Over the past several years I have spent a lot of time alone, literally and figuratively. It wasn’t a conscious choice, at first, and for a while I thought it was just a phase. But I’ve had a series of ah-ha moments that have led me to be much more deliberate about choosing to be alone.

But first, what do I mean by “alone”?

Literally: I spend most of my days alone. I work alone and there is no one else around. I don’t go out with friends as much as I used to. I also limit my time with certain people.

Figuratively: I am careful about what I allow to influence me. I don’t watch television, I limit social media, and I limit other forms media (like newspapers, magazines, blogs, and online news sources).

(This is not about being an introvert. And it’s also not about being a hermit. To use an overused word, I think it’s mostly about being mindful…and intuitive.)

Ah-ha #1 The more alone I am, the more peaceful I feel.

I had this realization one evening when Tim and I were out having dinner recently and there was a TV on (sound muted) in the restaurant and every time I looked at it, I became anxious.

My heart started beating faster, I ate faster, I breathed more shallowly, and my stomach clenched.

Ah-ha #2 The more alone I am, the more I know what I like.

Without a lot of outside influence, I am much more aware of my true preferences and I am more discerning when it comes to making decisions and purchases. As a result, I spend less money. I eat better. I enjoy myself.

Ah-ha #3 The more alone I am, the more motivation and control I have.

Oooo…there’s that word! How many times have I said that it’s about taking control out of the equation? Well, I have an important distinction to make: white-knuckle control (fear) and truly self-motivated control (love).

Here’s what I realized: when I am trying to control and/or change the uncontrollable/unchangeable (other people, the past, the weather…) I do not have the freedom to control or change myself. And it is ONLY when I relinquish white-knuckle control that truly self-motivated control is possible.

Ah-ha #4 The more alone I am, the better I am able to practice and master that which is important to me*.

A couple of years ago I wrote a blog post called How I Want To Be In The World  and in it I described my aversion to conflict. This is something about which I often felt “weak”…as if I didn’t have a “backbone” because I didn’t enjoy “debate.”

Here’s what I’ve come to realize: I do not like to feel reactive or defensive. When there’s a situation that feels polarizing to me, I’d rather remove myself from it than to publicly take a side. I feel stronger in my convictions and thus ACT on them versus having to “preach” them. And in that way, I am more powerful and influential.

*Be for, not against; practice, don’t preach; and it’s not mine to fix

Ah-ha #5 The more alone I am, the less I concern myself with what others are thinking and doing.

It’s not that I don’t care about others…and I don’t say this in reaction to what others are saying and doing. I say it because it sets me (and everyone else around me) free. They get to be who they are and I get to be who I am and, as a result, I feel lot more love (rather than sadness, fear, judgment, etc.).

Who and what tells you who you are and informs your choices? Have you ever consciously experimented with aloneness? 

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If you’ve been reading for any length of time, you know I used to eat Goldfish crackers by the bagful(s).

goldfish

They were usually accompanied by a bottle of wine and followed up with something (a lot of it) sweet. I was a binge eater and while I also binged on other foods, Goldfish crackers came to symbolize the issue for me (and so what that means for purposes of this post is that when I write “Goldfish crackers” it might also mean some other binge food).

Ten-ish years ago, when I decided for the millionth time that I wanted to lose weight, I told myself I couldn’t have Goldfish crackers any more. But I often found myself buying them in secret and bingeing on them anyway. There was a lot of shame and desperation involved. I tried to stop myself, but damn! I loved Goldfish crackers!

And then one day, a few years ago, I decided that instead of trying to restrict myself and then hating myself when I “gave in,” I would just give myself permission to eat Goldfish crackers whenever I wanted and love and accept myself at the same time.

Slowly, over time, my binges became fewer and farther in between and the amount I would eat became less and less. For sure, I’d still buy Goldfish crackers and sometimes I would eat more than a serving, but I did it in a much more mindful way. A bag might last several days instead of an hour.

Goldfish crackers became something that I believed I would always love, might sometimes choose to have, and even might sometimes choose to binge on, but they slowly lost their hold on me. And I chose to learn the lessons that I could only learn when I paid attention to the thoughts I was thinking as I reached the bottom of the bag.

And then, about a month ago I was at a party (my grandson’s second birthday), and there was a HUGE bowl of Goldfish crackers on the table. I hadn’t had them in quite a while. I turned to him and said, “How did you know that Boo-Boo LOVES Goldfish crackers??”

I scooped up a handful and popped a couple in my mouth…crunched them up and after a second or two, realized that they didn’t taste nearly as good as I thought they would. In fact, I’d have to say I didn’t like them at all. I had the opportunity to have them again recently, just had to have a couple, and sure enough, I found them almost repulsive.

Boo-Boo does NOT love Goldfish crackers!

I’ve written about this phenomenon many times over the years. It’s not about white knuckling it and being in control. It’s about taking control out of the equation. Goldfish crackers do not control me and I don’t have to control Goldfish crackers.

This might not be your desired way of approaching a similar issue in your life, but I have found great peace in taking baby steps. It might not be sexy. It might mean that certain goals take longer to reach. It probably won’t attract the media. Whatever.

If change was supposed to happen fast, children would grow up in 12 months. Patience and process win in the change game. ~ Susan Giurleo

Are you a cold-turkey type or a baby-step type?

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So, having turned 50, it was time for that rite of passage known as a colonoscopy. My appointment was at 10:30 this morning. I spent Tuesday and Wednesday eating a “low residue” diet, which basically consisted of applesauce, bananas, eggs, chicken noodle soup with some mushy carrots (homemade, but still), cottage cheese, white bread (I had a medium-sized onion roll with butter), and saltine crackers (edit: and a couple of turkey/spinach meatloaf muffins I made with breadcrumbs instead of oatmeal).

By the end of the first day I felt foggy and exhausted! By the end of the second day, I was foggier, more exhausted, and achy, and I had wicked cramps, gas, and the runs, and I hadn’t even started the “prep”!

From 6 p.m. Wednesday until after the procedure today, I was on a clear-liquid only diet, which, when I looked at the list, seemed to be mostly made up of sugar-laden beverages (sure, artificial sweeteners were also on the list, but eeeww). I purchased some Pedialyte, as “sports drinks” like Gatorade were recommended to replace electrolytes (but I’ve never liked Gatorade), and in addition to that, I drank lots of water, had a couple of mugfuls of low-sodium chicken broth, a couple of cups of chamomile tea, a bowl of Jello, and a couple of popsicles.

But go figure, I felt A LOT better once the low-residue foods were out of my system…hunger wasn’t much of an issue at all.

And, as far as colonoscopy preps go (at least based on everything I’ve heard from others), it was a cakewalk. Due to my anxiety around vomiting (which usually causes me to pass out), I asked the doctor (during the initial consultation) about alternatives to the dreaded GoLytely. EVERYBODY I know who has taken it said made them nauseated and/or caused them to vomit.

He recommended OSMO Prep, which consists of 32 laxative tablets, 20 of which are to be taken the night before (four at a time, every 15 minutes), and the remainder to be taken five hours before the procedure.

I was able to go to sleep around 10:30 last night, as the tablets seemed to have finished “working.” I woke up around 2:30…got some water and “went” some more, then fell back asleep until the alarm woke me at 5:00 so I could take the rest of the pills. And as I write this, I am remembering a weird dream I had! In it, I had overslept to about 7 a.m. and tried to the take the rest of the tablets but couldn’t find them all…weird.

Anyway, I lolled around in bed reading in between “going.” I didn’t have any cramps, and the procedure itself went well (I was blissfully asleep).

What truly amazed me is how absolutely crappy I felt after eating the rather innocuous “low-residue” food. Could it have been the lack of fiber and the addition of “white” processed carbs? All I know is that most of the foods on that list are foods I rarely eat!

And what it taught me is that I want to be even more careful about what I put into my body!

Have you ever had an experience in which you drastically changed your diet, even just for a couple of days, and noticed a significant difference in how you felt?

Feeling a little loopy, but good, afterwards. I think the Propofol and Versed (which, by the way, were administered by a very handsome and kind anesthesiologist), was the best part of the whole experience!

Feeling a little loopy, but good, afterwards. I think the Propofol and Versed (which, by the way, were administered by a very handsome and kind anesthesiologist), was the best part of the whole experience!

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Fear, sadness, shame, desperation, anger…

I’ve come to view these so-called “negative” feelings as rather fascinating…not to mention how much data they can provide for me if I choose to feel them.

I had an interaction recently that triggered some old, ugly thoughts/feelings/behaviors. I found myself the next day moping around, with seemingly insatiable hunger, wanting to get stuff done but distracting myself with Facebook instead. Then I’d get up and look in the fridge or cupboard, hoping for something mind-numbingly yummy to appear.

And then I realized that I what I really needed to do was to just allow myself to be frustrated and angry…because right after the aforementioned interaction occurred? I wall all, “I’ll take the high road…I’m choosing not to go there! Lalalalala!”

So finally I just allowed myself to get angry. I did a little exercise whereby I gave my anger the voice it was asking for.

I sat down and wrote, “I’m pissed because…FUCK YOU!”

That was the first thing I wrote! And I kept writing, “I’m angry because…” and more and more stuff poured out until I finally got to the truth.

It was only then that I was able to calm down and ask myself how I wanted to feel…knowing that it’s my feelings that ultimately drive my behavior.

And no one, including myself, was harmed as a result of the anger I chose to feel.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a trillion times: it’s not about never feeling negative emotions…it’s about knowing that I have a choice, and that sometimes choosing anger is supremely necessary. When I allow myself to feel it all the way through, I can move on.

Do you give your emotions the voice they are asking for? Do you know how? The process is simple…it’s recognizing the need to do so that sometimes trips us up.

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“It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure.” ~ Joseph Campbell

I recently took part in a conversation about how some traditional self-help and therapy often focus on and perpetuate “brokenness” and keep people stuck in their “stories.”

I’ve had that experience myself. While traditional therapy has helped me in many ways, in other ways I allowed it to keep me focused on what I perceived as “wrong.” I focused on what I thought of as my wound, not on my wholeness.

Here’s how I understand it now: there’s the story of my life and the stuff that happened, and then there’s the “story” – what I made the stuff that happened mean.

You and I? We’re meaning-making machines. Stuff happens and we make it mean something. We jump right from the circumstance into the feeling, seemingly forgetting that our brains are playing a key role in how we interpret our circumstances.

What I make it mean depends on all the things I’ve learned and experienced, from the time I was born; and what you make it mean depends on all the things you’ve learned and experienced, from the time you were born.

It’s the meaning we put on our experiences that turn them from neutral circumstances without bias, into life-altering events that we judge as good or bad.

And guess what? Even with all the things we’ve learned and experienced from the time we were born, we can choose to change the meaning of what happened.

For example, from this: “My parents got divorced and I grew up in an abusive, violent, alcoholic household, so therefore I am damaged. It shouldn’t have happened that way.”

To this, “My parents got divorced and I grew up in an abusive, violent, alcoholic household, so therefore I am strong and resilient. It happened exactly the way it was supposed to.”

It was only when I started to see myself as complete and whole – “as is” – that I was able to drop the “story” and move the heck on.

Now, that’s not to say that acknowledging one’s story and choosing to feel the accompanying pain isn’t important or valuable. In fact, I’d say it’s imperative! Too often we’re told (by others and even ourselves) to “suck it up” or “get over it already” and that’s not useful or helpful either, if we haven’t allowed ourselves to feel whatever it is we need to feel. In fact, it’s downright destructive!

In order to elevate ourselves of our “stories,” we have to be IN them and examining them, at least for a while. We have to choose to feel our feelings all the way through, so we can then release them. This doesn’t mean wallowing or indulging the feeling without doing the work. It means accepting what happened (not to be confused with approving of or condoning) and being willing to change the meaning of it. So you can feel better.

And we all know that when we feel better, we do better.

I didn’t go from telling my “story” to telling my story in one easy, quick step. It’s a process that has been years in the making and will continue well into the future.

Do you understand the distinction between your story and your “story”?

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