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Have you ever found yourself at an event, dinner, movie, party, etc and thought "why am I here? I had / have no desire to be here."? Have you ever been sweating in the 1 million degree summer heat doing some random and laborious task asking yourself WHY or HOW you signed up for this? Ever felt like you've wasted hours (or even an entire weekend) doing something that did not align with your goals or soul? THAT feeling is most often the result of people-pleasing and failure to set clear boundaries. Boundaries are tricky. They're difficult to set in the beginning but become rote after lots of practice. They require forethought and communication. Licensed counselors are often EXPERTS at explaining and helping you set boundaries, so please find a good local counselor if you identify this as an area of potential growth for yourself. One word of caution, however: once you get GOOD at setting boundaries, you will never look back. Tell your best friends and loved ones to say goodbye to the Doormat You and hello to the Assertive You. 🥰 In addition to the lists below (which are both excellent references), I want to give you my tips and insights around setting boundaries.
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photo credit: www.gretchenrubin.com Gretchen Rubin is an author, podcaster, mom, wife, lifelong learner whom began her career as a lawyer. I have read 4 of her books and saw her at a live event in Atlanta in 2019. I listen to her podcast when I can, and I love her curiosity about life, community, relationships, and self. Gretchen developed a framework from which she thinks people are motivated and then named the 4 tendencies based upon said motivations. Gretchen's 4 Tendencies are:
More about each of the 4 Tendencies:
I asked my parents, spouse, and oldest child to take the quiz so that I can better understand what motivates them. Knowing the tendency of someone you love has made a difference in my life. If that person is not easily motivated by external forces, then I may realize that my actions may not affect their efforts whatsoever. If the ARE motivated by external sources, I take that into consideration before asking them to do something. So here I am. 11:32 PM on a Friday night. Laundry is caught up. Dishes are done. I've been off work for 5 days for a knee surgery, and I'm wide awake. The house is fast asleep, but here I sit. Why is rest so difficult for me? I can't blame the pandemic, because this has been an issue for decades. I don't sit well. I don't laze well. I don't relax easily. I feel guilt when I am unproductive, and I'm not sure why that is. Oddly, I can usually relax on vacation. Sure, I bring a puzzle, books, journals, and planners to work on, but I can sprawl on a stranger's couch without hesitation. I can sleep late in a stranger's bed, and I can (sometimes) leave dishes in a stranger's sink. I love vacations where outings are limited and "doing nothing" and "not having a schedule" are the highlights. BUT I CANNOT SEEM TO DO THAT IN MY REAL LIFE AT HOME. Not a single person on planet Earth outside of my household would know if I had been a complete lump the past 5 days, but I would know. Am I judging myself? What is this all about? Busy-ness is a disease for sure. I am the first one to ask my patients if they are practicing any self-care or getting enough sleep. And I do practice some self-care and I really do want to be asleep right now. But my breathing is shallow. My pulse is approaching 90 and I'm seated. My mind feels scattered and my heart feels heavy. Yes, there are several things (and people) on my mind. There are unfinished projects floating around in my brain, and there are conversations I need to have. Writing is usually the best way to get all the "yuk" and "to-do's" off my mind, so I'm hovered over this laptop waiting for peace. Now I sit here, with this truth I long for the exhaustion that comes with youth For with each decade comes more woes My jaw won't relax My eyes won't close Perhaps I will run and jump and ride And dance in the kitchen and sit outside Can wind and sun and trees and breeze Steal my worries, my need to please? I see my children doze off with smiles Such hope and joy imaginations wild Come on, sweet girl it's still in you The hunt for knowledge, the quest for new Lay that body down dear girl, don't fight it anymore Put those thoughts to rest dear girl, stop that mental tug of war You are enough You've done enough My love is enough Today was enough This goes out to anyone anywhere who has watched the clock, felt the shallow breathing, or had feelings of guilt associated with REST. You are not alone.
Godspeed. My son had a rough baseball practice. His pitching was off. He missed some routine grounders, and a few of his throws to first were off target. He struck out once and that hardly ever happens. On the drive home he was giving me all the reasons he had an off day on the field, and I listened quietly until he finished. Once we pulled into the driveway and exited the car, I sat him down on the golf cart. I said Son, if I hurt a patient because of an error I made, do you think the judge or the patient’s family is going to want to hear that?
He glared back at me. Or will the judge and patient’s family ask me about how I prepared for my work as a nurse practitioner?
Was I involved in practices that put my patients in danger?
I explained to my young pitcher that baseball (and life) is like my job in many ways. If he makes an error during practice or a game, his coach does not want to hear any “excuses.” Instead, the coach will hold him accountable. The coach may ask what he has done to prepare for his game or practice.
He seemed to understand the concepts after that explanation, but I wanted to take the conversation one step further. I wanted him to have a concrete example of how HARD WORK can truly PAY OFF. Son, do you know how mommy has her blog? Yeah, and you have a lot of people who read it. That’s right. But do you think I would have as many readers if I never wrote and put new posts up? Did you know Mommy has written over 80 posts in 7 months? Mommy “sits her rear in the chair” and writes even when she is tired or has other things to do, because SHE LOVES IT, and she is passionate about it. She even works her full-time job and still gets in that chair to write FOR FREE! That’s how much she both loves it AND wants it to succeed. Is anybody making mommy “practice” or “put the reps in” for her blog? No. Mommy is disciplined. She knows that her hard work will lead to good things. She believes in herself, and she knows that her work ethic and preparedness shall not be questioned. Instead of using some star athlete or famous musician, I used MYSELF. The same person that cooks his meals and folds his clothes. The person he cuddles on the couch with and tells all his secrets. He SEES me chasing my dreams. That really got him pumped up and ready to face the challenge of this upcoming baseball season. Now what does any of this have to do with you? It might be early in the morning when you are reading this. You may be getting ready for a regular workday, or you may be on your lunch break. You may be near pass-out status on the couch, or you may be killing time in a lobby somewhere.
I want to ask you 2 questions:
No judgment. I was 45 before I even started chasing my ACTUAL dreams. And excuses? I’m full of them! I beg you to pause after reading this. Take some deep breaths in, and exhale slowly. Close your eyes and imagine yourself doing what you have always DREAMED you could do. Instead of listing all the reasons why you can’t do it (reasons, excuses, you decide) … think of ONE STEP you could take towards your dream. For me it was pushing “publish” for the first time in July 2021. And then pushing it again and again and again and again, even if my work wasn’t perfect. Even when I wasn’t feeling inspired. I sat down, I started typing, and I made it work. Picture yourself taking that risk. Godspeed. PS I would love to hear from you! What are your dreams? A recent blog reader commented on my pandemic lessons post with the comment "we are not all scared and trying to stay alive." I have had to sit with that for a few days. I am not scared of death... for many reasons... but a lot of it does have to do with my blood, sweat, and tears I have poured into countless patients for decades now... as well as my faith, but the two seem very intertwined when I think of my own mortality. I think another reason is that I have a chronic illness and I know end-stage pulmonary fibrosis (how my disease usually pans out) is not a cake walk, so if God calls me home at another time for another reason, I am okay with that. But, I think it's her last little bit of commentary that hasn't settled well in my soul. "We are not all trying to stay alive." We are not all trying to stay alive. 🤔 🤷♀️ 🧐 But aren't we, though? Isn't that why all of these scenarios insight fear, panic, palpitations, stomach-drops, sweaty palms, and often tears?
This post is not meant to be a Debbie Downer. It's meant to be a reality check for myself, and perhaps for you too. Every SINGLE day in my work, I encounter people I hold dear now after all these years that are FIGHTING to stay alive. Whether it is cancer, chronic disease, renal failure requiring dialysis, congenital or acquired physical disability (think MS, cerebral palsy, and paraplegia to name a few), OR they are in an unsafe home environment OR they are mentally on the brink of self-harm. they are each FIGHTING to stay alive. The following examples have all taken place in the past 2 years along with countless other patient deaths (some covid, some not), but these have rocked me. I lost my first patient to suicide this year and I am not the same. I always worried about him. I would leave our visits thinking about him. Did I do enough? I lost a close friend my age, someone I admired- so many admired- this past year to a 6-year battle with colon cancer, and I have tried to help my friend of 27 years keep herself and her children together during and after that loss. I am still learning - we all are. This is new territory for us. I lost a patient my age that was so much like me health-wise and personality-wise that it was like looking in the mirror every time we had our visits. We just happened to have different colored skin, but our hearts, fears, loves, and passions were so aligned. I was the one her son called while the nurses were "pounding on mama's chest" and I was the one weeping in my parents' backyard looking to the heavens begging God "please don't take her, she's not ready. Please don't take her, she's not ready. Please, please, please Lord don't take her yet." As I attended her funeral, it was like I was attending my own. I still think of her so very often. So yes, dear reader, I can agree that most of the time I choose not to live in fear. I have a "crappy" (it's my blog and I will almost-cuss if I want to) autoimmune disease that makes me feel lousy some days and fine other days. I take mouthfuls of medicine twice a day and my Humira costs could house a small family (thank you Aetna for your coverage). Occasionally, I "fear" not ever seeing my 2 youngest sons graduate high school or college. I "fear" never meeting my grandchildren, and sometimes I "fear" my precious boys having to take care of dear old Mom. I'm afraid I won't get to tell them everything I want them to know about me, about love, about God, about marriage, about friendship, about what truly matters, and about how to navigate the good days and the bad days. How to forgive, how to keep moving forward, and how to love themselves. Honestly, I think it is part of why I felt this huge push to write. They don't read my words now, but they might one day. But as for not trying to stay alive? I will disagree with every hair on my head, bone in my body, and adjective in my razor-sharp vocabulary on that friend. I AM TRYING EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY TO STAY ALIVE. And I stand witness and hold space for every other person I have cared for during my career in nursing and medicine who were all and are all still trying to do the same. I learned a new term today during a visit to Little Havana in Miami. It was made for the patriots who were anti-Castro who often became political prisoners. They were named "Plantados" - they stood planted, strong, unmoving, unwilling to step down. I am a Plantado for life, sister who made that comment. I shall never budge on that. I am here, showing up, every single day- trying to stay alive. I welcome my fellow Lifers. Let us make this world a little better each day. 🌎 Please help support my fellow Hope*Writers
by reading their work 🥰 Does Fear Have a Place in the Life of a Christian? By Regina Marcazzo-Skarka https://reginamarcazzoskarka.wordpress.com/?p=90 Living Fearless By Sharla Hallett www.sharlahallett.com/living-fearless/ I ain't afraid: Reflections on turning 50 By Jessica Weaver www.rootedunrooted.com/blog/i-aint-afraid When Hidden Fear Creeps Out By Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/2021/10/31/when-hidden-fear-creeps-out/ How to Help Kids with Anxiety and Fear By Ashley Olivine https://louvaria.com/how-to-help-kids-with-anxiety-and-fear/ I was pretty sure an acorn grew into a tree. I haven't been in first grade for a while, but I thought I remembered an acorn grew into an oak tree. I decided I better look it up before I wrote an entire post about it, and alas... an acorn does grow into an oak tree. Wikipedia expounded upon acorns being used in art, cuisine, customs, and as food for various birds and mammals. When I took the picture of the acorn in my husband's hand this morning, I wasn't thinking about anything but stored potential. Stored potential. I remembered squirrels collect and store acorns for the winter. And they eat the acorns. And those eaten acorns never reach their calling of becoming a beautiful oak tree.
There are all kinds of books and stories and even a finance app regarding the acorn as a tool for storage, delayed potential, growth. And yet... Here we are, scrolling on our phones or our laptops or our tablets (thank you, dear readers, and I do mean that)... Did we write that book we wanted to write? Did we take that ballroom dance class we wanted to take? Did we belt it at karaoke night like we'd been rehearsing with our brush mic in front of our bathroom mirror? (Okay, Susie did but that was the bottomless margaritas singing, not her true heart's desire to sing on a stage in front of strangers and have someone's heart beat a little faster and someone's eyes water at the sheer sound of her voice... wait, maybe that's just me)? Did we finally tell our friend we were sorry when we did that thing that's rolled around in the back of our minds for 20 years? Did we hold our child close to our chest and tell them everything is going to be okay even though we know it might not be okay and we don't want to be the reason they're in therapy later but we don't want to pretend everything is okay, oh my goodness, what is the right answer? Did we apply for the promotion we know we deserve or let another opportunity pass us by? Did we sign up for the race we know we aren't ready for but really, really want to try? Did we tell the person that hurt us repeatedly that they did hurt us and going forward, did we define what we need from them? Did we look in the mirror this morning and like every single inch of our bodies and every single fiber of our heart and soul because God designed us as a masterpiece, beautifully and wonderfully made, despite society's measuring sticks? Or, did we remain on the leaf-covered ground like the acorn... waiting for a squirrel or bird or toddler to scoop us up? Were we stored away for another day? Were we consumed before we ever began our destiny? An oak tree is a beautiful destiny. She is strong, tall, sturdy, and beautiful, with colors that change with the seasons. She provides shelter, shade, and structure. She never leaves us and she stays the same for the most part. You know what else is beautiful? A mother who tells her children she has been hurt too, and that it really is all going to be okay. That she KNOWS it's going to be okay, because she is okay and she will help them be okay as long as she is on this earth. A wife who tells her partner what she needs from them even if she doesn't know if they can give her what she needs. A friend who tells the truth when asked if she's okay. And a friend who recognizes her own flaws and asks for patience and understanding. A daughter who can look at her elderly parents and recognize every line on their face and hands for all its good and bad and steadfastness. She can see herself acquiring those same lines and she knows the toll each one has taken. She knows that her own children will see her lines one day, and she hopes they give her the same recognition. I'm typing this on the porch of a cabin on a lake in north Georgia and the acorns are literally spilling from the treetops hitting the ground HARD and abruptly and with force and determination. Each one comes down on this cabin rooftop or leaf-scattered ground with a POUND or a BOOM or a SNAP. And my heart is full. For I know the destiny of each tiny acorn. She is yearning to become a beautiful oak. She is waiting for her moment to rise. Now it is your turn. What path will you choose? Will you make the hard decisions, let your voice be heard, show up for those who love and need you? Or will you stay on the ground... waiting... watching... allowing life to happen all around you? I dare you to stand. I will stand with you. |