Losing Yourself, Part 4

So, finally getting back to this. In November our local library board sponsored a free workshop called "Designing Your Life Vision." It appeared to be some type of scrapbooky thing, which I'm not really into (my cousin Kim got all those genes), but since I'm on the library board and they were worried about getting enough people there, I decided to go to it. Turns out, there wasn't any scrapbooking involved (although it would probably appeal to people who like to scrapbook). The instructor was a lady named Karen Pool, and she is a life coach. (If you are interested, you can find out more at www.lifeimagination.com.) The purpose of the workshop was to use creative processes, particularly writing exercises, to teach how to identify the goals and dreams of your heart, how to make plans to reach them, and how to overcome obstacles in the way of those dreams. That probably sounds really feel-good and idealistic, and some of it did come across that way, but the concepts and exercises were actually really useful and enlightening.

I'm finding the whole experience kind of hard to summarize, but so much of what was presented in the workshop tied into my struggle to balance nurturing myself with serving others. I think I'm just going to throw out some of the ideas and my reaction to them. Most of the first session was devoted to the writing exercises--answering questions such as "What is the purpose of my life?," "When am I the most me?," "What I like about myself is...," "When I was young I dreamed of being...," "Someday, I'd like to...," etc. She called this "creative brainstorming" or "putting your heart on paper." The key to it though, was that you had to write as many answers to each question as you could in a short time period, like two minutes. The purpose was to write so quickly that you captured your first thoughts/dreams on paper before your inner editor had a chance to interfere. Your first thoughts are the most powerful, the most authentic, and the most truthful. If you slow down and think before you write, you third thoughts are the ones that usually end up on the paper.

"Writing quickly without stopping connects you with your heart and deepest desires and quiets the critic that insists that what you want in life is too difficult to attain, or that you are unworthy--the voice in your head that keeps you in a downward spiral thinking."

She also encouraged us to start a "dream journal," a place to record these exercises, to paste pictures that represent our dreams and goals, and to write other thoughts we have as we identify and work towards them. (Sound familiar Charlotte?) It was fun and eye-opening to do the exercises, to "tap into my heart" and unbury some dreams/desires, to remember what brings me joy. As I did this, I recognized that pursuing some of these dreams would be a way of nurturing myself.

"Designing and detailing dreams on paper provides a safe place to begin the journey into the world of possibility."

One thing she alluded to, without coming out and quoting scripture, is that our dreams and goals and desires are a way of creating things spiritually before we create them physically. And that follows the pattern of the way God creates things (see Moses 3:5,7,9). That kind of hit me, especially after hearing Elder Uchtdorf's words about creating in his talk in the General Relief Society Meeting. Without being too religious about it (since we were at the public library and this wasn't a fireside), she also compared our dreams to the stones that the brother of Jared took up the mountain. We can ask ourselves, "What will I do to create light in my life? What 'stones' do I need to have touched by the finger of God?"

"If you know what your want--if you can state it clearly, the universe will move in your direction."--Goethe

"In the absence of clearly defined quality goals we become strongly loyal to performing daily trivia and eventually become enslaved to it." --Author Unknown

When she put this last quote up on the overhead, I read it and, sadly, recognized myself. It's not so much that performing daily trivia is bad. The laundry, the dishes, the grocery shopping, the cooking--it all has to be done, and those chores have value. I think part of my problem is that because I lack any other "clearly defined quality goals," the trivia consumes my life.

"If you don't design your own life plan, chances are you'll fall into someone else's plan for you. Guess what they have planned for you? Not much!"--Jim Rohn

The second session of the workshop continued some of the writing exercises, but also moved into creating and planning the detail of your life dreams, setting them in time. It was fun to make a 20-year life plan, to write down the ages of myself and each family member for the next 20 years, and to think about goals in different areas of my life--spiritual, physical, financial, relationships, personal growth--and when I might be able to focus on them. It was nice for the perfectionist in me to get a more tangible grip on the idea that I don't have to do it all now, that I have years ahead of me to work towards my dreams. It was also easy to see that IF we don't have any more children, my youngest will be in school full-time starting four years from this fall, which would free up a little more time for me to pursue some of my as-yet-not-clearly-defined-quality goals.

But this is where the fun and excitement of all this dreaming started to morph into guilt and confusion. I felt guilty about wishing my life away, about dreaming of when my kids won't be so demanding so I can pursue some of my own interests. I started wondering if instead of seeking and exploring my dreams, I just need to be content with where I am, with the "daily trivia," with the joys and challenges of raising four beautiful and precious sons of God. President Uchtdorf said that teaching and nurturing children is participating in God's work of creation. Maybe that should be enough for me for now. I started wondering if all this life coaching stuff is just "philosophies of men"--not evil ideas, but maybe just things that I shouldn't be paying attention to right now, that shouldn't be my priorities. Maybe nurturing myself right now is just selfish. And I am afraid of being selfish.

So that was my mindset going into the third and last session of the workshop, which just happened to be focused on identifying and overcoming obstacles to our dreams. So as the instructor talked about fears and doubts and limiting assumptions and beliefs that keep us from pursuing and reaching our goals, I was questioning the whole idea that I should be pursuing them in the first place. In the course of the conversation I tried try to express some of my concerns. I wasn't doing a very good job of putting my feelings into words, but a couple of the other women in the workshop knew what I was trying to say and took over for me. One gave me the title of these posts--trying to lose yourself in service without losing yourself. Another one encouraged me to trust myself, that I won't pursue dreams that go counter to my values. And the instructor pointed out that when we give ourselves permission to dream, we give our children permission to dream too, and that is important. By this point, I was in tears again. I really appreciated their concern and advice. It did help, but the workshop ended and I left still wondering how to make it all work in my life. I sat in my van in the parking lot and sobbed again until I could see to drive home.

A day or two later I was driving to pick up the kids from school and the check engine light came on in my van. For some reason I wished right then that I had a personal check engine light to let me know when I needed maintainence or repair, something to tell me that it's okay to take care of myself, maybe even urgent. Then it occurred to me that maybe my episodes of sobbing are my check engine light--my signal that something is wrong that I need to address ASAP. That was kind of a comforting thought.

So here I am, still trying to process all this and find the best answers for me. I know it's not an all or nothing thing--serving others vs. nurturing myself. And I know figuring it out will be a process and an invaluable learning experience. Jeff has been aware of a lot of this, although I don't think I've discussed it with him in as much detail as I've written here. Still, he was so thoughtful and put so much effort into getting me a digital SLR camera and lenses for Christmas and my birthday, knowing that I need a hobby and that I'm interested in photography. Part of his gift is that he will take care of the kids while I take a photography class. I'm still determined to do that, but it just didn't fit in the family schedule after Christmas, of course. And then the bishop called me in and asked me to be the Primary president. And I couldn't say no. I haven't had any more sobbing sessions, but I know my check engine light is still red, because I haven't solved anything.

So how do you do it? Any tips? Do you feel balanced? I haven't responded to all the comments on my previous posts like I intended to, but I know I'm not alone in this. I think this is a critical issue for many moms, and probably for a lot of women in general. Sorry I haven't been able to give anyone all the answers. I hope no one was expecting a resolution! Any men out there deal with similar issues? The workshop I went to was only attended by women, but life coaching isn't limited to women, and service and creating and the need to nurture self certainly aren't either. (Not that many men read my blog, but I know of a few.) If you've stuck with me all this way and care to share your thoughts, I look forward to them.

Losing Yourself, Part 3

The beginning of this post may not seem directly related to the others of the same title, but bear with me (if you feel like it). It all ties into where I am right now. A couple years ago a friend recommended a book that I've previously posted a summary of here. It's called The Parenting Breakthrough: A Real-Life Plan to Teach Kids to Work, Save Money, and Be Truly Independent, by Merilee Browne Boyack. I really like the parenting principles in this book, especially the ideas for gradually teaching your children skills that will help them learn to be independent, productive adults. Last summer I decided it was high time to put some of these ideas into practice. I helped my three older boys set some goals for learning and doing age-appropriate skills--chores, reading, family scripture study, Cub Scouts requirements, etc. I tried to keep them simple, doable, and relatively short-term. There were intermediate rewards, but the big prize for reaching their summer goals was a trip to Lagoon, Utah's only amusement park (made especially tantalizing by driving past it every time we go to Jeff's parents house). The kids seemed okay with the goals, but were more excited about the rewards, of course. In the book, Sister Boyack also asserts that the real reward is that when your kids learn how to do things by themselves it becomes a source of self-esteem and empowerment for them. That made sense too.

Dummy me though. I should have known better than to expect that my kids would want to learn how to mop the floor because it would make them feel more grown up and independent, or even because it would help them get to Lagoon. I still believe the principles in the book are good, and I haven't given up on them, but either I didn't apply them effectively, or I just expected too much. I spent the whole summer babying my kids toward their goals, prodding them along, trying to help them and teach them, but nagging and listening to their whining more than anything. By mid-August the goals on their lists were all checked off, but I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. We went to Lagoon, but I felt like I had earned it for them. I knew my efforts hadn't been in vain, that my boys had made some progress and learned a few things, but I wasn't sure it was worth all the trouble. I was so tired and so ready for school to start again, ready to not have everybody home 24/7. I felt guilty for feeling that way, but I was to the point that I thought if I could just make it until school started, I could recuperate and hang on to my sanity.

Then school did start and I had a little more room to breathe, but my state of mind didn't get any better. I couldn't figure it out. The end of September came, and I went to the broadcast of the General Relief Society Meeting really hungry for something to lift me up, something to guide me out of the slump I was in. I had great expectations because General Conference and the General Relief Society Meeting are always a feast for me, a chance to recharge my batteries. And boy, did they need recharging. I don't remember why, but the Saturday of the broadcast was a particularly awful day for me. I dressed and went to the stake center alone, in a bad mood, just praying to be able to feel the Spirit and get something out of it.

The talks from the General Relief Society presidency were all good, but surprisingly, none of them spoke to me. I felt even more discouraged. Then President Uchtdorf stood up to the pulpit and said the words I needed to hear. You can read his talk, entitled "Happiness, Your Heritage," here, or listen to it here. I won't try summarize everything he said, but he addressed it to "those who have ever felt inadequate, discouraged, or weary"--ME, right then and there. In the kind and gentle way that to me is becoming his trademark, he validated my feelings and challenges, then taught two principles that can allow us to feel God's happiness despite our burdens--creation and compassion.

As I listened, I realized that the God-given part of me that needs to create is starving. Tears came to my eyes. I felt that my mental and emotional fatigue will be lessened and my emptiness will be filled if I can find a way to feed that need to create. It was eye-opening to me, but I knew I'd have to ponder more on exactly what and how I need to go about creating.

Elder Uchtdorf continued on to talk about compassion, about serving and lifting others. His words motivated me to look for more small and simple things I can do for those around me, but I didn't feel like I was as lacking in compassion as I am in creation. As I listened further though, he said, "As we lose ourselves in the service of others, we discover our own lives and our own happiness." Then he said, "You wonderful sisters render compassionate service to others for reasons that supersede desires for personal benefits. In this you emulate the Savior. . . . His thoughts were always tuned to help others. He taught, healed, conversed, and listened to others. . . . He taught and lived by this doctrine: 'He that is greatest among you shall be your servant.'" (Matt. 23:11). This got me thinking all over again about the balance between serving others and nourishing myself, filling my own cup. How do I follow the example of Christ--that I want to follow--and lose myself in the service of others, without losing myself? It seems like the part of me that needs nourishing--the part of me that needs to create--is the part of me that gets neglected as I use most of my time and energy in the service of others, which is supposed to help me discover myself and my happiness. I do find happiness and fulfillment in serving others most of the time, but other times I just feel burned out, depleted. If the principles of creation and compassion will help me feel God's happiness, how can I find room for both in my finite life?

As I took in Elder Uchtdorf's talk, my emotions were mixed. I was relieved and confused, happy that my challenges were validated and addressed, just as I'd hoped, but unsure exactly how to apply his counsel to my life. As I left the meeting, I couldn't keep the tears from coming. I drove to a park and sat in my van and sobbed until I could compose myself enough to go home.

Yes, there's still at least one more part to this long story. Stay tuned. If you want to.

Losing Yourself, Part 2

About six years ago I read a book that was very helpful to me in combating some of the irrational thinking that often accompanies clinical depression. I go back to it like a reference book whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed. The title is a bit lame, but the book is great: I'm a Day Late and a Dollar Short...and It's Okay, by Jo Ann Larsen.

Chapter 1 is titled, "The Caretaker." The premise is that one of women's foremost strengths is that she is designed to be a caretaker, "a dispenser of...emotional supplies", who nurtures and meets the needs of those around her. However, this attribute can also be her Achilles heel. Ms. Larsen then goes on to make the distinction between "unconscious caretaking" and "conscious caretaking." Unconscious caretakers simply respond to the demands put upon them, always giving, giving, and only reluctlantly receiving. They tend to stretch themselves beyond their limits, often resulting in fatigue, resentment, anger, guilt, or worse. Conscious caretakers "take charge of their lives and their choices, realizing that they have "limited time, energy, and resources." They make sure that they take care of themselves so there is enough of them to give to others. And the key to being a conscious caretaker is setting firm boundaries, including a boundary around space for nourishing yourself. And that isn't selfish, because it isn't selfish to take care of yourself.

Sound good? My summary is a little textbook, but yep, I think so too. Boundaries are a great idea. Just SO much easier said than done. I suppose I've gotten better at it. I can say no to telemarketers, even hang up on them. I can say no to solicitors at the front door. I can say no to the PTA fundraisers and the room mom, if I need to. I can say no to the friend who asks me to watch her kids at the exact same time I've made arrangements to go to the temple with my husband. I can say no to almost anything if I have a legitimate excuse. But I haven't figured out how to say no when I don't have a good excuse. And I really don't know how to set boundaries when it comes to my family. How do I tell my four little boys and my husband, at any given time, that my needs are more important than theirs? The only boundary that works for me there--sometimes--is the lock on the bathroom door! And that's usually an unsatisfactory and very temporary fix. As for nourishing myself, well, I get to yoga class when nothing else conflicts, and I've developed a scripture study routine that works fairly well on days when the kids are in school. But as my husband has recently advertised, I have no hobbies. And honestly, when I look at the family calendar, I don't know how I would fit one in.

So once again, I know the counsel is good; I believe it; I don't quite know how to do it. At the moment I guess I feel good about being aware, and about trying to figure this out. I know it's a process, but the sooner I can figure it out, the better.

Part 3 to follow, eventually.

Losing Yourself in Service without Losing Yourself, Part 1

There is no way I'm going to get all my thoughts down in one post, so here is the first installment.

Let's start way back in the year 2000. We were living in Cincinnati. It was ward conference and President Hahl had asked that all the sisters in the ward attend Relief Society that Sunday. His message, as I remember it, was that as women we give and give and give and show compassion and do good, and that is to our credit, but we also need to take the time and make the effort to fill our own cups too. I remember him saying something to the effect that some things have to be done individually--no one else can develop your talents, no one else can build your testimony, no one else can work out your salvation. I only had one child at the time, and probably one on the way, but I still wondered how in the world I could squeeze me into the equation, in between the meals, laundry, diaper changes, and everything else. I needed to hear what he said, and it really hit home, but I had no clue how to put it into practice. A lot of water has crossed under the bridge since then, and I have learned a few things, but I still don't really know how to do what he counseled us to do. And it bugs me.

More to come in Part 2.