pride without prejudice

last week i received funding for research that we had applied for. it was one of the most amazing things i've experienced: it was the first time i successfully planned and coordinated a project to be put up for such a competitive grant scheme.

all day i freaked out. i jumped around like crazy for a while; i called all the people involved; i tried to pick up my coffee a little later, but my hands were still shaking. the excitement just wouldn't die down. and kitty and hayden planned a little celebration party for that evening.

it wasn't until later that afternoon, after i yoga-ed it up (and calmed myself down), that i realized what felt so different: i was proud of myself.

i was proud of myself, and it felt weird; i was not used to that feeling.

when kitty arrived to escort me to drinks, i mentioned to her that we should be having the party simply for the fact that i felt proud of myself. it was that big of a deal.

i reflected on that over the past weekend while at uluru (formerly ayers rock for the americans in the audience--that big red rock in the middle of australia).

it isn't that i haven't accomplished great things; it isn't even that i can't recognize it per se. i think it's more that i feel embarrassed to feel pride, like it's an ego thing.

jane austen, in pride and prejudice, says: "Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."

being at uluru, dwarfed in its size and spirituality, humbled me enough to let me figure that out. and then it made me sad: why can't we feel prideful of everything we do?

there's something hard for us to deal with every week; every day is hard for some of us. and you know what? we keep going. we make it through. sure, it doesn't always feel amazeaballs... but that's ok.

i'm proud of kitty for trying a new way of eating. i'm proud of hayden for making it through this next grant submission with me today. i'm proud of NK for each urge she gets past. i'm proud of SM for feeling both the highs and the lows. i'm proud of sister for braving her way through sleepless nights.

i'm proud of all the steps, all the choices, all the work each of us do every single day.

and i'm proud of myself.

strange that that's so hard to say. but i'm also proud of myself for doing the work to get to a space that i can say that.

yesterday i listened to the most current episode of this american life; in part 2, they discuss the possibility of time travel, and what people would do if they could time travel. so many people wanted to go back and fix things--either in their personal lives or in history. but, interestingly enough, the people with the most life experience (the elderly), didn't want to time travel.

i agree. i don't want to go back and teach myself things. i don't want to go back and fix mistakes. i agree with the conclusion: "i'm traveling into the future. at 60 minutes/hour. and maybe that's how we fix things."

each step. each choice. each little bit of work. it all counts. it all builds. it makes us what we are. and that's something we should be proud of.

work work work work workin' on my sh!t

(i seriously have that song stuck in my head right now.)

every relationship is hard work. not just romantic ones. not just the emotional friends. not just the crazy second cousin. every relationship. each friend, each family member, each co-worker. every person we interact with is a whole complex person that deserves a whole complex understanding.

in the past week i've noticed this theme over and over: one of my bff and i got in a disagreement over a miscommunication and didn't really talk for a few days. another bff received an embarrassing text from me that we had to work through (hell no i'm not sharing what it said). another bff (yes i have this many best friends) felt left out when i didn't get an invite out. another friend called me and worked through a misunderstanding we had. two different friends got back in touch after a several month hiatus. a co-worker broke down and shared something personal after feeling under-appreciated. ...this is just off the top of my head, but there are so many examples of how important it is to put time into each communication and each interaction we have.

the theme also popped up this weekend when i went to a few festival of dangerous ideas talks at the opera house. in a talk about loneliness and depression, someone said (my interpretation): we spend so much time being busy. busy-ness is a stand-in for fullness in our lives: if we're busy, we're full, complete. but busy-ness doesn't allow time for connection. in fact, quite the opposite. we end up rushing through our interactions to get to the next one, not allowing space for fully connecting with the people in our lives.

to fully connect with someone is hard work. it takes more than a few minutes. and it takes empathy as well. it needs time, space, compassion, and understanding.

friday afternoon i spent time with my favorite four-year-old: adi is brand new big sister; her little sister is under two weeks old. adi has been feeling a little left-out since her little sister was born, so she and i had a special "big sisters club" afternoon on friday. she and i put on shiny tattoos, went trampolining, and then spent a couple of hours working on a dinosaur activity book and coloring. adi soaked up every second of time that was fully focused on her: she didn't want the time to end and made sure we scheduled the next meeting of big sisters club before i left. "umm, how's friday?" she asked as i was walking out the door. i don't think she even knew which day it was, but she knew she wanted to get her special time scheduled in.

after i left i thought about how adi might be feeling, and i thought about my own sister and how i might have felt when she entered my life. and i thought about how much she drove me nuts for several years. and how she copied everything i did and wanted to steal everything that was mine (like when she ripped the arm off of my favorite doll trying to pull it from the crib so she could play with something dear to me).

and i thought about how my sister and i are best friends now.

i'm super grateful for where we are. but it wasn't easy; it was work. and it still is. just like every other relationship. so part of this blog is a promise to myself and the relationships in my life. part of this blog is a reminder to keep working. part of this blog is an apology for the places i haven't put in as much effort. and part of this blog is dedicated to all of those siblings; all of those co-workers; all of those ex-partners... just all of the people: all of the people who have ever felt like they didn't get the time they deserved from somebody.

relationships are hard work. but they're worth it. and they're probably the only things in this world that are worth that much hard work.

i choose, umm, the easier option, please?

imagine you're at a restaurant, and you're really hungry. you're provided with two equally-priced options: 1) you go pick all the ingredients up from the garden and store, bring them back to the restaurant, help prep them, help cook them, help set the table, and then you can eat the dinner. or, 2) you eat the exact same meal, but three hours sooner, since the restaurant has already done the prep-work for you.

well, i don't know about you, but if i'm really hungry, i'm going to choose option two. because it's easier. and just because i don't mind working for things, and i actually like cooking, that doesn't mean that i wouldn't choose the easier option in this situation. it seems to offer the same results with noticeably less time and effort.

while this analogy isn't perfectly aligned with life's choices, we can still find similarities. just because option two allows us to get to the result more quickly, there are potential trade-offs: by choosing option two, we've missed out on an experience, an opportunity. maybe we lost a chance to learn some new techniques or lessons. we probably wouldn't appreciate the final product as much either. so maybe option one seemed easier at the time, but maybe option two would have made many other situations easier in the future.

recently i had a really close friend tell me that she had liposuction about a year ago. she hadn't told anyone about it, but she was starting to shift some of her thinking around her experience, and she shared her experience with me. before i continue, let me set the scene: this is a young, beautiful, athletic woman. my sister once commented on a photo of this young woman saying something like "wow, she's beautiful! is she your friend??" additionally, she's in a loving relationship.

but, she suffers from some insecurities. before her surgery, her thinking patterns were telling her "you don't look good enough; the easiest way to change this is through a surgery." after the surgery however, she has come to realize that she took what she thought was the easiest option to make herself feel happier. it didn't work. because the option she chose wasn't the easy option. it wasn't the better option. it just seemed that way at the time.

in gabby bernstein's 40-day guidebook "may cause miracles", she says:

our fear-based minds believe that change is tough and self-reflective work is difficult. but let's face it: being consumed by fear is far more difficult than showing up for love--we're just tricked into thinking fear is "easier" because it's more familiar. when people at my lectures complain that change takes too much time and energy, my response is, "it takes a lot of time and energy to feel like crap, right?"

this excerpt reminded me of something one of my favorite yoga teachers, christina sell, said at a workshop once. she was talking about a relationship of hers. she said that she was thinking of ditching the relationship because she thought it would be easier than working through all of the hard stuff in the relationship. she received some advice from one of her teachers that said something to the effect of "think of how hard and painful it will be to end this relationship."

no option is ever really and truly easy. but for some reason we trick ourselves into thinking that the fearful responses are easier. personally, i love to avoid things. my go-to move when something sounds difficult or time-consuming is to simply distract myself with something else. i don't know what i expect to happen: that the situation will just sort itself out? that someone else will take care of it? that a magician will appear with a wand to make it disappear? secretly, yeah, i guess i'm constantly keeping my fingers crossed for my fairy godmother to appear.

but, since, let's face it, that isn't an entirely realistic option, i've started to do some work to address this fearful thinking. as i've started doing this work, i've discovered it's much easier than i expected it to be. i've been addressing things that i haven't addressed in over a year: contacting people to sort things out; being honest and open with people that i thought wouldn't accept me if i had those conversations with them.

and yeah, gabby, it DOES take a lot of energy to keep fighting myself, to put myself down, to feel judged. so why in the heck would i want to continue to do it? (umm, i don't.) those habitual responses seem easier, since i'm so accustomed to them. but they aren't necessarily easier. and they most certainly aren't better.

in the yoga class i taught tonight, we practiced identifying these options on our yoga mat. yeah, it seems easier to let the floating leg just hang out and relax. because we think "relaxing is easier than working." but really, as experienced yogis know, "a tight leg is a light leg." and then we meditated about being open to seeing different options, the non-habitual responses, in our everyday lives. if you're a yogaglo subscriber (or wanna try a free sample membership), here's a good centering meditation by elena brower to try to start to bring you in to this frame of mind.

i'm re-wiring. i don't want the anxious avoidance to be ever-present in my life. i want to choose love. i want to be there, happy and calm, to see what happens when i consistently choose love. will it be harder? will it be easier?

who cares? it will be better.