Letting Go of Low Self-Esteem

An ornament hanging in Sugarloaf Mountain Park in Md.

For about four decades I questioned my worth pretty much every day of my life. I grew up in a household that was different than most kids I knew, and I felt lesser because of it. My family didn’t have much money, and I didn’t know my father. He elected not to play a part in my life, and that made me feel like there was a piece missing inside of me.

For most of my childhood I was smaller than the other kids, and I had crazy hair, so I felt weird. I was shy and constantly afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. Being laughed at or teased, even if the teasing was meant affectionately, assured me that I was inferior. The only thing worse than being made fun of was being overlooked, which happened a lot.

Even within my own loving family I sensed a hierarchy, with my mother and I stranded several rungs below my uncles and their families.

Insecurity shadowed me for a very long time. I tried to overcome it, and I did an ok job most of the time. But sometimes I couldn’t escape feeling like I was on the verge of collapsing into my self-doubt. Throughout most of my life, I chose counterproductive and temporary ways to push down the doubt.

Many of the stupid things I said and did over the years were based on a suspicion that I didn’t and might not ever measure up. I struck out when I felt challenged. I argued with friends and significant others because being wrong or not being taken seriously felt like a confirmation that I was deficient, insufficient, insignificant. I craved validation but found it difficult to accept when it did come my way.

From the BASK Mural (by Ales Bask Hostomsky) at Foolish Pride Tattoo Shop in St. Petersburg, Fl.

I knew I was smart and funny but didn’t believe I had enough of either attribute to make up for my faults. The slightest mistake on my part would get blown out of proportion in my mind–another piece of evidence that I was a loser and everyone could see it. The success of others was taken as a sign that I couldn’t possibly have anything to be proud of about myself.

I wanted so desperately to like and respect myself, but I didn’t trust that chick for one second. Did she really deserve my unguarded embrace?

On top of it all, I frequently feared dying in a horrific accident or discovering I was terminally ill. I know now that this dread was a clue that I could not bear the thought of losing control. And it was tightly woven into my lack of confidence issues, making them both feel central to my very being.

Fifteen years ago I started seeing my second therapist, and slowly things started to get better. Gradually, I replaced the rickety rope bridge that was my ego with a stronger, more solid pathway forward.

Over the last few years, I’ve explored additional strategies for making peace with myself. This blog is a record of the more recent steps in this journey. The path isn’t likely to reach a magical destination one day where I can celebrate certain victory over my self-esteem issues. But that’s ok. As long as I stay on the path (mostly–I’m not perfect) and keep passing milestones, I’ll continue making progress. Embracing the journey is necessary and, surprisingly, it’s not the arduous task it might seem at first. And, the process can be just as comforting as the result.

Trying to be in the moment on a recent kayaking trip on Lake Linganore in Md.

Lately, I’ve found meditating very helpful. If I make time for it every day and take some of the practices into other areas of my life, I can feel the calming effects. It helps me avoid wallowing in my stress; gives me the strength to resist my anger; and encourages me to stop identifying with my negativity. I can still acknowledge those feelings when they arise, and then move on.

Just the other day I got that old panicky feeling that there’s something physically wrong with me, something that could lead to death and the great unknown. I momentarily felt out of control, like a fist was clenching my heart, but I was able to use techniques from meditation to get past it quickly.

Previously I would have been afraid to let go of the fear. Who was I without it? And what if I died suddenly, and I wasn’t properly in terror beforehand? What then, indeed? Releasing my attachment to this pointless distress has been a true gift to myself.

Putting the mindfulness piece together with a few other key pieces is making a real difference in my life. It’s not always visible to others, but I can tell you that the ugly chatter in my mind has subsided considerably. And it only took half a century to get here!

In the coming weeks I’ll write more about the other pieces of the puzzle.

Up next: My somewhat successful experiment with limiting media consumption.

Podcast Guest Appearance: Dear Sugar

Version 2
Mirror by Myrtle Grove Furniture, photographed at woodshop in New Market, Md.

Sometimes when I’m listening to one of my favorite podcasts while driving to work, I imagine what it would be like to be a guest on Dear Sugar Radio, Call Your Girlfriend, Here’s the Thing with Alec Baldwin, or Magic Lessons with Elizabeth Gilbert.

As a recurring feature on this blog, I will occasionally spin these fleeting thoughts into full-fledged fantasies. First up is Dear Sugar Radio

From 2008 through 2012, authors Steve Almond and Cheryl Strayed took turns offering brutally honest yet compassionate advice in the “Dear Sugar” column on The Rumpus. Now they appear together as co-hosts of Dear Sugar Radio, which regularly rocks my world.

As a longtime advice column reader, typically I have no fewer than five questions rattling around inside my head begging to be sent off for diagnosis and remedy. Here’s the one I think is best suited for Cheryl and Steve to tackle.

Dear Sugars,

A while ago I read a letter in another advice column. The writer started by explaining how she and her family visited museums, went on hikes, attended the symphony, and did volunteer work. They all grew vegetables and made crafts together and didn’t watch much TV. I don’t remember what her question was, but the implied message was clear: This family was getting it done right.

Taken at the Rockefeller Park Greenhouse in Cleveland, Ohio.

I’ve been thinking about this letter and its writer’s attitude for years: Was her family superior to families who don’t take part in more high-brow or down-to-earth activities? Is there something wrong with lounging on the couch and watching TV?

My real question is inspired by this letter, but it’s far more personal. The struggle that keeps me up at night concerns living up to my full potential.

I often question whether I should have done more with my life by now. Would my life be better if I had published several novels by the age of 30, as the young me had hoped I would? What if I had gone to law school or traveled more? What if I had tried just a little bit harder to “make something of myself”?

I did work at a nonprofit organization for nearly two decades—perpetually underpaid, overwhelmed, and very fulfilled. But that’s over now, and my accomplishments there (of which I am most certainly proud) are fading fast.

Currently I work in marketing at a company that helps families, and this time around my job doesn’t invade my personal time nearly as much. I try to expand my life with occasional trips outside my comfort zone. I finally started a blog this year, but the posts are already coming fewer and farther between. And my morning walks have dried up.

Maybe I should give up TV entirely and force myself to write every night. Maybe I should get back to taking drum lessons or start rock climbing or both. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

Some people seem to have so much energy and drive. Some people work endless hours to make their dreams come true. Why isn’t that me?

A bridesmaid’s beautiful “do” at a Washington, D.C., wedding.

How do I know if I’m slacking off or just living within my limits? I see posts and memes on social media about how important it is to accept yourself, and then I see others about how important it is to challenge yourself.

I want to be happy, but I don’t know if doing more will make me happy. You can probably tell that I’m the type who drives myself to distraction questioning my motives, my abilities, and my worth.

Sugars, please help me decide what to do and how to do it: Should I figure out how to give myself a break for not being more accomplished? Or, do I need to get past my complacency to lead a life that will make me more satisfied?


Possibly Not Good Enough

The format of Dear Sugar Radio makes this next step a little intimidating. Usually the letter writer is not invited on the show. Cheryl and Steve talk about the letter themselves for a while, and then they welcome on a guest expert to join the discussion. On rare occasions they call the letter writer, but in this case I don’t need to babble on more about the problem—I need a solution!

So, with all due respect and humility, I’m going to try to channel the Sugar spirit and conjure up what they might say. And, what I think my mind and soul need to hear.

The Sugars might start by dividing my dilemma into two parts. First, there’s the issue of my tendency to interrogate and berate myself for not being more successful.  And second is the issue of procrastinating and avoiding doing things that I really am interested in doing.

Well-used sink at the Myrtle Grove Furniture woodshop in New Market, Md.

To address the first issue, the Sugars might recall a previous show they recorded live in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a little over a year ago. Musical artist and author Amanda Palmer guested on the show and performed her song “In My Mind,” in which she imagines a future version of herself who is “someone I admire.” In the song, Amanda laments that she is not exactly the person that she thought she’d be.

As the song progresses, Amanda comes to suspect that “I don’t want to be the person that I want to be.”  As the song closes, Amanda proudly pronounces that she is “exactly the person that I want to be.”

A similar thought was circulated on Nov. 11, when author Elizabeth Gilbert shared a quote from the recently departed Leonard Cohen: “There is a feeling we have sometimes of betraying some mission that we were mandated to fulfill, and being unable to fulfill it. And then coming to understand that the real mandate was NOT to fulfill it. And that the deeper courage was to stand guiltless in the predicament in which you find yourself.”

The Sugars might point out that many highly accomplished people suffer from the curse of doubting themselves. You can reach the top of your profession, yet still despair that you missed out on that one award, or you aren’t making enough time for family, or you still can’t please that one withholding parent—whatever fuels your lingering insecurity.

One of my other favorite podcasters, Ezra Klein, is a pretty successful guy, and even he noted that a recent guest “makes me feel boring and underaccomplished.”

No matter what goals I manage to achieve, I would probably still engage in the pointless art of constantly looking back, obsessive worrying, and self-flagellation. The trick is to figure out how to stop being so tough on myself. The Sugars might recommend that I work on stopping these thoughts as I have them, over and over until I tame them. And that I be kind to myself and grateful.

There are a number of ways to do this. I recently started meditating daily to train my brain how to focus and live in the moment. The Sugars might be interested to hear that I am already starting to feel the benefits after 30 days.

At the water’s edge at Elk Neck State Park, Md.

I have also adopted a ritual suggested in a TED talk by cancer survivor Sarah Trimmer (which I discovered via another post from Elizabeth Gilbert). At the end of each day, I ask myself to complete these five statements:

1) Today I am grateful for…

2) Today I helped someone by…

3) Something that made me happy today was…

4) Today I learned…

5) Tomorrow I will…

After encouraging me to agonize less and locate the grace in what I already have, the Sugars might move on to the second issue present in my letter. Cheryl and Steve, being writers themselves no doubt would want me to explore whether I really want to write. And if I want to, then I should darn well find a way to do so.

The only way to determine this is to carve out some time to actually WRITE. The Sugars might wonder aloud what I am currently doing with my free time, and they would glance back at my letter and easily surmise that watching TV is the main culprit.

To provide more inspiration to clear time on my schedule, they might point to several bloggers/authors whom I admire who have stated in interviews that they had to give up TV to find time in their schedules to do the work they wanted to do.

I’m not confident that the Sugars would point to the Cracked article titled “6 Harsh Truths That Will Make You a Better Person,” but they might have similar thoughts to share. The article is written primarily for an audience of young men bemoaning that they don’t have girlfriends. But it has wise advice for just about anyone.

The author, David Wong, states: “Do the math: How much of your time is spent consuming things other people made (TV, music, video games, websites) versus making your own? Only one of those adds to your value as a human being.”

And for those who need a real kick in the pants, he says: “The human mind is a miracle, and you will never see it spring more beautifully into action than when it is fighting against evidence that it needs to change. Your psyche is equipped with layer after layer of defense mechanisms designed to shoot down anything that might keep things from staying exactly where they are — ask any addict. . . . Remember, misery is comfortable. It’s why so many people prefer it. Happiness takes effort.”

Sign in Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Park in Luray, Va.

Who knows—maybe watching TV is not a distraction, but is actually what I really love doing, and I just need to embrace it. Or maybe I do want to write and take photos and challenge myself to do new things, but I’m stuck in a rut.

So, in an effort to uncover the truth, I’m going to take the entire month of January off from watching TV (gasp!). I’m also considering trying the More Social Less Media program, but in the meantime, I will limit myself to two 15-minute sessions per day of social media consumption.

I imagine that the Sugars and whatever awesome guest they invite on to discuss my letter (maybe one of the people mentioned above or Glennon Doyle Melton or Melissa Joulwan or Dallas Hartwig) would be pleased to hear that I am taking action to find out what truly floats my boat and lifts my sails.

Now, on to a mindful and productive 2017!

Upcoming blog topics:

  • Destructive distractions
  • Motivation capacity
  • Progress update

Radio Writing Assignment: Still Rock and Roll

My friends and I went to a lot of concerts; there are many more than these, including that Rolling Stones ticket stub that I can’t find anymore. 

Radio Writing Assignment is a challenge I created to nudge my blog into unexpected territory. The premise is simple: Turn on the radio (or any source that generates music at random), and then write something about the first song that plays. You could write about the song’s literal meaning, a personal memory the song evokes, or some deeper meaning you believe is embedded in the lyrics.

Driving to work recently I turned on the radio, and Billy Joel’s “It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me” came on. The song isn’t too complicated to understand (unless there’s something going on under the surface that I’m not picking up). Joel is stating that despite changing trends and a tendency to focus on looks and fashion, good music is good music.

Thinking about the song inspired me to trace the influence of music on my life. I decided to review the different artists and the ever-evolving technologies that have come and gone over the years, while appreciating the common emotions and experiences music can provoke.

My earliest memories of music come from my mother singing me to sleep with songs from the 1950s and 60s. To this day, I can recall many of those songs almost word for word, and I can still hear the soothing tone of my mom’s voice and the exact way she sang each one.

The Lennon Sisters were big in our house.

When I started listening to records, it was often a collection of Disney tunes from Cinderella, Snow White, The Jungle Book, and other animated movies. We had one of those stereos that was the size of a tall file cabinet turned on its side. You would slide the door on the top open and place the album down onto the turntable and then gently drop the needle on the record. It was almost like a sacred experience.

My mother and I lived with my grandparents, and we regularly watched The Lawrence Welk Show on television, which helped foster my love of music and dancing. We had a collection of albums from The Lennon Sisters, who often performed on the show. They were like the big sisters I always wanted. I can picture the cover of one of their albums so clearly – the photo is taken from overhead, and they are wearing blue pleated skirts that are fanned out on a red background. When I looked this album up online, I was delighted to see that it appears just as it does in my memory.

Another album cover burned into my brain is from Michele Lee, who is mostly known as an actress from the 1980s primetime soap Knot’s Landing, but who was also a singer. On the cover, she’s wearing a black miniskirt, tight turtleneck, and high black boots. At the time, this outfit seemed incredibly risqué to a young girl. Something about it felt naughty yet exciting, like maybe I wasn’t supposed to see it, but there it was in my totally square family’s record collection!

The provocative Michele Lee album cover.

We also had a lot of soundtracks in our collection, like The King and I and South Pacific. I used to listen to those and dance around the living room to songs like “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair” and “Getting to Know You.” The Soundtracks Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and The Sound of Music evolved into Grease and Saturday Night Fever, all of which I played over and over. I loved the escape from my sheltered life that soundtracks provided.

We used to go out to eat at Pizza Hut sometimes, back when the chain had actual restaurants that were kind of nice. The one we frequented had a jukebox, and my mom would give me money to play songs while we waited for our food. I was going through a John Denver phase around this time, so we heard a lot of “Take Me Home Country Roads” and “Thank God I’m a Country Boy.”

As I got older, I graduated to listening to records in my bedroom on a portable record player designed to look like it was covered in denim. I also acquired a white portable radio/cassette player the approximate size and shape of an old lunchbox. I could record songs off the radio, and I even remember holding it up to the television to record songs when a band I liked performed on an afternoon talk show. Hence, my obsession with mix tapes was born.

I soon discovered The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, still two of my favorite bands. For many of us, rock music serves as a guide to help usher us from childhood into adolescence. Suddenly music is all about desire and betrayal and jealousy and sex (and you realize that a lot of the songs you listened to as kids were about those themes, too).

My friend Sally and I got t-shirts made at the mall to demonstrate our love of The Rolling Stones. They say “Shattered” on the back. I think we’re about 13 years old. 

In your teens, the music you listen to can make you feel cool, edgy, adult, dangerous. Music is also an invitation to start touching and exploring each other. I was a late bloomer, so I mostly sat on the sidelines watching everyone slow dance at our school dances. I wasn’t part of the action, but I can still hear the songs that were the most popular slow dance songs, like “Dust in the Wind” and “Stairway to Heaven.”

Once I started driving, that portable cassette player always came with us, along with my preferred tapes of the moment. As any of my friends can attest, I have always loved playing deejay—sometimes obnoxiously so.

Growing up in a boring small town, going to concerts was an important part of our lives in high school. I can’t possibly list all the bands we saw, but I am not embarrassed to admit that the first two concerts we attended (back when one of our moms had to drive us) were The Village People and The Jackson 5. From there we went on to see Pat Benatar, The Go-Go’s, AC/DC, Rush, Van Halen, Bryan Adams, Fleetwood Mac, Tom Petty, The Rolling Stones, The Who, and so many more.

Music not only gives you permission to loosen up and get physical, it also allows you to express rage and sadness. Memories from my teens and early 20s are punctuated with the songs my friends and I used to nurse our broken hearts. Yaz’s “Don’t Walk Away from Love” is one I can recall singing loudly and defiantly.

Mix tapes, I made a few…

By the time I got to college, Walkmans were becoming popular. Suddenly you could take your albums anywhere and have a whole private musical event going on inside your head. At my college in Florida, and everyone “laid out” by the pool in between classes to work on our tans. Freshman year, there we all were individually listening to The Police’s Synchronicity album on our Walkmans in the hot sun.

After going through a number of Walkmans and countless headphones, I was probably one of the last people to convert to a portable CD player—so late that I didn’t have my CD player long before switching to an early model iPod.

The ability to create electronic playlists, first on the computer and then on iTunes, was revolutionary. Early on, my enthusiastic need to create playlists became like a second job, and I had to step away because I was losing the joy of appreciating the actual music.

So much music to love.

Throughout my life I’ve enjoyed all kinds of music. My friends and I share a love of Reggae, and we spent many a night dancing at clubs to Madonna and Prince. I’m fond of big band classics and singers like Tony Bennett, Ella Fitzgerald, and Frank Sinatra. Even though I don’t speak Spanish, I adore Latin music. Anything that makes me want to jump up and down or shake my hips calls my name. I’ll give pretty much anything a try, but I’m mostly drawn to songs that make me smile.

Thanks to technology, I’ve been able to discover new artists that don’t get much radio play, and my husband and I have started a new tradition of listening to Beats 1 music shows on weekend mornings. But my love of soundtracks will no doubt outlive all genres and delivery mechanisms, because there’s nothing quite like an eclectic combination of songs that take you to another place.

In honor of this post I’m sharing a playlist that I just created for the soundtrack of my life. If you love music and enjoy trips down memory lane, I highly recommend building your own soundtrack.

First, I broke my life into eight time periods, and then I typed up lengthy lists of songs, musicians, genres, and movie soundtracks from those periods. This part was loads of fun. I did research on Google, Wikipedia, and Apple Music. I talked to my mom about the songs she used to sing to me, and we reminisced about the music we had in our home.

Once I had an abundance of musical touchstones, I narrowed down the list to a total of 28 songs—a respectable double album size. This part was hard, but the good news is that I can change it anytime I want! Some songs were chosen because they conjure up a specific memory, some because I listened to them so many times, and others because they represented the kind of music I was listening to during that timeframe.

When I have a chance, I plan to create a few expansion playlists, like an all-female influences version, an all get-up-and-dance version and an all rock bands version. I can think of worse ways of spending my time—as long as I don’t get too preoccupied once again.

Hope you have as much fun as I did creating your own soundtrack.

Lisa Bennett’s Musical Journey (through 2016)

This poster of Andy Gibb hung on my bedroom wall when I was about 12 years old. Yikes!

Early childhood

1. If I Knew You Were Comin’ I’d’ve Baked a Cake – Eileen Barton

2. Doll on a Music Box / Truly Scrumptious – Chitty Chitty Bang Bang


3. Love Will Keep Us Together- Captain & Tennille

4. I Just Want to Be Your Everything – Andy Gibb

5. Summer Nights – Grease


6. Shattered – The Rolling Stones

7. Promises in the Dark – Pat Benatar

8. How Much More – The Go-Go’s


9. True – Spandau Ballet

10. Let the Music Play – Shannon

11. State Farm – Yaz

The NYC Years

12. Summer Wind – Frank Sinatra

13. Head to Toe – Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam

14. Boy – Book of Love

15. Johnny Come Home – Fine Young Cannibals

16. Lithium – Nirvana

17. My Lovin’ (You’re Never Gonna Get It) – En Vogue

Welcome to Maryland

18. Gel – Collective Soul

19. Never There – Cake

Single Again

20. On the Bound – Fiona Apple

21. Run On – Moby

22. Turn Off the Light – Nelly Furtado

New Chapter

23. Holiday – Green Day

24. Girl is on My Mind – The Black Keys

25. Take Your Mama – Scissor Sisters

26. Stung + You Belong to Me – Deer Tick

27. Mexican Aftershow Party – Kevin Drew

28. North American Scum – LCD Soundsystem

Bonus Track: Me in Honey – R.E.M. * possibly my all-time favorite song! *

Here’s that faux denim record player, made by Sears.

Upcoming blog topics:

  • Destructive distractions
  • Motivation capacity
  • Podcast dream guest appearance

The urge to argue

Social commentary at the Shady Grove Metro Station in Gaithersburg, Md.

Election season brings out some of humankind’s best and worst qualities. This post is not going to be partisan in nature, I promise. I decided early on that this would not be a blog about political issues. But I do think it’s acceptable to use our current environment as a jumping off point to make larger observations about social behavior.

For example: Do you have trouble walking away from a disagreement when you believe that you are right? Do you often or always try to have the last word? Do you not understand why people don’t change or at least open their minds once they have encountered your perfectly constructed logic? If so, this post is for you!

I’m not talking about writing or other forms of communication that are designed to influence people and are directed at potentially receptive audiences. No, the subject of the moment is bickering with another person or persons when you can clearly see that no progress will be made on either side and the lobbing of insults is likely.

As a lifelong arguer, I find it difficult to conduct myself in a way that doesn’t increase my anxiousness and frustration—particularly in a heated atmosphere where others are also worked up. Despite making some progress in this area over the last decade or so, this year I have found myself on Facebook arguing in comment threads with people I don’t even know.

These debates go nowhere. They achieve nothing, as far as I can tell. But I want to win, dammit! A couple months ago, I made a pledge to myself that I would cease quarreling back and forth with people who are as committed to their positions as I am to mine. Instead, I would write well-thought out posts that might reach a wider range of people. Or, I would encourage myself to go do any kind of activity other than futile social media one-upmanship.

A friendly doormat in St. Petersburg Beach, Fl.

After a month or so, I couldn’t resist any longer, and I broke my pledge. Immediately thereafter, I bargained with myself and came up with a revised rule: I could post in the comments but only with links to news articles. Or, I could write the responses I wanted to make, but I had to save them in my Notes and not post them. I’m trying to follow this new guideline, but it’s not easy. In fact, a complete break from social media might be in my near future.

I have a long history of arguing with my mother, my closest friends, and with significant others. An old boyfriend probably saw me at my most argumentative; one of our worst fights started because I asked him to estimate how long it would take for an aspirin I just took to start working. He refused to guess, and I was not having it—at all. Just as ridiculous, one of my worst fights with my current husband was over whether or not to replace our well-worn cookie sheets.

One of the main factors that makes stepping back (and not escalating) so challenging is that I allow myself to really lean into my anger. Because I am mad, I want to make the other person feel bad. I want to let the most spiteful, smug part of me loose and push the other person’s buttons. I want to make them feel small, and foolish, and wrong. If you’ve never felt like this, I am truly happy for you. It doesn’t feel good. You might feel satisfied for a bit, but an emptiness follows, and upon reflection you feel petty and unable to check yourself.

Meanwhile, the reasonable side of me wants to win fair and square. The frustrated lawyer inside of me dreams of mounting a persuasive argument—putting together the ideal combination of well-researched facts and moving rhetoric. Who among us arguers doesn’t want to craft that elusive statement that touches hearts and converts the most ardent of opponents?

Poop emoji to hang on your wall, found at Blacksmith’s Garden in Frederick, Md.

In an attempt to talk myself down from self-righteous mountain, I delve into what I believe are the root causes of stubborn, useless arguing. Whether I am lashing out in anger or assembling another set of indisputable facts, I think it goes back to the shared human desires and fears that I wrote about in an earlier post.

When you look at it this way, “wining” an argument is confirmation that you are in control and worthy of respect. If you are slighted—or in the case of some of my worst arguments, the other person seems to be refusing to give you what you are asking for—this agitates the part of you that longs to be heard and validated.

I have found that the trick is to remind myself that the outcome of one argument is not going to change the amount of control I have over my life or affect whether I am a human being of value on this earth. Heck, I can even admit to myself that I do have flaws and I don’t know everything without my entire self-esteem falling apart.

Times like these are tricky for us arguers. We don’t want to silence ourselves or deny our feelings. But we must remember that we will actually feel much better if we disengage and perhaps take some time to consider the other person’s point of view.

Upcoming blog topics:

  • Destructive distractions
  • Radio writing assignment
  • Podcast dream guest appearance

The Four Ps: A framework for balancing your life

Figurines at Tomorrow’s Antiques in New Market, Md.

About a year ago I started building a framework for the ongoing self-development that I was craving. The Four Ps, as I came to call it, focuses on the concepts of productivity, progress, playfulness, and peacefulness. This tool is helping me evaluate the balance of these important qualities in my life, set personal goals, and measure the results.

I’m sharing it here in the hope that it can be helpful to others who may be in search of a structure to make their lives more satisfying, more efficient, less stressful, less stuck. Maybe by sharing The Four Ps, this blog post will inspire you to create your own blueprint—whatever works!

The Four Ps uses simple scales from zero to 10. The goal is NOT to make sure you are a 10 on every scale. The objective is to determine where you are now on each scale and to think about whether or not a change might be in order.

Each person who gives The Four Ps a try will measure their current state and their evolution differently. You can see my scales in the image below. The guidelines are not rigid, and there’s lots of room for your own interpretation. The Four Ps is not a series of step-by-step instructions for success. You still have to figure out what to do and how to do it.

Now, let’s get to it…

Here are my original goals on the scales of The Four Ps.

Productivity, in shorthand, is what it means to be a grown up. Paying the bills, making sure you have clean clothes to wear, keeping your home relatively tidy, working inside or outside of the home, going to the doctor, caregiving, shopping for groceries, and so on. These are the basics that we all pretty much have to do to keep our lives humming along.

Some people do more of these things than others. A person with two jobs and three kids and a sick parent might score themselves high on this scale. Different people are comfortable with different levels of productivity in their lives. How do you feel about your productivity?

When I first sat down to evaluate where I landed on the scales, I decided that I was about a 7.5 on productivity. I work a full-time job, but it doesn’t infringe on my personal time nearly as much as my prior job. I try to keep the house clean, but by no means sparkling. I cook at home a lot and do most of the meal planning. My mother lives with us, and I take her to multiple doctors on a regular basis. I couldn’t see myself as an eight, but a seven seemed a little weak given all I was doing.

Next, I set a goal—to reduce my productivity from a 7.5 to a 6.5. I didn’t feel like a big adjustment was needed, just enough to open up some time and headspace for the other Ps. In order to reduce my productivity, I handed myself two assignments:

– Give myself permission to ease way back on yardwork. This is what caused my thumb injury, and since we live in a place where pristine lawns are not a thing, I needed to relax already on the state of our yard.

– Give myself permission to have an even less perfectly clean house. Set a baseline of cleanliness and learn to embrace mediocrity in this area.

Version 2
Kitchen tools at Great Stuff by Paul Antiques in Frederick, Md.

With The Four Ps, you give yourself a set period of time to work on your goals, and then you come back and see how you did. Do you think you moved on the scale as much as you wanted? Maybe more, maybe less? If you achieved your goal, was it enough? Perhaps you put yourself under too much pressure? What next?

I had told myself that I would revisit the scales once I launched my blog and started writing this very piece. So here I am, almost a year after I started.

On productivity, I am happy to say that I met my goal, and I feel pretty darn good about it. I can’t see much more room for tweaking in this category, so on to the next.

Progress involves learning something new, building a skill, nurturing a talent, volunteering, or other actions that could be considered more creation than consumption.

I rated myself pretty low on progress, at a three. I might have gone higher, but some things that I had done recently that might have been considered progress (like learning a new approach to cooking and eating) had turned into being pretty routine (thus moving them into the productivity column).

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Alpaca made from alpaca fiber at the Sugarloaf Alpaca Company in Adamstown, Md.

My goal was to move from a three to a five on the progress scale, and my assignments were:

– Start taking drum lessons

– Launch a blog and post at least once a week on it

– Look for small one-off challenges and take advantage of them regularly

How did I do? Well, the drum lessons fizzled out when my thumb injury flared up again. The blog is live, and I’m pleased with my commitment to it. And I’ve definitely been taking advantage of various challenges, like cooking at the Eggfest and taking a “Coaching for Creatives” e-course.

I’m giving myself a movement of 1.5 on the progress scale, a little shy of my goal of climbing two spots. In order to bring that up a bit more, I am looking for something to fill the drumming slot. Eventually, I would like to score an even higher number on progress, like a six, but it’s baby steps for now.

Playfulness is what it sounds like. It’s having fun with no greater purpose than to entertain yourself, recharge, and spend time with people whose company you enjoy—which are very important activities, after all. Some of us find it difficult to make time for recreation, while others have no problem prioritizing fun and relaxation.

Foosball table at TBC advertising agency in Baltimore, Md.

I gave myself a seven on playfulness and decided to set a modest goal of reducing it to a six. I wanted to clear out some time on my schedule for progress and peacefulness. Just two simple assignments would help me achieve this goal:

– Watch less TV

– Drink less alcohol

I am happy to report that I have pretty much given up channel surfing—you know, where you end up watching Tiny House Hunters because there’s nothing else on, but you don’t want to get off the couch. I still watch more TV than most people, but I try to make sure it’s something I really want to watch. Otherwise, I get the heck up and do something else.

Drinking less has been an ongoing challenge that I will write much more about in a later blog post, but it’s going well and getting better.

A minus one move on the scale might not have been a big achievement, but I did it. In the future, I may choose to tweak the playfulness scale some more; but for now, I’m happy with where I’ve come to rest.

Peacefulness covers anything you do that helps you reach a state of peace with yourself and the world. It can include meditation, therapy, yoga, group support, getting in touch with nature, practicing mindfulness, sleeping well, and more. For many of us, this might be the most challenging concept, while others are way ahead on this one.

Roosevelt Island Community Garden in N.Y.

I scored myself low, at a three. To be honest, I could even see going as low as a two, but since we have been going camping more and kayaking, I decided a three wasn’t such a stretch. My goal was to rise to a five, and my assignments were:

– Meditate and practice mindfulness regularly

– Start doing yoga regularly

– Spend more time in nature

I’m sorry to say that I did not do a very good job here. Meditating is an occasional part of my life now, but not at all regular. I got started on the yoga and then faded fast. The one thing I have been doing is taking regular walks outside and making sure to appreciate everything that is around me when I do. I’ve also gotten much better at reminding myself to “be here now” when I get anxious or fail to appreciate the moment.

Thus, I gave myself a movement of one spot up to four. In order to make my goal of stepping up to a five, I will need to get back to my assignments and complete them all this time.

Overall, I feel good. I am proud of and encouraged by the changes I have instituted. I plan to check back with myself in a couple more months and see where I’m at again. At that time, I can decide to make further tweaks, or I can simply work on maintaining a status quo. So long as I’m happy and feeling like I’m functioning at a level that works for me.

If you’ve stuck with this blog post to the bitter end, thanks for hanging in there! I hope it was interesting and you got something out of it. I would love to receive feedback from anyone who uses The Four Ps (or any customized version of it). Or, if you already have your own way of motivating yourself, I’d love to hear about it.

Bonus challenge for word geeks: Think of all the inspiring, positive (there’s one right now!) words that start with P.

Upcoming blog topics:

  • Destructive distractions
  • Radio writing assignment
  • Podcast dream guest appearance

Starting at the same point

Taken at the Rockefeller Park Greenhouse, Cleveland, Ohio.

From 1995 through 2013, I worked at a non-profit organization that regularly took policy positions that would be considered progressive. During that period, the people of the United States grew more and more politically polarized. Through the lens of my job, I witnessed the birth of Fox News and MSNBC, the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky affair, the Bush v. Gore decision, the ongoing outbursts of Rush Limbaugh, and many other milestones in the widening divide.

The letters, phone calls, emails, and online comments that we received every day could be brutal. The creepy messages that came from clearly troubled people—like the man who imagined a not-too-distant future where “sons are favored and daughters hated”—were sickening but fairly easy not to take personally.

But I struggled not to feel hostile toward the people who seemed level-headed and relatively polite yet disagreed so vehemently with our mission. Also troubling was the tendency of true believers on either side of the aisle to generalize about and demean the folks on the other side.

Here’s the stereotype I saw emerge of liberals as expressed by conservatives: Snobby, weak, always taking offense, quick to play the race or woman card, think everyone else is racist/sexist/homophobic/etc., want to take away all guns, godless, sexually immoral, baby killers, environmental dupes, want to destroy traditional families, prone to coddling poor people with other people’s tax dollars, eager to perpetuate class war, think big government can solve everything, and completely snowed by their leaders.

And here’s the stereotype that emerged of conservatives as expressed by liberals: Ignorant, naïve, fact-averse, reactive, blindly religious, simplistically patriotic, gun nuts, violent, bullying, judgmental, hypocritical, stubborn, racist/sexist/homophobic/etc., prudes, possibly closeted, insecure, immature, mean and spiteful, anti-science, don’t think poor people deserve help, nostalgic for an idealized/discriminatory past, think capitalism/tax cuts can solve everything, and completely snowed by their leaders.

At least we all have that last one in our column, right?

But seriously, facing the reality of this divide on a daily basis was wearying and downright disheartening. In order not to completely give up, I started trying to focus on the human characteristics that we all share, regardless of political persuasion. I was in search of those common threads that tie us all together.

One way to do this is to ask: What do people truly want? What do they most fear? I believe that these questions are just flip sides of each other. And you have to answer them in the purest way possible. You have to get at the answer behind the answer, behind the answer.

Here’s what I came up with…

On a street in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

All people want to believe that they are in control of nearly every aspect of their lives. Doing something and expecting a certain outcome is pretty much the bread and butter of our existence. Otherwise, life is chaos.

However, we do not have full control over our lives at all times, and that realization can be terrifying, or at minimum pretty friggin’ frustrating. When control is taken away from you in an area where you thought you had things covered, stress and anger are usually the result. Imagine working hard to improve your health only to discover that you have developed an illness that could not have been prevented. Or losing out on a promotion at work despite doing everything “right.” Or installing a security system in your home only to have it broken into the next day.

When these types of things happen, many people look for something or someone to blame. It sucks to admit that the world can be random and senseless. If we ultimately have little to no control, then why even bother? Humans want to bother, for the most part, so we often go looking for excuses as to why something went awry. And it’s through those excuses that we start to part ways.

People also want to be respected. They want to be treated with dignity, which means being seen, heard, and taken seriously. When someone is disrespected, laughed at, or looked down upon, it produces a reaction that can range from mild annoyance to outright rage. And again, it is our varying approaches to dealing with feeling small and insulted that separates us into different camps.

People like to think of themselves as special. Of course, we are all unique. But we are also tiny, fleeting parts of a vast universe. No one wants to think of themselves as a standard-model cog in the machine. We like to think that we all have something singular that we contribute. We want to count, to matter in some small way to others or the world. After all, what is love but evidence that someone finds us exceptional and distinct. I think we all worry at some point in our lives that we are not as smart or talented or strong or whatever as we think we are or hope to be. This is why people often insist that they are right even when that insistence is just making matters worse. Admitting that you are wrong, or just as fallible as everyone else, is scary and people have been known to avoid it at all costs.

So many cats at Tomorrow’s Antiques in New Market, Md.

Lastly, in addition to being special, everyone also wants to belong. Even if you are as non-conformist as they come, I’m willing to bet that at some point you have sought out people with whom you share a preference in movies, or music, or food, or body modification, or historical reenactments, or something.

If an individual were to seek out their tribe, no matter how small it might be, and if that tribe were to reject them…well, I can’t imagine a person who wouldn’t be hurt by that exclusion. Betrayal and abandonment can be seen as strong indicators that perhaps you weren’t worthy of being included in the first place. When this happens, people can strike out at those by whom they feel dismissed.

I believe that all humans share these characteristics, although in varying degrees and with varying strategies and skills for dealing with disappointment.

I try to remember this when I’m arguing with someone who disagrees strongly with me. I try to remember that we both want to feel in control of our lives, that we both want to be respected, and that we both want to feel appreciated for our uniqueness and embraced for our humanity.

We may have each traveled a different path, but we started at the same point.

Upcoming blog topics:

  • The Four Ps
  • Destructive distractions
  • Radio writing assignment


Of eggs, guts, and glory

I’m taking another week off from my planned subjects to dash off a quick update on my “journey” (which is the central topic of this blog, after all). Back to regularly scheduled musings next week. 

Grilled veggies to go in my olive tapenade/guacamole (guacanade?) mashup.

Every person has at least one thing (usually more) that they find intimidating or difficult. I have plenty such things, though fewer as I grow older.

Driving has haunted me for most of my adult life. Over the past few years I’ve had to drive more than ever, so my fear has subsided considerably. But I used to panic whenever I got lost: One wrong turn, and I would break out in a cold sweat. And forget about merging into traffic on a big highway—I might as well be jumping out of a plane! Most people probably can’t relate to this level of anxiety around driving, while others know exactly what I’m talking about.

When I was a kid, I was very shy. The idea of reading a report in front of class or even ordering a hamburger at McDonald’s freaked me out. When I got to college, I pushed myself to take a speech class. Turns out I really liked it, so I started taking drama classes. By senior year, I was earning a minor in speech and drama and acting in that year’s school play. I don’t think I was a very good, but I enjoyed it, and I was proud of myself for taking on the challenge.

Part of my current journey includes doing more things that scare me—stuff I might normally put off or avoid altogether. I’m in search of a life less comfortable and predictable.

So, when I learned that a festival for fans of the Big Green Egg grill would be happening not far from where we live this month, I decided my husband and I should go and cook at the event. We bought our Big Green Egg at one of these festivals where a friend of ours grilled. At the time, I never imagined that we would eventually want to cook at one ourselves.

To some of you, grilling at a festival alongside other amateur cooks might not sound like a big deal. For me, this challenge was the perfect ratio of “really want to do it” to “kinda terrified of doing it.”

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Lamb kofte kebabs on the grill at the Eggs on the Chesapeake festival in Edgewater, Md.

Not long after we arrived at the “Eggs on the Chesapeake” fest it became obvious that we were the newbies there. The people next to us, who had decorated their booth as if it were a charming little shop, stepped in and helped us with a few things, like taping our tablecloth to the table so it wouldn’t blow away and loaning me disposable gloves for working with raw meat in public.

We ran out of plates, and we really should have brought napkins and forks for the tasters. We were a little awkward sometimes, and ideas for efficiency came to us late in the day. But we brought the perfect amount of food, and people seemed to like what we made. It was sort of like being on an episode of Top Chef, except I’m pretty sure we would’ve been in the bottom three. I don’t think Padma would have kicked us off, though. Our food was good, it was just the presentation that was lacking.

While we did not place among the top three cooks that day, we did get a fair amount of tokens dropped in our bowl from people who appreciated our food. I’m happy to report that it was a great experience: We talked to strangers about our food and shared tips about grilling tools and methods. I even presented a new recipe of my own, which several people asked for.

Yep, we did something new and learned a lot in the process. And I’m pretty sure we’ll do it again. I don’t think we’re ready for one of the larger festivals just yet, but maybe after we get a couple more small ones under our belts.

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Our first token/vote at the Eggs on the Chesapeake festival in Edgewater, Md.

What did I do to get past this and other fears? I think I’ve narrowed it down to two key strategies.

First, don’t delay—just jump in there. If it makes you feel better, allow yourself one short set amount of procrastination time, and that’s it. With the Eggfest, I checked out the event website on a Saturday and saw that there was one slot left to cook. I was nervous and wanted to talk it over with my husband and give him some time to warm up to the idea. So I told myself I would go back to the website Sunday morning, and if the spot was still available, I would sign up immediately. I did, it was, and I did!

Also, for things that are really scaring the bejeesus out of you, try thinking through the worst things that could go wrong and how you would deal with those outcomes. When my husband and I bought our house four years ago, we had a moment of sheer panic about halfway through the process. We still had to sell our townhouse, and what if we couldn’t find a buyer? We sat down and slowly went through some of the worst case scenarios. We decided that as awful as they sounded, they wouldn’t be the end of the world. We could handle them, and having a plan gave us permission to take the risk.

The Scotch Eggs from Melissa Joulwan’s Well Fed cookbook/blog were a big hit!

An upcoming challenge that I might take on is speaking at a storytelling open mic night. The idea came from the Magic Lessons podcast, and I’m seriously considering it. I’ve already started writing the piece. But when the time comes, will I be able to get up there and read it in front of a crowd? What horrifying things could happen if I did? Well, my mouth might completely dry up, then my throat could close up, and I could have a coughing attack and have to flee the stage. I swear something like this happened once during a rehearsal in a drama class at college.

Or, the audience could be totally indifferent to my piece—they could whisper to each other and stare at their phones. When I’m done, they could applaud politely but with zero enthusiasm.

These results are entirely possible. But if they take place, I will have at least gotten up there and tried my best. And I will survive. In fact, if I pay attention to the other storytellers and the audience reactions, I should be able to learn something that could help me in the future. That is, if I dare to do it once and then again.

Reading Brené Brown is always inspiring when I’m feeling small and afraid, so I plan to turn to her before taking on this next challenge. As Brown says: “You can’t get to courage without walking through vulnerability.”

Upcoming blog topics:


The three main factors controlling our lives

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Me, my grandfather, and my mom at the Sandy Cove church retreat in Maryland.

When I was a kid, all I wanted was to have a normal family. I know now that the words “normal” and “family” have little overlap in the real world. But the fact that I had a somewhat unconventional home life was the peg upon which I hung most of my youthful disappointments and frustrations.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my family. Still, I had a single mom back when all my friends had married parents living under the same roof. I didn’t know my father—never even laid eyes on a photo of the man. My mom and I lived with my retired grandparents; my mother worked full time, and we didn’t have much money.

When I was about 15, my mom suffered a serious depression during which she barely came out of her room. This experience was frightening and lonely, and it forever shifted the balance of our parent and child roles.

On a scale of personal trauma or tragedy, the situation into which I was born and raised doesn’t rank very high. But it left its mark on me. My tangled roots, my less-than-typical origin story will always be there behind me. I definitely learned a thing or two from my jagged beginnings, but the question lingers . . . what if things had started out differently?

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Roulette wheel hanging out in the back of a shop in Brooklyn, N.Y.

When thinking about how our lives unfold—the advantages we enjoy and the challenges we face—I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s crucial to acknowledge the three main factors that contribute to our fate.

The first is luck: What point in time we are born and where, into what economic circumstances, what gender, what race and ethnicity, what family structure, what health conditions and physical abilities, and so on.

Luck jumps in at other junctures throughout our lives as well, reminding us that we are not in full control. Some luck is happy, like meeting the love of your life, or a much-wanted pregnancy when you’re least expecting it. But most of the examples that come to mind are negative: Weather disasters, car accidents, cancer, a parent’s desertion, the loss of a child, being in the wrong place at the wrong time in any number of ways.

Some folks will proclaim that people need to “pull themselves up by the bootstraps” and overcome their disadvantages. But it would go a long way toward mutual understanding if we could all appreciate, just a bit more, the varying and often unforgiving forces that mold each of our lives.

The obstacles I’m talking about here have been thrown in our paths; they were not brought on by our own actions. But we must reckon with them all the same.

Old swingset in our neighbor’s yard on Lake Linganore, Md.

Which brings us to the second factor: personal control. Yes, we humans do have willpower, grit, passion, and all those internal resources that can turn things around and change our lives. We can make our own fate—within reason. I think it’s fair to admit that we don’t all have the same type or level of internal resources to draw upon, so some struggle more than others in certain areas. One person’s breaking point may be another person’s turning point.

In my case, there came a time when I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and stop bemoaning all the stuff I felt cheated out of having, like a father and a mother with a partner to lean on. I had to become my own cheerleader and my own coach, and I had to push myself harder than I really wanted. The results have been mixed, and the evidence that self-determination is a never-ending effort is right here in this blog.

The third factor is institutional. Some people prefer not to focus on this influence, while others spend a large portion of their lives trying to shape it. I’m talking about the form of government and financial structures under which we live, the various laws we must abide by, our voting rights (or lack thereof), the make-up of our health care system—I could go on and on.

To a certain degree we are stuck with the institutions that are in effect in the place and time in which we live. There is little doubt that these institutions hold some people back while giving others a leg up. Many people go bankrupt, are jailed, and even die because the rules and conventions of society have great power over people’s lives.

You might think that this factor intersects with luck, and to some extent it does. But many of the institutions I consider part of this category can be molded, changed—even torn down altogether. Humans, working together, can alter or upend these institutions because we are the ones who create and maintain them. But we cannot do this alone. We must form alliances.

Three supporters at the National Equality March in Washington, D.C., on Oct. 11, 2009.

I worked for nearly two decades at a non-profit organization dedicated to social justice. We saw many victories and many losses. But we knew that we had the power to make change. We also knew that some of that change might not take place in our lifetimes, but hopefully some of it would. Just look at the fight for equal marriage, which began in earnest right around the time I started working for social justice and is now a reality.

Perhaps these three factors seem obvious. They certainly bear a striking resemblance to the famous Serenity Prayer. Regardless of how they took shape in my head, thinking about them helps me feel centered and grounded.

First, I recognize that luck exists, but I try not to dwell on it—I try to cut myself (and my mother) a break, and then move on. I also make an effort to understand the different ways that other people’s lives have been impacted by the cards they have been dealt.

Second, I do my best to take control of my life wherever I can. I promise to check in with myself regularly and ask: Is there something different I could be doing to make my life more complete, more productive, more fulfilling?

Third, I look for ways to work toward the societal change that I think will bring justice and opportunity to people’s lives. How can I use the skills and resources I possess to help bring about a better world?

None of this is easy. Sometimes it’s so much simpler to complain, deny, and avoid (see my previous post on negativity). But ultimately, the most satisfying results come from doing right by yourself and marking the way for others.

Upcoming blog topics:

More than a few words about negativity

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Ballerina figurine at Tomorrow’s Antiques in New Market, Md. Note: I chose photos that make me happy to counter the post’s focus on negativity.

Have you ever gotten together with co-workers for lunch or happy hour, and you spend most of your time griping about work? If this has happened to you more than once, did someone eventually say, “Let’s try not to talk about work this time,” and then you all tried but failed?

Venting is necessary, even healthy, to a degree, but once it gains traction, it can be hard to put on the brakes. Negativity in its many forms can be both contagious and addictive.

So, in addition to exploring new activities, I am trying to be more positive and more at peace with myself and the world. While I like to think that I’m a mostly cheerful person, sometimes I find it difficult not to dwell on what’s wrong. I am well-acquainted with overreacting, sulking, and bitching.

The evening before I launched this blog, I agreed to go out to dinner when I didn’t really want to. I had to run an errand after work, and it ended up being more challenging than expected. By the time we were out to dinner, I was grumpy and making the experience unpleasant for everyone.

This situation was within my control: I could have declined the dinner and just explained that I wasn’t up for it. Or, I could have committed to not punishing my dinner companions for what was my decision to go out. Also, I could have put the errand behind me—it wasn’t traumatic after all, just annoying—and focused on having a nice time. I did not do these things.

And then I heard myself being super cranky, so I took a deep breath and tried to change my attitude. But not before making a few excuses to justify my behavior.

“Cherish” bird placed in the flower box by the previous owners of our home.

Negativity comes in a number of varieties, all of which I have been guilty of at some point, and I’m sure you’ll relate to at least a few. I think calling each one of them out will be helpful in dampening them.

One type I’m particularly familiar with is “woe is me.” You know this one: “Why did I get in THIS line—it’s taking so long.” “I can’t believe it had to rain on today of all days.”

Often, we let the circumstances get us down even more by concluding that a fleeting bad event is actually a sign of something ingrained and ongoing. Usually we blame ourselves: “I always choose the slowest line.” Or we blame fate: “Every time I plan something fun, bad weather ruins it.”

A close relation to “woe is me” is “nobody loves me/everyone’s a jerk.” If we’ve been waiting a couple days for a call or text back from a parent, child, friend, or date, we might infer that we just aren’t endearing enough to get a speedy reply, or maybe the other person is selfish and thoughtless. We skip right past the fact that the other person might be busy, and instead go straight for the interpretation that contains the most drama.

Then there’s the martyr complex—similar to the above, but with an extra dash of righteousness. “I work all day, and then I do the cooking, and the dishes, and put away the laundry, and no one appreciates it.”  “I worked so hard on that project. I did more than anyone else, and people barely noticed.”

Intense self-criticism can be a particularly brutal strain of negativity: “I’m so fat,” “I’m so ugly,” “I’m so stupid” — repeated on an endless loop. Talk about soul-crushing!

One brand of negativity that I’ve already worked hard to scrub from my brain is obsessive worrying, particularly about something you either have little-to-no control over or don’t plan to do anything about. I used to lie awake many a night pressing on my throat, convinced I had cancer. Any slight shift in my physical condition was a sign of a major illness. I also worry (still, though less so) about car and plane accidents and other spontaneous ways of dying. Constant worry can consume you, making your life downright depressing. And it can keep you from doing things you really want to do.

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Stop sign and kites in Brunswick, Md.

Negativity also comes in several deliciously judgy flavors aimed at others. There’s gossip, spite, bullying, and “Oh. My. God. Becky.” (Hat tip to Sir Mixalot.)

If you don’t know where I’m going with that last one, it’s picking apart someone (typically a stranger, and not to their face, so it seems ok) for their clothes, their hair, their weight…whatever. Many of us do this without even thinking; it’s a bad habit that can be hard to break.

Another off-putting tendency is being overly critical of every little thing someone close to you (usually a partner, parent, or child) does that isn’t up to your standards. My husband can tell you that I have lots of practice with this form. Most of the time it’s little stuff, like how to chop a vegetable or hang up shirts or clean the counter. Sometimes it’s over something more important—but either way the damage arises in the frequency and the delivery.

Not long ago both my husband and I were working from home, and I was participating in an online conference call. During a break in the call due to technical difficulties, I turned to my husband to grumble about his handling of a financial issue. Apparently my laptop microphone picked up and carried my voice to others on the call, and my boss had to remotely mute my microphone.

Not only was this excruciatingly embarrassing, but the experience forced me to think about how I was speaking to someone I love.

Last on my list is disagreeing just for the heck of it. I once spent a long weekend with a group of people who were highly skilled in this irritating practice. One person would say, “I think it’s supposed to be really cold out today, so let’s not forget to wear our winter coats,” and another person would have to say, “Oh, I think tomorrow is supposed to be the cold day. Today should be fine.” And so on, and so on, and so on.

Now, a variety of opinions is what makes the world go ’round. But sometimes people rely on reflexive disagreement as a form of conversation, and it can get old fast.

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“You are My Sunshine” mural by Jeffrey Sincich on the Morean Arts Center in St. Petersburg, Fl.

To be clear: I am not suggesting that you or I should just shut up and ignore real problems. Human nature is inclined, thankfully, toward identifying faults—things that are not working, injustices, cracks in the system. This is a good thing. But even then, you eventually have to shift from the problem to the solution and not get mired in complaining.

So, let’s move on to my commitment to nurturing positivity and serenity.

My current To Do list includes:

• Get over small indignities and annoyances faster

• Find the positive in situations

• Give people a break

• Give myself a break

• Compliment others

• Be thankful for what I have

• Aim to be kind and understanding

• Appreciate the beauty, humor, and serendipity in life

• Give myself permission to relax

• Research more about embracing happiness, like reading more from author Gretchen Rubin, who says: “Happiness is the meaning and purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence.”

I will start right now by saying how grateful I am to be able to create and promote this blog, and how proud I am that I wrote my second blog post in less than a week. Thanks for reading this, and thanks for being the fabulously unique person that you are!

Upcoming blog topics:

A work in progress, still and always


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Traffic sign in St. Petersburg, Fl.

When I first registered the web address for this blog, I was downright giddy. Finally, I was going to build a creative outlet for myself. I sat on my bed pecking away at my laptop on a Friday night, hammering out my mission statement, which would eventually evolve into my About page.

Dang, I was excited! I couldn’t wait to share how I was turning over a new leaf in life. Not only that, but this blog would hold my feet to the fire so I would have no choice but to maintain my momentum.

So much was going on: I took an email creative coaching course, which in addition to inspiring my blog development also encouraged me to meditate for the first time in decades.

After many years of thinking it might be fun, I was actually taking drum lessons. Every other Wednesday night after work I would sit at a drum set in my teacher’s basement feeling self-conscious but trying my best to be sweetly patient with myself.

I was determined that when opportunities or ideas presented themselves, I would no longer look the other way—I would jump right in. This would include all kinds of things, from the simple and brief to the more demanding and long-term.

As soon as I saw a post on my community Facebook page, I signed up for a Saturday morning knife skills cooking class.

After several years of seeing a hot air balloon floating around our area, I contacted the local guy who pilots the balloon, asking if I could come photograph one of his launches. What an experience! I’m sure actually going up in the balloon is even more incredible, but that’s going to require a bit more guts (and money) on my part.

Next up, I was going to get back into practicing yoga. And I visited a rock climbing gym that was near my office and inquired about classes for beginners.

It was at this point that things began to fall apart. A nagging thumb injury flared up and made drumming unwise. Yoga and rock climbing were put on hold before they even got started.

In addition to my physical limbo, I seemed to be placing myself in a mental limbo. I would write and re-write the aforementioned About page over and over, clearly putting off drafting my first actual post.

I started to feel like a fraud: How could I launch my blog when I was in such a funk? What kind of example would I be? I was wallowing, and it wasn’t pretty.

But as I thought about it, I realized that this situation is basically what this blog is all about—hesitating, getting stuck, questioning yourself. And then taking a deep breath and finding a way out, a way up.

Walking by Lake Linganore in New Market, Md.

The day after July fourth I stopped letting my thumb get the best of me, and I started a new effort to become a morning person—the kind of person who gets up early to exercise. The kind of person I am not.

Much has been written recently about the ability to change your behavior. I’ve read that you can create a new habit in 21 days, or possibly 30 days—some manageable, magic-sounding increment of time.

It’s been more than a month now, and I’ve been getting up earlier about three, four, sometimes even five mornings a week to take a walk. The trees and flowers smell incredible at that hour. The dog walkers are out. The construction workers are arriving at their sites. The hills in my neighborhood are a challenge and it feels great to move—to literally step my way out of the hole into which I was sliding.

So, here’s to making this new routine stick. And here’s to launching a blog even when you aren’t feeling on top of the world. In the words of author Elizabeth Gilbert, whose recent book Big Magic inspired me to finally start this blog, “You are allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress simultaneously.”

Progress is the key word. Even, and especially, when you’re challenged.

For more on the inspiration behind Bittersweet Nugget, check out About this blog and the Sources of inspiration page. 

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