Tirade on Fear

We all get scared. Trying new things is scary. We may respond differently to fear and new things, but WE ALL GET SCARED. The thing is, there's no way around it, no short cuts; the only way to mastery, competence or achievement (and farther away from "new scary thing") is to do it. DO IT, DO IT, DO IT. It takes hundreds of trials and errors. That is thee process. For everyone. Why are you so special that you want to be perfect from the start, or (with hands on the hips) "I won't even try to do it" (all stubborn). Nobody gets to be perfect. Ever. Especially not at the beginning of anything. Grab onto your ovarios or cojones - whatever the good Lord gave you - both if you've got them and dare to do it. If for no other reason than to spite the Evil One that tells you that you can't or that it's impossible.

Hmm. Don't you just want to show 'em?

Reminder: If you have a voice, then use it.

The only thing I’m afraid of is - not doing what I came here to do.

One of my cherished mentors calls me a woman with cojones.

I tend to cry when I speak out. It's a little embarrasing sometimes - more for the audience, I think, than for me. Before an important speech, I often pray that I don't cry. My husband suggests, if it makes me feel better, that I warn the audience that I am very passionate and might cry. It's just that I do care so much about what I am doing and what I am saying that my heart opens really wide and I start to feel it heating up my whole body and the whole room. I don't even care if I come off as weak or naive or whatever. It's being cynical, jaded, despairing or apathetic that I want to keep at bay.

Columnist Connie Schultz reminds us...

"A lot of them are mighty nervous -- at least at first. They remind me of what I always told my children when they were scared: Act brave even if you're not, and the courage will come. Turns out it works at any age.

So often, a woman will approach me before I give a talk and tell me she could never get up in front of all those people. Whenever that happens, I remind her of what Gray Panthers founder Maggie Kuhn said: Speak your mind even if your voice shakes.

If you've never heard Kuhn's words before, you might have the same response I had the first time I heard it. It hits you, doesn't it? Right there. Suddenly, you have permission not to be perfect or polished or even particularly brave. It's not who hears you that matters. It's the speaking up that'll save you every time.

And here's the thing about that shaky voice. People will listen anyway. I see it time and time again as I travel the state and meet women who just can't be silent any longer. One woman in particular has wedged her way into my memory. She is a middle-aged mother whose son recently returned safely from Iraq. But he came home to a different mother. It isn't enough that her son survived. She wants all the troops to come home. And so she wears a T-shirt that identifies her as the mother of an Iraq War veteran, and she shows up at event after event, forcing herself to talk to rooms full of people she knows won't all agree with her.

"My voice is not real strong, and it usually shakes," she said softly as she grabbed my hand before speaking. "But sometimes. Sometimes, I think if I don't speak out? Well, I'm afraid I will lose my mind."

A few minutes later, she took the stage. Her voice shook that night, just as she feared, and she stumbled over her words a few times as she shifted from side to side.

But for the entire time that she spoke, her soft, trembling voice was the only sound in the room."

Leaning Into It

At the beginning of this week, I was having a temper tantrum about the math part of statistics class. Then I decided to double my efforts (flash cards! and diving into Stats Support class). The rollercoaster loops are becoming more manageable. I'm leaning into it.

When things get hard, rather than resist, it helps me to lean into it. Like when I did a summer family retreat and we had to walk, in the unrelenting heat, up and down the chaparral mountains for meals, dharma talks and mindful walking hikes. No point in complaining for 5 days. So I leaned into it -I did it - and I felt good.

Here comes the next train...

I loooooove breaks. Detaching, disengaging and disconnecting to the intensity of work. The brain and body relax, oh so deeply.

Now it's time to get back in the game and my brain is responding ever so slowly.

I still want to play with family and friends, be slothful and unencumbered.

Deep breath. I like the way my body feels on break. Any chance of holding on to that feeling for the next 10 weeks? And to distributing my time and energy to family, self-care, school, work, friends, fun, fun, fun.

Evidence-Based Practice (EBP)

"You work twice as hard with a less than ideal treatment. "

"Be transparent with clients about the strength of the evidence for a particular intervention. Informed consent requires providing information to the client."

--Jim Raines

Are we doing what works and being transparent about it?

Are we doing what we know because that is what we feel comfortable/confident doing, regardless of whether it works for our client in their particular situation? And if so, how do we explain this to clients?

When we think about changing what we do and learning something new - what thoughts, feelings or bodily sensations come up? Can we notice without judgment and proceed anyway?

What will it feel like when we are being even more effective in our work and clients are accomplishing their goals? Can you picture it?

"Create and preserve the image of your choice."
--Ghandi

PTSD, Children & their Parents

…it is not surprising that PTSD in young children develops more often if the trauma involves threat to the caregiver (Scheeringa & Zeanah, 1995), and that the caregiver’s ability to cope with trauma is the strongest predictor of child’s outcomes (Benedek, 1985).

So what can we do to boost the caregiver's ability to cope?