Living a Happy Life- It's not about luck.

As we come upon the end of the year and look forward to the next, the posts about how to improve your life are taking over social media.  And in response I've seen many posts about how annoying it is to have those posts pop up all over the place.  I enjoy reading both sides, the ones outlining activities and practices that lead to more positivity and those convinced that those people should just shut up.  What really entertains me is the comments at the end.  I am floored by the numbers of people who take the time to comment.  And it saddens me to see how many people are convinced that happiness and joy are out of reach.  I understand that these articles often come off with a Pollyanna vibe, like it's supposed to be easy.  "10 Easy Steps to Joy!"  And if you are currently in a depressive state, reading the easy fixes like, "Smile more!" might make you want to punch someone.    The truth of the matter is that Joy and Happiness are not easy to come by. Not at first.  Especially when you're out of practice.  The people writing these articles have usually taken years of practice to come by their current state of calm, peace or joy.  They didn't just "smile more" for a day and then BAM, HAPPINESS!  It is not easy, and it doesn't happen quickly.  But it CAN happen.  One of the first steps is to figure out if you even believe it's possible, despite your present circumstances in life.  You can be in exactly the same circumstances that you are in now and have a more peaceful, calm, even joyful state of mind.  Another thing to realize, is that being happy or joyful despite your circumstances does not mean that now you become a passive floater in life.  The people writing these articles are not simply running down the shore of the beach in the sun all day.  That might be a part of their day and all the power to them!  They take the time to have fun.  But they are also feeding their families, paying their bills, writing blog posts, putting their effort into the projects that they care about.  They work hard.  They do not simply lie on the bed all day with a big grin on their faces.
I know, because I'm one of those people who tend to write and share those positive posts.  I love to talk to people about how to live a more joyful life.  But the truth is, I didn't use to be this happy.  I used to be pretty miserable.  I went to my boring, stressful job, came home to my husband and dogs who I love very much, and made dinner and either worked out or worked on the computer and went to bed.  It wasn't a bad life.  If you had asked me then, I probably would have said I was pretty happy.  I enjoyed a lot of the things I was doing.  I was being paid well enough to continue to live in Hawaii, which is a beautiful place to be.  My husband took wonderful care of me and dogs give unconditional love, the best kind.  And yet, looking back, knowing how happy I am now, I see that I was "pretty happy" but also "pretty miserable" in probably equal amounts.  Good memories and moments of sadness, boredom, discontent.  And that feeling that I couldn't change it.
So I know.  I know what it's like to think to yourself that you should be happy because you have a great husband, family, dogs and for $#@$ sake you live in Hawaii.  I know what it's like to look at people with those beaming smiles and think they're faking it.  Believing that that level of happiness doesn't actually exist.  Believing that those people were trying to sell me something, their product, their website, something, and that when they were done convincing me how awesome it was, they were going to go home and collapse into an exhausted heap of human, spent after spending the day trying to keep up that level of deception.  I believed that it wasn't possible.
Seeing a therapist in 2010 was a big change for me.  I stopped trying to do things by myself.  And in that small act of asking for help from someone else, I became a little braver.  I decided that I didn't have much to lose by trying.  I decided to live an experimental life.  I decided to give it a shot and see if it was actually possible to enjoy the little things in life.  To see if, in fact, meditation works.  To test out whether or not those joy gurus were right.  I started to listen to "self-help" books and to experiment with prayer, yoga, meditation and mindfulness activities.  Even if I thought it was stupid at first.  In fact, when I started meditating, it was painful.  My mind raced, thinking of all of the more important activities I could be accomplishing, my legs hurt because I'm so inflexible, my back hurt because I don't like to sit up straight and they tell you you should.  Sometimes I would fall asleep, other times I would peek open my eyes to see how much time left I had on the clock.  But I gave it a shot.  I made a commitment to a week of meditation in the morning.  And slowly, in little tiny moments, I began to feel that inner peace.  Those moments of just being and nothing else.  Where all the pain in my body and all the painful thoughts were briefly not important.  In the beginning it was so short, but once you've felt that, you become a bit of an addict.  You want more.  And then I finally believed that those joy gurus could be right.  That feeling does exist.
At the same time I was exploring books on the subject.  If a book didn't interest me in the beginning, I stopped reading it.  I wasn't there to waste my time.  Over time I found a few people whose words touched me and hit a nerve.  Not everything they said was like that, but every once in a while there would be a statement that just zinged me from my head to my toes and landed in my heart.  And I knew, just knew it to be truth.  I felt it.  It was not logic, it was knowing.  It was similar to that feeling of just "being" during meditation.

Because I took the time to experiment, I allowed myself to be open to the possibility.  And I discovered it could be true.  And it took a long time.  A 10 minute meditation in the morning is long for me.  I still peek at the clock sometimes.  But there are times when I start to meditate and I drop into this wonderful state of calm and peace.  And I've come to a point where I can find that state during times of stress and frustration.  In traffic, in long lines at the supermarket, while one of the toddlers I work with is purposefully taking as long as physically possible to put his dish into the dish tray after lunch.  In these moments I can drop down into that feeling of relaxation.  And here's where I think we have led people astray.  Once I've reached that state, I don't just smile and say, "Oh, it's okay, do what you want" and pretend to smile blissfully.  I don't let people walk over me just because I'm able to stay calm.  Being peaceful and calm is not the same as being a push-over.  In those moments, though, I can clear my mind and think of something to keep me busy.  Instead of fuming about how slow the lady in front of me is, while she counts out 85 dollars worth of pennies and drops a handful on the floor, I can take a second to drop in the calm.  Then I can look around and see if there is a different line, I can see if the person behind me is friendly and wants to share a smile about the situation, or look at the cover of the Enquirer which is always entertaining.  And instead of being furious about the pennies on the floor, I can smile at the woman with arthritis, assist her in picking up pennies, and wish her happiness in her life.  The truth is, either way, the woman is going to pay her money for her groceries.  I can fume, I can help her, I can find another line.  When you are paying your mortgage bill, you can do it with a smile or a grimace, both cost the same.  When the child takes forever, you can make a calm decision about how to react.  Do I shout at him to hurry up?  Do I take the plate from him and do it myself?  Do I let him continue on so that a more important lesson of self-sufficiency is learned?  Can I use a gentle, but firm tone to remind him that we have something to do so going fast is important? mIs it more important to be fast or for him to do it himself?  I can decide in a calm state of mind instead of reacting in anger.
 So ask yourself a few questions.  Do you believe that happiness is possible?  Do you believe that being calm and peaceful would change you into a push over?  Do you think that once you accepted reality,  you would have no power to change it?  Leave your answers in the comments!
"Happiness is not circumstance." Marianne Williamson says this on an episode of SuperSoul Sunday.  And I truly believe this to be true.

A Year of Speaking Dangerously

I am watching Marie TV and she is interviewing Susan Cain, the author of "Quiet."  She mentioned that she used to be terrified of speaking publicly, but she knew that in order to get her message out, she would need to get over her fear.  So for a year she embarked on what she called her "Year of Speaking Dangerously,"  and it is amazing to me how just the right article/video/advice will come to you when you are looking for it.  I just yesterday mentioned to a few of my girlfriends that one of my goals for 2014 was to talk to more people.  I just started my busines, Oasis For Change, this year (I offer Life Coaching and Individual, Family, Child and Group Counseling services) and I now am at a point where I have to spread the message that my services are available.  For an introvert, this can be frightening.  When I think about networking the gremlins in my head start the negative talk.  "They'll laugh at you," "They will think you are dumb," "They will not understand what you are saying," "They will think your business is stupid and that you don't have anything to offer them."  The voices can be pretty brutal.  I am lucky that I don't have a fear of public speaking.  I don't mind getting up in front of a crowd anymore, which is a huge blessing.  I worked through that in college with a public speaking class.  I do, however, have a fear of small talk, both with people in person and on the phone.  And this is not helpful when it comes to making connections for your business.
Susan Cain talks to Marie about how she trained herself over the course of a year to speak in front of others.  She started small, talking in front of small, familiar groups and working her way to larger groups.  I am dedicating myself in 2014 to something similar, but instead of speaking publicly, although I will continue to practice this, I will begin to talk to everyone.  People at the library, at the grocery store, at the gym, I will make small talk with the grocery store clerks.

Cute Website Article

How about you?  Do you struggle with small talk?  Do you need to work on connections this year?  Let me know below if you will be joining me this year for a Year of Speaking Dangerously!!

Is Today an Okay Day to Die?

I know some of you may be thinking that I'm being a bit doom and gloom, or depressed, or you might be worried that I am going to do something rash, judging by the title.  However, it is totally the opposite.  Let me explain.

The other day I was on my way to a local coffee shop to study for my upcoming test.  On my way to the door, a disheviled man came out of the door and grabbed a backpack that had been sitting outside on the sidewalk.  I walked into the coffee shop and he walked away.  When I got to the counter inside, one of the ladies who had been sitting at a table outside the shop came in to tell the man at the counter that the bag had been claimed.  Apparently, the group had been concerned about the bag lying unattended and had reported it to the store.  With the recent bombings at the Boston Marathon, there have been several cases in Hawaii of stores and building being shut down as the police investigate unattended bags left lying around.  The guys at the counter laughed about it probably being a drug deal and everyone went on their way.  The guy is a bit of a regular, so no one was that concerned.  I got my latte and cracked open the books and forgot about it.

About an hour later, the same man came back inside, carrying two bags, including the one that had been earlier lying around unattended.  He went upstairs, and came back down without his bag.  He left the store.  Hmm.  Now, none of the group of ladies from the previous group was there.  The guy at the register didn't notice the guy come in.  I was the only one noticing this guy and of course, my mind started to go there.  Did this guy just leave some kind of explosive device upstairs?  I know that he's one of the regulars of Kailua, possibly homeless and on drugs, definitely wanders the street all of the time, I've seen him before.  Part of me knew that this was no big deal and yet a part of my mind started to wind up.  Images of explosions and screaming and running flashed really quickly through my brain.  I could feel a chill go through my body and I tensed up.  Even though I know it's not a terrorist attack, my brain is starting to take over and the anxiety is starting to set in.  This is where the question above came in handy.

This year I have been practicing daily how to be present in the moment.  At random intervals, especially when I am starting to get stressed out, I take a moment to really look around me and see what is reality.  What is going on, right now.  The practice brings an awesome sense of peace.  In that moment, in the coffee shop, I stopped thinking about explosions and looked around.  I was in a cute cafe with lots of studious people on their computers.  There was good music playing and my friend, Keysa, was sitting at the table with me, reading her own book.  It was peaceful and serene and pleasant.  And I thought to myself, since really we can die at any moment, for multitudes of reasons, would this be an okay way to die?  I was in a great place with a friend.  I was doing something enjoyable, preparing for a test that will help me further my career.  Everything was totally okay in that moment.  So, yes, it would have been an okay time and place to die.  The thought brought me a great deal of peace.  The tension in my body started to melt away.  I had another sip of coffee, and smiled at Keysa.  The man came back in the front door, went upstairs and grabbed his bag, ordered a cup of coffee, and grabbed a seat at a table.

The same man got up to grab a napkin near our table a few minutes later and we couldn't help but overhear as he repeated to himself, "I am a cat, I am a cat, I am a cat."  The man was totally harmless, not quite in his right mind, but no terrorist.  And I am so grateful that I didn't waste any more of my precious time on this earth spinning my mind and worrying that I was going to blow up.  It would have been a waste.  Even if there was a bomb in his bag that day, I would have wasted my last moments with fear.  I've always thought it would be so much better to go with a contented smile on my face.

What are your thoughts?  Is today an okay day to die?

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?

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!