Thoughts on Being a “Grown Up.”

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When I was very young, I thought grown-ups had it all together, just by virtue of being aged [keep in mind that “aged” to me could have been as young as 9]. This belief followed me until fairly recently, I’m afraid.

The word “old” to me, always meant experienced, mature. All the cool people I knew were older than me. I saw it as a good thing. I aspired to be old. I couldn’t wait until I was a grown up. No one told a grown up to clean their rooms or go to sit still in school for boring classes. They had complete freedom. They could go places. They could go to work. They could pay for things with credit cards.

Now that I am technically a grown up, it is very cool, no doubt. But, at the same time, it can be kind of terrifying. I don’t feel grown up. Sure, no one tells me to clean my room, but I’d better get that rent check in on time. EVERY month, no less. I didn’t take into account the responsibilities that came with the freedoms I envied. Sure I no longer have to sit in math class for an hour. Now I am responsible for bills with very real consequences should I miss them. I no longer have to go to school, but I have jobs, which actually are WAY cooler than my school ever was.

But there was something about the security of growing up. Sure, I longed to be an “adult,” like the cool people on TV or just people I admired in life, but I always felt secure. Perhaps I was naïve, but I never worried about bills or jobs, except for when I was playing “house,” or Barbies.  Now that I’m older, they’re not as fun as I remember.

My dreamy boyfriend says that people do not actually grow up. They stay the same person they were when they were young. I do agree with that, to an extent. Sure, I may know a little more than I did when I was young, I’ve got a few more experiences under my belt. [Though, every once in a while I get an urge to go back in time to beat some sense into the high school me]. I hope I’m a little more sophisticated than I was when I was younger, but I still feel very much the same person as when I was a kid. I see grown up versions of the kids I used to babysit; they’re the same too.

The best example of this is the Monica character on Friends, when she and Ross were competing to be on the Dick Clark New Year’s Rockin’ Eve show. At long last Ross and Monica were able to fulfill a lifelong dream of being dancers on the show. They had practiced for years a routine for just the occasion, accompanied with the same childhood excitement.

I love watching her slip into her childhood effervescence, from her otherwise sophisticated character. At one point, Chandler says to her, “Ohh, you’re still just a little fat girl inside, aren’t you?”

The reason I find this so funny is that I know I slip into my childhood persona just like Monica. I wonder if others do too…

c. 2011

You are Special

From Max Lucado’s You are Special

c. thomasnelson.com

And all day the Wemmicks did the same thing; They gave each other stickers. Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people spent their days sticking stars or dots on one another.

The pretty ones with their smooth, fine paint, always got stars. But if the wood was rough or the paint was chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots.

The talented ones got stars too. Some could lift big sticks above their head or jump over tall boxes. Still others knew big words or could sing pretty songs. Everyone gave them stars.

Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got a star, it made them feel so good! It made them want to do something else, and get another star. Others, though could do little. They got dots.

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This sounds a lot like most work situations. Actually, it sounds like any group or organization-type situation. There will always be the stars; and well, the slightly duller rocks too. It’s easy to find our worth in how much we are performing, how much we are producing, how much we are shining.

In fact, I would wager to say that most of us go through life making sure that we are getting more stars than dots. It’s normal. Who doesn’t like positive reinforcement?

Awaiting the verdict, will I get a star or a dot, can be very stressful. It’s not bad to want to excel, to do a good job. We compromise ourselves when we don’t. It’s when we start to base our value on the number of stars or dots that become a problem.  Some days we just aren’t going to shine, and what then? Are we less of a person?

Our worth is great even if we aren’t producing, performing, or shining.

My boyfriend and I entered a contest to win a radio show on the local radio station. We made it to the top 10. We didn’t win. [I do think we were the best]. We knew it was out of our hands. We just weren’t the right fit. We were disappointed and we could have concluded that we were huge dots.

Instead, we are going to keep trying, keep shining, pursuing different outlets and avenues. We are not going to let failure or the threat of a brown dot dissuade us from being the stars we are. And neither should you.

On the Lamb

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Suzanne Davenport Tietjen is a shepherd who tells a story about one of her pregnant ewes, Lily. It was lambing season and since none of the lambs were showing signs of giving birth, she thought it was safe to go out. She had no idea she’d be coming home to a dire situation.

“Lambing instinct is pretty variable – some new moms act as if they know just what to do, while others fail to recognize any of the feelings of labor. Birth catches them by surprise.”

And that’s what happened to Lily.

The shepherd came home to a frenzied and frenetic Lily, who was running in circles around the barn, looking for something. They recognized the telltale signs that she had just given birth; She was searching helplessly for her baby, who had somehow gotten, well, lost in the confusion.

Her daughter quickly recovered the baby, shivering in the cold.

They presented the baby to Lily, according to Tietjen, but Lily showed no interest. She was much too busy searching for what she had lost.  She seemed to shake her head as if to say, Nope that’s not what I’m looking for, as she continued her manic search.

As I read Tietjen’s story, I saw myself. How often do I act just like Lily, frantically searching for something I know is important, but don’t recognize it when it’s right in front of me?

If I’m too busy recklessly thrashing about, how can I possibly have the clarity of thought to recognize anything when I see it?

When frenzy seems to take over me, I need to breathe through it; Go slower.

Well, after some quick thinking on Tietjen’s part, as only a shepherd can, she got Lily to bond with her baby. They are doing fine.

c. 2011

You are Rich

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When I was younger I used to define wealth as how much money someone had, how much stuff they could buy. [Sometimes I still do].

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that while money is definitely nice, it is not everything. I’ve seen it cause more problems and stress than it’s worth.

I’ve known of girls who literally sell their bodies for money. I’ve seen men sacrifice their families and themselves for money. I’ve seen people waste hours of pure drudgery doing something they didn’t even like for a days, months, years. 

For what?

I know one girl who makes it her mission to have the latest techie gadget. Then she spends so much time playing with it and showing it off that she can’t relate to others. She’ll be in her techie ‘zone,” impossible to have a conversation with. Then the toy breaks. What now?

We need to simplify.

It’s not all that easy, you say. Have you seen the recent economic figures? Have you seen the price of…well, anything?

Yes, it’s nice to have stuff, I am the first to attest. But it is nicer to have peace of mind and a lack of stress. Nicer…and more profitable, I might add. Profitable because you are not wasting brain cells worrying, so there is plenty of space to create; to problem solve, to innovate.

Ideas flow when you are relaxed; so does production.

It’s not that I don’t feel bad for people who have lost their job, I know it’s traumatic, painful and often requires an uncomfortable lifestyle change. But as an outsider, I know that money comes and goes. As an outsider, this seems like an awesome opportunity to progress. Of course, I certainly wouldn’t recognize it, if the tables were turned. And I will probably have to be reminded of this posr.

But it is nice to realize that money isn’t everything. [Thank goodness.]. You can live just as rich a life [and often richer] with little as you can a lot.

Mind [fulness] Over Matter

 

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Rent was due, and I was short. I could have berated myself over my lack of planning [I knew this was due, what was I thinking], sending myself into a frenzy of “what-ifs.” What if they completely cut me off?  What if I die homeless and penniless, and no one ever loves me, kind of thing?

But I had been reading about mindfulness from a number of authors. Something that really stuck out to me was something Mark Williams and Danny Penman said in their book, Mindfulness, 

“Mindfulness is about observation without criticism; being compassionate with yourself. When unhappiness or stress lies overhead, rather than take it personally, you learn to treat them as if they were black clouds in the sky and observe them with friendly curiosity as they drift past.

In essence, mindfulness allows you to catch negative thought patterns before they tip you into a downward spiral. It begins the process of putting you back into control of your life. ”

It is easy to get stuck in that paralyzing pit of “oh, gosh, what am I gonna do,” which   blocks any creativity for solving problems. We lash out at others or beat ourselves up. Both tend to backfire in a bad way. Neither solves anything.

The kind of useless ruminations that I am prone to engage in are not useful because they doesn’t solve anything. In fact, the frenzy paralyzes or stunts any action. When I am stuck in a stressful situation, I need to step back and figure out how I’m going to deal with it. There will be plenty of time for beating yourself up later, if need be [and often there is].

With my problem-solving skills able to flex freely, thanks to my newfound mindfulness, I was able to solve my bill problem much more coolly than if I had freaked out about it like I had originally planned.

c. 2011

           

Stress-Free Jobs That Pay Well??

photo credit. bsm 2011

Think your job is stressful? I would imagine we all do. Ever find yourself envying what we think might be a less stressful job? I know I have. There are several jobs that I used to think were stress free. I’ve even tried a few of them, to no avail, I'm afraid.

Surfing the net one day, I happened to find a link that said “Stress free jobs that pay well.” It sounded perfect to me. Sign me up for one of those! Thinking I had found the Holy Grail, I eagerly clicked on it.

I laughed bitterly, when I saw that the first listing was Yoga Instructor.  The writer of this article had only been a student of yoga, I'd imagine. I have witnessed up close, the stress of being a yoga instructor. My boyfriend is one. It is all very zen until you deal with all of the bureaucracy of a business. Corporate executives don’t understand yoga, yet they are often in charge.

He would often show up for class only to find that the room was being used for something else.  He would, then, have to explain to 10 students why class was moved or cancelled.  You will always have the stress of unmet expectations, with anything, I’d imagine. Many women are looking to feel the burn with a more cardio, power yoga feel; not true yoga. That’s not him.

I laughed again when I saw Massage Therapist on the list. I have a friend who was an MT, and swears she’d rather die than massage another fat sweaty body. She was quite adamant that she would never do it again.

I’ve heard stories that make my stomach turn. Ask any massage therapist to bend your ear with their horror stories with things like poor hygiene and uncontrollable bodily functions. I’m sure they also have to deal with unmet expectations as well.

The thing is, even the most seemingly peaceful, perfect job has it’s share of stress. What is stressful to you might not be stressful to me, and vice versa. It’s not necessarily the stress of the job, it’s your reaction to the stress, that makes it bearable or unbearable.

When you pursue your passion, when you are doing what you love, you aren’t stressed.  There will, no doubt, be things you don’t like, potentially stressful parts, but they won’t bug you as much.

My own quest for a zen job led me in several directions. I haven’t found it yet, because it doesn’t exist. But I can honestly say that my writing career is probably the most zen of anything I’ve tried. Not that it doesn’t have it’s share of stress, it does. But since it is my passion, it makes the stressors a little more bearable.

c. 2011

2 Hookers, an Army Private and a Pizza Place

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I tried not to stare at the 2 hookers and army Private in the corner booth of the local pizzeria where we play trivia on Friday nights. They were quite a sight, to say the least. We had come early to eat dinner because I was starving. When the quiet young soldier came in with two, shall we say, not so quiet ladies. Well, at least, one of them was a female; the other, I couldn’t be sure.

They caused quite a scene. The two hookers  were all over the guy, who was basking in it. It was an uncomfortable scene, to say the least.

I felt particularly bad for the waitress, Jennifer. She handled it with the utmost class. She smiled graciously, unruffled. [I tend to take notes on how other service providers handle stressful situations, so that I can learn how to do it better]. When the more mannish hooker started ordering her around, she didn’t let it faze her. She just did her job, like they were any other group.

They were running up quite a tab, so the soldier was asked for his credit card, which he frantically realized was missing. Well, upon hearing this news, the hookers were out, like well, hookers who realize their client has forgotten their wallet; leaving the poor guy bewildered and SOL.

I sat watching all of this kind of on the edge of my seat, with a combination of unease in the pit of my stomach, and curiosity of what in the world was going to happen next.  I was also wondering who was feeling the most stress.  It seemed there was enough to go around. I knew I was feeling some, and I wasn’t even in the situation.

The guy came back maybe a half an hour later, and handed the waitress several bills. I could tell from the expression on her face that it was way more than he owed.

The restaurant handled it with aplomb. The offenders were dealt with, without incident. It’s a big place. The only reason I knew what was going on is because we were in the booth next to them.

c. 2011