Afraid of a Little Pain, Are You?

The other day I came home from work and some of the neighbor kids were all rolling on the grass, punching and kicking and generally beating the hell out of each other.  My first instinct was to tell them to cut it out, but then, for a brief second, the boy I thought was getting the brunt of it smiled.  I realized they were just fooling around.  Sure, they were quite likely to hurt one another, but then I thought, "who cares"?

It seems to me that in this day and age, people are quite afraid of getting hurt. Today I'm just talking physical pain, but I think this may translate to emotional as well.  From the adults I meet who do one workout and quit because of the pain the next day to a new generation of children who panic when they fall down or see blood.  I get the feeling it has not always been this way.  At some point our culture has decided that it is a necessity to get rid of anything that might possibly cause us pain.  I get it when it comes to deadly diseases.  Sure, nobody wants to die from typhoid or whooping cough.  But when did we get so paranoid about germs and blood?  The removal of anything but "safe" equipment on our playgrounds and the insane amount of hand sanitizer I see being used makes me want to punch somebody.  Our kids apparently don't know how to swing, spin or see-saw without killing themselves, so we must save them by coating everything with recycled truck tires and getting rid of anything with moving parts.  I get it.  We don't want our kids to maim themselves.  But we are teaching them at a very young age that pain is something to run screaming from, that it is something to avoid at all costs, it is something to FEAR.

Many of us share stories about the "good old days" when we used to go out in the woods all day long to explore or play war.  There was no worry from our parents that we would get hurt.  Not that we wouldn't get hurt.  I would show up at home with bloodied knees, a chipped tooth, a broken collar bone and various cuts, bruises and scrapes.  But back then these things didn't really count.  It was considered completely fine to get dirty and scratched up doing who knows what, come home, eat dinner, shower and go to bed.  Pain was a part of life and there was no need to stop the presses for a scratch.  Because nobody else made a big deal out of it, neither did I.  And scraping my knee on a tree didn't keep me from climbing trees ever again.

I'm sure my broken collar bone was avoidable.  My sisters could have not thrown me into the pile of leaves.  But I LOVED being thrown into the leaf pile.  We would rake the leaves and take turns jumping into it, over and over and over again.  And one time, I landed on a rock and broke my collar bone.  The difference between then and now is that if that happened today all of a sudden there would be a ban on jumping in leaf piles.  And they would ban your older siblings from throwing you anywhere.  I just wore a sling for a couple of weeks, healed up and went back to jumping in.  (And from then on did a general sweep for large rocks that might be hiding at the bottom of the pile.)

I'm no fan of causing pain to others on purpose and I believe in listening to your body.  Some pain is just your body being tired and healing and some other pain actually means something is wrong.  I don't believe in corporal punishment, mostly because it doesn't work and because parents get more and more frustrated and hit their kids in anger and frustration, not love.  I don't look to go out and get hurt.  But I don't let the thought of pain hold me back and I don't think we should teach our kids to do so either.  How will you learn how to do the monkey bars if you're too scared to fall down?  How will you learn to skate board, climb trees, jump rope, ride a bike, swim, or play any sport if you are afraid of some pain?

So when I saw the neighbors fighting, I decided not to say anything and let them go for it.  Nobody got hurt. Well, not too badly anyway.

How Will You Know if You Can?

How about you?  Are you afraid of a little pain?

Because My Mom Says

"You can be anything you want." - Pauline Sullivan.

Although much of my early life was dictated by fear- fear of failure, of letting others down, of saying the wrong thing, of breaking rules, of not being liked, of looking stupid, and of going to Hell, I was given a great gift that carried me through.  I'm not sure if I was only told once, or if it was a repeated message in my household, but I heard the message that I was allowed to dream big.  That we had very little spending money, but that I was fully capable of going to college and being anything I wanted.  Through the fear I heard that I could keep my mind open to possibilities.

I don't know how my mother knew to pass those words on, or how she came to believe them herself, coming from even poorer circumstances, growing up in the basement of her grandparents home as a young child under the abusive, angry watch of my alcoholic grandfather in New Jersey, but somehow she heard the message and believed it.  We may have been "poor" by definition of not having a lot of extra cash on hand, but my parents had (and they still have) 5 acres of land in the woods, with a stream and a house and garden that they built on their own.  My father worked for himself in a business with his friends that they built and my Mom was able to stay home to raise us.  What strength of character allows you to dream that you can have that?  That you are not stuck with what you have been handed in this life, but can make your own choices?

I was lucky to hear that.  Because I was given many messages, and most were not positive.  We are all given some obvious, and some very sneaky messages about who we are and who we are supposed to become.  How we are supposed to behave and how much we should be allowed to have.  How big we should allow ourselves to dream.  When I was a child I was going to be a teacher or a nanny, then I would be a Counselor, then I decided that I would be a physical therapist and work with sports teams.  I had limited connection to the possibilities that existed.   As time goes on my vision expands just a little to include new things, new possibilities. In college I moved from Physical Therapist (they have to touch sweaty feet!) to therapist.  This one has stuck for quite some time.  I think it bumps up really close to my passion and purpose.  And still I think there is more for me.  I will be a therapist, and I will be great.  But I am allowing myself to dream even bigger.  A life coach?  A nutritionist?  An exercise instructor?  A public speaker?  Owner and operator of a world-famous retreat center where spiritual leaders stay and speak?  President?  Who knows. Because I can be whatever I want.  My mom says so.

An Artist Who Truly Connects with the Audience

"When we really see each other, we want to help each other." - Amanda Palmer

This is a must watch.  The power of connection.  Enough said.

Click here if the video doesn't work.  Or look up Amanda Palmer: The Art of Asking on YouTube.

I don't care! I love it! I don't care!

"I got this feeling on the summer day when you were gone
I crashed my car into the bridge, I watched, I let it burn
I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs
I crashed my car into the bridge

I don't care, I love it, I don't care

You're on a different road, I'm in the milky way
You want me down on earth, but I am up in space
You're so damn hard to please, we gotta kill this switch
You're from the 70's, but I'm a 90's bitch

I love it, I love it"

I was listening to this song performed by Icona Pop on the radio this morning.  I'm not sure exactly what the lyrics are meant to describe, but it brought me back to when I was a kid, and truly having that feeling of "I love it, I don't care!"  As I said in a previous blog, I was a very shy child.  One of the reactions to this blog that stood out to me was from a classmate in elementary school who remembered me as being very outgoing.  And yes, I remember very well that insanely energetic, do-anything side to me.  Looking back I recognize that there were very few people in the world that I trusted.  And when I was with those people: my family, and a few girl friends in elementary school and a fluctuating, random group of kids in high school, I really let loose.  All those emotions that I stifled during the day when I didn't know how to talk to boys and worried about what other kids thought about my snaggle tooth and my hair and what words I uttered, would flood out of me.  I thank god for those people who held a space for me to do the ridiculous.  If you're reading this, you know who you are.  Usually it was in the safety of physical activities, since I had a bit more confidence in those areas.  Riding bikes out to go fishing in the creek, building by hand a rock bridge through a pond-turned-mud-pit that kept sucking our rocks to the bottom, crossing the Esopus on a random afternoon, fire pits in the woods, kickball, and dodge ball.  In high school it also included those special places that we would go to talk.  The GW Diner, the Traffic Circle, The Moose and the Cave were sacred spots where I was able to be silly and philosophical and joke with friends.  

I wonder at what point as we become adults, get "real jobs," and accumulate responsibility did we decide that we are no longer allowed to play like this?  If it saved my life when I was younger, can it be all that bad?  Who talks us out of it?  Is it us?  Is it our parents, society?  For a few years I lost it totally.  Lacrosse became a responsibility instead of a hobby and I quit.  Running was no longer fun.  Going out drinking with girlfriends was the most common activity and that was fun, but how can that ever compare to this:

Taking a Break on Olomana's First Peak

Over the past couple of years I've slowly been building back my ability to let loose.  Hiking and paddling with some of the most amazing women I've ever met, again saved my life.  In the beginning I felt so, so guilty for spending time doing things I loved.  I loved it and I made excuses not to go.  Something felt so wrong about spending time doing anything that didn't advance my career, my schooling or my relationship.  And exercise isn't fun, right?

Well, it turns out that's all bullshit.  If playing around with friends isn't at or near the top of your priority list, you need to get it back up there, stat.  I've learned a few things about play (or what I like to call Fucking Around) and no, I will not be adding any research to back this up right now.  I can send you to read Mark Sisson's blog.  He is maybe the smartest man in the world, and he thinks play is good.

1. Play makes me happy.  This might seem pretty basic, but have you really thought about the benefits of this?  You've probably heard the saying "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."  This is a fact.  So, you go out and have a blast.  You come home with a big grin on your face.  All other members of the household see your smile and they smile.  Happiness has spread.  World peace is ours.

2. Endorphins.  I've heard these are great for us.  Endorphins are those neurotransmitters that make us feel good.  It's what we're trying to copy with anti-depressants.  So playing around is like taking drugs.  But natural.  The government doesn't even regulate how many times you can dance or hike a day.  Go for it, binge on those endorphins, you'll feel really groovy, man.

3. When we play with others, we create amazing friendships.  I have made the most lasting friendships with those people that went out and did stuff with me.  It's hard to be shy with someone who has had to push you up over a steep rock by pushing you on your ass.  It's much easier to strike up a conversation with someone who you has joined you in throwing everything not nailed down, including the picnic table, into the bonfire you've built.  Some of the best talks I've ever had have been on really tough hikes at that point when you are so freaking tired, but you're not even halfway there.  So you start gabbing to distract yourself from your discomfort.  Anything goes at times like these.  And you're too tired to really monitor what comes out.  And so you're actually honest.  And now these people know everything about you, and it turns out that's pretty cool.

4. Play gets your mind moving.  Somebody's researched it and discovered that play during childhood isn't just for fun.  It's how you learn all kinds of things.  Using your imagination to solve problems like how to avoid the lava.  Working together with others to get across the moat.  Pretending you are an astronaut or a hero or a dragon.  How to avoid being "it."  Strategizing how to win.  What to do if someone falls and scrapes a knee.  How to stand up to someone.  You have to really drum up some brain matter to make this work.  Play makes you think and also makes you better at all things.

5. You'll learn to respect your time and self-care.  This one took me some time to figure out.  My time is important.  I am important.  When I get out and do something fun, I am acknowledging the fact that I am valuable.  I care about my friends and family, but I care about myself too.  Maybe that sounds a little woo-woo, but the truth is, you can't give to anyone if your bucket is empty.  When you don't take care of yourself you get sick, depressed, and nasty.  You don't have the energy to help anyone else.  Before I learned to eat better, and had just started to get out and do fun things with friends, the fog began to clear from my brain.  And I saw that I was caring for everyone buy myself.  (Beer and chocolate in isolation do not count as self-care, they only count in conjunction with other loving acts of kindness towards yourself.)  

You don't have to listen to me.  I'm just a shy, outgoing child grown into a wacky, outgoing adult.  But I have figured out how to enjoy my life.  Not just the weekends, but every single day.  There's times when I get anxious, terrified, angry and sad.  But I know what to do and where to go to get my life back on track.  If you do nothing else to take care of yourself, eat like hell, smoke like a chimney, drink like a fish, but get out there and do something that will make you smile.  It might save your life.

Hiding in Fear

"You must do the thing you think you cannot do." 
                -Eleanor Roosevelt

smthgoeswrong.blogspot.com

In kindergarten and first grade I was what you would now call Selectively Mute. At school I spoke to no one, I would literally burst into tears if my teacher called on me.  I was smart, did great on tests, knew all of the answers, but would not, could not, speak out loud.  I was terrified that I would say the wrong thing.  That fear kept me totally silent (even though being the silent crybaby was no less embarrassing than getting a wrong answer would have been).  The reason my mother didn't realize there was a problem was that, not only did I get good grades, but when I got in the car on the ride home, would gush on and on about all the wonderful things I had learned in class and all of the exciting things we had done during the school day. I would teach my younger brother everything I had learned. So my mother was a little thrown off at my parent teacher conference when they told her they thought I was "retarded."  My mom basically told them to shove it, so nothing further came of it. I continued to not speak and ace my tests and my teachers continued to ignore me. In second grade I moved to a new school and my teacher made an effort to be nice to me.  She would ask me simple questions about my day when no one else was around.  I started to come out of my shell a bit (I would talk- sometimes). Over the next few years up until high school, I spoke to my friends, spoke to my teacher on the side, but would cry uncontrollably if I was addressed in front of others. I was terrified to say the wrong thing or to look stupid. My face would turn red, my eyes would tear up and my nose would start running. It was a horrible catch-22. All I wanted was to hide, for no one to notice me or see me, but my sniffling and sobbing would make it impossible for me not to be stared at. By 8th grade, the last grade my elementary school offered, I had a few friends, but I always felt like an outcast.  Thankfully I got to change schools again.

In 9th grade I attended the area's catholic high school. Some of my previous classmates went there too, but I got another chance to start over. Somehow I knew deep down that I didn't really want to hide anymore. I didn't want to be a nobody, I wanted to be seen.  The fear continued to keep me from really being myself.  I cut my long, lanky, unkempt hair into a cute shoulder length, and I felt like a new person.  Still, I wanted to sing, be in the school play and be a star. I joined those activities, but couldn't find the courage to put myself out there. I knew I had a pretty voice, but I was terrified to sing out loud in front of anyone.  I was in the chorus where I could be on stage, but still hide. Luckily I was a decent athlete in a really small school. The thing I liked about sports was that you could put yourself out there, but because you are concentrating on catching, shooting, or setting a ball, there is no room for being self-conscious. Still, my friend and I still joke about the day I got lightly scolded by the teacher in science class and I started balling.  I was a senior in high school.

In college I started to figure out what many people never do. In order to get over the fear, you must do what you are most afraid of. In the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, "you must do the thing you think you cannot do." I took a public speaking class. I took a Broadway singing class where I knew that I was going to have to do a solo. I tried out for volleyball. I didn't make the team. So I tried out for lacrosse, a sport I had never watched, played and had no idea what the rules were.  I played for two years, and I was pretty darn good.  I mostly stopped crying in class, and sometimes would raise my hand to answer questions.  I had learned to try new things, to put myself out there, to allow others to see me- but only what I was good at.  I continued to feel like an outsider with my group of friends, and because of this I didn't treat them well.  I just didn't know how to truly relax or be myself.  I had on a constant mask to show them that I was all cool and collected and put together.  My boyfriend, now-husband, was a constant companion.  I love him to pieces, but I know I hid behind his outgoing personality.

My next phase of life took me to Hawaii with my now-husband. I continued to practice trying new things.  I've taken kickboxing, taekwondo, joined a canoe paddling team and crossfit. I've run a half-marathon twice.  I've hiked all over Oahu.  But the thing that I finally was able to figure out was how to connect with others.  How to have the friendships that I was so jealous of all of my life.  It turns out it has nothing to do with being cool, or good at sports, or pretty, or calm and collected.  It has everything to do with being a jack ass.  And letting them see that you are not perfect.  My friends know how forgetful and disorganized I am.  They are not surprised by the clutter that is a constant companion in my car.  They know I don't iron my clothes, wear makeup or brush my hair.  And they don't care in the least.  It is the vulnerability that I allow in these relationships that make them so close.  It is the most terrifying and most amazing thing in the world to let someone know your "faults."

Did you know that we all have this tendency?  We wear different masks that we show off to the world to tell others how they should see us.  We wear professional outfits to work, we put on makeup, and talk about how wonderful and put together our lives are.  We pretend that we are organized and that we like paperwork and don't hate anyone in the office.  Then we go home and feel like we've been putting on a show all day.  Nobody's seen the real us.  We have different masks that we wear for our friends, and sometimes it's a different mask for different friends and different groups.  We wear our sexy, out-with-the-girlfriends outfit, fluff out our hair, wear heels and jewelry.  We avoid talking about the shitty stuff because we don't want to be a downer.  And we go home with our true feelings, our true selves hidden away from the world.  We're afraid others will look down on us, or not want to be around us.  The fear is stifling and isolating.

What I've learned over time is that the scariest things in life are usually the most worthwhile.  Trying out for sports even though I could be terrible.  Telling my husband how I feel even though he could be angry.  Letting my friends know that I don't wash my hair every time I shower.  Going to a meeting at work with a mediocre document that I've put together.  Guessing what someone is going through, and allowing them to correct me without getting defensive.  Allowing the world to see that I'm not perfect.  I must say I would still prefer to take a punch to my face than sing a solo in front of a crowd.  But, hey, who knows?  Maybe I should put it on my list.


"Yes, Mother. I can see you are flawed. You have not hidden it. That is your greatest gift to me."
 -Alice Walker 



“Courage is simply the willingness to be afraid and act anyway.”
-Dr. Robert Anthony

What has your fear been keeping you from? What can you try today, or this week that has been scaring the day lights out of you? Post your answers in the comments!