Post-Vacation Crunch

I told myself, and my newsletter readers, that I was going to take it easy in July. After all, I missed the first week due to my vacation (I know, boo hoo, poor me). The post-vacation situation is that there are piles of things at work, piles of things at home, phone calls to be made to catch up, endless laundry, restocking the larder, getting the doctor appointments caught up before school starts, etc. And there are also the usual things I do and enjoy doing.

Yet, there’s a little nagging voice in my head. Why haven’t you blogged? You’ve had ideas. You’ve written them down. What’s the holdup? And what about that newsletter? When do you think you’re going to get to that? You should be working on it now. What’ve you been doing with all your time?

Then I go through the list of things I’ve been doing with my time. They all seem legit. It’s not like I’m spending long hours contemplating my navel. And what if I were? What would be wrong with that?

So now I’m telling myself that I’ll get to things when I get to them. Like right now, I had planned (notice I didn’t give it a should) to be working on something else. But the mood was right to work on this and the something else will surely wait. It’s not do or die. Not too many things are, are they?

So I’m telling the little nagging voice: Give it a rest. Things will get done in their own time. There’s no real rush. Life will go on whether I pay my bills today or three days from now. I’d rather catch up with a friend than get to that work quicker. If someone needs the work they’ll ask for it and I’ll do it. No biggie. I’m going to take three deep breaths and go to my happy place; why don’t you try to do the same you nag?

I know this self-talk strategy only works for a while and then the nagging voice needs to hear my kinder, gentler version of SHUT UP! again. But that’s fine. Some things require a great deal of repetition for mastery.

And when I’m ready to embark on a new project, I’ll put on a little Black Eyed Peas…Let’s get it started. Until then, I’m going to enjoy my post-vacation calm.

My Favorite Mistake

My most recent newsletter focused on self-forgiveness. How do we forgive ourselves for the mistakes we’ve made? The biggest reaction was about the nature of the mistakes I referenced. People were adamant about which were big and which were silly. For some, the stock market misses were the biggies. For others, market decisions paled in comparison to life choices like having kids or marrying. I included dieting choices because I work with so many people for whom these choices have the do or die feel. I know for others the career missteps are the most painful.

There’s a concept I’ve been recently taken with: inattentional blindness. It’s the notion that unless we’re specifically attending to something, we can be totally blind to it, even when it’s before our very eyes. The most amusing experiment is about the students who miss the person in the gorilla suit while attending to how many basketball passes six students make to one another in a video clip.

So, the takeaway? It’s easy to miss the obvious. What’s your favorite mistake?

And there's always Sheryl Crow's My Favorite Mistake.

Had a Great Time, Wish You Were There

Return from vacation seems like it warrants a blog entry. I'm not charmed when people dominate a conversation talking about the trip they recently took. It's like the old days when Uncle John would force everyone of all ages to watch his slides of the family trip to Miami Beach. But surely there are some good takeaways from a two-week vacation (aside from souvenirs and memories). My list, in no particular order:

• Bring entertainment for the moments you just want to veg or are stuck on a plane or the like...did I see a lot of Sudoku books.
• Be busy enough to be tired. After all, you came all that way, right? See it all. Do it all. You can sleep when you get home.
• Every time you want to complain, go over your list of positive self-statements: don't sweat the small stuff; you can't control everything; nothing's perfect.
• Try new stuff. Eat food you don't usually eat. Talk to people you wouldn't normally bother with.
• Don't allow yourself to be consumed with what you've left behind. Forget the email. Don't call home daily.
• Don't worry about buying things. This includes not worrying about getting the "right" gifts for everyone. And don't perseverate about souvenirs. After all, you're not going to forget you went to Venice, right?

Have as much fun as you can. Because, when you get home, it's back to the usual, whatever that may be and however much you may enjoy it. Ciao.

Separation Anxiety

I'm having separation anxiety. I don't want to leave my computer. I'm thrilled to be going on vacation. It's my first 2-week vacation in forever. But I'm not thrilled to be leaving my computer. I've left it for a weekend many times. It's a little difficult, but I manage. But 13 days. It's not so much the email. It's the access to the universe. It's the writing...I rarely write by hand anymore. Let's face it, it's bloody everything.

Sometimes when I'm working on something I don't get out of my desk chair for hours for anything. Not for a phonebook, a dictionary, the weather channel. Why get up? It's all right at my fingertips, which no longer have to do the walking. Now I just click. Soon, I'm certain, there will be virtual coffee.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining about it. I love the convenience and the speed. I've just become attached. Too attached. What we might call an unhealthy attachment.

So what do to? I'm going to consider it a growth experience. It will be my project for the trip. Let go of the technology. Be one with the non-technological universe. Just breathe through the anxiety. Use a freakin' pen to write. Talk real talk to real people instead of cybertalk to cyberpeople.

At a meeting today someone used the phrase "cybercabinet." It's a place on their accountant's website where they can store a backup of their data. What next, I wonder?

I guess I'm just white & nerdy. I'll be back in a couple of weeks and I will be relaxed. But I'm taking my iPod.

Bette Davis Eyes

From the Maybelline website:

Whether you want volume, length, curves or definition, you’ll get your best lash look with our winning formulas.

It's Maybelline folks, we're talking eyelashes here. This morning on NPR's Marketplace I heard that the Botox people are about to bring us a new pill; it's one that makes lashes thicker, longer and darker. I am not kidding.

If we're already dissatisfied with our face, hair, boobs, butts, or any other body parts, we can now add eyelashes to the list of our inadequacies.

I know for all the actualized folks out there, these things are superficial and barely worth a thought; you know, like the folks on jezebel.com who think that it's only the Sex and the City women that care about clothes etc. ("Do they have hobbies, aside from shopping? " http://jezebel.com/5012292/i-like-sex-i-like-this-city-i-hated-sex-and-the-city). As for the rest of us slobs, we're gonna have to consider whether we need some lash enhancement above and beyond mascara, along with our other enhancements and dehancements.

You can tell I think this is absurd. It does concern me though. The thought that there are a bunch of people out there, primarily women, okay, and some gay men, who are going to see the ads for this inane product and think: hmmm, what about my lashes? Do they have the volume and curves I need?

I know, let the buyer beware, but honestly.

Please, you've got to count your blessings. These include your strengths, be they Bette Davis eyes, Marie Curie brains or Anne Frank courage. Forget the pills. Stick with mascara.

Her hair is Harlowe gold,
Her lips sweet surprise
Her hands are never cold,
She's got Bette Davis eyes
(Bette Davis Eyes, Kim Carnes)

Get a Life

Life being what it is, one dreams of revenge.
-- Paul Gauguin

Reading this quote, I had to smile. Hamlet waxed poetic on the subject as well. A dish best served cold is another that comes to mind. Not being a revenge junkie, it took me quite a while to appreciate the meaning of this last one.

The positive psychologist in me considers revenge and revenge fantasies to be energy zappers. I think we all pretty much subscribe to the notion that we have a finite amount of emotional energy to expend. If we waste a lot on revenge, there’s less left for the good stuff.

Maybe as an initial coping response to a crushing blow, I can see it. It’s better than crumpling up in a ball or melting down into a puddle. Plotting and planning, not carrying out (!), sophisticated and novel revenge techniques is a one way to keep the mind facile and to keep one from dwelling in the house of pain.

But as a life’s work or continuing pastime, I’d suggest Sudoku, crossword or solitaire would be preferable. Better yet, beef up your exercise schedule, take up a new hobby, read more, talk with friends more. Work on letting go with meditation, writing, forgiveness exercises or getting closure in some other way. In short, move on. Or as my kid would say, dude, get a life.

See Seligman's REACH exercise in Authentic Happiness: Recall the hurt; Empathize with the perpetrator; be Altruistic in your forgiveness; Commit yourself publicly to forgive; Hold onto forgiveness, not anger),

Listen to: Don't let it show. Pat Benatar

Ask me no questions...

I was reading an article recently about the fear parents have when their kids ask them about the past. Do they tell them the truth about their sometimes sordid past, that they smoked marijuana at 15, when they first had sex, whether it was in or out of wedlock, or not? Do they withhold the truth? Or do they out and out lie?

In many situations, we don’t tell all. Sometimes it’s to avoid judgment, sometimes to avoid hurting someone, and at other times, it’s to manipulate for other reasons. What happens in relationships when truths are not shared, be they romantic relationships or parental ones, friendships or collegial?

What about the times we pretend we’re happy with things as they are in a relationship? No, I don’t really want to go out with the boys and play poker, smoke and get plowed. I’d much rather stay home with you and watch Titanic, honey. A small matter, but what happens when it’s something bigger? What happens when you want to climb Mount Everest, or your Mount Everest, and he doesn’t want you to?

I often hear people talking about how they’d like to …, want to …, would rather…, wish they could tell someone …, only to stop in mid-hope by the fear that someone will disapprove, cut them off, withhold affection, leave them. It’s not a pleasant prospect. And I’m not just talking about lovers. Think about all the things you haven’t told your parents, siblings, friends. Think about the things they haven’t told you.

So we have some situations here that come up often. Are we going to try to manipulate our kids by not being honest about the past, pretending to be the kind of person we’d like them to be? Or the person we wish we’d been? Are we going to keep a relationship going based on pretending to be someone who we’re not?

So here’s my bottom line. Tell the truth. Possibly the world’s foremost expert on lies, Paul Ekman, in Telling Lies, says we all lie. I can see it. When she asks if the dress looks okay on her, don’t say it makes her hips look big, tell her the color makes her eyes look greener. When your kid asks what drugs you did as a teenager, you might give him the short list. But apart from a little nip and tuck on the truth, tell it like it is. For kids, this would be in an age appropriate manner. And, like the woman and the dress, consider what the person is really asking. She doesn’t want to know if she looks fat, she wants to know if you think she looks good, if you love her even though she’s put on a few pounds. Your kids don’t want to know what drugs you did, when and with whom, they want to know if they should be using drugs or hanging with people who do. They want to know if they can make mistakes. They want to know if you’ll love them no matter what. So just show them the love...that’s all we really want, isn’t it?

If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything. Mark Twain