On Change and the Secret to Happiness (Blog #892)

Today I made myself rest. First, I slept in. Then I finished reading a book. Then I did something I almost never do unless I’m sick–I binge watched a television series (The Deuce, season two). Then I took a nap. And whereas I’ve felt groggy ever since, I know it helped. I’ve been pushing my body hard lately, working both inside and outside (in the hot sun), and no one can go forever. I can’t go forever.

This evening I visited with a friend then went solo to IHOP to eat dinner and work on another creative project. Years ago I used to go to IHOP all the time–with friends, by myself. Well, get this shit. There’s a waitress I got to know, and she still works there. Tonight she remembered what I always order. She even remembered how I like my meat and eggs cooked (medium and over medium) and which pancakes are my favorite (Harvest Grain and Nut). Talk about wow. You think people don’t notice you, that you’re not important. But they do. You are.

Tonight while chatting with my friend I referenced a moment of frustration I had with someone in their seventies and said, “They’re not changing.”

My friend said, “I’m in my sixties and I’m not changing.”

So I want to talk about change.

Yesterday I had lunch with my friends Kara and Amber, and both of them are into the enneagram, a method of personalty assessment (like Myers-Briggs). According to Kara, I’m a 4 (The Individualist or The Romantic) with a 3 wing (The Aristocrat). From what I’ve since read online, all of this sounds pretty accurate. One website listed nine jobs that are common for 4s with a 3 wing, and I’ve either had or aspire to have six of them. And whereas I don’t intend to go into all the details about my specific personality type, I will say this. 4s apparently feel fundamentally misunderstood. “That’s right,” I told Kara, “I often think that other people just don’t get me.” But I’m working on this. Because for someone else to understand that you don’t feel understood is clearly to have been gotten.

My talking about personality types is, believe it or not, related to change. What I mean is that we often think our personalities are set in stone. Like, I’m a 4 with a 3 wing, and I’m gonna stay a 4 with a 3 wing. Well, this may or may not be so. I know that when I first did Myers-Briggs when I was sixteen, I was an ENTJ, and now I’m an ENFJ. Given some more time, I wouldn’t be surprised if I switched from an E (extrovert) to an I (introvert) because more and more I get a charge from being alone. In terms of the Myers-Briggs questionnaire, I’m already on the fence.

Richard C. Schwartz, who created Internal Family Systems, says personality tests simply show us how our various “parts” have organized. For example, if you think of yourself as shy, it may not be that YOU are shy, but simply that a PART of you is, a part of you that’s running the show. What I like about this approach is that it leaves room for change. It leaves room for your shy part to become more outgoing and assertive, or for another part to take charge. It means you’re not stuck in stone.

Conversely, when I said the person I knew wasn’t changing, I meant they WERE stuck in stone. And whereas this could be a compliment if a person were gregarious and kind, it wasn’t, since this person was rude, bossy, and controlling. Years ago I would have put up with it. In this instance, I pushed back. I said, “Listen, I know what I’m doing.” Referencing a mutual friend of ours, this person said, “I can’t figure out why they think you’re so nice.”

I said, “I used to be a lot nicer.”

For me, being less “nice” than I used to be is huge progress. I realize on the surface this may sound off, but as my therapist says, nice is a strategy. Nice is something you are to secretaries when you want to see their boss. It’s something you are to hair dressers when you want them to do a good job. It’s something you are to strangers and even friends when you want them to like you.

Nice is what I used to be. Now I’m more concerned with being authentic and kind. Because what I’ve learned is that you can be kind–and honest. You can be kind–and assertive.

After years of studying personality types, I continue to be fascinated by them. I probably always will be. At the same time, I’d like to suggest a couple things. First, just because you have a certain trait doesn’t mean it’s something that will never change. Indeed, if you think of yourself as fundamentally fearful, nervous, shy, grumpy, or awkward, know that these traits are perfect fodder for transformation. I’m not saying you’ll go from being an Emily Dickinson recluse to an Oprah Winfrey socialite, but I am saying you really don’t know what’s inside you wanting to emerge until you dig in and do The Hard Work.

Second, The Hard Work can happen at any age. My therapist says that unfortunately many people are just “children growing older.” This is what I mean about being set in stone, being either willfully ignorant of your immaturities or not caring enough to do something about them. The good news is my therapist also says she sees people in their sixties, seventies, and even older changing all the time. They get hooked up with a good therapist or simply decide they’ve had enough suffering. After decades of witnessing life and its atrocities, of being disconnected from their authentic, kind selves, they finally figure out the secret to happiness–Life’s not changing, so I have to be the one to do that.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The clearer you see what's going on inside of you, the clearer you see what's going on outside of you. It's that simple.

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Anything but a Setback (Blog #696)

This evening I drove home from Springfield, where I spent the weekend. Coming back I tried to take my time. I’m trying to be more mindful and not be in such a hurry all the damn time. This is a challenge for me; I’m always on the go-go. Anyway, when I stopped for dinner, I sipped my tea, read a book. When I got home, I methodically unpacked. This part was easy enough because I’m anal. Everything ALWAYS has its place. Now it’s ten-thirty, and I’m lying horizontal in bed because last night took it out of me. I’m hoping I can get this over with, do some leg exercises, and get straight to bed.

Crap, I’m in a hurry again.

Last night I attended a sock hop at my friends Anne and Andy’s dance studio. They host a sock hop every year, and last night was my third one to attend. Anyway, even though I knew I couldn’t do a lot of dancing, I figured it would be the perfect thing to get out-of-town, see friends, and move, even a little. As it turns out, I was right (this is often the case, ha). Everything about the sock hop was a blast–the music, the costumes, the people. Plus, my friend Matt, who used to live in Springfield but recently moved away, showed up to visit. Talk about a treat. Not only did we have good conversation, but we also laughed, laughed, laughed.

Every time someone asked me if I wanted to dance last night I said, “Yes, but I recently had knee surgery and need to stick to the basics,” which I did. When the dance first started, before I hit the floor, a couple friends asked if it was killing me to watch everyone else dance. Really, it wasn’t. I’ve watched people dance before. Plus, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to watch people with two functioning knees walk, run, and dance over the last three months, and I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m not currently there. That being said, it was frustrating for me to actually dance. For one thing, so many of my movements felt awkward and jerky. For another, there was so much that my body wanted to do (jump, spin, turn) that it couldn’t. That’s what sucked–to feel broken, to not be able to really cut loose and dance up a storm.

So many times over the years I’ve attended dances and wanted to look and dance like someone else. God, you can really get carried away comparing yourself to others. But last night I really just wanted to dance like me, to be able to do what I used to be able to. And I know–I’ll get back there. Baby steps. But until that happens, I’m going to try to be content with where I am and what I have. Ugh. This is the toughest thing, to accept life as it is, to not always be wanting something you ain’t got–to look like someone else, to dance like your former self. Some people say that’s the secret to happiness, to want what you have.

Lately my shoulder’s been hurting. For the most part it’s not dramatic, but it’s something I’m aware of almost constantly. On the way home today I listened to a podcast that said injuries and pain aren’t setbacks, they’re signals. That is, it’s easy when you’re hurting (or not dancing up to par with your former self) to think that you’ve somehow moved backwards in the grand scheme of things. As if life were a board game and, thanks to the roll of the dice, you’ve been asked to go back three squares and not collect two hundred dollars. But the podcast suggested that our problems are simply information, that pain is often the body’s way of saying, “Something’s up here. This could use a little attention.”

In terms of my knee, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, I’m glad I injured it like I did. Not that this has been a pleasant experience, but it has taught me how to be patient, how to accept help from others, how to better care for myself, and how to slow the fuck down. And that’s huge, learning all that stuff. Anything but a setback. But more on learning to slow down. I think that’s a message my body’s been trying to convey for a while now–slow down, chill out, relax. And whereas I hate it when my knee says it can’t spin or my shoulder says it doesn’t want to, I don’t know, lift weights at the gym, I’m learning to trust and listen to my body. Fine, you don’t feel like doing that, we won’t do that. Period. End of story.

Fine, you’re ready to bed. We’ll go to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your emotions are tired of being ignored.

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