As a kid I believed there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, that the elusive four leaf clover was magical and that the rabbit’s foot I wore around my neck while ski racing would deliver wins and keep me safe.
I remember when there was something we didn’t want to do we would draw straws and whoever drew the shortest one had the unenviable responsibility to the duty. Luck, or lack of it, in the form of the straw’s length.
No strategy there.
If everything in life was arbitrary and unpredictable then there is no point in effort, persistence, confidence, positivity, or kindness. We could just sit on the couch day after day and wait for all of the good things to fall in our laps.
How miserable!
If everything in life is systematically predictable and not left to chance, is it worth changing our focus and mindsets?
Of course, I’m not talking about gambling, because that is the epitome of chance and luck for those that win big, but rather drawing positive, seemingly lucky, outcomes to ourselves.
There are seven (wink, wink) consistent observations I see in people who seem to have all the luck in the world.
1. They are motivated as hell.
Motivation is the backbone of endless positive outcomes. If Rome wasn’t built in a day, then hard work, effort, discipline, perseverance, and motivation laid every brick. Gasping for each breath, it might be a sprint or a marathon, but motivation is what sustains us to the finish line.
2.They are quietly confident.
They do because they are. Confident people are not arrogant, they share the fortitude and focus to stay the course knowing and believing in their ability. They know hardship is part of the process. Their results are defined by who they are, not who they think they need to be.
3.They are positively positive.
If you believe like attracts like then positivity can singlehandedly transform a loss to a win. You don’t actually get the Gold medal when you didn’t even make it to the podium, rather, your perspectives on failure or not winning shape the future direction and choices. It adds another tool to the shed poised for the next venture or endeavor.
4.They focus on today not yesterday.
If yesterday’s tool is already in the shed, then we don’t need to dwell or wallow in it. We can’t look forward if we are always looking back, a path painstakingly paved with woulda, shoulda, coulda and overwhelmed by ginormous potholes waiting to swallow you whole. Focus on the now, because it is the only thing we can control and it will guide and steer the future.
5.They are tenacious and persistent.
Tenacity, grit, bravery or whatever cape you wear to enable your super powers, results from the culmination of all of the above. The willingness to take chances, think outside of the box or simply proceed because you know in your gut you can is the place where your super powers thrive.
6. They are genuine, kind, and generous with their time.
Kindness breeds positivity and deflects negativity so none of the gestures in that regard are self-serving, they are giving and genuine. Good things may come to those who wait, but better things come to those who do good things and are kind.
7. Their conduct is worthy of emulation.
Individuality is important because it would suck if we were all mirror images of each other but emulating a worthy behavior(s) is the place where role models are born and an important step in moving toward your own pot of gold waiting patiently at the end of your rainbow.
Luck is not happenstance; it is the outcome of an adaptable mindset. “Luck is when preparation meets opportunity,” a quote accredited to The Roman Philosopher Seneca.
Next time you say good luck to someone, know what might need to stand behind those words of encouragement.
If habits were easy to break, then we wouldn’t need to resolve anything with each new year! Eating better, getting exercise, taking more time for ourselves, or reading a new blog or book are things we excuse ourselves from until it’s time to flip the calendar and begin anew.
It’s the repeated pattern of behavior that hones our direction toward perfection. Since it’s NCAA March Madness time, let’s talk about Caitlin Clark of Iowa. Her dailyoff season training schedule consists of sprints and 300 shots at the hoop, 100 3 pointers, 100 mid-range and 100 free throws with a goal of 77%.
Truly astonishing, that is one high ass bar! (Btw, if you haven’t seen her play it is a must and it’s not too late. Even if you aren’t a b-ball fan check out her game.)
Practice makes perfect!
Since most of us are not elite athletes, what is realistic for our average selves?
Repetition, Repetition, Repetition!
If we can create nearly unbreakable patterns of poor behavior, then surely, we can create nearly unbreakable patterns of positive behavior!
When I was in college, I could not get out of school fast enough. Clearly, evident in the picture below, me pictured on the left in bare feet poised to get the hell out of there fast! (Thanks Wendy L. for pulling it from the archives.)
photo by: Pat di Gregorio
I busted my average-student ass and took 40 credit hours in 2 semesters to graduate with my class and be done with it. What is the one thing that sticks out most from those days, you ask?
Our commencement speaker, W. Clement Stone. Don’t let the picture fool you! I was listening!!
A self-made entrepreneur, and philanthropist with a notable mustache, he spoke of PMA – Positive Mental Attitudes as a fundamental component of success and pounded his fist on the podium each time he emphasized “Repetition, Repetition, Repetition,” in reference to creating or changing a pattern of behavior.
“Every person has the potential ability to achieve it, they just won’t pay the price to achieve it.”
So, what is the price?
Discipline, fortitude, commitment? He believes wholeheartedly that the subconscious and conscious mind have the power to achieve great things with focus, determination and Repetition, Repetition, Repetition.
So why is it so hard to break bad patterns in favor of good?
Is it simply a function of thought process and changing the pattern of behavior? I can only answer these questions for me, but hands down, my fear of failure single handedly motivated my choices through life dating back to my lack luster path as a struggling student.
I wasn’t worried about failing per se, rather quitting or giving up. When I left college on the heels of my senior year success, I had the proof in my hand. Not the hard-fought diploma but the hard-fought discipline, fortitude and determination that brought me to the finish line.
Since then, I have carried that win forward in all of my future endeavors. Not the win itself, but the pattern of behavior that lead me there. It was a pattern I repeated at every avenue of challenge, opportunity, struggle, or mystery.
I knew if I could manage ‘that’ then surely, I can manage ‘this.’
To this day, if conversation is moving in that direction, I will say it with the same vigor whilst pounding my fist on the counter, “Repetition, Repetition, Repetition.”
Thank you, W. Clement Stone, for leaving an indelible mark on my young impressionable self. Your words continue to serve me well.
After sitting on my unpublished website for almost 2 years with a folder of random writing, I saw its purpose exclusively to promote my forthcoming memoir, Sailing Naked. When I finally launched it and hit ‘publish’ on my first blog post, What the ‘F’ is Wrong with People? I hoped it would bring traffic and exposure to my book. My entrepreneurial spirit in sales and marketing put to good use, I thought.
My ambition and direction with this blog found its way more by accident than intention.
I write from and through my own personal experiences as well as things I bump into along the way. My perspective is not derived from a formal education rather the school of trials, tribulations, adversity and the angst, anxiety and depression that ensued in their wake.
I cringe each time I hit ‘publish’ knowing I am exposing more of me to all of you but publish I do.
I see the option to sink or swim in life as a choice while fully knowing others don’t have the ability to or chose not to. If my life lessons are akin to the burn of a Hot Stove then wallowing in my scars is a choice I avert with intention.
In my youth, I scaled mountains of adversity long before most of my friends knew what adversity meant. It affirmed the resilience and perseverance exhibited by my grandparents and showed me how to grow from the challenges.
While I had my share of depressive times, my darkest days appeared in the years (teens, 20’s and into my 30’s) long struggle with my sexuality (gulp, yep, I just said that, Publicly).
I suppressed much of it in an effort to be normal but felt mortified, ashamed and embarrassed to not be like everyone else. I had boyfriends, fell in love and hoped to marry to mask and repress who I knew myself to be.
By the time I was 30, I had stood up in 10 of my friends’ weddings and found a depression I didn’t know could exist in me. I was single, petrified of coming out, of crossing the line, of accepting who I was.
After suppressing it for so many years, I couldn’t carry the weight anymore, and the darkness consumed me. It took me three more years to find the courage.
One friend, a constant through my 20’s and beyond, we’ll call her AB, was there.
Always there.
She asked the hard questions and said the hard things. She didn’t judge me, rather encouraged me to find me, and supported my future’s path which eventually, years later, enabled me to embrace who I was.
While the depression waned, outside of the obscurity that living in Chicago provided, the shame and embarrassment lived through my 30’s and 40’s.
Fortunately, today I don’t give a fuck so owning my space gives me pride. I’ve found patience and gratitude. Being frank and direct is my way. Objectivity, positivity, and optimism flow like rhythms of my favorite song, and wallowing in things I can’t control along with regret are things of the past.
Why does all of that matter?
Because what I didn’t see coming through all of this was the support, feedback, resonance, validation, and acceptance that has resulted. Hearing from others about their personal experiences, enables me to persist and step out of my comfort zone with my writing by exposing things I’ve previously hidden.
It may have even saved a life.
With permission, here is a condensed excerpt of what someone wrote to me,
“This past year has truly been the toughest… the deepest depression, anxiety, no sleep. I finally called my doctor and asked for help and told my spouse…. In January, I pulled up your latest blog about suicide, which hit me so very hard. Since I have read your blog, there has been something poking and tugging at me… I didn’t want to be another person you wrote about… You both have made an amazing impact on me. THANK YOU. If I am struggling, I will say something.”
A timely New York Times article hit my in box with some surprising stats, Suicide Science, written by Ellen Barry, published 2/21/24. Excerpts below:
When an attempt fails, ‘these folks generally survive and go on to get past these thoughts, go on to live happy, full lives,’ said Dr. Paul Nestadt, a suicide researcher at Johns Hopkins.”
This isn’t about me or my blog, this is about the importance of vulnerability, bravery, connection, communication, compassion, and empathy through shared struggles and challenges where hope and the desire for positive outcomes CAN prevail.
It is a long overdue time to say the hard things. Speak your truth! Bear the benefits and the consequences because somebody needs you now!
This may not be for everyone and that’s okay, otherwise if it is, shine your bright light where the darkness lives.
Maybe I’ll think about that and get back to you later.
We drive instead of walk because it’s faster. We eat fast food instead of cook because it’s easier. We laze around instead of being productive because well, we can get to that tomorrow. Procrastination is our annoying friend slumped over on the couch with the remote in her hand.
“Can you please change the channel, this show sucks?”
Procrastination is a high hurdle to jump. Why now when we can do something later?
If that strategy magically willed away what we needed to do, then the time spent avoiding the inescapable is a viable investment of our energy. Sadly, spending time in its wake does not make one feel good about themselves.
Why waste any additional amount of time than the task takes in a big black cloud of dread that makes us feel shitty? Because well, we can get to that tomorrow.
Procrastination is conscious and deliberate.
It isn’t something we forgot to do or overlook, rather methodically and strategically avoid much to our own detriments. Often, it seems, the cumulative time spent in avoidance surpasses the amount of time the task might take.
Procrastination is a monumental waste of time in a life where time, (tick, tick, tick), is our most coveted commodity. It is a distraction, an energy suck, a mental destination where we wallow and make excuses for our lazy ass selves. The negative energy it produces can more broadly impact how we feel about ourselves even outside of the task(s) exacerbating anxiety and depression.
Imagine what 1-2 or 5 more hours a week of free time derived from accomplishment, productivity, accountability and proactivity might do to our collective spirits. Imagine the positive energy that thrives in that result.
Are we innately procrastinators or is it a learned pattern of behavior?
I don’t know, I’ll think about that and get back to you later.
My professional life single handedly thwarted my early life of procrastination. The consequences of succumbing to its grips were so severe it melted away like ice in the desert heat never to return. The risk of losing my house or business left no room for giving in to its life sucking grip.
Now that I have more time on my hands, procrastination rears its ugly ass head on occasion. Mostly things I loathe but must do. Even my life-lesson-loving self knows better but gets stuck in the mire of the weeds and drudges through the black cloud of dread every now and then.
So why not do today that which can wait until tomorrow? Spare yourself the agony of stepping in the swamp and running from alligators. Surely there is a 7 step program geared for the chronic procrastinator.
This post will be as difficult to read as it has been to write but we must prevail in the name of support for those struggling with their own mental health.
Please don’t shy away.
I recently compiled a list so troubling that I am having difficulty sleeping.
The recent loss of an acquaintance to suicide led me down this path. A path that ends with abrupt devastation.
On the outside, this person seemingly had everything. She was smart, savvy, humble and worthy. She was a spouse, mother, grandmother, friend, mentor, employer, and community advocate.
We breathed the same air. We walked in common space. We shared cheerful words. We bonded over barbells and burpees. We exchanged smiles and contact information. We looked down the same road but saw its end at a different intersection.
Sadly, what appeared on the outside is not what lived on the inside.
Where are the signs? How do we find them? What can we do?
I always say, “Perception is reality.” Is it in the realm of suicide?
When we lose someone famous, we gasp in despair while scratching our heads wondering why someone who couldn’t possibly want for anything, die at their own hand.
Clearly, perception is not reality when the turmoil on the inside can be disguised by accolades, fame, the perfect family, the perfect career, beautiful smiles, and warm hellos. The projection of normalcy keeps us at a distance that we can’t see or perceive.
How can we navigate the quagmire to extend a lifeline, offer support or help?
My beautiful friend was so close and yet so far.
She joins 6 other friends or family that I know personally who seemed to ‘have it all’ but could no longer face their internal torment. Imagine the vast magnitude of darkness, anguish and despair so broad and unmanageable that it extinguishes such brilliant lightness in all of them.
Devastating.
Why can’t we see such dark despair on the outside when it pervades so powerfully on the inside?
Suicide prevention must be congruent with mental wellness and human connection. As our society continues to isolate itself in the name of absolutes, we exacerbate the turmoil and disconnect from those who feel different or troubled or wounded or lacking in some perceived way by the global masses.
988 The Suicide and Crisis Lifeline (formerly The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline), receives over 2 million calls a year. It’s difficult for me to quantify that number. Imagine how many struggling souls don’t make that call.
Everyone should be entitled to be free of the encumberments of judgement and angst and the perceived isolation that it generates. If we didn’t stigmatize depression or other mental crisis’s just maybe the 7 people in my life would be living and breathing today.
It troubles me greatly when I hear others lament about suicide as thoughtless and selfish or short sighted and feeble, that they didn’t try hard enough to be happy or hopeful.
We all need to be accountable to those around us by embracing their individuality and engaging in supportive wellness, not only for the others in our lives but for ourselves.
Loss survivors of suicide live in their own torment. In the cross hairs of shame, guilt, grief, sorrow, helplessness, and an insurmountable anguish. The list of questions we carry will never be answered and the abrupt loss remains with us indefinitely.
It changed me forever. Now I see things others don’t and say things they shy from.
I don’t have the answers, I live in the wake of the ship as it sinks to the bottom grasping for reasons why it sank in the first place. If only there was a telling sign or symbol that could indicate crisis and distress alerting those close enough to make a difference.
I imagine compassion, courtesy, kindness, empathy, understanding, inclusion, acceptance, expression, forgiveness, vulnerability, and trust, just might be the olive branch, the extension of peace, the bridge that narrows the gap, the love and connection that heals and ultimately suffocates the demons.
They are all cherished souls whose lives we need. Suicide may be closer than you think, we must band together to suffocate the demons.
BeThe1To.com outlines 5 steps we can all take if we encounter someone who may be suicidal.
You just might save a life.
#BeThe1To Ask, Be There, Keep Them Safe, Help Them Connect, Follow Up.
I left my first job out of college because it lacked inspiration and stimulation. Even though it provided tools enabling my future success, finding creative ways to push in my chair at the end of the day left me dizzy and bored.
I spent my entire life proceeding that moment preparing for exactly what I had yet felt lackadaisical and full of dread. Mediocrity feeds monotony, but moving past it requires trepid steps, risk and a possibility of failure.
Is it safer to be bored by the dull and tedious?
Is the pie in the sky there for the taking or merely a distraction leaving us constantly grasping for something just out of reach?
Do we persist in the mundane because we must or because we don’t see a choice?
I walked both ends of that tight rope. I thrive in routine and structure as long as it is stimulating, but wheels spinning in the same direction lack vision and creativity and leave me feeling ho hum and weary.
Why do we continue to spin on the hamster wheel when our path’s destiny is fully within reach and at our discretion? Is it easier to stop short of the finish line and settle in ho hum-dom?
I can only answer those questions for me, and the fear of stagnation is my motivation. Slime accumulates on still water because it’s not flowing. If we flow, we move down stream eventually making our way to bigger waters.
Fortunately, passing time delivers light to many things. It is the reflecting pool where hindsight and foresight come together in harmonious balance.
If the tools from our past mold and shape our futures, then monotony is a viable contributor by shedding light on what we don’t want. I left my job and found my career solely because I knew what I didn’t want. It defined what I wanted in a clear and tangible manner and that place in time was not it.
Unless you are a farmer, you may prefer to smell the roses rather than the cow pies in the pasture, but you only know that because you have smelled both.
As I often say, ‘We are where we are because of where we have been. We can’t push water back up stream to make it come down differently.’ The past, present and future shape our in-trepid best selves to guide and direct our futures.
Monotony and stimulation coexist together and can’t stand independently because you only know one feeling by virtue of its opposition. I know how to thrive exclusively because I have floundered.
As with much of my way of thinking, time has provided clarity and the ability to reconcile my behaviors with their outcomes, narrowing the gap between what works and what doesn’t. I am humbled and grateful to grant it worthy space and attention.
My brother likes to say, “If it were easy, everyone would be doing it.” Flounder in the monotony of the mundane so you can thrive in the exhilaration of stimulation. Do it because not everyone is!
In my early life, believing I could do anything I set my mind to, was akin to understanding a foreign language. No hablo ingles! Not only was I incapable of conceptualizing that, I was disconnected from the idea that my life and its future was within reach or within my control.
As a young High Schooler, I had a strong overwhelming sense of my imminent and immediate demise. My death anxiety did not hover over me like a cloud, rather, it loomed and lingered around my excitement.
In anticipation of life’s great accomplishments, getting my driver’s license, graduating from high school or going to college I faced a real and legitimate fear of death. I couldn’t visualize my death or the potential action which may cause it, I just knew I would die before I could relish in the pride of my accomplishment.
Those thoughts did not have a voice but thrived in silence.
Truly believing I could do anything I set my mind to took years to develop. It required a fervent conviction that surfaced only after seemingly endless tribulations I believed were out of my control and left me at the starting gate long after the race had begun.
There are several notable steps that reframed my perspective and changed my attitude. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see them coming when they arrived, but I undoubtedly found them after they left thanks to my lifelong friend Hindsight.
Surprisingly negligible and simple, I slowly started accomplishing things I feared I couldn’t and began collecting small successes. This pattern of accomplishment enabled room for confidence and pride while illuminating what I did to get there.
The small successes showed me what confidence felt and looked like in a time in my life when I didn’t even know what it was.
It’s impossible to teach someone how to be confident and proud, they are both innately inherent components of the process of success and accomplishment. Feelings, outcomes and results. We do because we are.
That’s why we feel shitty when we fail. It sucks! Even if failing eventually enables success, the feeling in the moment is deflating and defeating.
Fortunately, despite my self-imposed angst, I eventually started to believe in myself. The shift in mindset highlighted the connection between positive efforts and actions with positive results and outcomes and laid the foundation for future accomplishments.
It single handedly extinguished my premature and unwarranted fear of dying.
Again and again and again in my life, this pattern of thought has delivered everything I set my mind to. I knew if I didn’t quit or give up, I would get there. Forward, backward, up, down, straight or winding, it didn’t matter.
With persistence the result was delivered as ordered.
The power of believing I can do anything I set my mind to created the limitless belief exemplified by the resilience and perseverance my Hungarian grandparents so humbly illustrated. They had so much more on the line than I ever have or will ever dream to have. I won’t let them down.
Every day I strive to reach higher than I did the day before even if what I want is beyond my grasp. If I don’t, how can I do better tomorrow than I did today? Believing I can do anything I set my mind to supports endless possibilities and endless outcomes.
If that was the measured duration of time it takes for a car to reach a top speed, your vehicle would be an obsolete pile of rusted dust sitting in a junk yard.
Fortunately, with all the ‘Cares,’ carelessly, carefreely and carefully covered, I’ve managed to avoid rusting in a junk yard.
In 60 years, there are nearly 2 billion seconds, 31,556,926 minutes, 525,960 hours, and 21,915 days for which to have cared.
That’s a lot of frickin time.
Generally, birthdays have never really been a big thing for me. I don’t like being the center of attention.
Ironic, isn’t it?
As I lap the sun for the 60th time it seems surreal to reflect on the years of passed time. I have often said to my friends with kids, their children are the barometer of their own age since they can see and feel their age through their kids’ age.
Kid-less, my life feels like, Holy shit, how did I get here so fast?
Let’s see, shall we?
Random facts in 6 decades of life:
I’ve lived in 3 countries, 14 different cities with 20 addresses, 7 were in Chicago.
I attended 10 different schools – K through College, 7 preceded high school.
I spent 2 years as a 3rd grader.
I took 40 credit hours my senior year of college to avoid being a 5th year senior.
I’ve had 13 jobs and 2 careers.
I’ve loved 7 dogs, 2 parakeets and a bowl full of gold fish.
After driving the infamous ‘Blaze’ in high school, I’ve owned 4 Chevy Blazers.
Knowing the location of bathrooms in every place I shop.
Hearing my mother’s tone and pitch in my voice.
Getting married.
Not giving a shit.
Loving asparagus.
Wrinkles.
The dreaded colonoscopy.
Blood pressure medication.
Plucking rouge hairs from my chin.
Plucking rouge hairs from my nose that seem to be growing to my chin.
Not feeling the need to bathe every day.
Feeling relaxed and slightly more patient.
Being publicly vulnerable.
Doing a cartwheel on the beach on my birthday!
Writing this blog!
In the nearly 2 billion seconds that I’ve breathed air on this plant, I am grateful to all who have shared in my 60 laps around the sun. I am where I am because of where I’ve been and with whom I have been there. All in!
Every second has influenced and guided me to this precise place. Foibles and all, this path was the intended journey.
Time to lay more bricks. Ready or not, here I come.
I learned in my adult life that I am a literal-visual thinker. It wasn’t until I googled the words that it quickly popped up in the pre-filled field. It lead me to a blog post that read as if it were describing me. Not until then did I know it was a real thing or that others struggled with it too.
Literal-visual thinkers process what is said based on the exact meaning of each word and then see it in pictures.
What?!?
Others don’t?
As a literal-visual thinker, I can’t hear ‘I want to blow my brains out,’ without seeing brain spatter everywhere. I shudder every time and need minutes to recover. There are times when I anticipate what’s coming and close my eyes and cover my ears to avert the suffering.
If there is a scale, I fall in the 80-85% range. Not because I’m not always 100% literal, rather I have adjusted to repeated idioms, metaphors, humor, vagueness and have learned to recognize the nuances. I was surprised to learn literal thinking is associated with Autism or Asperger’s and exists on the spectrum.
I have never been more conscious of my literalness than when I am in the company of the masses who are ‘literally dying’ all around me, but rather, are very much alive and well.
We are drowning in ‘literallys.’ They lurk in the most unsuspecting sentences from the most unsuspecting sources.
Let us imagine for a moment, that the next time you say ‘literally’ to emphasize a figurative statement or even a fact, you get slapped in the face as an odd reflex perpetrated from your own hand, then perhaps you might cease with this nonsense.
Can’t you see Molly Shannon and Kate McKinnon in a SNL skit catching up over coffee and slapping themselves every time they say ‘literally?’
Curiously hilarious, I say!
In the seas of today’s language environment, you can’t enjoy a random conversation with family and friends or turn on the TV without hearing its annoying chronic misuse. It makes me shudder every time!
“It was literally 80 yesterday and today it’s 30.”
“That house was literally there a few hours ago and now it is literally gone.”
Those are two very clear and distinct facts that need not be re-emphasized as fact. Like ‘ums’ and ‘likes’ ‘literally’ has become a filler word.
Even more egregious is using it out of context. If you were ‘literally dying’ you would be gasping for your last breath! It is a distressing and tiresome reminder of the real struggles we literal thinkers face.
The inadvertent agony created by the non-literal masses coughing up ‘literally’ everywhere is a fate worse than the high-pitched screech of metal on metal. It’s akin to constantly reminding an empath that they are being overly sensitive.
Duh…
Partly sunny or mostly cloudy?!
Are not they the same? I get why water under the bridge is an important metaphor. We can’t push it back upstream to make it come down differently. Or why a glass half full is better than one half empty even though from a volume standpoint they are the same.
I process information from long drawn-out stories of mundaneness to analytical equations in the same manner. I connect dots and put things in order. It must be clear and sensical. It must lack implied details, inuendo and nuance.
Throw in a half dozen or so ‘literallys’ and I stop listening and start counting.
Tell me a joke? I get painfully uncomfortable whilst mustering a fake laugh or an eye roll. Say something that isn’t true because it is funny. I wince and cringe in agony. Present a ‘hypothetical’ and I begin spiraling in confusion.
“Wait, so you did tell your boss to fuck off or you didn’t.”
I am painfully gullible.
Clarity, please. It is the only path I know.
There are endless examples. Fortunately, most fly under the radar and go unnoticed by those around me, especially if we don’t share the same roof. However, the more daily interactions I have with someone the harder it gets.
My mother recently had a malignant growth removed from the shin of her leg. The directions from the Doctor required her to clean it with bar soap once a day, Ivory, Dial, it didn’t matter.
Of course, I asked.
The next morning, “Mom, did it bother you to clean it?”
“No, I rubbed a bar of soap on it.” Gesturing with her hand toward her shin for added effect.
“Did that hurt? Maybe you shouldn’t rub a bar of soap over it and use a washcloth.”
Her innocent reply, “I didn’t! I used a washcloth! What do you think I am, stupid!?”
Concern and compassion with a dash of literal interpretation is a recipe perfectly formulated to look like an A-hole. Sadly, a place I find myself inadvertently landing too often.
Them, “I don’t like that restaurant, I don’t eat fried food.”
Me, “They don’t serve fried food.”
Them, “Well you know, when they sauté it in a pan.”
“That’s not fried food.” Me = A-hole.
You get the A-(w)hole idea.
My responses are not premeditated for A-hole conformity, but rather to my natural interpretation to the very statements being made. Like a train speeding down the track, I don’t see it coming until after it flattens me on the ground.
Fortunately, not all my literalness flattens me on the tracks. Years ago, I was on a plane headed to the islands for vacation and read an article in the airline magazine about the entrepreneur who developed the Big Ass Fan.
A bold ass name, I thought.
When we landed, the open-air airport had no A/C and I looked up and there it was… the biggest fan I had ever seen – A BIG ASS FAN. Thank you for living up to my literal expectations!
I am a planner and a doer, pragmatic and focused. Committed and loyal through the cloudiest of ends. Visually, it’s black and white, not gray. I see you standing over your boss’s desk telling her to fuck off. I contrive visual images of conversation details and when I can’t connect the dots, I interrupt with questions.
This annoys people. Some more than others.
The unaware may never skip a beat, on with the next anecdote of their tale, while others are clearly annoyed. As we near ‘The End’ if I don’t get it, I just can’t let it go. “Huh, what? I don’t understand.” Back to chapter one, we go.
I remember everything and expect that what is said is what will result. Say what you mean and mean what you say and don’t ask me a question you really prefer I don’t answer. I am painfully direct and frank. I call it like I see it. To the point, no mincing words.
This annoys people too. Some more than others.
People who are close to me expect and appreciate this from me. No sugar coating, just a big bitter pill to swallow with no water to wash it down.
Cough, cough… ok.
To the outsider, I imagine this reads like a demanding bitch who isn’t worthy of friends and conversation. If that’s your thought, we agree.
If you are literal like me, painstakingly connecting dots, visualizing stories with images, responding directly and frankly, it can be a distressing way to live, often being misunderstood. I am quite the opposite of a demanding bitch, and struggle with the consequences of my literalness regularly.
Fully understanding this about my nature gives me clarity and a better understanding of my communication style but doesn’t necessarily help those around me.
Sadly, being misunderstood is a literal thinker’s way of life and being reminded of it regularly is excruciating.
Thank you
Why should you care, and how might you help, you ask?
Next time you are ‘literally dying’ or need to say literally five times in each sentence, first, make sure you don’t slap yourself in the face, then pause for some brief reflection and recognize the inadvertent agony you may be causing us literal thinkers. It just might curtail your flagrant behavior.
At what age do we really start thinking for ourselves, making plans, setting goals and believing those outcomes are ours to achieve? If it is as simple as shifting our mindset, when and how do we know to do so?
My Hungarian father and his parents’ sacrifices cast a brilliant light on what resilient and perseverance meant and the tenacity with which they approached survival and hope for a new day. They were worthy examples but as an adolescent how could I associate the direction I needed to take with that of people who left their lives behind for freedom.
Through their example, I grew to see my life as limitless. It was simultaneously encouraged by my parents, but how and when could I put it into action?
Reflecting on that now, to pinpoint a pivotal moment in time when the light went on, it was my senior year of high school on the basketball court.
Something changed, forever.
My coach towered over my 5’9” lanky body and persisted in challenging me to a close jump shot through her outstretched arms. With absolutely no effort, she repeatedly swatted my shot away before it had any hope of success.
“Again,” she commanded, as my teammates watched, grateful not to be standing in my shoes while I continued to struggle.
“Again!”
After the fifth or sixth time, I muttered “I can’t.”
“What did you say?” She was as shocked by my response as I was by the tone of her question.
Gulp, “I can’t.”
Her next words changed my life.
“Don’t you ever say I can’t,” she screamed as she slammed the ball down on the court, promptly spun on her heels and returned to the locker room. Practice over.
I can still feel that feeling today. My humiliation was overshadowed by an inordinate sense that I needed to shift my mindset. Verbalizing my negative thoughts allowed me to quit, give up and stop trying.
One of many quotes from Eleanor Roosevelt that I love; “Nothing has ever been achieved by the person who says, ‘It can’t be done.’”
Think about it. Believing you can’t is a cop out, a way to avert failure, an excuse that enables quitters. It’s Superman’s kryptonite.
Combining ‘I can’t’ with any hope of accomplishing something we set our minds to are opposing forces. The up and down of the seesaw has no prospect of finding balance in the middle. I knew in that moment; I could talk myself into something just as easily as I could talk myself out of it.
It became a forever mindset granting me the time and space to believe in myself, to push beyond where comfort lived and to color outside the lines. With time and maturity, it developed my critical thinking skills and furthered my confidence and pride. Attributes that were earned and not given.
After that day, I knew the sky was the limit and my life was mine to live. Sink or swim, I had control. That afternoon on the basketball court was the last time I said or believed, “I can’t.”
