On Internal Versus External Validation (Blog #996)

Last night my throat started tickling, and today I woke up sick. Sinus troubles strike again. Talk about a bummer. I’ve felt like half a bag (but not a full bag) of ass all day. This being said, it’s still been a fun a productive Winter Solstice (the darkest day of the year). This morning I drove my aunt to Oklahoma so she could spend the holidays with her son and grandchildren. Then when I got home, despite my intention to blog and “get it over with” and in an effort to listen to my body, I took a nap. Then I went out to eat with my friends Aaron and Kate and Justin and Ashley (our waiter joined us for the above photo) to celebrate my upcoming 1,000th blog post in a row, which–God willing and the creek don’t rise–will happen on Christmas day.

And no, I didn’t plan that on March 31, 2017, when I made my first post. I’m good at math but not THAT good.

Once I read that any meditation you do consistently for 1,000 days will positively affect your subtle body, your subtle body consisting of your chakras. And whereas I don’t know if this is true (and if it is true it’d be difficult to prove because the changes would be subtle), I do know that almost 1,000 days of blogging has transformed me for the better. This is something I could go on and on about (and have), but suffice it to say that not only has my writing improved (which was the original goal), but so has my relationship with myself (and therefore with others).

Along these lines, one thing my therapist and I have discussed is seeking internal validation versus external validation. With internal validation, you say, “Even if nobody else gets it or cares, I know who I am.” You say, “I’m a damn fine dance teacher and an excellent writer. I’m hot. I’m good in the sack.” Or whatever. You say, “I like myself–warts and all.” Conversely, with external validation, you look to others and their responses to tell you who you are. Depending on whether they praise you, criticize you, laugh at your jokes, or laugh at you, your ego either soars or flops. A look from a total stranger makes you or breaks you. You want everyone else’s approval, and you’ll do anything to get it.

Everyone else’s puppet, one day you’re up, the next day you’re down.

This is one of the biggest positive changes I’ve experienced since starting therapy and this blog–the shift from external validation (from being a people pleaser) to internal validation (to being a me pleaser). Not that it’s all about me, me, me (although, granted, I do have a blog with me in the title), but it is about listening to my internal guidance and the voice of my soul over the opinions of others. This includes the opinions of my family, my friends, my acquaintances, total strangers, pretty boys, and–yes–even my therapist. Of course, I try to listen to what others have to say. Hell, I pay my therapist for her opinions. But ultimately I’m the one who decides what’s best for me because this is my life and I’m the one responsible for it.

Likewise, I’m the one responsible for my happiness. Others are welcome to disagree with my viewpoints and philosophies, tell me I’m a rotten dancer or human being, and tell me to fuck off, Jack. And sure, I might be upset by these things. But give me some time–enough time to write a blog post–and I’ll be fine. Because nobody–but nobody–gets to tell ME how to feel about ME.

Nobody–but nobody–gets to tell YOU how to feel about YOU.

One both subtle and not-so-subtle change that’s occurred over the last 996 days is that more and more external EVENTS aren’t able to tell me how I feel about myself either. What I mean is that I used to feel a lot of pride and self-worth if I looked good, felt good, and had money. On the flip side, I’d feel a lot of shame and embarrassment if I looked not-so-good, felt like a bag of ass, and didn’t have money. When I was sick I’d feel less than, inferior to healthy people, to doctors. When I couldn’t pay for things, to people who could. And not that I don’t have these thoughts anymore, but having made a consistent effort to connect with my own good heart on a regular basis, I now have these thoughts in their proper perspective.

You know how you can hold your hands close to a lightbulb and create a large shadow on the wall? And you know how you can move your hands away from the lightbulb and the shadow will get smaller? This is what I mean by proper perspective. It’s not that the opinions of others, your own health and wellbeing, and your finances don’t make a difference. They do. No one is immune to criticism, it sucks, sucks, sucks to be sick, and groceries don’t buy themselves. Our challenges create shadows on the wall.

How big, however, is up to us.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All emotions are useful.

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Coming Home Again (Blog #212)

Ugh. It’s almost four in the morning, and I really meant to be in bed by now. Instead I just got home, brushed my teeth and such, and sat down to blog. With any luck, I’ll fly through this in no time. That being said, I really have no idea what I’m going to talk about and forgot how to form a sentence two hours ago, so I could be here a while. The good news is the house is quiet, which means it’s easy to concentrate. The bad news is the house is quiet, which means my body wants to fall asleep. Maybe I should bang some pots and pans to wake myself up.

Raise your hand if you think my mom and dad would appreciate that.

I spent the afternoon with my friend Bonnie. We have a mutual friend who’s moving into a new home, so we volunteered to run around and look for a few decorations. Y’all, I don’t know if you’ve ever shopped for curtains, but I don’t recommend it. Like, if someone invites you to peruse for window treatments, just stay home and pull your fingernails out with a pair of wire pliers instead–you’ll have more fun. After spending all day going from store to store and looking at solids and patterns of every color, Bonnie and I still couldn’t come up with anything to match an already-purchased comforter. Apparently, finding the right pair of drapes is harder than finding a husband.

All that being said, the day had its highlights. Bonnie and I actually started this project last night, and since I’ve been sick, I walked around all evening with a washcloth in my pocket incase I needed to blow my nose. (If you’re judging me, stop. A washcloth is easier to keep up with than a bunch of little tissues.) Anyway, today Bonnie gave me an unexpected gift–an honest-to-god, one-of-a-kind handkerchief because “friends don’t let friends blow their noses with washrags.” So take a look. The hanky is western-themed, which Bonnie said was in honor of my “cowboy fetish.” The only thing I have to say to that is, “Giddy up.”

For dinner I met my friends and former roommates, Justin and Ashley, at Olive Garden. We started a little before seven, stayed for a couple hours, then went back to their house. This, of course, is where I used to live, the place where feeling welcome and comfortable is a given. After a while, Ashley retired to bed, and Justin and I stayed up talking until almost three. Conversation topics included working for the man, exes we hope to never see again, and how everyone in America is so easily offended these days. (If that statement offends you, well, you just proved the point.) Anyway, we also discussed some of the reasons it’s harder to form solid friendships as you get older. When Justin and I met over fifteen years ago, we put a lot of time into each other, confessed a lot of secrets, and pretty much bonded for life. Now that we’re older and busier, however, not only is it difficult to find new people we get along with, but we simply don’t have the amount of time to invest that we did in our twenties.

Currently the house is sixty-seven degrees (Dad likes it like that), and I’m wearing a sweatshirt and sock cap and still freezing. It’s not even winter yet, but my skin is dry, my toes are cold, and my body is already wanting to pack on extra pounds and hibernate until spring. (The whole situation is not cute, and I’m not impressed.) Honestly, I’m not sure which one is dropping faster–the temperature or my generally cheery disposition.

If it’s not obvious–I don’t like this time of year. Quick–someone send a cowboy over to warm me up.

I realize some of “you people” like the winter. You get to “bundle up.” You get to drink hot chocolate. You get to wear your cute little scarves and hats and whatever else because “you can always put more clothes on but you can’t take more clothes off.” That’s okay. This isn’t a moral issue; it’s just a matter of seasonal preference. My favorite season is summer, but if yours is winter, we can still be friends. Still, I’d like to be clear–I’m personally really looking forward to June.

It’s never too late to be your own friend.

Recently someone told me their head wasn’t a good place to live, so lately I’ve been thinking about all the ways in which we’re uncomfortable in our own bodies, always wanting to change something about our physical appearance, always looking for distractions because we can’t sit still with our own thoughts. And I think it’s ironic that we can spend hours looking for curtains or over a decade working on a friendship, but many of us are hesitant to spend that time working on ourselves–you know–the one we live with. I know I felt that way when I first started therapy. Sometimes I still do. After all, personal growth takes time and hard work–a lot of it. I don’t think therapy is the only way to get to know, like, and accept yourself, but it is one way, and tonight I’m reminded that however it happens, it’s never too late to give to yourself the way you give to projects and everyone else around you. It’s never too late to be your own friend. To me this feels like the sun’s warm rays in summer, although I imagine to someone else it’d feel like a cool breeze in autumn or the snow falling in winter, whatever that thing is you’ve been longing for and haven’t experienced in a while, that thing that feels like coming home again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just because your face is nice to look at doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart that’s capable of being broken. These things happen to humans, and there isn’t a one of us who isn’t human.

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