Pick How You Want the Other to Be…You’ll Be Right

farmerdreamstime_5640139And… if you believe something to be true about a person…you will ’see’ it…you will prove that what you believe about him or her is true.  You will look for what you believe…what you fear…and you will find it.

The “Mean Farmers are Everywhere! Incident”

A man was out for an evening country drive when he had a flat tire.  On opening his trunk he discovered he had no jack to raise the car.  He’d seen no traffic, thus spotting the lights of a farmhouse in the distance, he struck out to ask for help.  After walking for a few minutes, the man started wondering about the people in the farmhouse.  What if they got mad at having their evening interrupted?  Maybe they were having supper and would feel like they had to interupt the pleasant meal just because a stranger was so careless he didn’t have a jack in his car?  What if they insisted he join them in supper?  He didn’t have time for supper, now they’d think he was rude.  What if they have a jack, but it’s out in the barn and they expect him to find it own his own?  What kind of people wouldn’t help a guy who just needed a jack?  Yes, but what kind of people would invite a stranger into their house?  What kind of person would expect him to find a jack in a barn?  It was pretty late.  They weren’t going to trust him to return the jack, that was for sure.  They’d say, “You didn’t have the sense to make sure you had your own jack. What kind of person is that foolish?”

About this time, the man reached the door of the farmhouse and knocked.  When the farmer answered, the man said, “Fine!  Just keep your damn jack!”

Other “Keep Your Damn Jack!” scenarios when the EMOTIONAL GUIDANCE SYSTEM(FEAR AND ANXIETY)  is running the show:

The wife waits at the airport for her husband who is late picking her up.  While she waits, she rehearses worst case  possibilities based on her fears.   ”Well, thanks a lot,” she says, climbing in when he arrives, “I can see how important I am to you!”  (This before knowing why he was late.) … Alternate (Just a suggestion, this is hard) “Hi, sweetie. Don’t worry about being late.  I’m sure you had a good reason.”  (Lose interest in whether or not you are right. That’s a dead end.  We’re just going for what works… the facts about what works….by way of the THINKING GUIDANCE SYSTEM.)

A husband comes through the door with a dozen roses.  His wife is on the phone with her sister.  She smiles and shows excitement, but stays on the phone for another twenty minutes, then says, “These are gorgeous.  Thank-you!”  The husband shrugs and says, “Thank you doesn’t mean much to me now.”  …Alternate, (see above re: thinking running the show)… “I had to wait, honey, but you’re always worth it!”

What happens next after first responses?  After alternative responses?  Which outcome do you want?

If you believe you are not lovable, no one….absolutely no one…can convince you otherwise.  If you believe you are not lovable…you will not recognize love. 

Deciding to live “as if” you are lovable or “as if” you are not lovable… is something like deciding to live believing in an afterlife.  You have to go one way or the other.  There is no middle.

This Human is Currently Being Serviced…

sleepydreamstime_935857This human is “currently being serviced.” 

When a machine is broken at the gym, instead of a sign saying it’s broken, a placard is placed on the machine explaining, “This equipment is currently being serviced.”

The wording “is currently being serviced” takes into account that the inconvenience is temporary, that with time and tweaking, the equipment will return to regular duties.

Today is a Maintenance Day.   

A Maintenance Day is a day when you don’t try to “get any better” at anything.  When the best you can hope for is to keep from sliding backward…in your work, your relationships, in the journey toward your goals. 

A Maintenance Day is a day when every time you reach for an item, you knock something else over.

A Maintenance Day is a day when you turn corners, and bang your knees.

A Maintenance Day is a day when no good ideas are coming to the front of your brain.

A Maintenance Day is a day when you make a clever remark and realize you’ve hurt someone’s feelings.

A Maintenance Day is a day when the long-term goals you set for yourself mock you as impossible. “Who do you think you are?”

A Maintenance Day is a day when your Emotional Guidance System is running your show….you are taking everything personally….your refection in the mirror is a monster….you are throwing generalizing words—never, always, everyone, those (old, young, leftwing, rightwing, reality-television watchers, people who don’t like reality television, techno-geniuses, techno-duds,)…the guy who ran the yellow light, and the guy who honked when you ran the yellow light….

A Maintenance Day is a day when, first and foremost, you must be your very own very best friend and take care of yourself.  Breathe.  Cool air in, warm air out.  Remind yourself of the facts about you.  You are a hard worker. Most days you have good ideas.  Most days you can take a step toward that distant goal. Most days…but not today.

Today the goal is…to keep from sliding backwards.  To keep from turning everyone we meet into a target.  Sometimes we are the equipment “currently being serviced.”  

Part Three: If Only You Loved Me, and Treated Me the Way You Should…

 

prairiedogsdreamstime_810602Triple Blame Whammy, Part 3, is for all the other people in your life who aren’t doing what they could to keep you on an even keel.

Sisters and brothers who consistently ‘make’ you uptight and are completely impregnable to your efforts to show them a better way to live.  And there are the friends you’ve tried to train…and also that sniggly therapist who isn’t buying into how you are the only person in your family who isn’t a complete wreck. 

Heck, I’m even including those people who cut in front of me.  (Okay, sometimes it’s the drivers ahead of me that let them in, but they are still slowing me down, they are still responsible for me gritting my teeth, still responsible for making me at least 20 seconds later getting home and that’s not fair!)  Coming off the freeway to reach our house, the road is two lanes.  Between the exit ramp and the main road heading to the hills, there are four stoplights.  Before the last light there are four signs indicating that only the right lane continues when the street breaks off to the right.  There are fifty foot fat painted arrows indicating the upcoming narrowing.  Any person looking out through the windshield can see that at the last light, the right lane, and only the right lanes peels off and continues through a yield.  I’m willing to wager that the majority of drivers in the five o’clock traffic drive the same route home every day.  Thus, the one lane only curving off to the right is no surprise. 

Yet, every day, a bunch of these people roar past the line of cars stacked up in the right lane –because we are kind, law-abiding, emotionally mature, just-plain-better-than-the-average people who can flippin read.  These people whizz past those of us in the stack–you know the rest.  They sit there in the left lane at the head of the line…and have the nerve to turn on their blinker, like, “Oh dear, I didn’t see this coming.”

As of this moment, I give those people the right to keep right on being themselves.  They no longer owe it to me to change.  I will find another way to deal with the extra 20 seconds I now choose to donate freely to my ride home. Now as for my siblings….

Say ‘Yes’ When You Mean ‘No’? Blame Other Person

witchlaadydreamstime_5942236_picnik

How much of our lives do we spend doing things we don’t want (or need) to do because we say, “Yes” when we meant “No?”   I’m not talking about the things we do that make us uncomfortable, but are the ” right” things, such as family activities or the temptation we humans have to want to give up when we “feel” defeated, and claim we didn’t really choose the goals we’ve set for ourselves.  I’m talking about all the many opportunities when we know our participation is not necessary, but we say ”Yes” to escape the anxiety arousedwith displeasing another person…who by definition…can do without our contribution. 

And, you are never safe.  Never.  When you least expect it, someone else.. whose super-powers are hidden under the disguise of a being a “helper” will recognize your weakness and pounce… taking control of your feelings and your life with the skill of the ’Body Snatchers’.  Helpers.  Yeah, right.  

One of these “helpers” attacked me minutes ago.  She forced me to carry items she knew I couldn’t manage, and almost got me killed in a car accident….Okay, maybe not killed, but I did veer over onto the shoulder at the height of the action.  Also, the scene on the front seat was prit-tee messy.

I believe it is my duty to warn you about this woman.  There I was, all gears running with my Best Thinking in charge, my Emotional Guidance System on the back burner, at about 9:45 PM in Dallas picking up supper at Eatzi”s to take to my Dallas Hilton branch headquarters.  Okay, just  to cover my bases.  Just maybe… when I had them box up five huge shrimp ($39,99 a pound), my Emotional Guidance System had a bit of influence. 

Back to the Dragon Lady.  She appeared from nowhere, a small woman really.  She was just there in front of me as I exited with her chef”s desert tray locked and loaded. The Body Snatcher disguised as a chef  offers me a giant chocolate-covered strawberry or perhaps, a whipped cream-loaded mini tart with a strawberry, blueberries and fresh pineapple.  I say, quite nicely and sincerly as I’m  not really big on sweets, and I had my sidesaddle loaded down with shrimp,  ”No, thanks.”  You’d think  a person could see I wasn’t in the market and move on, but she didn’t.  Which only makes the resulting shoulder-veering incident more obviously the responsibility of this demon-disguised-as-helper person. 

You see, she kept on with level two presure…guilt. ”If you don’t take them, we’ll just throw them away.”  What could I do?  I took not one but three, thinking, oh well, I’ll say “yes” to escape the immediate anxiey, then throw them in the trash on my way out.  Did I mention these treats were on flimsy lacy things….maybe what happened is the responsibility of whoever made those lacy doily things…

I head of Eatzi’s for the car balancing the shrimp, two kinds of sauce, a container of coleslaw and now three gooey treats not in containers.  I reach the first trash can….I look back.  The Dragon Lady isn’t watching, but there are several peolple sitting at the outdoor table who saw me accept the goodies.  No way I can throw them away now.  After all,  what kind of person will these Total Strangers  think I am?

Thus I climb in, settle the seafood shotgun and the treats on the dash, handy to throw out when I reach hotel across the street.  Which would have worked maybe,  if they hadn’t started to slide when a car pulled out in front  of me, and I had’t jerked the wheel in a  fruitless attempt atpreveningt the treats sliding onto the seat and the floor.

Who is responsible for this debacle?  Eatzi’s.  They shouldn’t make more items than they can sell each day.  The Dragon Lady.  She should have picked up on my “not a sweets person” vibe and left me alone.  The people sitting at the table outside .  If they hadn’t so obviosly been judging me, I could have rid myself of the problem.  The guy who pulled out of the drive onto the road.  Well, that’s just obvious.  He knew it was me and that I was in a precarious situation,  but decided to pull out in front of me to show his disrespect. 

Me?  Nada….  I’m a victim.  What’s that you say?….I had a choice?  That I could have said “No” and the chef lady would probably gotten over it? 

Oh.  I know I only gave two elements of the Triple Blame Whammy.  Three’s coming.

Psychobabble Fun Break, In a Way

I am in bad shape and it’s not my fault!  restingkittydreamstime_1948961Time for a break in the hard work.   I was very, very wrong about that ‘taking responsibility for your feelings’ idea. I’m a mess and it’s not my fault.  My condition is the responsibility of a certain personal trainer….who tied me down, drugged me, and forced me to lift things. I’ve seen him working with other people and he’s definitely got serious problems.  Probably his father was a ruthless, cold man…and now I’m paying for it….I think the personal trainer shouldn’t have suggested I do another rep. In fact, I think maybe he’s a sadist.   Either that or I didn’t take charge, let my Emotional Guidance System decide my pace. 

Dateline:  Imaginary ‘hospital’ bed in home office.  Definition: my regular side of bed, but with every human need within reach. Which means it’s pretty crowded in here with my laptop, remote for the television, remote for the overhead fan, remote for the alternate DVR….chips, salsa, two Cokes, three glasses of ice, Exedrin, bottles, Crazy Dog, Crazy Dog’s pink monkey, her ‘baby’, her ‘jingle bell’ ball, her squeaky penguin, her purple hippo, the yardstick for scratching Crazy Dog when her snoring block out all other sounds…and a dozen pillows arranged to shield my joints and muscles from movement.  

 

Once more, instead of governing my life according to ‘best thinking’ and painful mountains of past experience…when caught in the HOVER ZONE...that place between the cookie that was just enough and all the others…the place where the light turns yellow, you know you should hit the brakes, and you hurry on through…the moments of indecision before you hit the ‘snooze’ one time too many…for me, the hover place occurred at the gym between the moment my body screamed, “Stop! Sure, you’re impressing yourself and keeping up with your partner…but stop!  If you keep going you are going to pay. You’ve done this before, many times, always with the same result,”…and when I’d gritted my teeth and said, “Sure, no problem at all.”

Come to think of it, my husband was there.  Why didn’t he stop me?  I think my current state is his fault. 

The hover.  The Emotional Guidance System.  Without it none of us would be overweight r afraid or smoke or drink too much or even do too many reps because you (I) couldn’t say, “You gotta be kidding” to the twenty-year-old guy at the gym who made the suggestion….but these aches and pains are not all his fault.  I think the personal trainer gets forty percent responsibility, the husband gets forty percent, and that chick in the spandex shorts-bikini who trots from one machine to another gets ten percent responsibility.