Day 378: The Lint Metaphor

Yesterday, I asked for help from the blogging community. I will tell you — right now — that asking for help is a big deal for me. I tend to try to take care of things, on my own.

I have been trying to balance that independence of mine (or whatever else we want to call that) with reaching out for support. I’ve been consciously doing that more, in these year(s) of living:

  1. with less judgment,
  2. with less fear, and
  3. with more love.

So I reached out for support, yesterday. I asked for help, from my readers, in coming up with a metaphor for an unhelpful feeling which sticks, and then — when dislodged — reattaches to something else. More specifically, I asked for a metaphor that described a particular fear of mine: that other people might be angry, judgmental, or otherwise (perhaps permanently) disconnected from me.

Readers came up with some great metaphors, as well as other enriching, insightful thoughts.

I don’t have time to write about all of those today, so please see the comment section of yesterday’s post, people!

I do want to quote from one of the responses — from one of the VIP’s (Very Important Participants) in this blogging journey of mine, Sitting On My Own Sofa — as follows:

… lint also sticks. It goes away and it comes back mysteriously. Maybe it goes down the drain or into the vacuum or off to the dump, but it will appear again in the closet, in front of a classroom, at a restaurant. The physics of lint is a lot like the physics of anxiety.

What Sitting On My Own Sofa wrote has been sticking, for me, in a very good way.

Lint is everywhere. It does appear on my clothes. It’s pretty much there, whenever I look closely.  And there’s no shame in it.  How could there be?  It’s everywhere, no matter how much we might try to control it.

Last week, when I was at work, I glanced down at my clothes and saw some lint.

My first thought?  Oh, no!

My next thoughts?

Oh, come on, Ann!  Who cares?  It DOESN’T MATTER. First of all, nobody else is going to notice that. And if somebody does notice and it matters to them?  Forget them!*

So, already, I’m finding that lint metaphor very helpful. Thanks, Sitting On My Own Sofa!

And other suggested metaphors, from yesterday’s post — including bats, crows, athlete’s foot, kitchen moths (eeek!), gout, mildew, green slime, shadows, musical earworms, carpenter ants, stray cats, fog, rocks, dandelions, magnetized objects, water, algae, dust bunnies, ghosts, silver fish, cockroaches (eeek!), meteor showers, tickbirds, and paprazzi (if you’re a star);** rumoras (little fish that stick to big fish)***; boomerangs****; seeds that float on the wind *****; a grain of sand ******; bad pennies ******* mirrors******** — were all illuminating and helpful.

Also, two VIP readers ********* voted for my metaphor du jour — a sea anemone. I particularly appreciated that, since I went to the New England Aquarium yesterday, with my son and boyfriend, and saw LOTS and LOTS of those beauties:

Image**********

I’m so glad I asked for help, yesterday!

What I’ve written here, this morning, is reminding me of something else I need help with: figuring out how to do footnotes with numbers, not asterisks.  Having that as an option would be particularly helpful, especially when I’m having a lot of thoughts I want to convey in one post (like today).

And while I haven’t gotten help with doing numbered footnotes, yet, I will continue to seek that help, wherever I can find it, balancing that with my ability to learn on my own.

Wait, I just figured out a way to improve my footnotes, here!  And because I have to end this post, I shall do it as best as I can, considering that I need to stop this post in moments, to get ready for work.

Okay!

Thanks to everybody, everywhere, who helped with the creation of today’s post, whether or not I thanked you. And thanks to you, especially, for visiting and reading today.


  1. I’m thinking about that Cee Lo Green tune, right now: “Forget You,” for lots of reasons.

  2.  All from the wonderful mind of Sitting On My Own Sofa.

  3.  From T. D. Davis. Thanks!

  4. From Mark Bialczak and Russ Towne.  Thanks to both of you!

  5. From biochicklet. Thanks!

  6. From Wancho.  Thanks!

  7.  Russ Towne, again.  Thanks!

  8.  From drjcwash, whom I can’t seem to link to, this morning. Thanks so much!

  9.   andy1076 and Susan Jamieson. Thanks!!!

  10. I wish I had brought my phone with me to the Aquarium, yesterday, so I could show you my own photos, but I didn’t. So thanks to this site, for this image.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth | Tags: , , , | 27 Comments

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27 thoughts on “Day 378: The Lint Metaphor

  1. Cheers! ^.^

  2. What a great community that you have surrounding and supporting you! Sounds like they really came through yesterday!

  3. I love that lint saying! So true.

  4. Sitting on a Sofa apparently is a good thing for coming up with metaphors, and possibly similes and analogies, too. The lint connection was merely perfect for this particular anxiety. About your footnote fetish, Ann, if I may call it that: I was going to say the heck with them altogether, but then I saw I was mentioned in one again. I’m all for your footnotes! Bring on the numbers.

    • “Footnote fetish”, huh, Mark? You must have a sofa (or other place) that’s good for coming up with puns and other wordplay. Thanks for this merely perfect comment.

  5. So happy you got your metaphor. It’s funny how they appear in the strangest places.
    Blessings Susan x

  6. – big grin –
    See how you’ve gone and made lint into a good thing? I love that magic wand of yours.

  7. Ah, I’m a day late to the helping game! I would have probably said static electricity because my boyfriend and I seem to constantly be passing that from one to the other. Or rather, I like to run my hands through my static-y hair and then shock him. Because I’m an awesome girlfriend.

  8. I need to learn to do footnotes!

  9. Pingback: Day 379: I’m a loser | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

  10. Pingback: Day 489: Mistakes and Consequences | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

  11. Pingback: Day 515: Gathering fear | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

  12. Pingback: Day 612: Not the only one | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

  13. Pingback: Day 658: Missing and Coming Back | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

  14. Pingback: Day 736: Endless | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

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