It’s all a little … much
Dig deep.
Breathe.
Suck it up.
Get it done.
I’m done.
I’m done with it all. Well is dry. Battery is drained. Fridge is empty. Need a re-charge.
A good night’s sleep. The baby to sleep through the night. A spacious afternoon. A completely crossed-off to do list.
I’ve been thinking about kindness a lot lately. What it is and what it isn’t and why there isn’t more of it in our lives.
I’ve also been thinking about the Complaint Weasel. And why it is so easy to unleash him on the world.
I’ve come to the conclusion that kindness is a one-way street. It’s a street you travel, willingly and on purpose, but it’s not something you can expect from others.
Hear me out on this one …
When I worked in the tax office, by the time mid- to late-March rolled around, I was a basket case. Completely stressed to the max, surviving on caffeine and adrenaline. The work itself was stressful (hello, IRS!) and the office was busy. I dealt with nearly all of our 700 clients in either checking them in, checking them out, or preparing the taxes. I had contact with nearly every.single.client (and their spouses) at least once.
And every single client thought that THEIR taxes were the most important. And they were – to them.
Nobody seemed to realize that I was dealing with 700 returns (and about 1,000 PEOPLE!).
Do you see what I said there … dealing with.
I was rushed, hurried, harried, and often brisk.
The truth – I was stressed and emotional.
Imagine giving good people bad news – the refund wasn’t as big as they expected, they owed, your spouse or child or parent died – I’m sorry – I need the date of death and a death certificate please.
By mid-March, all I wanted was for somebody to SEE me. To see the person behind the stress. The person who really did care about them AND their taxes but just couldn’t find any more emotional bandwidth or strength to convey that. All I wanted was … kindness.
Don’t get me wrong! The clients weren’t horrible by any means. (Okay, with that many there are always a few meanies. But they’re the exception, not the rule!) It is that every one of them was stressed in their own right – about taxes and about who-knows-what else. And all that bled off onto me.
And I wanted kindness.
That’s the wiggly little creature that pops up when you’re on the phone with your bestie – venting, fussing, and yes, complaining.
It’s the endless parade of negativity, complaint, whining, nagging, and fussing that gets aired over and over and over and over. It’s the voice to the stress, the worry, and the fears.
And it’s like a CD on repeat – endlessly playing.
I realized that I was feeding my own Complaint Weasel too much. I was calling one of my besties, Martha, every.single.day. to complain about how stressed I am. Client deadlines. Client needs. Money woes and worries. Kiddo who won’t sleep. Kiddo who naps at the wrong moment. Husband who didn’t anticipate my every whim. My mom was too busy to come help me. Dog ate a stick on my carpet. People who drive too fast when we’re out for a walk. The wind. Clients not understanding me. Me not understanding them! Mean text messages. Fears. More stress.
On. And on. And on.
And then it hit me – all I’d been doing was calling her to complain. Barely asking about HER life and then digging into all my woes.
Not just letting the Complaint Weasel out for a romp but laying out treats and feeding him a gourmet meal!
I called and apologized. LISTENED more than I talked. We worked on her new business – for hours.
So where’s the intersection between kindness and the Complaint Weasel?
I think we’re all tired of the Complaint Weasel. Our own and everybody else’s. I think, deep down, we are tired of the bashing, the anger, and the meanness. We’ve got hair triggers – and we expect to be able to use them and have other people give us a pardon on it.
What if we were kind?
What if we recognized and remembered that we’re all facing crap?
That “terse” email or text message?
You can’t really understand the tone and caps for EMPHASIS might not be as emphatic as you’re thinking.
When you’re called out for something, it’s not as CALLED OUT as you might think. (Seriously, how much emphasis are you putting on that? Why?)
Last August I wrote an article about feeling like a lone candle in the dark. Since then, I’ve carried that metaphor into a few different pieces – either articles or my weekly personal note to you in the newsletter.
Candles are a lot like love.
Lighting a candle from one already lit diminishes the first candle NOT AT ALL.
Love doesn’t divide, it multiplies. The more you give, the more you have.
Today, one candle to another, I want to send you my love. I want to reach through these words and wrap my arms around you in a hug (I give GREAT hugs) and be with you for a moment.
It’s not a quiet, sad kind of love with a gentle, gentle hug.
Nope, my fellow candle, it’s a big bear hug, I haven’t seen you in months and I’ve MISSED you, jump up and down and celebrate kind of hug. It’s the joyous way toddlers CRASH into legs with abandon, wrapping sticky arms around you in an unashamed burst of joy.
See, I’ve figured some stuff out since last August.
1. I’m not carrying your dream – you are!
Here’s the thing – you never actually ASKED me to carry it in the first place. So all that stress and worry and aching arms and heart over carrying your dream of being a published author – it was never mine in the first place. I stressed myself out (and maybe you too!) for something that wasn’t mine.
In the last weeks of my pregnancy, I wanted one thing: to find my new normal. It wasn’t about holding my son in my arms and finally seeing if he got my husband’s nose or my own… I couldn’t wait for life to be shaken into the new rhythms and patterns of a family of three, five if you count the dogs.
I’m a work from home entrepreneur – with a business I love. I’m not naïve. I knew that work – that life – would look very different. But I was hungry for the new patterns of work and naps and feedings. I’ve never had a corporate job so I wasn’t missing maternity leave. And the business just isn’t something I could put down, or even automate, and step back into weeks or months later. But I’ve worked from home for years – through all manner of chaos and upheaval – and I know two things are true:
And even in the throws of chaos, a rhythm or pattern will emerge.
Bringing forth my son would be no different. A new normal would be created. I also understood that this normal would be flexible and changeable as he grew from newborn into infant into toddler and as I grew as a wife, mom, and business woman.
I had no illusions of being super mom. My husband cooks most nights (happily and to amazing results), laundry is normally clean but rarely folded, and dishes are done when I run out of tea spoons. I figured Ben would step up for housework (he has) and that we’d all find an acceptable level of house-work-related-chaos together.
In the last weeks of the pregnancy, NORMAL was all I could talk about. Think about.
I’m sure it alarmed some people that I was more interested in the new routine than I was in the baby himself. That wasn’t at all the truth – but I can see how it seemed that way!
(And hotdogs. I spent a lot of time talking about the hotdogs I’d eat after the birth, when deli meats and the worry of a sausage-induced infection were no longer a concern!)
I have a confession to make:
I feel like hiding today.
I don’t really want to show up in an article, in today’s newsletter.
It’s been a rough couple of… days? Weeks? I’m not even sure anymore. But it’s been rough.
And I’m tired of thinking of creative ways to send you inspiration for your writing when my own inspiration and creativity well is empty.
Actually… I take that back.
I am inspired, personally. I’ve got a couple of things that are lighting me up:
But the idea, today, of facing the empty page and the blinking cursor bummed me out in a way that rarely happens. I’m not sure I wanted to talk to you today. It’s been feeling like my messages have been falling on deaf ears.
November is always the month where I start thinking about computers – and taking care of my computer system. Strange, I know, but I have a really good reason for it…
When I was graduating from the University of Arizona – getting my degree (with honors) in Creative Writing – I had to write and submit a thesis. 270 pages of all original writing: poems, stories, plays, and an essay. It was the culmination of a year’s worth of creative work – and was the piece of writing that had to be completed and turned in so I could graduate, and graduate with honors.
That was the semester that my computer decided to be a PITA. (Pain In The A$$). So at Thanksgiving, I asked my dad to bring me a new one. I spent nearly the entire holiday weekend setting up programs, transferring files, and working on my thesis – it was due the next week. I missed out on making tamales with my family (our Black Friday tradition), I missed out on the U of A/ASU football game, I missed out on a precious weekend with my grandparents, greats aunt and uncle, and my folks.
I had a deadline.
Then, Monday morning, when I was working on the thesis before class…
I threw myself on the floor, convinced that somebody had just done a drive by on my aunt’s house. (It wasn’t a sketchy area of Tucson AT ALL but for a country girl it sure sounded like a gunshot!)
After my heart stopped pounding and I could hear again, I heard… nothing. An eerie silence that could only mean one thing.
I do a lot of one-on-one Writing Adventure Discovery Sessions where I’m working with people to discover their best next move – that one thing that is not just a next step but the best next step.
And no, it isn’t always working with me!
But when I feel I can offer support: VIP coaching, a product, book publishing, copywriting, etc., I do share what that would look like. As well as the investment.
And that’s where the rubber really meets the road. Is your dream of writing and publishing your book really worth it? Or not?
I’m not talking price. I’m not talking sacrifice. Because price and sacrifice, frankly, don’t get the job done. You don’t sacrifice to get your dreams but you do invest in them.
Let me tell you about investment:
Beyond my degree in Creative Writing I’ve also invested in writing workshops all over the world. Time away from my family, airfare, tuition, and in the case of four weeks in Russia, FIERCE culture shock.
Dreams don't require sacrifice. Dreams require #investment. Click To Tweet
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