Thank God.
You jiggle a bit.
It’s not a bloat; it’s a
blessing.
Softer.
Stronger.
You have lived through
the unthinkable.
Those friends who have
gone –
The love and grief for
them that remains –
Is that part of the ten
pounds?
The jobs well done that
no one praised –
Is that a pound or two?
And those ice-sharp playground
taunts, those adolescent bone-aches,
That twenty-something
battle for Self – ferocious –
Where is the weight of
that?
Jealousy does not become
us.
Ten pounds hardly seems
like a distinction worth making when
One body is so much like
Another.
Feet Leg Belly Back Arms
Head Hands
Not all of us have every
part and
There might be an organ
that’s not quite working right or
A hormone that’s out of
whack
We’ve all been a little
Damaged in transit.
But here we are.
Here to criticize
ourselves
Here to be a better
example to our daughters and our sons
Here to shove the
photo-shopped images out of the way and say
This is what the Body of
a Person looks like.
This is the truth of me.
All of me.
Only me.
And remember, if twenty
years from now you would find a photograph of you taken today you’d think, “Wow
– I had no idea how beautiful I was.”
So let’s put on the
bathing suit and go swimming.
Let’s invite our lover’s
hand to caress our belly.
And let’s put on lovely
clothes that fit and
Give away those
not-our-size-now clothes
Because believe me, one
of your
Brothers or Sisters (who
do not enjoy the luxury of excess) could really
Use those and Lord knows
they’re not doing you any good
Just cluttering up the
closet
Torturing you.
So we stand naked and
say,
“Thank you, Body, for
loving me so well and so long.”
Offering a blessing on
This Body
Whose
Shadow
Leaves an
Imprint
On the
Air
We Breathe.
© 2010 Samantha Bennett
By The Way, You Look
Really Great Today
www.TheOrganizedArtistCompany.com
We all get disappointed sometimes. And mostly we follow a pretty simple process of feeling tremendously upset, thinking about it way too much, then finding some way to comfort ourselves and then moving on. With the help of some friends, some carb-heavy comfort food (or herb tea or martinis or double-chocolate
fudge crunch ice cream or whatever your narcotic of choice may be…) and perhaps a period of true unbridled wallowing, we get over it.
Mostly.
But some disappointments linger. Some become a permanent part of our internal landscape. Some even feel as though they have become part of our identity, and we almost can’t imagine letting them go, even though they cause us so much pain.
Here’s the good news: you’re reading this.
That tells me that you:
- Actually WANT to get over it
- Can at least sort of imagine that you COULD get over it
Welcome to Bouncing Back from Disappointment: Three Strategies to Really Get Over It.
I hope we’re going to make some good progress
here – I can’t guarantee anything, but I have seen people make some miraculous shifts in very brief amounts of time, so I
wouldn’t rule anything out. Now, it’s not possible to “unthink” something, and you can’t not feel the way you feel
about something. There’s no magic pill.
But you can
unscrew the bolts a little bit on the ideas that are keeping the experience both fixed and
painful.
(One possible exception: Grief. My
experience is that other kinds of pain and disappointment can shift and move
but grief – even old grief – just sweeps up on you and feels for all the world like it just happened this morning. So I want you to be working on a specific
frustration or disappointment or failure here, and I want you to pick one, but
if it’s a Grief, then maybe, just for the purposes of today, pick another, less
knotty one.)
Everybody have one particular disappointment in mind? Good.
Maybe it’s just a little one: I over salted the
turkey meatloaf the other night and I’m a little disappointed in myself.
Or a medium one: I’m still so bummed I
never finished college, or that we got outbid on that house.
Or a big one: I got fired.
Or a really big one: I still can’t
believe he or she had that affair.
Now, let’s get a
reading here:
On a scale of 1-5, how disappointed are you about your
thing?
1 = Actually, I’m mostly
over it
2 = Still stings a bit
3 = This causes me some pain when I think about it
4 = Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!!!!!!!
5 = I almost can’t imagine EVER being over this
Are you at a 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5? Whatever it is, just guesstimate and write
down the number.
It’s important that you be honest with yourself about your level of disappointment.
Sometimes we can get caught up in Enforced Optimism (“Oh, it’s all good…”) or Depressive Diminishment (“It’s no big deal”) and I don’t want that. I want you to haul the monsters out from under the bed and look them in the eye. Be straight with yourself. There’s no sense pretending that you feel all yippee-skippy when you don’t, and there’s no sense hanging on to a disappointment from which, you discover, you are really mostly already recovered.
STEP ONE: We Are Not Amused (but maybe we could be…)
So the first thing I want you
to do is give this event a new, more disastrous name. Really exaggerate. Unleash your Inner Drama Queen. Go for it. Write it down.
“I blew the presentation,” could be
re-named “I’m Headed For The Poorhouse For Sure!!!”
“I fell off my diet,” becomes “I Am
The Walrus, Koo Koo Ka Choo”
“I didn’t finish my novel,” becomes “I Will Never Be A Real Writer Ever Ever Ever Ever Ever”
Got it?
Be melodramatic. Make yourself laugh.
(It’s great if you can do this with a trusted friend who can laugh with you.)
How does it feel to give it this extreme name? What do you notice? What shifts?
Next, I want you to write down a really minimizing name for your event. Brush it off. Spin it like a crooked politician. Or imagine you have an eccentric great-aunt who hears about your disappointment and just waves it away with a word. What does she call it?
“Nobody’s buying my product,” becomes “Well, This Has Been Some Fascinating Market Research…”
“I’ll never get another date,” becomes “Oh, Pish Posh, Silly Old Dating, Who Cares?”
“I’m chronically disorganized,” becomes “I Am So Creative With Where I Put Things!”
Again, write them down and notice how each one feels. (Don’t worry – you can always go back to the same way you’ve always felt. No pressure.)
We’re
just experimenting with perspectives here, so you don’t need to actually believe your new names for this event, but you do need to acknowledge that there may be some alternatives to the lonely, empty feeling you’ve allowed the memory of this event to trigger in you.
If you like this Step, then keep going:
– What would your dearest, best friend call this event?
– What would your Guardian Angel call it?
– What would a poet call it?
– What would a late-night infomercial spokesperson call it?
– What would a gypsy fortune-teller call it?
Experimenting with different names can remind you that when it comes to your own life, you are in a position of choice.
You get to decide what you think about it.
And that can move you from feeling like a disappointed victim to feeling like the confident, empowered, creative genius that you truly are.
NOTE: I’m curious – what names did you come up with? Please comment because I’d love to hear them!
Coming soon: Step Two!
Ode To The Small Business Practitioner, or, Oh, You American Dreamer
And as you stand there
Wondering
About your Search Engine Optimization and
Curious if this new Seminar might really be of some help and
Kicking Yourself A Little for all the Work that is piling up as we speak
Let us now praise you.
You, the Wondering, the Curious, the Kicking Yourself A Little.
You, the Founder, President, CEO, Chief Cook and Bottle Washer who WILL
Double your sales this year.
You, the American Dreamer.
You are made of stern stuff.
You hopped off the Merry-Go-Round
(or maybe you were pushed)
And now you live in this New World of
Checking Google Analytics and
Waking up with a Great Idea at 4am and
Telling your family: Yes, I’ll be right there – I just have to do this
One
Quick
Thing.
And while you may grimace when you hear your friends say,
“Wow, it must be great to work in your pajamas” and
“Wow, it must be so great to be your own boss” and
“Wow, are you lucky!”
It’s true.
It is great to work in your pajamas and
Be your own boss and
Yes
You are lucky.
Lucky to be here now in this time of Unprecedented Opportunity.
Lucky to have this passion for Your Work.
And even though you might start making
Hysterical Hyena-like Sounds the next time some Pessimist mutters, “Well, in this Economy…” and even though
The Loneliness of being The Boss can sometimes be a hot, shimmering desert of aching solitude and
Even though
Even though
Even though…
You wouldn’t have it any other way because
Now you know what you did not know before.
Now you know:
Always. Back. Up.
And now you know:
Always have someone proofread, especially the dates and the phone numbers.
And now you know:
Always test all the Action Links
(And don’t just hit the “send test” button because I think that sends from a different server so you need to actually create a “find people” test list made up of dummy addresses that you set up in Yahoo and Gmail and your own webmail and, if you have to, even AOL, so you can see what people are actually getting in both HTML and Text-Only – trust me, it’s totally worth the hassle.)
And now you know:
Always trust your instincts. Always.
Because it is your instincts that have
Brought you this far and
It is your instincts that will
See you safe home.
So dream on, you Gladiators of the Kitchen Table.
And as soon as you can figure out
What the hell API integration actually is,
I have no doubt that you will do it.
You are living The Dream.
You are living Our Dream.
Long live this Vibrant, Gritty, Hard-Fought, Hard-Won, Capricious, Eclectic, Heart-Pounding, Soul-Stirring, Headache-Inducing, Detail-Oriented, Incessant, Unstoppable, Terrifying, Tantalizing,
Who-Needs-A-Penthouse-Of-Chrome-And-Glass-
When-Dad’s-Old-Chevy-Runs-Just-Great?
Why-Don’t-They-Teach-This-Stuff-In-School?
Jump-On-In-The-Water’s-Fine and
I’m-Sure-Next-Quarter-Will-Be-Better and this is
So-Much-Harder-Than-I-Could-Have-Thought
So-Much-Better-Than-I-Ever-Could-Have-Imagined
Heartfelt
(Bloodied But Unbowed)
American Dream.
© 2010 Sam Bennett I All Rights Reserved
By The Way, You Look Really Great Today
Click here to buy this t-shirt for the grouch in your life.
IN PRAISE OF THE GRUMPY
And as you stand there
Arms crossed
Managing to look both infinitely patient and impatient at the same time
Trying not to roll your eyes and wonder how much longer all this will take
Let us now praise you.
You: the grumpy, the grouchy, the grumbling.
You: the beleaguered and the put-upon.
You: our hidden hero.
Because while you are
Short-tempered with the witless
Furious with the shallow and
Yelling at the television
It is only because you are so thoughtful
That everyone else seems so thoughtless.
And while you insist that you do not care about
What anyone is wearing or
What anyone said or did or
What so-and-so said or did back,
Nor do you give two figs about
The disenfranchised urban-dweller of today or
The illiterate or
The underprivileged of some foreign land or
Whomever it is we’re supposed to be caring about today and that
You will not, under any circumstances,
Attend the choir concert or
The holiday party or
The 12-step meeting or
The neighborhood street fair or
The fancy dress ball or
The class reunion – for God’s sake especially not the reunion – and that
You mustn’t be relied upon for
Donations or
A ride home or
Free advice or
Help moving in to your new townhouse or a
Damn
birthday present (what are we, six years old that we still have to give
people birthday presents just because they managed to get born and stay
alive?) or
Whatever it is that all those people with all those
Outstretched hands
Seem to want
You must know that we all know
That you do, indeed, care and that
You will, if pressed, attend and that
We all do rely
On you.
We can tell that you care,
Because you so assiduously refuse to conform to
Some greeting-card version of caring
And instead insist on caring about us as individuals.
You remember the conversation we had about
Ry Cooder’s guitar playing, and
Six weeks later you slip us a
Homemade cassette tape with no label.
You shun the collection plate, and yet
You shove a hundred dollars into the Youth Group’s coffee can
(A check, of course – no sense missing out on the tax deduction just because you had a weak moment.)
And when you go to greet us,
You look us in the eye and take our full measure
And if you should
Notice that we look a bit sad,
You will grab our hand and
Kiss us roughly on the cheek and say,“You OK, darlin’?”
You might grouse about Christmas Eve,
But you do love Christmas morning.
And while you would never voluntarily look at a
Photo album,
You forever hold a picture in your mind of
How we looked in
That Halloween costume
That prom dress
That uniform.
And we know you will attend
(Quit squirming – this poem isn’t that much longer)
Because underneath your self-proclaimed
Disdain for all humanity
You are curious.
Intensely, insatiably, incorruptibly curious
And while you act repulsed
I suspect you are truly fascinated by us –
This clamoring horde of strangers you are compelled to share the planet with.
OK, OK: with whom this planet you are compelled to share.
Good grief you can be a pain sometimes.
And oh, how we rely on you.
And finally,
While you have largely succeeded in getting yourself off of
The phone tree
(That tactic you had about boring everybody silly with the excruciating details of your latest Water Filtration Project did wonders for removing you from any thinking hostess’ guest list)
We do still rely on you.
Oh how we rely on you.
Oh how we rely on you.
You are our voice of sanity
Our comrade-in-arms
Our truth-telling ally in a world of endless bullshit.
You are our hidden hero
Deceptively chivalrous with
Your tender heart clad in dented armor.
And you must know that
When you are gone
We miss you.
So go ahead and
Sneak out at intermission and
Have an extra drink to get you through the reception and
Just turn and walk away from the
Over-gesticulating and the infuriatingly self-righteous.
Save yourself from these petty cruelties so that
When the world becomes just too much for us poor mortals to bear
We can rely on you to save us.
Oh how we rely on you.
Oh how we rely on you.
Oh how we rely on you.
Now stand still, because we’re going to give you a nice, big hug.
© Sam Bennett
By The Way, You Look Really Great Today
