It's almost 6 weeks into 2018, and obviously share the same sentiments as the rest of humanity about the pace at which 2018 seems to be moving (where does the time go, etc, etc).
Early this year, I sat and really reflected upon 2017 - the good, the bad and the ugly. By the end of last year I felt completely exhausted and burnt out. I believe this was a function of both external factors and my tendency to 'push' myself into being perfect in every aspect of my life (I'm not bragging by the way. I don't see this as a positive, at all!).
Also a major contributor to this feeling of overwhelm I lovingly refer to as my tendency to 'invite frustration' into my life.
How do I do this, you ask?
- by dwelling and ruminating on things, people, situations that anger/annoy/sadden me.
- by taking a very dramatic approach to the areas I would like to change in my life (I don't our house - we need to move! To Denmark! I don't like my career - I need to quit my job! Get involved in a start up! I feel stressed! I need to go into a cave for weeks and not talk).
You get the drift.
I find that each of these approaches invites frustration. It's certainly okay - and necessary - to self examine and make adjustments where necessary. I'm not advocating for accepting situations that are bad, staying in jobs that make us miserable, keeping engaging in stressful lifestyle activities because we think we 'have to'.
But the thing is, taking this approach makes me feel totally overwhelmed, freaked out and powerless. Because I can't quit my job and magically become a CEO at an innovate start up that saves the environment and baby whales and also let's its employees play ping pong in the middle of day whilst also providing free private health cover. In the same vein, I can't magically wave a magic wand and become someone who is always serene, zen, freshly meditated (is that even thing?) and walks through the world being mindful with each breath, taking in the beauty of each moment. I'm just not that guy (though certainly, that does sound nice).
So my approach to 2018 is to tweak and pivot. This approach has many names (e.g. tilting) and isn't new by any means. My focus is to make small, almost immeasurable daily movements or changes that feel like they are in the right direction, and trust that they will get me where I need to go. This provides a nice contract from the feeling that I need to fundamentally 'change', that there are some drastic adjustments standing between me and fulfilment or a meaningful life.
So for me, this looks like:
- meditating daily, and just stopping whenever I remember to take a few big, deep breathes and wiggle my toes.
- taking ten minutes each day to advance my career in the direction I'd like to take it. This has meant, for example, signing up for mentoring, entering a competition to write essays on smart cities, signing up for another three months of career coaching.
- doing things that I know ground me - reading, exercising.
- cracking some work practices which are a bit unhelpful - for example, not reading emails first thing in the morning, or reading but not responding to emails, asking people to come back into my office rather than letting them interrupt me when I'm in deep work.
They key is to keep it small. Not to make big, sweeping statements like " I NEVER miss a day of meditation" or "I ALWAYS check emails only once a day at midday'.
Because these big rules / statements also invite overwhelm and frustration.
I think the second key to tweaks and pivots is aligning them to something bigger (which, honestly, I'm still working on). But for now, it's just small tweaks and pivots towards things that feel good and progress me or stretch my limits a little.
Saturday, 10 February 2018
Saturday, 11 November 2017
Perfectionism v. striving for your best
I'm writing a blog post today which shamelessly expands on a topic discussed by Brene Brown (you can listen to interview she gave on my new favourite podcast - Being Boss - here), where she delves i into the conversation about the difference between perfectionism and striving (the former being not great, with the latter apparently better). She makes the point that being 'perfect' in the world will not protect you from shame, hurt, vulnerability or heartache, because those conditions are universal to all humans.
She further captures this concept of being perfect by saying that it's akin to carrying around a 20 tonne shield. Exhausting, right? To differentiate between these things, she notes that perfectionism is (amongst other things) something that we do for others. To appear a certain way.
I get this. Hard. I carry around that shield, lugging it from home to work to the gym to the shops and to see friends and with my daughter. It's bloody tiring and at it's hard, it's about avoidance - avoidance of those feelings of shame, vulnerability and failure. That if I keep running and striving and trying that I will be immune from those feelings.
I try now to distinguish this from striving for personal reasons. To realise your potential, to feel as though you're aligned with your values, to feel as though you're working with purpose. Those are all intrinsic motivations, things that are special to me but may or may not please others.
It's often very hard to focus on these things. In a world where we are more attune than ever to others' opinions of us, and more attune to others living in their world of striving or perfectionism, it can be really hard to justify doing things just because you're intrinsically motivated to do them.
In any case, this is how I define the difference between striving and perfectionism. The former is what I do to realise my potential, the latter is something that I do to keep my head above water and be 'seen' by others. It's a fool's errand as well. Because you pursue perfectionism thinking that there will be a magic point at which 'perfectionism' will be achieved - when you've lost that weight, redone your kitchen, cleaned the laundry - and it won't. There will always be more, and you / I will never be done with it. It becomes insidious.
So how to unhook from this? I'm about to read Brene's book the Gifts of Imperfection... stay tuned.
She further captures this concept of being perfect by saying that it's akin to carrying around a 20 tonne shield. Exhausting, right? To differentiate between these things, she notes that perfectionism is (amongst other things) something that we do for others. To appear a certain way.
I get this. Hard. I carry around that shield, lugging it from home to work to the gym to the shops and to see friends and with my daughter. It's bloody tiring and at it's hard, it's about avoidance - avoidance of those feelings of shame, vulnerability and failure. That if I keep running and striving and trying that I will be immune from those feelings.
I try now to distinguish this from striving for personal reasons. To realise your potential, to feel as though you're aligned with your values, to feel as though you're working with purpose. Those are all intrinsic motivations, things that are special to me but may or may not please others.
It's often very hard to focus on these things. In a world where we are more attune than ever to others' opinions of us, and more attune to others living in their world of striving or perfectionism, it can be really hard to justify doing things just because you're intrinsically motivated to do them.
In any case, this is how I define the difference between striving and perfectionism. The former is what I do to realise my potential, the latter is something that I do to keep my head above water and be 'seen' by others. It's a fool's errand as well. Because you pursue perfectionism thinking that there will be a magic point at which 'perfectionism' will be achieved - when you've lost that weight, redone your kitchen, cleaned the laundry - and it won't. There will always be more, and you / I will never be done with it. It becomes insidious.
So how to unhook from this? I'm about to read Brene's book the Gifts of Imperfection... stay tuned.
Tuesday, 4 April 2017
An exercise in overwhelm
I've been feeling overwhelmed lately, particularly as a juggle the return to work with small person with uni with life. The juggle itself isn't so bad, it's more the feeling that I'm peddling hard and not feeling as though I'm getting anywhere. I'm guessing this is a common enough feeling in today's day and age - the lingering, yearning feeling that you've never done quite enough, that there are milestones and things to achieve that remain ever out of reach and elusive. How to combat this feeling? Do we meditate diligently and tell ourselves that we are 'enough'? Do we organise more efficiently, ensuring that we've allocated enough time to each area of our life? I must confess, I'm bad at this in the sense that I'm not a great prioritiser. From way back, pre baby, I relentlessly took on everything - social engagements, projects, things around the house, work stuff, responsibilities. Every fucking thing. In previous times in my life, I've had more time to spare and so I could fit all the 'stuff' in - albeit uncomfortably - to avoid having to really sit with myself too often.
And the thing is, I still have this inclination (to take on everything) but less time in general. And instead of saying no, or de-prioritising, I'm just spending a lot of time over engaging with every little thing that pops up.
I have no magic ideas as to how to combat this. I know that there are some obvious first ports of call - define my values, say no more often - but I can't help but feel that it goes deeper than that, to a sense of needing to be overly engaged in the world to make sure that I'm 'okay'.
And the thing is, I still have this inclination (to take on everything) but less time in general. And instead of saying no, or de-prioritising, I'm just spending a lot of time over engaging with every little thing that pops up.
I have no magic ideas as to how to combat this. I know that there are some obvious first ports of call - define my values, say no more often - but I can't help but feel that it goes deeper than that, to a sense of needing to be overly engaged in the world to make sure that I'm 'okay'.
Tuesday, 21 March 2017
Sarah Wilson told me to make the beast beautiful. So I did.
I've been a massive fan of Sarah Wilson's for ages. Pre IQS days, pre book days. I was once feeling incredibly stressed and anxious at work and a workmate directed me to her blog (to this post, to be specific) and I've been following her ever since. There's a certain honesty to her writing and approach that I admire, and I love that she's doing her own things - authentically.
And now she's written a book:
There's a lot of things to love about the book. The cover is cute as a button. Her writing style is straight to the reader. It's full of actual facts - science-y ones! With real research! There are times you think she's INSIDE YOUR MIND. For those of us who dance with anxiety, that is.
The premise of this book is that you can turn your anxiety into a lovely, useful thing and live with it - and that's a great reason to read it alone. But I loved it was full of no nonsense ideas for people like us. Meditate. Have a morning routine. Be kind. But more accurately, it describes phenomena that I know we all feel - the racing mind, that just won't stop. The feeling or need to be always 'doing something.' Human being v. human doing.
You can read about the book in Wilson's own words here. But I can't recommend this book highly enough. If you're worrier, a non sleeping tosser and turner, a perfectionist thinking you need to get it all right. This book is for you.
And now she's written a book:
There's a lot of things to love about the book. The cover is cute as a button. Her writing style is straight to the reader. It's full of actual facts - science-y ones! With real research! There are times you think she's INSIDE YOUR MIND. For those of us who dance with anxiety, that is.
The premise of this book is that you can turn your anxiety into a lovely, useful thing and live with it - and that's a great reason to read it alone. But I loved it was full of no nonsense ideas for people like us. Meditate. Have a morning routine. Be kind. But more accurately, it describes phenomena that I know we all feel - the racing mind, that just won't stop. The feeling or need to be always 'doing something.' Human being v. human doing.
You can read about the book in Wilson's own words here. But I can't recommend this book highly enough. If you're worrier, a non sleeping tosser and turner, a perfectionist thinking you need to get it all right. This book is for you.
Sunday, 10 January 2016
How To Stay Sane.
Oh brother, have the last 48 hours not been my best.
Pregnancy can be a really alienating experience in many ways. I'm fortunate to have an unbelievably supportive partner and amazing friends who have made the journey really lovely and made me feel all warm and supported and full of excitement. But some days, particularly when I'm feeling some of the not-so-desirable symptoms of pregnancy (which I'll refrain from sharing with you, dear reader, because I'm sure you have a delicate constitution), it can feel like I'm slogging it out totally alone. Your body is feeling not so fab (especially if you are a person for whom exercise, healthy eating and feeling healthy and rested is of the utmost importance), and your brain goes into overdrive (I feel awful! If I feel like this now, how am I going to go with a baby? What if I can't cope? I hate feeling tired! I AM LOSING MY MIND).
This morning my lovely partner said to me 'yes, you feel like crap, but you're not crap. It's the difference between 'I feel bad' and 'I AM bad'. Notwithstanding that my husband had a pretty big night last night (so extra points for morning after, hungover philosophy which I could never muster up after a night on the tiles), this statement really resonated with me. I've been so caught up in my own head! It's really easy to confuse the transitory nature of thoughts and feelings with a sense of permanence (particularly if you have spent some of your evening tossing and turning and/or vomiting). I find I do this a lot - we all do - by confusing how we feel now with how we'll feel forever, and then spiralling into anxiety about the future.
Similarly, my best friend this afternoon (also hungover, hmm) gently informed me that there's very little point worrying now about whether or not I'll feel tired and overwhelmed when the baby comes. I probably will feel tired and overwhelmed at some points. Maybe not so much at other points. But there's certainly not much I can do about it now, right?
I picked up (read: stole from a mate's house) this little number this afternoon which sums this all up quite nicely (well, I think it does. I haven't quite finished it yet. You can get it here ).
As I say, I'm only a little way in, but it talks about the difference between feeling and being. In it, Phillipa Perry invites the reader to regularly take stock by engaging in what she calls a 'grounding exercise' which allows us to increase our self observation. To engage the grounding exercise, we effectively ask ourselves these questions:
I'll be following this practice for a week to see what impact it has. I'll report back next week! In other news, I'll be using this space for some more creative writing over the coming weeks (as opposed to random warbling), so look out!
Pregnancy can be a really alienating experience in many ways. I'm fortunate to have an unbelievably supportive partner and amazing friends who have made the journey really lovely and made me feel all warm and supported and full of excitement. But some days, particularly when I'm feeling some of the not-so-desirable symptoms of pregnancy (which I'll refrain from sharing with you, dear reader, because I'm sure you have a delicate constitution), it can feel like I'm slogging it out totally alone. Your body is feeling not so fab (especially if you are a person for whom exercise, healthy eating and feeling healthy and rested is of the utmost importance), and your brain goes into overdrive (I feel awful! If I feel like this now, how am I going to go with a baby? What if I can't cope? I hate feeling tired! I AM LOSING MY MIND).
This morning my lovely partner said to me 'yes, you feel like crap, but you're not crap. It's the difference between 'I feel bad' and 'I AM bad'. Notwithstanding that my husband had a pretty big night last night (so extra points for morning after, hungover philosophy which I could never muster up after a night on the tiles), this statement really resonated with me. I've been so caught up in my own head! It's really easy to confuse the transitory nature of thoughts and feelings with a sense of permanence (particularly if you have spent some of your evening tossing and turning and/or vomiting). I find I do this a lot - we all do - by confusing how we feel now with how we'll feel forever, and then spiralling into anxiety about the future.
Similarly, my best friend this afternoon (also hungover, hmm) gently informed me that there's very little point worrying now about whether or not I'll feel tired and overwhelmed when the baby comes. I probably will feel tired and overwhelmed at some points. Maybe not so much at other points. But there's certainly not much I can do about it now, right?
I picked up (read: stole from a mate's house) this little number this afternoon which sums this all up quite nicely (well, I think it does. I haven't quite finished it yet. You can get it here ).
As I say, I'm only a little way in, but it talks about the difference between feeling and being. In it, Phillipa Perry invites the reader to regularly take stock by engaging in what she calls a 'grounding exercise' which allows us to increase our self observation. To engage the grounding exercise, we effectively ask ourselves these questions:
“What am I feeling now?”
“What am I thinking now?”
“What am I doing at this moment?”
“How am I breathing?”
“What do I want for myself in this moment?
I'll be following this practice for a week to see what impact it has. I'll report back next week! In other news, I'll be using this space for some more creative writing over the coming weeks (as opposed to random warbling), so look out!
Sunday, 3 January 2016
Owning my decisions...
I'm not really one for New Year's resolutions. I don't need the looming date of 1 January to remind me of all the things I could / should / would do better in life, and besides, they always seem a bit arbitrary to me (Get healthy! Learn Japanese! Take up pottery!).
Something that I had considered as 2015 drew to a close was the concept of owning my decisions, which has now formed the basis of a resolution of sorts for 2016. I was finding (in many facets of my life) that I was falling victim to my decisions, rather than accepting that the decision making process is an active process of which I can take total ownership.
Some examples - attending engagements that I don't want to attend, and then complaining about being there, doing household chores and then being pissed that my partner wasn't showing more gratitude, working longer hours or taking on more at work and feeling annoyed that I wasn't receiving more recognition).
I had a bit of an 'aha' moment with all of this in late November. I'd had a rough day at work, and then tried to practice some self care by leaving early to go to the gym (only to get held up from my early departure by matters that I perceived as being beyond my control). I was so frustrated, and as I sobbed down the freeway (and missed the gym!), I noticed the following thought patterns:
Why does this always happen to me?
Why can't anyone see that this is having a negative impact on me?
Why can't that person / persons sort out their own problems?
This is when it hit me - I'm an active participant in all of these goings-on because I have chosen to be. These things aren't 'happening' to me - I'm making decisions to engage in scenarios when I simply don't have to. I don't 'have' to go work. I don't 'have' to go to the gym. I don't 'have' to cook dinner. I don't 'have' to do anything.
I am choosing these things. And, if I am willing to accept the consequences, I can choose not to as well.
So, for 2016, I'm owning my decisions.
Something that I had considered as 2015 drew to a close was the concept of owning my decisions, which has now formed the basis of a resolution of sorts for 2016. I was finding (in many facets of my life) that I was falling victim to my decisions, rather than accepting that the decision making process is an active process of which I can take total ownership.
Some examples - attending engagements that I don't want to attend, and then complaining about being there, doing household chores and then being pissed that my partner wasn't showing more gratitude, working longer hours or taking on more at work and feeling annoyed that I wasn't receiving more recognition).
I had a bit of an 'aha' moment with all of this in late November. I'd had a rough day at work, and then tried to practice some self care by leaving early to go to the gym (only to get held up from my early departure by matters that I perceived as being beyond my control). I was so frustrated, and as I sobbed down the freeway (and missed the gym!), I noticed the following thought patterns:
Why does this always happen to me?
Why can't anyone see that this is having a negative impact on me?
Why can't that person / persons sort out their own problems?
This is when it hit me - I'm an active participant in all of these goings-on because I have chosen to be. These things aren't 'happening' to me - I'm making decisions to engage in scenarios when I simply don't have to. I don't 'have' to go work. I don't 'have' to go to the gym. I don't 'have' to cook dinner. I don't 'have' to do anything.
I am choosing these things. And, if I am willing to accept the consequences, I can choose not to as well.
So, for 2016, I'm owning my decisions.
Monday, 27 July 2015
A beautiful quote to spur you on ....
I read this quote over a year ago, from Robyn Davidson. I actually try to think about it over and over, to remind myself that it's OK when I feel daunted, scared, sad....
There's only one skill, really, or rather one skill subsumes all the others: the ability to take the first step, and then the next one, and then just keep going. It is surprisingly difficult to acquire such an apparently simple skill. Being human, we tend to confuse the first step with the whole journey and our courage fails. We see all the difficulty and problems ahead, magnified in the imagination, instead of looking at the group in front. We baulk at that first little step, and nothing is achieved.
As I navigate the first, fledgling steps on unknown roads in few different areas of my life, I reflect on this. It's really, really difficult (especially for anxious people like me) to turn off the scary voice of doom and ignore the distance between here and where we would like to be, and to simply just move on calmly, blissfully and without panic. I think that we all conflate the first step with the whole journey - I think this is probably how countless plans, projects, businesses, ideas and pursuits end up in the scrap heap before they've commenced - they've been sabotaged at the outset by our wonderful but very sneaky brains. I often wonder why this is the case, and can only assume (for my part at least) that for some of us, it's our brain trying to prevent us from taking a risk, from accepting that we may fail.
One thing I've found particularly effective at knocking this little phenomenon on the head is to consider how far we've come, when we feel daunted. To think about all our big and small achievements and use them as arsenal to propel ourselves forward on those days that taking even the first step feels too difficult.
x
There's only one skill, really, or rather one skill subsumes all the others: the ability to take the first step, and then the next one, and then just keep going. It is surprisingly difficult to acquire such an apparently simple skill. Being human, we tend to confuse the first step with the whole journey and our courage fails. We see all the difficulty and problems ahead, magnified in the imagination, instead of looking at the group in front. We baulk at that first little step, and nothing is achieved.
As I navigate the first, fledgling steps on unknown roads in few different areas of my life, I reflect on this. It's really, really difficult (especially for anxious people like me) to turn off the scary voice of doom and ignore the distance between here and where we would like to be, and to simply just move on calmly, blissfully and without panic. I think that we all conflate the first step with the whole journey - I think this is probably how countless plans, projects, businesses, ideas and pursuits end up in the scrap heap before they've commenced - they've been sabotaged at the outset by our wonderful but very sneaky brains. I often wonder why this is the case, and can only assume (for my part at least) that for some of us, it's our brain trying to prevent us from taking a risk, from accepting that we may fail.
One thing I've found particularly effective at knocking this little phenomenon on the head is to consider how far we've come, when we feel daunted. To think about all our big and small achievements and use them as arsenal to propel ourselves forward on those days that taking even the first step feels too difficult.
x
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