Posts Tagged With: self disclosure

Day 731: Small change

I think a lot about change because

  1. I’m a psychotherapist (so change is my business),
  2. three years ago, I was hired at a large Primary Care Practice of a major Boston teaching hospital to be a “Change Agent” (introducing more group work and more in-the-moment responsiveness to patients in emotional distress),
  3.  changes we choose can feel a lot different from changes that are thrust upon us,
  4. change is a part of growth and healing,
  5. noticable change — even good change — often evokes resistance in others,
  6. change is scary for many human beings,
  7. small changes  can seem invisible, trivial, and unimportant, and
  8. I’ve witnessed enormous changes starting with one, small change.

I think about change SO much,  that the small change list above could be much, much larger. However, I’d like to change this post into a more visual one, now.

Today, on the first day of the new year, I’m considering this small change:

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Changing my profile picture, here at WordPress.

Now, you have to admit that’s a REALLY small, unimportant change — totally undeserving of a dramatic reveal like that, or of much time spent by you OR me.

Nevertheless, this is exactly how I choose to spend my first moments of 2015, here at WordPress.

Here are some candidates, for that particular change:

#1:

DSCF0632_face1

That’s Jane Austen, still my favorite writer after all these years, who appeared in this recent post I wrote, which — I think — has already created observable changes in me.

#2:

photo (50)

That’s one of my favorite T-shirts, from one of my favorite diners, which has appeared in several important (to me) “Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally” posts (including this, this, this, this, this, and that).

#3:

IMG_1041

It’s another t-shirt, which I created a few years ago because I (and many experts) honestly believed  I was the longest surviving person in the entire world with a cardiac pacemaker.  I don’t wear that t-shirt any more. Why?  Because, somebody — who found this blog and who got her first pacemaker before I got my first one in 1963 — contacted me. So,  I changed about that, too.

#4:

IMG_0843

That image appeared in this post, a year and a half ago. I found it, just now, by searching the word “chocolate” through all 730 of my previous, daily posts.  Would anybody like to guess what number of posts that was?  Personally, I wouldn’t change a thing about any of all that.

#5:

header-egypt (2)

That was my profile photo from my first year of blogging. Returning to that might seem like the opposite of progress, but as I’ve described here, here,  and elsewhere, we cycle through changes in our lives, often going over similar territory (but always moving up and onward).

#6:

medium-hairstyles-2012-women-with-thick-hair-2

That’s a nice photo, but it’s not me. Also, it’s never appeared in this blog before. It’s just a picture I saved a while ago before I got my hair cut by the fabulous Mia (previously appearing in this blog — according to my search  for “Mia”– here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here).

#7:

IMG_1104

That IS me, and it continues (while also substantially changing) some personal visual mysteries I’ve created so far,  in this blog.  But that’s a little scary for a profile picture, isn’t it?  I hope I didn’t scare my then 15-year-old son Aaron — who was in the emergency room with a collapsed lung — by looking like that while I was with him there, back in June 2013. By the way, that black cat around my neck is a gift from my guy/boyfriend/partner/whatever-you-want-to-call-him, Michael.

#8:

IMG_0880

That’s similar to my current profile picture, with two obvious changes — the tiger is wearing a hat and NOT wearing glasses (which I do need, to see clearly). I should also confess this: I’m not wearing that hat these days.

#9:

IMG_1100

That photo continues the tiger theme, plus it shows two puppets very important to me, one I’ve had since I was a little girl. I inadvertently changed the larger puppet (named “Tiger”) when I placed his head on a lightbulb, so he could listen to me practice piano, many years ago.

#10:

10710918_10204094063745145_4011312662341043331_n

I think this photo probably appeared in this previous blog post and it was drawn by my longtime friend Ada (appearing in the comment section of this non-trivial blog post and this one, too, among other places), decades ago.  I wouldn’t change a thing about Ada or that drawing.

There are many more profile-picture possibilities I could write about, including

  • sticking with my current glasses-wearing tiger,
  • changing to any of the hundreds of photos appearing in this blog previously, or
  • changing to one of the images I captured since writing yesterday’s post:

IMG_4355 IMG_4356 IMG_4358 IMG_4359

IMG_4360

IMG_4376 IMG_4383

IMG_4390

… but I’d like to end this post so I can be ready for today’s resumption of that trivial pursuit game pictured above, with Aaron and Michael.

What changes are important to you, here and now?

I suppose I should make one final change to this post, by adding some music about change.

(“A Change is Gonna Come” by Sam Cooke found here, on YouTube.)

Thanks to all who go through changes every day, including you, y’know.

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , | 48 Comments

Day 369: Old Familiar Faces

Let’s start with the title of today’s post (as is my wont*): Old Familiar Faces.**

My first association with that title is this:  My father singing that line to me, when I was a little kid. Right now, I can hear his voice, in my mind’s ear, singing it.

I now interrupt this reverie with some facts.

My dad used to sing me the 1938 song, “I’ll be Seeing You” sometimes, before he said “good night.” I loved hearing him sing that song.

Here are two YouTube versions of that song. The first, by Billie Holiday:


And this one, with Michael Bublé:


If you played***** either of those videos, perhaps you noticed something interesting.

If you didn’t,  I’ll tell you: That line is NOT in the song.

Eeeeeek!

So, in this post, already, we’ve encountered some interesting things about memory.  It’s entirely possible I mis-remembered that. However, it’s also entirely possible that my father actually DID sing me that line. Why do I think that’s a possibility?  Because of something I may have inherited from him:  A great memory for music, but for the words of a song?  Not so much.

If I had a tape of my dad singing that song, I could listen to it now, and check to see what lyrics he sang. But I don’t have that tape, so let’s move on.

As is my wont*, I have strayed from my original intention for this post.

And what was that?

To write about my mixed feelings and thoughts, regarding  my choosing a new avatar****** for my appearances here on WordPress, as of January 1, 2014. At the beginning of this year, I switched — from the camel and the pyramid (which still adorns  the top of my posts here) — to a photo of the big stuffed tiger in my son’s room wearing my latest pair of glasses (you can see this post for more about that).

What are those mixed feelings and thoughts?  Well, they have to do with self-disclosure.

The issue of self disclosure is a big one, isn’t it?   How much should I disclose about what I look like (and other things, too)?

Last year, I had a guideline about photos of myself, here, and that guideline shifted as the year went on (not surprisingly).  At first, my rule was: No photos of myself. That shifted to this: No recent photos of myself.  That shifted again:  no obvious, recent photos of myself.

Everything can be a slippery slope, can’t it?

And why does that even matter — to show one’s face or not?  I’m not sure why it matters to other people, but I assume it does. Here at WordPress, I notice different people making different decisions about that issue, perhaps giving some thought about what face(s) they choose to reveal.

On New Year’s Eve, I asked my son, “Should my avatar for next year be a photo of myself?” Because I was considering that change and — as usual —  I could see the pros and cons of the different choices.

I love asking my son’s opinion (partly because he often has one). And his opinion was this: “No.”

My son is almost 16 years old and his experience, of course, has been different from mine (a 60-year old woman’s), in many ways.  I’m sure he had many good reasons for that quick decision. But he’s not here right now, so I can’t ask him. (He’s with his father, today.)

In the meantime, I still have mixed feelings.  But, for now, I’m staying with my decision, this (gr)avatar:

Image

Why?  Because:

  1. I like those new glasses.
  2. That tiger reminds me of an old familiar face: a stuffed tiger I had when I was a little kid.
  3. That tiger was given to my son — on his birthday, several years ago —  by some old familiar face(s), my friend Ada and her family.
  4. I’ve written, in this blog, about the importance of tigers to me (here, here,  here, and here, for examples).
  5. Some experts have written about this: if somebody does not reveal details about self (including visual details), others can learn very important things from that person about themselves, due to the phenomenon of self-projection*******
  6. A new familiar face, here at WordPress, Russ Towne  — who has a wonderful blog named “A Grateful Man” and a self-disclosing avatar — wrote this to me recently:

I love your new photo! It brought a big smile to my face.
Russ

Case closed! (For now, anyway.)

Thanks to Russ Towne, Ada, my son, my father, Irving Kahal and Sammy Fain (for creating “I’ll Be Seeing You”), Billie Holiday, Michael Bublé, tigers and experts everywhere, people who make choices every day about what to disclose about themselves, and to you — of course! — for reading today.


* The word ‘wont’ means “having a tendency to do something.” That word reminds me of an old familiar face from college — my roommate, Nancy. We used to listen to this routine from “Beyond the Fringe,” where the word ‘wont’ gets a big laugh. Now, that routine also reminds me of another familiar face: my son. Thanks to Nancy, Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Jonathan Miller, and Alan Bennett.

** “The Old Familiar Faces” is also a poem by Charles Lamb, which — considering where I went to school — I should know more about.  Nope, wait!  I’m letting go of SHOULDs!  Better. And now that I’ve done that, I can tell you this: it’s a wonderful poem and it’s here.

*** found here on YouTube

**** thanks to wellingtonpub

***** And if you get my posts via email, you may need to click on the title of this post, on the top of the page, to do that. 

****** Called a gravatar, here at WordPress, a name I don’t like, because it reminds me of the word “grave.”

******* Called “transference,” in the psychotherapy biz.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 38 Comments

Day 243: Freaked-out-nomics

I’ve been freaked out lately, even while I’ve been trying to keep my pledge of “no worries” for 10 days.

Why?

Lots of reasons.

  1. There was a “perfect storm” of circumstances where I live, which resulted in some significant water damage.

  2. I thought I had picked up an ailment on my trip. (I had not.)

  3.  I am going even more public — including where I work — about my being the longest surviving person in the world with a cardiac pacemaker*, as I am participating in an American Heart Association charitable walk.  (Of course, I’m going more public about my pacemaker world record by doing this blog, too.)

  4.  This morning, I spent many hours trying to create and send e-mails asking for contributions for this charitable walk, and at different times it looked like (1) none of the e-mails had gone through AGAIN!!! and (2) the e-mails had all gone through and were going to bombard people with the same request many times.

Some of the reasons I listed above may seem more minor than others.

But when I get freaked out, many things can feel like Life or Death situations.

There are very few situations that are Life or Death, but sometimes my perspective gets out of whack.

At times in my life, I’ve dealt with life-threatening situations very calmly.

At other times, I’ve dealt with non-life-threatening situations with all my alarm systems blaring, full blast — Danger, Danger, Danger!

During times of Full Blown Freak Out, I’ve encouraged myself — and others — to ask these questions:

What is hurting me right now?

What danger exists to me, here and now?

Hold on. I’m going to breathe, sit quietly for a few seconds, and ask myself those two questions.

The answers are:

Nothing.

None.

Better.

Thanks for reading today.


* In 2014, I found out that I am NOT the longest surviving person in the world with a pacemaker. See here for more about that.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Day 100: I Confess

This title “I Confess” came to me this morning, when I was trying to shape today’s blog post in my mind.  I knew I wanted to write  something about (1) uncharacteristically missing a second planning meeting for my high school reunion last night and (2)  doing a first presentation at work, which I’ve written about here (as a way to manage my anxiety about doing it).

I think I used the words “I confess”  in yesterday’s blog post, when I was revealing something that felt riskier to me — something I felt some shame about it.

Shame is something I’ve been particularly aware of, during this Year of Living Non-Judgmentally.  As I’ve written about  before, shame is different from guilt, as follows:  Guilt is feeling like you’ve done something wrong, where shame is a more all-encompassing feeling — that there is something wrong with you.

Last night,  I realized, horror-struck, that I had totally missed the second planning meeting of the reunion, when I noticed, at 8:30, this e-mail which had been sent to me:

Ann, are you on your way?

And I wasn’t.  In a flash, I realized several things:

  • The second meeting, which I had been looking forward to, was going on THEN.
  • The date wasn’t in my iPhone calendar, although I remembered distinctly entering the next date at the first meeting.

Those were the facts.

And I sent an e-mail back and tried to phone the person who had sent it, Peter …  but no dice.  The e-mail and the phone message I left included apologies and several types of “I confess!” statements, including this one: “I suck!”

Then, I fought the automatic and distorted thoughts that come up for me — in waves — until I did hear back from Peter.  Those thoughts included some rather uncomfortable visualizations of people at the meeting waiting for me, puzzled, and then annoyed. (That’s what the mind is for, apparently, visualizing people whom you fear you’ve disappointed, being pissed at you.) (I should speak for myself. There are parts of MY mind dedicated to that kind of processing)

I also imagined people sitting at the meeting thinking things like this about me:  “Boy!  Is SHE unreliable!” “What a space shot!” and other variations of “She sucks!”

Those thoughts involved mind reading what people were thinking. They also involved my over-estimating my importance, and I had some shame about that, too.

Phew!

I did use some “antidotes,” to challenge those uncomfortable thoughts and visualizations.  But it was difficult. I had problems distracting myself. I had a pit in my stomach, until I heard back. And the e-mail said, “Don’t worry about it.”

Good advice, Peter.  I agree.  (Actually, that would have been a cool title for today’s post, too. “Don’t worry about it.” Maybe a future one.)

Arrghh!  I’m looking at the time and I want to finish this post off before I leave.

Here’s what I want to say. “I confess” indicates that Shame is in the house.  And here’s a list, that comes to mind now, of things I feel ashamed about these days:

  • That I forget things (like the reunion meeting date and my friend Jeanette’s birthday). Honestly, I don’t think I’m forgetting things that much more than I used to, and I am probably forgetting things these days because I’m so friggin’ busy at work, but there is a new way to “tell the story” of my forgetfulness now.  I just turned 60. I’m getting older. It’s a challenge, now, not to think of forgetting in a different way– as a sign of aging. (And aging, my dear readers, is not something that is really valued in this world, for the most part, is it?)
  • That I think about my own importance to others.
  • That I don’t love my iPhone, because even though I’ve had it for several months, I still screw up doing things on it, like entering calendar dates.  I feel isolated and uncool about this Lack of iPhone Love, people!  Everybody loves their iPhone, it seems.  But — I confess — I miss my Blackberry.
  • In general, things that make me uncool.
  • In general, things that make me feel different.
  • That technology in general, including my iPhone, seems to be bamboozling me in ways that feel unfamiliar to me.  Now, this might just involve the normal learning curve, when doing something new is involved. However, NOW, there is that additional shame of aging.  Am I unable to learn new technology, because .. I’m getting too old?

Here’s one more thing I want to say before I wrap up this hastily-written post and publish it — with all it’s imperfections —  I want to say a couple of things about the presentation yesterday.

  • It went fine.
  • And I confessed some things at the presentation. I self-disclosed that my passion for the work I do is somewhat fueled by “experiences I had as a child involving hospitals.”  And, I confessed that I was anxious at the beginning of the presentation.

I feel fine about those confessions, because they fit the presentation.  And they were short and sweet.

I like being transparent and “confessing”, when it helps other people (and me, too).  I think NAMING things can be very helpful.

Sometimes it’s confusing to know what to reveal. Sometimes it’s confusing to know whom to reveal things to. I confess: those are issues for me here, too, as I write to you.

Blogging as confession.

I guess there’s no shame in that.

Thanks for reading.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , | 10 Comments

Day 62: Self Disclosure

Self disclosure — what I reveal about myself — is something I think about a lot, in my work as a group and individual psychotherapist and, now, here in the blogosphere.

Some people who comment to me about this blog have said, “You are so brave, revealing so much of yourself!” I don’t feel brave about what I am writing here. As I’ve said in several other posts, I choose what to write here based on What Will Help Me To Write, in the moment. One might call that selfishness, not bravery.

At the same time,  I recognize that it does take courage for people to expose themselves — because exposure increases vulnerability.

And I do feel fear, at times, after I launch a post into the Blogosphere with the “Publish” button. Sometimes, before clicking that Blue Square of Publishing, I hesitate. And after the launch, several fearful questions can arise — ones that I witness people experiencing in group therapy — such as, Did I reveal too much? Have I put myself in some danger now? Will I lose some people? Will I get hurt? Will I hurt others?

In my work, I am not a “blank slate” kind of therapist. My style is to self disclose, in a thoughtful way. I do let people know what I’m thinking, authentically, usually focusing on their issues — on their journey. When I self-disclose as a therapist, I often ask myself this question first, “Who is this for?” and I let the answer, “For the other person” help guide my choices in self-disclosure.

But the truth is that the answer to that question, “Who is this for?” isn’t a simple one, because any self-disclosure I do is also for … me.

I also guide and limit my self-disclosures as a therapist in another way. I don’t tell people personal details about myself and my life outside of my work. I reveal “existential” information about myself — that is, how I experience and deal with primal, human issues, like dealing with loss, self-doubt, fear, the need to connect with others, and so on.

And I have heard from many clients, patients, and group members — people I’ve worked with in different ways — that the way I self-disclose has been very helpful for them.

But my self-disclosure as a therapist is something I have some fears about, because there are no clear rules. Or — especially in the Earlier Days of Psychotherapy — the Rules of Self-Disclosure can be very rigid, like “Thou Shalt Reveal NOTHING!” And psychotherapy is not a science, folks, as much as some practitioners may want to think that it is, or believe that it’s getting closer to a science. So, to a certain extent, those of us in the Therapy Biz are all making this up as we go along. (Mind-Reading Moment: I’m imagining other therapists reading this paragraph and getting angry.) (Catastrophizing Moment: I’m imagining losing credibility in the Therapy Biz because of what I’m writing here.)

Phew! As usual, catching myself Mind Reading, Catastrophizing, or engaging in any other cognitive distortion — like I just did in that last paragraph —  helps me to let go of fear. And I feel better!

So where was I?

Here’s some self disclosure.  When I ask myself  “So where was I?” I am really asking, what did I want to communicate here?  That is, What was my wish, my intent for this communication?  Because that guides what I choose to write, even if I “veer off” along the way with extraneous thoughts.

Here’s some more self disclosure. I am a lot more forgiving of other people’s imperfections or humanity than I am of my own.  People I witness often apologize to me about their asides, their digressions — how they get “waylaid” when they are telling a story, by “extraneous” thoughts.  When they apologize, I often say, completely authentically — “That’s the way people tell stories.”

But yet, I have trouble forgiving that humanity — that we are not perfect, linear story tellers — in myself.

Which reminds me of  one of the Antidotes (to Cognitive Distortions) I’ve been collecting:

  • The “Double-Standard” Method. Instead of judging yourself harshly, talk to yourself as compassionately as you might to a friend with a similar problem. Also, ask yourself, “How would I react if somebody else did this?”

So, to go back to that “Where was I?” question — What was it I wanted to reveal here today?  What did I think would help me to write?  Which also includes this:  What did I feel a yearning to communicate to you, my reader, today?

Here are  some things I wanted to self-disclose today:

I wanted to let you know about other important members of My Team (people who help me survive in this world by giving me personal or practical support). The team members I wanted to tell you about today include Bob and Laurie, who work at the Pacemaker Clinic, where I go for periodic check-ups.

IMG_0524

I wanted to let you know that I’ve felt connected to Bob for several years, and that I appreciate, so much, how he treats me with respect.

I  also wanted to let you know that, until Thursday (when I took this picture),  I feared working with Laurie, because I did not feel connected with her. Because her style is so different from mine, I projected judgment onto her, and mind-read that she was thinking negative things about me, like “This woman is  a pain-in-the-neck patient.”  “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

I wanted to let you know something else about Laurie and my encounter with her on Thursday: I expected to work with another person at the clinic that day, named Melanie, whom I’ve known, trusted, and pretty-much-loved for over 20 years, and when Laurie came to get me for my test,  I knew that I was showing my disappointment.  As Laurie was putting the electrodes on me for my pacemaker test (which, honestly, has scared me for each of the hundreds of times I’ve had those tests before), I felt so lousy — with disappointment, anger, fear, and disconnection —  that I decided to do something new and be authentic with her. So I said, ” Laurie.  I don’t feel a connection to you. I wanted to let you know that.  I also wanted to say something, that feels important, to myself and to you, right now.  It used to be important to me, when I was a kid, to feel connected to everybody who treated me medically.  But I’m not a kid any more. I don’t need that connection with everybody who treats me.”

I don’t know if Laurie understood everything I was saying to her, but she was authentic with me, too. She told me, in her own words, “I know you don’t feel connected to me. I know you feel much more connected to the other people here.  That’s why I offered you the chance to wait for Bob to be available. Not everybody feels connected to everybody else.  Some people feel connected to me, others don’t.”

And that exchange with Laurie was one of the best things that happened to me that day.

It was also great to see Bob after my test (which showed that everything was working great, by the way) and to blab with him a mile-a-minute about birthdays, vacations, What’s Going On With My Pacemaker, etc. etc.

And when I asked if I could take a picture of both Laurie and Bob and put them in my blog, they both seemed pleased to oblige.

I also wanted to tell you that after I took this picture of Laurie and Bob, I met with Dr. Mark Estes, who is one of  two Crack Cardiologists on my team.

The Lead Cardiologist on My Team is Dr. Deeb Salem, whom I’ve been working with for over 30 years and who I pretty-much-adore, because he, from the moment I met him — when I was interviewing cardiologists after I decided to leave Children’s Hospital, where I had been treated from birth —  showed me how smart he was and also treated me with respect. He let me know that he would treat me as a partner and an equal if we worked together.

And — like they did in my first encounter with my mechanic, Mark —  all my Trust Indicators came up green when I first met Dr Salem.  And Dr. Salem has been incredible — the most appreciated Medical Team Member I could ever imagine — ever since.

But I wanted to tell you, today, about Dr. Estes.  Dr. Estes — because his style is different from mine — is also somebody with whom I’ve Mind Read in the past. That is, I’ve projected judgment onto him, specifically fearing that he might experience me as a pain-in-the-neck patient.  And this is totally unfair to Dr. Estes, which I’ve known before, but which hit me with a burst of new understanding on Thursday, when he sat down and talked to me for about fifteen minutes after my pacemaker test with Laurie.

Dr. Estes is a very smart, very well-respected pacemaker specialist. He is also kind, thoughtful, and — above all — a very modest guy. As he self-disclosed to me on Thursday, “It’s my Quaker background.”  He did not want me to take a picture of him and feature him in a blog post because, as he said in his own words,  I don’t want to do anything that seems like self-promotion.

Dr. Estes also let me know, in new ways on Thursday — which I was able to take in because of the work I’ve been doing on self-acceptance — that he really appreciates me as a patient. He acknowledged that other doctors might find me a handful, because — as he said in his own words — I’m intelligent, I ask lots of questions, and I am complicated medically — but he said this to me, very clearly, on Thursday: I really enjoy working with you, Ann, exactly how you are.

And those encounters I had at The Pacemaker Clinic on Thursday felt so important to me, so liberating, so moving, that I walked away from that appointment, with tears in my eyes.

And I have tears in my eyes, now, dear reader.

Okay.  My work here is done today.

Thank you so much for witnessing, as I self-disclose along this always surprising, team-supported journey.

P.S.  I don’t think I will hesitate much before pressing “Publish” today.

P.P.S. Which is amazing!

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Day 25: I’m having trouble writing a post today.

Well, I guess it was inevitable.

I started a post this morning, all gung-ho, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 6:30 AM.  The title of the post was “The Rules of Self-Disclosure.”  It was something I wanted to write about this morning because I took a risk yesterday at the end of a big presentation at the hospital yesterday where I work. I was really excited and enthusiastic about that presentation — which was about an upcoming, in-process change at the hospital, where patients will be able to read all the notes doctors write about them. Afterwards, I really wanted to  talk to the presenters, to express my enthusiasm and support for the new process and volunteer to be involved, but I felt too shy, and left the meeting. However, after I left, I almost immediately turned around and came back. And when I came back, my manager was talking to the presenters.  He introduced me, and I spoke my piece. In the process of expressing my enthusiasm, I did some self-disclosure — I told them that I had been a patient all my life, and that I was incredibly moved by how respectful I thought this change was.

I think that whole interaction went fine, and my manager, afterwards, told me how glad he was that I had come back to talk to the presenters.  And I was glad, too. But i noticed that I felt some anxiety the rest of the day, wondering whether I had said too much.

Anyway, I started writing about this topic this morning, but in a very different way. I started out by defining the use of the term “self-disclosure” and what that meant in therapy — how therapists decide what to reveal and what not to reveal about themselves when working with clients.  Soon, it was time for me to leave for work, and I hadn’t gotten to the piece I really wanted to say yet.  Then, I had a long tiring day at work, and when I came home, I looked at what I had written, wasn’t sure what to do with it, and then went out to dinner.  Then, when I got home from dinner, I looked at it again.

And I really didn’t like it.  And I felt too tired to rewrite it.

So then, I figured I would forget this post, “steal” some stuff from what I’d written for my book, and post that.  But when I looked at the chapters for my book, I didn’t like anything there, either.

Now, this is something that seems to happen to me.  I write something, feel okay about it, read it later, and …. I think it sucks.

It’s like some sort of switch gets pulled and if I read ANYTHING I’ve written before,  I don’t like it.

So that was happening tonight.  Great.  So the time was going by, and I had no post.  And then I started to feel the pressure of the deadline.  And then I started thinking that I might not be able to post something today.

And that made me realize that I DO want to post every day.  I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep this up, but I’d like to.

So I figured I would write about what was going on in the moment.  And, in the process, I quickly told that part of the story from yesterday that I really wanted to tell about self-disclosure.

So now …. here’s where the rubber meets the road.  I’ve typed this post really quickly, trying to ignore and let go of my very active Inner Critic.

But NOW I’ve got to re-read this before I post it — at least for typos, for heaven’s sake.  And what if that critical switch is still in effect?  If it is, I’m gonna dislike this, too. Probably intensely.  And if  that happens, what’s going to win out?  My wish to rewrite, my tiredness from work, or my wish to post every day?  Because here are my choices, people: (1) I can post something I dislike, (2) rewrite it until it’s good enough (although if The Critic is in full force, that’s going to be really tough), or (3) post nothing at all.

Okay, I’m going to go back and re-read.

Okay, I did.

And I’ve made my decision.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Blog at WordPress.com.