After four years of going to bed with our stomachs in knots, hearts heavy and brains on fire, trying to make peace with yet another horrible thing, it will be a while before our shoulders fully drop and the knots in our stomachs unravel. It will take time to trust that the world might, at some point, be fundamentally OK.

At the same time, more than 73 million people chose to support our outgoing leader. This fact gives pause to the many others who cannot fathom that choice. And yet it happened, which leaves us with a difficult conundrum.

This conundrum is not a place to stop and get comfortable with a new kind of outrage, a new version of “what the hell is wrong with them?” If we use this conundrum as a doorway, not a destination, perhaps we can move the dialogue forward and create something that brings out our humanity once again.

In a country where the average American has to work more than a month to earn what the average CEO makes in an hour, there’s no doubt that our rage wasn’t born in 2016. But, even if this leader didn’t officially create the hatred and contempt that now pervades our society, he did create a system in which everyone feels the right to shout their opinions and disgust through a megaphone, to publicly point fingers at whomever they think is to blame for their discontent. This leader has empowered the mental garbage that floats through almost every human being’s mind and entitled it to an audience.

Over these last four years, there’s been no attempt whatsoever to rein in our grievances, to be kind or behave in any sort of civilized manner. The current leadership has modeled an attitude of bullying, blaming, and shaming, an attitude utterly devoid of empathy. A leader who feels perpetually persecuted and is always looking for someone to blame creates a sentiment that mirrors his own.

Many moons ago, there was a saying … if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Today, this saying might sound absurd, ignorant, and even dangerous to free speech. Most Americans believe that not nice words are important for creating change and making the world a better place. I agree; the idea that we would only speak if we had good things to say sounds like a recipe for becoming sheep.

But over these last four years, with a leader who spews venom and toxicity, we have twisted that original expression into its modern form, namely, if you don’t have anything nice to say, come sit by me.

I frequently find myself wondering, what happened to our basic sense of decency and decorum, to integrity and basic kindness? While it may seem old-fashioned to follow some sort of public etiquette, at this moment in history we could use an infusion of old-fashioned values. We could use what Senator Cory Booker called a “resurrection of grace.”

It’s hard for us to agree on anything these days, but I hope we can agree that a regular diet of anger and intolerance does something dreadful to us, to who we are as a species. It poisons our consciousness and brings out the worst in us.

What if each one of us made a commitment to stop contributing to this cesspool of hatred? What if we each made the choice to stop using the public square to announce and celebrate every angry thought or grievance that floats through our minds? Just because we think something doesn’t mean it’s true, and it doesn’t mean that we have to say it. In fact, when we stop awarding our angry thoughts with so much attention, stop providing these floating mental flotsam with a megaphone, they tend to get a lot quieter inside our own heads.

We cannot control anyone else’s behavior, but we can control our own. What if, crazy though it may sound, we just acted a little kinder than we felt, or thought?

We don’t have to wait for our leaders to change our country. We can start a revolution right now by making the choice to use our words and our own behavior as a means to resurrect decency and decorum, to bring back goodness and integrity as fundamental societal values. And maybe even, to invite grace back into the conversation.

The post What If We Acted a Little Kinder Than We Felt, or Thought? appeared first on Nancy Colier.

Based on the fact that he was a public figure and had planned a jam-packed few days of in-person social and professional meetings, she had assumed (without realizing it) that her friend had recently tested for the virus, although she hadn’t confirmed that assumption.

They met on a chilly evening in New York City.  Without thinking, Petra grabbed a table inside the restaurant.  Her friend showed up wearing a mask and they elbow bumped a warm hello.  But then, her friend took off his mask, claiming that it wasn’t required because they would be eating.  For a moment, Petra also took off her mask, and the two dove into conversation.

After a few minutes, however, Petra was overcome with fear.  It suddenly dawned on her that her friend had been on an airplane the previous day.  Her friend had also (nonchalantly) mentioned that the last time he’d been tested was more than two weeks before the trip to New York.  As he went on talking, Petra found herself feeling increasingly afraid, and simultaneously, utterly trapped.

Petra made the decision to put her mask back on.  But what she didn’t do, and was so angry at herself about, was ask her friend to put his own mask back on.  She felt paralyzed, as if she had to stay in the seat and also had to stay silent.  Why hadn’t she asked her friend to be safe?  This was the question we explored the morning after.

What became clear was that Petra felt guilty about asking him to put his mask back on.  To ask felt unkind, particularly given how much pain he was in, and how happy he seemed to take it off.  Asking would have been a “bother,” and she certainly didn’t want to be that.  So too, it would suggest that he might be infected, which would be insulting, and a way of saying she didn’t trust him.  As if that weren’t enough, being honest about her concern would have made her a “buzz-kill,” difficult,” and “neurotic.”  Clearly, in Petra’s mind, there were huge risks associated with taking care of herself.

Petra was aware of her fear, and even the legitimacy of her fear, but nonetheless, could not bring herself to voice it.  No matter how she tried to rationalize what was happening, she knew she was putting herself at risk.  Still, she sat there like a “good girl,” quietly and empathically listening to her friend, watching the saliva droplets fly from his mouth.  Despite her discomfort and dread, she was not willing to stop what was happening.  She was not willing to risk being unpleasing.  In the end, Petra chose to protect her friend’s experience over protecting her own.

It can feel so hard, particularly for women, to not be what we imagine other people want us to be, to let other people down.  To please or not to please can feel like a life or death choice, like emotional survival.

Most of us have lived something similar to Petra’s experience, and also the regret, confusion, and anger that result from it.  What’s important is that we remember (and continue reminding ourselves of) these experiences, and how we felt in their wake.  These experiences are fundamental to our growth; we cannot change if we don’t recognize and deeply respect the power of our conditioned need to be what we imagine others want us to be.  Petra may or may not end up with COVID, but either way, she put herself at increased risk for it because she couldn’t risk not being what her friend wanted her to be. The threat of not being pleasing proved stronger than that of getting a potentially deadly virus.  If we resist the impulse to criticize ourselves for our choice, and instead use such experiences as teachers, they can lead us to change—and serve as fundamental turning points in life.

The need to people-please is a complicated topic about which I will write more in future posts.  But for now, here’s what I suggest.  First, start by paying close attention to your own experience.  Awareness is key; without awareness, we will continue acting out our habitual people-pleasing patterns.  Notice where you’re straying from your truth, where you’re “behaving” and becoming who you think is wanted.  If we don’t become conscious of our unconscious efforts to be pleasing, we cannot change them.

Furthermore, when you notice that you’ve slipped into pleasing mode, consider the possibility of pleasing yourself too.  If it helps, you can close your eyes, so as not to see the person you think you’re disappointing.  Now, say the words that are true.  Imagine saying them to yourself, but say them out loud.  And remember, everything can be said nicely.  In our re-written script for Petra, she said, “Hey, you just got off an airplane, I’d be more comfortable if you wore a mask.”  The ask is simple, direct, and honest.  It doesn’t seek to explain her feelings. What’s most important in these moments is that we own our own experience, without blaming or defending, and without indulging the story we have going in our own mind.

While some of you may see Petra’s choice as incomprehensible, something you would never do, in reality, most of us fall prey to the habit of people-pleasing, at our own expense, in one way or another.  Let me be clear: Taking care of others is not a bad thing and we’re not bad for doing it.  But we run into trouble when taking care of others comes at the expense of taking care of ourselves.

Remember too, each time we people-please, we strengthen the belief that it’s not safe to be who we really are, and that the only way to be accepted is to become who someone else wants.  This keeps us stuck in the same habitual patterns.  And worse, it can keep us feeling fundamentally unloved, and un-lovable, believing that our lovable-ness depends upon our willingness and ability to please.

We don’t become people-pleasers overnight and we don’t recover overnight.  It’s a process.  We start with small steps, practicing in what feel like low-risk situations.  Maybe we tell the waitress, nicely, that this isn’t what we ordered, or let a friend know that we don’t really want to take a walk in the cold, even though she needs some exercise.  Through practice, we build the muscle for taking care of ourselves. And, each time we practice, it gets a little easier and the muscle gets a little stronger.

The more we learn to express our needs, the more we feel we deserve to express our needs.  Each time we choose to be real, rather than to be pleasing, we experience a feeling of strength, self-respect, and groundedness.  Furthermore, we end up building relationships that are correspondingly grounded and real, based in the truth, and therefore, trustworthy.  Precisely what we’re trying to create by pleasing.  Most importantly, we build a relationship with ourselves that is self-loving and unshakably on our own side.

The post Are You A People-Pleaser at Your Own Expense? appeared first on Nancy Colier.

So, what are we to do with all this anxiety? When the new normal is anxious, when living with a constant sense of fear is just how it is, can we, also, feel peaceful and even well (without being delusional or in denial)?

While it may not be what we want to hear, the only way through our anxiety is through it. In order to ease our anxiety, we have to stop running from it and actually experience it.

Amped up on caffeine, I had spent the morning busying myself with one task after another. With a hyper-zealous, Virgo-style efficiency, I was getting an inordinate amount done, which was good, but I could also sense a kind of franticness in myself. As productive as I felt, I also knew that it wouldn’t have been possible to stop moving, stop getting stuff done, stop accomplishing, stop checking the boxes, just plain stop. I could tell that I was running, internally and externally. And so, after 400 years of spiritual practice, lo and behold, it occurred to me to stop and ask myself what I was running from.

When I asked myself this question, however, I was careful not to frame it as an intellectual quandary. Such an inquiry can easily become an invitation to describe (to ourselves) all the things we’re anxious about, to mentally regurgitate the list of scary things and remind ourselves why we have a right to be afraid. But ultimately, this is not helpful, not in any deep sense. We already know what we’re afraid of and why. Naming it may be helpful for our mind, but it doesn’t usually make us feel any better at a gut level.

When we become aware of the fact that we’re running from something inside ourselves, when we feel like we can’t stop or desperately don’t want to stop doing or “tasking,” that’s our cue that we really do need to stop. We have to (compassionately) override the instinctive part of our brain that’s desperately trying to keep us away from what scares us.

My advice is the last thing on earth you want to hear. I get it. I spent years, even decades, running, literally and figuratively, moving and doing, accomplishing anything and everything. I got all sorts of accolades for my running, but my real work was in learning to stop. That is, to get inside here and feel its edges, no matter what here contains.

When we feel the anxiety of what’s happening in our world these days, we can invite ourselves, albeit counterintuitively, directly into the experience of what we’re calling anxiety. Not our story or narrative on it, but the experience itself, what it feels like in our senses. We can literally say to ourselves, feel this, feel its edges, feel its uncomfortableness. Simultaneously, we can give ourselves permission to not have to understand it, figure it out, solve it, make it feel better, or make it go away. But simply to get inside it, step into it like a wet suit you wear scuba diving.

Maybe it’s all my years of being a serious athlete, of pushing my body and mind past what felt possible, but there’s something challenging (in a good way) and even exciting about experiencing something hard, about getting inside the experience of uncomfortableness. There’s a real payoff when we do hard things and stretch outside our comfort zone. Dropping into our actual experience, whether it’s anxiety, fear, anger, sadness, whatever it is, can in fact be a fascinating and beneficial exercise.

And here’s the thing: When we stop running and drop into whatever is here under all the running; when we let ourselves travel into the eye of the storm and the center of our experience, remarkably, we feel better. It’s the paradox of all paradoxes: When we allow ourselves to experience our anxiety, we feel less anxious (and that’s true for most everything). It’s as if the anxiety benefits or is soothed by our own presence.

But, I repeat, experiencing it is not telling ourselves about it, listing its causes, or trying to solve it. Experiencing it is not blaming ourselves or anyone else for it. Experiencing it is not collapsing into our emotional storylines about it. It is just (and yes, I’m laughing as I write “just”) a matter of inhabiting the experience itself, getting inside it, and if it works for you to imagine, feeling its edges.

So, give it a whirl. The next time you feel anxious or any other unwanted emotion, try thinking of it as a challenge. If you’re like me, you can make it a kind of athletic or spiritual challenge, like climbing Mount Everest. Instead of distracting yourself from the emotion, do the least intuitive thing possible: Stop and drop into the experience itself, lean into the feeling you’re running from. Feel what it’s like, get inside its edges. Wear it. Hey, if the experiment is a disaster and experiencing it proves worse than running from it, you can always peel off the wetsuit and put your sneakers back on (and unsubscribe from my blog). Let me know how it goes.

The post Surviving 2020, One Panic Attack at a Time appeared first on Nancy Colier.

And for some of us, all of the above is true; our holidays meet the expectations our culture sets for us.

But, I am struck by a very strange phenomenon. Every year, I witness firsthand the great chasm between the story we tell ourselves about the holiday season, the cultural mythology if you will, and the truth of the experience that so many people are having this time of year. The disparity between what we’re supposed to be living (and imagine everyone else is living) and what we’re actually living seems to grow wider with each generation of reindeers.

The truth is, many people do not have warm and loving families to go home to, relatives with whom they feel they genuinely belong. Many are not busy with exciting and interesting things to do throughout the season. And the fact that they aren’t having the holiday season they’re expected to have makes them feel even worse about themselves — less joyful and less happy.

There’s not just pressure to be having a great time and feeling loved at this time of year, but also to find (or even better, make) the perfect gift for everyone on our necessarily long list of friends and loved ones. We’re supposed to engineer presents that, while perhaps small in expense, are able to capture and celebrate the essence of each recipient. And finally, we’re supposed to enjoy the process of discovering that unique token to honor the profundity of our important relationships.

But once again, the reality of so many people’s experience, to which I am privy as a psychotherapist, simply doesn’t match these cultural expectations or the narrative we’ve constructed about this season. For so many, the feeling that we need to buy and create gifts for everyone in our life, all at once on an externally-determined date, is overwhelmingly stressful. And if we don’t want to give in the way we’re supposed to give, demonstrate our love and lovingness in the way we’re instructed to do so, we feel inadequate and ungrateful, ill-equipped to be a good person.

So, what is the best way through the season for those who have a holiday experience that differs from the one that our culture has scripted for us?

To begin with, we must throw out the “supposed-to-be” narrative that we’ve attached to this time of year and liberate ourselves from the cultural Kool-Aid in which we’ve been swimming. This narrative can then be replaced by a genuine curiosity for the truth: What is our actual experience of the holidays, not the experience we’re supposed to be having, but the one we are having? Secondly, we commit to being on our own side, to rejecting our inner bully, to stop blaming ourselves for our reality. Instead of blame, we offer ourselves compassion for where we are, and where we’ve gone off-script from the part we’re supposed to be playing in life.

In addition, when we get caught in imaginary stories about what life is supposed to look like, and in comparisons with the make-believe and real others who are having the holiday experience we’re not, we need to remind ourselves of what’s true. So many people are not living the holiday experience that our cultural mythology perpetuates, and many are afraid or ashamed to admit it. For most people, the holidays are a cocktail of emotions, some positive and some painful. It’s almost always both.

We need to stop believing the story of a sustained seasonal happiness, a wholeness and fulfillment that the holidays will offer, and realize that we’re not alone in our human experience. We need to stop telling ourselves that we’re a failure if we don’t meet the expectations that our consumption-oriented culture has set for us. Our human truth is far more complex and layered than the fairy tale we’re holding ourselves accountable to.

Furthermore, we need to take ourselves back to the basics. That is, to remember what this season is supposed to be about (and in this case “supposed to be” is a good thing). We need to reconnect with the values that are at the heart of this season, values that our maniacal consumerism and mandatory happiness have led us away from. We must reorient ourselves towards kindness, compassion, service, love, and simplicity — the qualities that this season’s teachings are all about.

We ask ourselves first, can I offer myself kindness and compassion during this time of year, without expectation and judgment? Can I form a relationship with my own experience (no matter what it is) that is friendly and loving? Can I promise myself my own kind company for this season and all seasons? And can I offer others kindness and compassion, and help them to know they’re not alone? Can I give others my full attention and listen without judgment? Can I be with others in a way that is loving? With these questions in mind and heart, we uncover a safe refuge from the stories we’re sold (and sell ourselves) about this time of year. With kindness for self and others as our center line, our guiding compass, we can be fundamentally okay, even if we’re not okay, no matter what season it may be.

The post How to Be Kind to Ourselves Through the Holiday Season appeared first on Nancy Colier.

Still, we believe that we are the thinker of our thoughts. Despite all evidence to the contrary, we think that we decide our thoughts, and as a result, that we are responsible for their content. Because they are “our” thoughts, and we “did” the thinking, our identity is determined by their content. We are a good person if we have “good” thoughts and a bad person if we have “bad” thoughts. We spend a lot of time trying to control our thoughts and create order out of the chaos that the mind delivers.

In truth, thoughts happen — on their own. We are not in charge of what our thoughts are about. We are the recipient — the “hearer” of thoughts, the screen upon which they are projected, but certainly not the one doing the thinking.

If you are like most people, the majority of what your mind tells you, you have already heard before — many times. So too, many of the thoughts you receive are useless or boring. Only a small percentage might actually be of interest to “you.” While it is true that we can direct our attention to a particular topic and thus encourage certain kinds of thoughts, still, most of what we hear in our heads is useless chatter that we would not miss if it were not heard.

When you walk by a crazy person on the street and they yell out wild, non-sensical things at you, do you take the comments personally? Do you feel responsible for their content? Probably not. The mind is not much different than that crazy person on the street. The main difference however is that your mind lives inside your head and thus you can’t walk away from it. And more importantly, that you believe that crazy mind to be “you”!

What if we didn’t have to take credit or responsibility for our thoughts? What if we could use thought but without taking ownership of it? What if we didn’t have to do anything about or with the thought-racket that the mind makes? Indeed, all of these are possible! And how liberating and relieving to be given permission to let the mind do its thing without having to get involved or be responsible for it.

Try it for a day: Let your mind fire off like the out-of-order computer that it is. Don’t get involved in the contents of what it fires — don’t feed its firings, or build a storyline from its random fragments. Starve the mind. (Be careful however, not to turn “starve the mind” into another thought that interests you.) If you are lucky enough to hear a thought that is genuinely interesting, you can move toward it, engage with it, and build something with it. But otherwise, you can get on with your life and let the thoughts simply pass through, like weather, without much ado. Imagine yourself inside a giant mosquito net with hundreds of mosquitos buzzing just outside the net, unable to get through. You can ignore the mosquitos and go about your business without getting bitten. After a while, you may not even hear the buzzing anymore. And when not paid attention to, the mosquitos often take off to find someone else to bug. The same is true for thoughts — without your energy, your juice (in the form of attention) — they lose their power. You can make use of thoughts, but don’t believe them to be “yours” in some fundamental, identity-defining way.

We cannot stop thought but we can stop being interested in thought.

The “you” who is hearing the thoughts is the real you. You are the space within which the thoughts appear (and disappear). Practice turning away from thought — not feeding the thoughts with your attention. And then, notice what’s there — the silence behind the noise, the stillness behind the mind’s movement. Indeed, you may find that starving the mind can deliver a most profound form of nourishment. Remember, the mind is not yours to control. Let the mind do its thing — and you do yours!

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