Goodbye, goody-two-shoes, hello determination

Can you see what's possible? 

"Don't smoke. It's bad for you." 

As a pint-sized, pig-tailed 8-year-old, I'd speak my mind to random strangers smoking in public, whether or not it was appropriate.  

Never mind my whole family smoked like chimneys, or that, in those days, everyone smoked, everywhere, and second-hand smoke wasn't a thought. 

Then in fifth grade, my Barbie-looking teacher added fuel to my fire when her doctor-husband came to class for a real-time experiment. We tested the effects of smoking with our vice principal; as he smoked a cigarette in class, we watched his blood pressure rise with each inhalation. We filled glass jars with smoke, and angel hair standing in for lung tissue immediately blackened. Preserved lungs drove the point home: healthy and pink vs ravaged by tar-and-nicotine. This affirmed my point.  

Goodbye, goody-two-shoes... 
If 'goody-two-shoes' is a new expression for you, here's a definition. 

So you'd think I'd never consider smoking, right? You'd be wrong... 

The summer between 6th and 7th grade, as I graduated from elementary to junior high school, I found a new set of friends. My caregivers were gone; grandparents were recently deceased, my mom worked full time. I had no one to be accountable to, nor anyone to notice what I was up to. 

It started simply enough. My girlfriends and I would steal cigarettes from our parents and then practice smoking in my basement or out bedroom windows. At first, I was dizzy and sick. But I was committed to cool, solidly determined to smoke, so each hit of nicotine became easier. Soon, I was a full-blown smoker. 

It wasn't long before I wasn't just a casual smoker. I liked to smoke, so I smoked a lot. Parties, drinking... more smoking. Maybe a few stimulants, and a lot of feeling awkward... more smoking.  

While always outspoken, as a teen I took that to new levels. I didn't like it if I couldn't smoke, and I lived by 'better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.' 

This lasted about 10 years. 

The stigma

Directionless and purposeless, I quit college for a boring admin job and then found myself suddenly back home when my roommate had an emotional breakdown. I wasn't happy, but I somehow had the presence of mind to know I needed a 'real' job, different than the crappy 'throwaway' jobs I'd had so far. One thing I knew for sure, I wasn't following family footsteps in any capacity.  

As I interviewed, I decided smoking wasn't cool anymore, and by smoking, I was just like my family. So I stopped, even though smoking was still common, and we still weren't talking about second-hand smoke. (An aside: Most of the men I noticed weren't smoking, either.) I saw people taking smoke breaks in front of office buildings; I didn't want to be one of them.    

Determination

Two weeks before starting my new job at a travel agency in the heart of downtown Seattle, I smoked my last cigarette. I had a plan; I ate a lot of carrots, skipped the bars for a weekend or two, went for a lot of walks, and took a lot of deep breaths.  

I can't say it was easy, but once I decided, I never looked back. Kinda like when I started...  

I still drank pretty heavily off and on and did some things I'm not proud of, but I never started smoking again. When I met my current partner, 20-some years ago, he smoked, so I played with fire and took the occasional hit. But I knew I didn't want to be a smoker again. I still had smoking dreams, and I'd wake up in a panic thinking I had to quit again, mad at myself, and then realize it was just a dream. 

New awareness 

Because I still had plenty of other bad behaviors and habits, I wasn't yet on a wellness path, but giving up cigarettes was a turning point. Suddenly a lot more mattered. And I saw what I was capable of. 

At some point, hindsight again being 20/20, I understood my penchant for smoking had less to do with addiction and more to do with my lack of self-confidence. Cigarettes were something I could hide behind.  

What I learned? 

I could do anything I set my mind to: from getting the job I wanted at the company I wanted to work for, to quitting something studies show is the hardest addiction to kick. 

It started with a decision, a lot of determination, and a vision of what's possible. Even though I still struggled with self-worth and continued to trip myself up in other ways, this one action set myself up for ongoing success. 

Now, I see I've achieve what I've set my mind to, and I have evidence that supports doing it again.  

While I have odds in my favor that some don't, I'm no better or stronger or more capable than anyone else. It's wanting something bad enough, envisioning the possibilities, believing in ourselves just enough to make it happen, and taking that next step.   


If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to subscribe (see right column), share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here. 

False Evidence Appearing Real

Tell the truth about your fears
and find room to blossom. 

Often on the way to work, if I'm not listening to a meditation or affirmation on Insight Timer, I'm listening to Ryan Niddel's 15 Minutes to Freedom podcast. How I found this guy is anyone's guess, but he's a pretty astute 35-year-old. Interestingly to me, as it tests my previous assumptions, I've found a few of these mid-30s high-EQ, self-aware men who are putting out some introspective, helpful content. I've mentioned Mark Manson's The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck in previous posts, to name another.  

A little dose of discomfort

Anyway, nothing like quickly getting comfortable being uncomfortable. 

Ryan's podcasts have compelled me to do a few things I'm surprised by, including today's Facebook Live videos within a group site he's facilitating. A week ago I signed up for 10 days of training through his Life Optimization coaching program—a special promotion and a deal at $20. What a great way to sample his coaching style without a big investment. Who wouldn't want to optimize their life? It starts Monday, but in typical Ryan fashion, there's some 'pre-work' to get you ready for the real work that's coming. Of course, the next two weeks promise to be my busiest at work yet. You know what they say, yes? If you want to get something done, ask a busy person. 

You can check Ryan out here. 

I bring this up because as mentioned, today I recorded not one but two Facebook Live videos—both videos on topics related to what I want from the 10-day program, as well as life overall. Video is totally out of my comfort zone; a Facebook Live video is over the top. I quite like being right here, typing away on my laptop. 

But you know what? I did it, and it wasn't so bad. And nothing bad happened as a result. I got a little more comfortable in my own skin, with expressing myself differently, with saying out loud a few things that are important to me. Go figure. 

Getting real about fear...

A few podcasts ago, I heard Ryan talk about fear, or rather, what I recall hearing was this awesome acronym I'd never heard before: False Evidence Appearing Real. 

I couldn't tell you the context of the podcast now. This brilliant acronym was my takeaway. No idea who coined it. Looking it up online results in a number of references  (none of which I've read yet, and may not). But it seems appropriate right now, as I think about how uncomfortable I was just thinking about doing those videos. 

Stay present

Think about it. Most of our fears never come true, whether about big things or small things (like Facebook videos...). They're based on what we think we might happen. And not just what might happen, but the worst that can happen. 

Yet, how often does anything really work out that way? How often are our worst fears realized? How often is the evidence we collect even really valid?  

Next time you feel fearful, nervous, or uncomfortable about something, think about it this way: it's almost certainly just false evidence. Maybe it feels real. But is it? I'm going to take my own advice here when I say 'don't fear the unknown,' as I have a lot of 'known unknowns' ahead. 

Staying present to where you are right now is key.  

Be bold...

Mark Twain said, "some of the worst things in my life never happened." He also said, "courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not the absence of fear." 

So let's not get stopped by fear. Go forth and be courageous, and remember that fear really just means false evidence trying to throw you off track. Once upon a time back when we got started as humans, fear kept us alive and well. To a degree, it can still keep us safe, but now it's overused. Don't let fear drive. Buckle it into the backseat, and go. 

Who was it that said "feel the fear and do it anyway"? Do that! I long ago told myself that when fear crept in, and I wanted to say no (because fear was driving), it was my queue to say yes. 

Onward! 

If you like this post, or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find out more here. 

Whose voice matters?

Whose voice do you give power to? 

When you have a decision to make, or you put yourself out there in some way, and you can't quite make the leap or get there on your own━maybe you're afraid to make a mistake, the unknown feels too risky, that you might look foolish, or you want some kind of approval or validation━how do you get clarity or find support?  Who do you go to for help? 

Many of us look to those we respect or care about━family, friends, mentors, etc.━but what if what they tell you doesn't ring true for you? What if you find yourself angry? What if you suddenly know they're wrong, and you're right? They probably mean well, but clearly, they didn't get it. They don't get "you" or what you want to undertake or achieve. 

Do you consider their input, take their advice, or just go for it anyway?  

"I hear the voices..."

Maybe you don't want anyone else's opinion... but there's still another voice that factors in━the ghosts of people and situations past. Those voices in our head (and not the "I hear the voices..." type) that influence our decisions: our parents, teachers, previous bosses, or a myriad of others who in some way influenced us or got under our skin (and into our psyches). These often evolve into our inner critic, the voice I sometimes call my "inner mean girl" when the voice tells me I'm an idiot, or that my ideas have no basis. 

These stem from something we heard or experienced in childhood━we took someone's opinion of us, a situation, or our ideas, and gave it meaning. We carry these 'stories' with us━usually always negative━unless we actively work to reprogram our self talk.  

It's all information... 

The voices of others, and those in our heads, can be looked at as information. We can choose whether or not to give them deeper meaning. They help us shape our thinking━we can decide if what they say makes sense, or if it doesn't fit with what we think or believe. 

Opinions are just that; if it's an informed opinion expressed by someone who's been where you want to go or done what you want to do, take what you need and leave the rest. So often, though, it's not informed, and in fact, may be ill-informed and have the potential to be detrimental to your decision-making. 

Too often I give the opinions of others or my own repetitive story far too much weight━outweighing my own innate wisdom, my inner intelligence, even my own knowledge.  


Check in with your insides... 


How do you know when it's not your own true voice, or if someone's opinion isn't in your best interest? Check in with your body. If the voice is in your head and not your gut. If the opinion causes self-doubt but doesn't feel true. If either makes you question your capability. 

What do you really want to do? Say? Think? Do that. I hear a clichéd, disingenuous "you do you" but really, that's exactly what you need to do. Do you. Listen to your heart, your guts. That's your soul talking. The part of you that has to live in this world and not regret your time here in the end. 

Sure, it's important to consider the impact of your actions on others and on real responsibilities, if there is, indeed, an impact, but that's not what this post is about.

The voices in your head or other's well-meaning opinions may help you make a more informed decision, but they're not the decider.  Only you know innately what's best for you. 

Do that. 

Your voice━your authentic, gut-level, inner-soul-knowing━is the voice that matters. 

Fine tuning, not improving

The self-help and self-improvement industries rake in money hand over fist, but lately the conversation about "improving" ourselves seems to be shifting. Good. Let's stop. Helping ourselves? Sure. Improving? Not so much.

As a coach, I see my clients as whole, complete, creative, and resourceful, and in 'new thought' spiritual teachings, we're all perfect as we are. What we consider "imperfections" are those unique character traits that make us different and special.


So--what if we just need fine tuning? 


Honestly, there's nothing wrong with us. Not really. We're human, and we're all different.

That doesn't mean we can't improve or develop skills, become better versions of ourselves, that we don't have more to learn, or explore whatever we're intrigued by. But that's not us.

We may see others as having something wrong with them, because they think differently, do differently, or believe differently than we do. But that doesn't mean it's true. And it doesn't mean they need improving, no matter how much we disagree with them.

Improving implies the need to fix, 

and fixing implies that something's broken. 

Bones break (those can be fixed...). Parts of us break down. Sometimes we say "I'm broken" to emphasize a point. Our hearts break, our spirit breaks. But most of us aren't actually broken. Being in pain isn't broken; it's a very real and important part of living. There's always possibility for something to be different, even when it feels impossible and we can't see it. We may have a belief to let go of or an old story still dictating our behaviors, but to shift these, we reprogram, unlearn, or create, not fix.

Maybe it's years of being advertised to that's turned me off to the word improved, with the endless introduction of new and improved versions of almost anything on our large and small screens, on supermarket shelves, and in our online shopping carts. Or maybe it's the underlying message that if you're working to improve yourself, you're not good enough as you are.

We don't need to be fixed. 

And telling ourselves that we do, reinforced by the words self-improvement, isn't very helpful, whether it comes from inside our heads as self-talk or from somewhere else.

We may have a few cracks, perhaps, like Japanese pottery. If that's the case, let's add some figurative gold filigree, and be a different, more complex version of ourselves. Let it change us in ways that embolden us and make us even more unique. Perfect as it was; perfect as it is. Who says a perceived imperfection isn't really perfect? It's all perception, right?

Who defines perfect in your world? 

As Leonard Cohen sang, the cracks are where the light shines through. We need those cracks, those things that set us apart from anyone else. Those cracks are like our emotional fingerprints, and they make us interesting.

I, for one, am sick of "improving" myself, something I spent my younger years doing because I never felt good enough; I often felt less than. We all have "stuff" we can work on. But improvement is a self-defeating concept. Embrace your idiosyncrasies, gain mastery over those things you're passionate about, and shed the old crap that holds you back. That's not "improvement" unless you want to define it that way. But I think there's a better description. The need to improve feels like we're motivated by something outside of us, like something we should do, not something we do because we want to-- something that comes from within.

I believe, over time, we become more of who we are, and who we're meant to be...

Ancient Gravenstein, continually
evolving to be more of what it's
meant to be.

...and as we age, in particular, and grow in experience, we gain a deeper confidence and wisdom, which also brings the gift of self-acceptance, with our perfect imperfection.

As we step more firmly into our own shoes (in my case, some might say many pairs.... but that's an aside), love--and like--yourself as you are. That doesn't mean you won't have things you want to change. But become that "more of" version. Evolve your language and use words that make you feel good. Continually fine tune, grow, and adapt. This is what makes life's challenges, hurdles, and joys far more fascinating and easier to maneuver. 

How much more can we give the world if we feel good about who we already are? How much more exciting is it to focus on something we want to do, explore, or learn, rather than doing something to improve ourselves?

Let's be part of that shifting conversation.

Locker room wisdom

To borrow from Gretchern Rubin, 
author of The Happiness Project, 
my reminder to Be Laura. Life works 
so much better when I get out of my head. 

"You have to recast it. You have to do it for the women and girls who come later."

Sarah and I were chatting in the locker room tonight about how women are conditioned or socialized to second guess ourselves, to somehow devalue ourselves, or otherwise feel and act 'less than' and hold ourselves back.

Prior to a recent job interview, she suggested I watch Amy Cuddy's TedTalk on shaping our confidence by adjusting our body language. Our stance can increase or decrease our testosterone and cortisol, which affect how we project confidence--in just two minutes! Sheryl Sandberg's Lean In also speaks to this, writing "fake it till you feel it" by assuming a high-power pose.

Sarah and I know each other only in passing, usually coming or going from the pool. Still, I'm glad to know her. Her advice was well-timed; I watched the talk and stood a little taller at my interview.

Tonight, I mentioned that I thought my interview went well. I genuinely liked everyone I met and how they conducted the interview process; I'm confident I'd not only excel in the job, but thrive, and I'd love to do it. It's a huge opportunity to make a difference, and I feel like I'm a good fit in every way. And, I have no way to gauge the outcome. I find myself fighting back old beliefs about self-worth, what I deserve, and projecting what others might think. It's time for a mental reboot.

Recast your story... 

Sarah's recasting her own story--for herself, her daughter, and those who come after. "I applied for an award, and I didn't think I'd get it. I told everyone I wouldn't get it. And I got it." I don't know what Sarah does for work; another frequent swimmer once mentioned she's a researcher at a local university. She wasn't going to apply; her coworkers encouraged her, saying if she couldn't do it for herself, she had to do it for others. For them. For those who come after. To make it easier or even possible.

What she said next makes so much sense: We'll do anything for others, especially those who may be at a disadvantage, like children or aging parents. We'll step out of what's comfortable, take a risk, speak out, speak up on their behalf.

So... here's the reframe: What if we take a risk on our own behalf because it paves the way for those who follow? If it's hard to do something for ourselves, can we find a way to do it because, ultimately, helping ourselves helps others, either directly or indirectly? It's a bit like the airplane mask analogy, or like paying forward, or living well by doing good. By recasting our inner dialogue so that taking a risk or speaking out on our own behalf benefits another, somehow it becomes easier, whether applying for an award, negotiating a salary increase, or lobbying for ourselves to land that just-right job. The playing field still isn't equal, but if we can put ourselves out there a little more each day, we'll get closer.


...and cast out old beliefs


I recognize those old beliefs no longer serve me, and I am recasting those, too. Casting them out, in fact. They are untrue stories, learned a lifetime ago. I am worthy and deserving, because I am. No more, no less. Hands on hips, head held high, eyes ahead, I've got this. I get it. I'm on it.


Addendum: This post was written prior to the released Trump tape that he described as "locker room talk". I do have a few things to say about that, but I'll save that for later. 

First impressions: Our whole, real selves

What if I showed up to an interview wearing my
favorite shoes, instead of shiny new pumps,
and we focused on the work that needed
to get done and how I could help? 

What if we could bring our whole, real selves to everything we do? There's a lot of chatter these days about bringing our whole selves to work. The separation of work and home required for so long seems to have finally gone the way of the double-breasted suit and pantyhose, at least in many workplaces. Couldn't happen soon enough!!

But what about interviews? I ask this as I navigate my job search. The process feels much like a game, and there are those who are better at playing than others. I think it's easier for extroverts, of which I no longer call myself. I straddle that introvert / extrovert fence now, and with each passing year, lean more heavily toward introvert. Better to observe, listen, assess, advise - those skills that make me good at what I do, but not as good at marketing myself.

I haven't been shy about stating this previously: I have long felt the corporate environment to be largely unhealthy. While I think that's changing (in some cases) as society changes -- people like me working inside the system for more humanity and authenticity, younger workers with different expectations of what work should be and do, technology revving up the pace of it all... Yet the world of interviewing hasn't changed much, except it's more competitive, and includes applicants and interviewers from all generations.

Here's the thing I'm unsettled by. I'm not just "iPhone smart" as an acquaintance put it. I am older, more experienced now, with creativity, energy and insights to spare, yet it seems as though many talented job seekers younger than me benefit from assumptions about age. Not that there hasn't always been bias in the workplace / hiring sphere...

Aacck... and, as I write (and rewrite) this, checking myself on my own biases and assumptions about getting hired.

By nature of our generations, we have different skillsets and mindsets. We have different experiences that shape who we are. And all generations have value in today's workplace. Generalizations based on generations and first impressions mean a lot of organizations miss out on great people -- whether they're hiring for youthful idealism or aging wisdom, maturity and experience. We've all heard the assumptions about generations X, Y, millennials and boomers, and sure, some are true, but that's only a piece of our story...

Call me a pragmatic idealist

At this point in my life, I carry my idealism couched in pragmatism. It means I have great ideas, yet the ability to be effective, follow through and make things happen. I don't think I fit the stereotypes. I'm savvy, smart, learn quickly and pay attention to how things are changing and where we're (collective we) headed. But how many hiring managers get a sense of this through the current interview process?

My point about bringing our whole selves to everything we do is about our energy and true contribution. Had I worn those shoes pictured above, with the outfit I had on, my energy at a recent interview would have been entirely different. 

Mind you, I'm not suggesting we wear workout gear and flip flops to interviews. Unless it's a job that requires yoga pants -- and some do.  And I'll admit that seeing a stylist, having my make-up done, and shopping for some 'interview-worthy' outfits to 'feel more fresh and vibrant' has made the process a little bit more fun. But if that's how I'm going to be judged (because what does a hiring manager do if not judge; first impressions count!), it's disappointing.

What if rather than a guessing game, hiring managers shared the details of their culture even before meeting you, told you about the problems they're experiencing and need solving (I've yet to see a job posting that really does this), expected you to come as you are (just as they show up to interview you ... as they are), and clarified their needs and expectations right up front, rather than waiting for you to ask those 'questions that show you're interested' at the end of every interview? What if the process was a conversation about getting work done? An exchange of ideas to see how you'd really work together? The physical and creative energy in that setting would be so much more powerful.

To date, I feel like I'm preparing for finals without knowing more than a few generic questions. I am a storyteller of other people's stories; pre-canned 'accomplishment statements' to shout out my successes make me cringe.

All that said, attitude is everything. Confidence, competence, resilience... I have these in spades, and this process continues to build more. And I know when the right place and I find each other, none of the above will matter (except the shoes). We'll have a conversation, we'll all see the benefits, and everything will fall into place. Because that's how it works.

Onward.

Beyond resolutions: Setting intentions for 2014

Sailing in Shilshole Bay

Resolutions are made to be broken. Or at least, in my world, they are. So I stopped making them.


Now I set intentions. 


There's spaciousness around intentions. They're more about being than doing. Resolutions are, well, resolute.  A hard and fast destination.

Intentions are powerful. Yet flexible. They're a little like sailing - you set a course, but despite best laid plans, there are many unknowns to be discovered along the way. What is known is that sails will need trimming, the course adjusting.

Intentions allow room to shift directions, course correct, enjoy the journey, ask questions. It's being in the moment, and noticing what's working, what's not, and continually making choices. There's still a place for goals; goals help propel us forward. Setting an overall intention supported by incremental goals has a strong likelihood of succeeding.


They work.  


Today, I'm looking ahead at what I want to create, this year and beyond. What do I want my life to look like? What steps can I take to get me closer? How can I be the creative force in my world - designing a life that works for me in every way?

While I'm now firmly planted in midlife, I don't want to leave the rest of my life to chance. None of us know how much time we have, and even though we're all mere specs on the space / time continuum, I want to make a difference with the time I have. I want my minutes to count. My regrets thus far are few; I know now when I feel afraid, it's almost always my clue to step toward, not away. My gut tells me which.


I wish.


Yes. I wish. Over the next few weeks, I'm going to wish big, dream big. I'm going to look at those dreams and wishes, revel in the absurd, and celebrate the unobtainable. And then I'm going to look at these with a discerning eye:

• What is it about those wishes and dreams that appeal to me? 
• What makes them desirable? 
• What meaning do they hold for me? 

Then I can start making them real - or the parts that count. I'll state my intentions as though they exist right now. I'm designing my life on my terms. One incremental step - or maybe a big leap - at a time.

Speak up: your health, happiness and well-being depend on it

Tybee Island gulls, chatting among themselves.

I have a voice. So do you.

Do you hear me? Good. Because we all need to be heard.

A few nights ago, I woke up in the wee hours, a bit unsettled... dreaming that my partner of 17+ years told me we were getting married on May 23. What??? I'm on the fence about marriage, so that wasn't what nagged me. I believe the dream was a gut reaction to my birthday present: he planned my - our - vacation. Now, don't get me wrong. For the most part, I'm OK with this. He has good ideas, and I know we'll have fun together; that he was so thoughtful and actually took the time to plan this, well, that's awesome. His choice was one of several places we considered; we just hadn't collectively decided yet (and because of some history and my limited vacation time, I wanted to weigh in). Really, it's a small thing, in this context.


However... 

...what this brings up for me are the many times throughout my life where I haven't had a voice - haven't had a say, haven't had a choice. Where choices have been made for me. And I've had a few sleepless nights lately thinking about this. That's where the unsettled feeling came from.

My partner and I have come far in our 17+ years together. We have invested time and energy to learn about ourselves, and each other. A few years ago, we made a concerted effort to learn how to talk with each other, to set aside our filters and assumptions when we're listening, or at least, only assume positive intent. (Why is it so easy to assume the worst, even from those who love us?) To not let our stories about ourselves (e.g., "I can't do anything right...") get in the way of how we hear what the other is saying.

Because when we hear with our filters, we miss the message and the conversation becomes about me, not us, not the person we're engaged with. We're largely conditioned to hear what we want to hear, what we may have expected to hear, if not now, then at some point in our lives. Yes, that's right. We collect evidence for the stories about ourselves we're familiar and comfortable with - even if we don't like them (does "I can't do anything right" translate to "I'm not good enough?" It just might, for some of us; note that these are common interpretations). Maybe we don't recognize those self-sabotaging stories yet. If not, we're more likely to get triggered. Which shuts down any opening for conversation.

So how do we talk with each other, speaking up and honoring ourselves, when we risk triggering someone's stuff? What happens if we shut down and don't say anything?

Staying quiet about what we care about serves no one. Staying quiet is a recipe for disaster. Really, it just prolongs an uncomfortable situation.


So we learn to speak up. 

We speak from a place of love and respect. We pay attention. We check in. We know there might be filters and triggers; we ask questions. And we speak what's true for us, from the inside out. It's not about having the last word, or the first word, but engaging in meaningful conversation.

He and I have worked very hard at this, and it's paid off. (So at some point, he and I are going to talk, but because he's aboard a ship off the coast of Florida, we haven't yet been able to talk about it with any depth. As he is wont to remind me, timing is everything.)

Timing is important, but it's not the be all, end all. Sometimes, there's never a good time. Sometimes, speaking up in the moment is essential for our well-being - and even safety. And sometimes, taking the time to think through the message we want to impart or just being courteous are our best options. But silence rarely is.

Good judgment speaks volumes. Choice of words and tone are also important. Lashing out is not speaking up. Accusing or attacking aren't speaking out.

Speaking up is speaking our truth, sharing our feelings, expressing our opinions, standing up for ourselves, while honoring ourselves and our relationships.


I've had to learn - and unlearn - a lot.

Not being heard goes back to childhood, growing up in an environment where I was frequently dismissed. In my teens, my mouth got me in trouble: Notice me! But by then I had a lot of anger and this didn't help my cause. I didn't speak up; I lashed out. I didn't know how to use my voice; I didn't know it was OK for no to really mean no. I didn't know I had choices. Or that my opinions or what I wanted counted for something. As an adult, I largely shut up and chose not to rock boats, and was occasionally blindsided by the actions of others. Had I the tools I have now, I doubt it could happen.

So what have I learned?

• Communicating in a way that's honoring, respectful and compassionate is vital for healthy relationships - in any environment or circumstance.
• While I can't control anyone's actions or words, I'm no longer a victim of my circumstances. I can choose how I respond to what happens around me and what other people do. 
• Allowing my voice to be silenced was learned behavior that can be unlearned. (Anger is also learned behavior that can be unlearned; while some anger can be healthy and motivating, expressing it appropriately is essential.)
• An argument today beats resentment tomorrow, and arguing doesn't mean the world will end. Nor does disagreement.
• Acceptance and approval need only come from me. Validation from outside sources isn't necessary. I operate from a place of high integrity; if someone doesn't like what I have to say or what I do, I'll welcome a conversation. 
• How someone responds to me is their responsibility. 

A few years ago I made some different choices. I knew I wanted different results in key areas of my life, including work and my relationships. And while I didn't know how to get these results, didn't even know just what I was looking for, I knew it was time for things to change. With some help, deep reflection and actively observing my own behavior, patterns and habits, things changed, and my results were different.

This is a much more powerful place to be. I know that what we internalize has to manifest in some way, and repressed anger, withdrawal, and silence can all lead to illness, crumbling relationships, depression, and so much more. If we keep our true selves, or our true feelings, blocked or invisible, we benefit no one, not even ourselves.

If it's important, speak up. 

It's a new year. What are you ready to speak up for?

Silencing the "haters" in my head...

I read that somewhere recently - not sure where now, but it struck a chord: "the haters" in my head. In coaching, sometimes we call these gremlins - those thoughts or beliefs we have that threaten to derail us. I've also heard "inner critic" and another new one, "inner mean girl." When these things come up, I've learned to wonder whose voice from my past I'm listening to. Because it's probably not my own - or at least, not originally. It's usually something I heard or interpreted, and then made it mine.

But calling them out as haters, it gives the gremlins, critics and mean girls a different spin - the old voices, those old stories or outdated beliefs. I can laugh when I call them haters because it sounds so ridiculous to me. Because it's what they are; they certainly aren't my best pals (while they may have been useful at one time or another) or my cheerleaders.

You know the ones I'm talking about: that niggling voice that says you're not quite good enough, not quite smart enough, not deserving enough, that doubt your ability to do something - or a version thereof. Most of us have at least one of these, or have experienced one at some point in our lives. My current hater tells me "I don't know how" and "it's too hard." Really? Put these two together and it sounds like nonsense. Anytime I'm learning something new, especially if it's outside of what's comfortable, I'm not going to know how and it might be a little hard. But it won't get any easier and I won't learn if I don't try and practice.

So while developing my coaching skills, I've undergone extensive coaching of my own by my peers and mentors. And while I long ago identified my driving haters in therapy - and learned to quiet them with love and compassion, I've been replacing them with more empowering versions - my own voice, my true story, my core beliefs, and mine alone. My goal? Unshakable confidence and to embrace learning in a new way. I don't think I'm afraid of failure, because even failure can be redefined. Learning opportunity, anyone? I think I'm afraid of looking stupid. Of being stupid. That's one of my driving haters. What if I'm stupid? I'm not.

I'm also redefining my relationship to change. Change now shows up in my life with ease and grace. I lived much of my life believing life was hard, but I know my perspective shaped my experience, and I collected plenty of evidence to support it. No longer. I anticipate much change in the coming few years (well, indefinitely, if I'm honest about it), and I welcome it.

I have dipped my toes more fully into my personal power and I'm owning my authentic self. The self that's dynamic and purposeful, super smart, adventurous, courageous, compassionate, playful and creative - and an advocate for my own personal truth. And I'm ready to support others in finding their own truths, who are ready to take that next step, and silence their own version of the haters. (And so much more.)

Every day, I dive a little more fully into the adventure and mystery of the great unknown. And I'm working on unshakable. Want to join me?

Celebrating older women

I heard a story on our local NPR station recently that piqued my curiosity enough to explore further. New York photographer Ari Cohen has made it his mission to photograph style mavens over 60 on the streets of New York. Despite their advancing age (many are in their 80s and 90s), they're still very much embracing and celebrating life and themselves, and living out loud with what they wear.

Check it out here.

As a young girl, I was surrounded by interesting older women. Friends of my grandmother - Mary Swift and Mary McKagen (grandmother of Duff) - were stylish, creative, talented, outspoken, and both very prominent figures in my life at different times. A pale yellow skirt made from fine wool with exquisite detailing by Mrs. Swift was my introduction to couture at a very young age. Ms. McKagen's sense of humor stayed with her 'til her final days and my visits with her are unforgettable.

There was Hazel Schultz, a friend of my father who kept his memory alive for me. She was a hat model in the 1920s. The afternoon we spent in her attic opening hat box after hat box was my version of heaven at that moment. Already a hat collector, she sent me home with a couple dozen ranging from 1940s military style, 1950s pillboxes to 1960s mod and so many more. The stories behind those hats! If only I'd written them down...

My neighbors Mrs. Bean, Dorothy, Old Mrs. Wurm and the spinster Miss G (whose German last name was hard to pronounce) each had their own special style and made their contributions to the world and my life. I'm also lucky enough to have hats from each of them except Miss G, who insisted on wearing scarves to cover her thinning hair (one of those many things we potentially have to look forward to...).

My great aunt Vernis was my own Auntie Mame. Her laughter and zest for life were contagious, and she always maintained a positive outlook. When her second husband died after a long illness, she reconnected with her first husband who was still wildly in love with her. They remarried, and spent much of their final years together boating in the San Juan Islands. She drove a Cadillac, wore bright colors, always had her hair done, and never left the house without makeup. With no children of her own, she indulged me in meaningful ways. It was from her that I developed my love for vintage clothes, hats, gloves and handbags, playing dress-up with her lovely castoffs. She was a rare gift - so different than the others in my family.

These are just a few who have inspired me and who I could aspire to be like as I age.

I love it when stereotypes are smashed and cultural myths about aging defied. This becomes more important to me as I age and contemplate what aging means to me. One day I will be considered 'old' by societal standards. What does that look like? I certainly don't want to feel old. And I don't want my style to be dictated by my age - how I dress, the length of my skirt or how I wear my hair. And I really don't want collective expectations to hinder my ability to live as loudly and fully as possible.

What concepts about aging do you want to break?

By the way, I'm excited to note there's an Advanced Style documentary film in the works to be released sometime this year. I don't know any more details but if I hear of any, I'll post them here.

Manual transmission... (or, a girl and her car, and the power of choice)

I always fancied myself a good driver, and at one point even considered doing driver training at a local race track. While I didn't pursue the training, I've had a thing for driving since I was a kid - I loved my Matchbox cars and my Tonka truck at least as much as I loved Barbie dolls. I'd make roads for these wee little hot rods anywhere I could, and later, I'd ride my two-wheeler up and down the block, into neighboring driveways, imagining my bike was a car. I'd sit behind the wheel of my mom's old Ford and pretend to drive long before I got my learner's permit. I loved the feeling of navigating windy roads - even when the roads were only in my mind.

When it comes to the real thing, my most basic requirement, after a body and four wheels, is a manual transmission. I've been driving a stick shift since I bought my first five-speed about 25 years ago - a car I didn't know how to drive when I bought it and had to have someone drive home for me. But there was no way I was buying an automatic. Why? Good damn question. Something about the road beneath my wheels, the illusion of control.

Another essential was just two doors. No four-door sedan for me, no sir. Another good "why" question. I think having just two doors plays to a self image of myself as a hip, take charge driver of a sporty little convertible without the impracticality. (Even if whatever car I drive in no way resembles a sports car.)

I've pondered getting a new-to-me car for a few years now. But giving up my little 1989 Toyota Corolla is hard. Perhaps ridiculous, but it's been part of my identity my entire time back in Seattle.

However, when I bought it in 1998, I thought I'd keep it a year, no more. It wasn't ideal, but my previous car - a newer Corolla - was totaled by a hit-and-run driver, I didn't have a job, was moving back to the states, and the Canadian dollar was at an all time low. I got paid out by my B.C. insurance company in those dwindling Canadian dollars so I didn't have much to work with.

But now, 14 years later, it's been an awesome little car. My 'green' side regularly tells me that it's more eco-friendly to keep an old car than to get something new after all the monetary and environmental costs of manufacturing a new one. And if I were to buy one, what would I get? Should I buy electric, diesel, or a little econo model?

My physical response to those questions was immediate anxiety followed by paralysis. Sure, the Corolla burns a bit more oil now, but it consistently passes emissions tests, the gas mileage is decent, I can take it almost anywhere, and it's still fun to drive. Financially, I haven't missed having a car payment, insurance is cheap, and car tabs are next to nothing. So I take it in for regular quarterly maintenance, and give thanks every day that it's still going at 260,000+ miles. Until now.

Well, the car is still going, but I have retired my use of it. In the midst of my emotionally trying summer, I bought a brand new car. A 2013. Really? Yes, really. The afterglow is a bit more afterpale, as I'm continually second guessing myself. I hate to admit it, but I have on many occasions bought a piece at Nordstrom, brought it home, thought about it a while, then returned it (tags on, of course. I'm not one of those people!). Example: When searching for a pair of black boots one year, I must have brought home over the course of several months more than a dozen pairs from almost as many shoe stores - finally settling on a pair post-season with the reward for my efforts a 70% discounted price. Can't do that with a car...

The new six-speed, two-door coupe is a Hyundai Elantra - the first Elantra with just two doors. Research tells me there's not much of a market for two-door cars these days - just 22,000 Scion tCs were sold in the US in 2011 (a car I'd considered). But still the Elantra holds its value (despite the initial loss driving off the lot), it gets exceptional gas mileage, and the warranty is second to none.

Despite a fair price, it is a big expense, and it's a new monthly payment at an inconvenient time. The body is bigger than I'm used to, I can't quite get my seat oriented right, and it's not at all sports car like. I'm told it looks a bit cat like. Because it's actually a fraction of an inch longer than a four-door, it's kind of a sedan in disguise.

So I'm conflicted - albeit a waste of energy given that car dealers don't subscribe to the Nordstrom return policy. Here's the mind bending at its best:

• My conservative side wishes I'd looked around more and taken more time with my decision, maybe found something less expensive, and I'm completely befuddled by brand new.
• Various family voices pay a visit and offer their unsolicited opinion about taking on a car loan. But at 1.99% interest, really? If I'd paid cash, there would be no point in getting something different. While spending a lot on a car goes against my grain, this is reasonable. And I currently have the resources and credit rating to do this.
• My professional side says, "Why not? Your colleagues have much newer cars, and most of them are pretty nice. You need to present yourself professionally."
• My social justice side kicks in with some guilt, and I picture the guys standing under the Ballard Bridge with requests for help. In my Toyota, I was inconspicuous and presumably not much better off than they were.
• The environmental side is disgusted by the off-gassing of all the interior fabric and plastics (but happy about the gas mileage).
• Then there's my rebellious, ego-centric side that says, "but wait, didn't you want a Genesis, an Audi, or a sweet little cabriolet?" Not a lot of cache with a Hyundai, but then, the Hyundai was a lot more affordable - both now, and later (when it's time for maintenance or repairs).
• The wanna-be adventurer reminds me the purchase price would cover a lot of plane tickets, or add up to a lot of boat dollars. (But hey - it does hold its value!)
• Then there's the proverbial self doubting side that whispers, "Do you really think you deserve a new car?" Actually, yes. Maybe for the first time, I don't question what I deserve. I recognize that I have many choices and I make pretty sound ones most of the time.

(An aside: a lesson in choice came from the Landmark Forum ages ago. Choose - chocolate or vanilla. Doesn't matter which, just choose. But of course we all felt compelled to rationalize our choice. When no rationale was requested or needed. The only thing that matters is making a choice. A similar lesson came while working at an ad agency - make a decision, any decision, as long as you make one. Not making a choice is also a choice.)

Hyundai was a good choice. I know this. They've done some great work with styling and quality improvements over the last several years. And did I mention the gas mileage and the warranty?

In the month I've had it, I've become surprisingly attached to a couple of features I never knew I needed: heated seats, hands-free calling and a USB port (I can plug in my Zune!). It has A/C (my Toyota's AC stopped working last year), which was handy since we finally hit 90+ degrees - the first time in more than two years (imagine, two summers never passing the 90 degree mark - but I digress...). Cruise control I can take or leave (detracts from the driving experience), and satellite radio is fun for now (free trial) but unnecessary as I'm quite happy with NPR, our local progressive talk radio, and a few local music stations. A few features I've never had that I could probably live without are electric windows and remote locking, although they're convenient.

What I'm really happy about: all the interior and exterior lights work when they're supposed to, there's a special place for my sunglasses and a lighted vanity mirror in the driver's side visor, my seatbelt retracts as it should, and my gas gauge not only works, but I get a reading of my average mileage per tank and how much farther I can go with what's left based on my average use.

So, while I'm still second guessing myself, it wasn't a bad idea and how lucky am I to be able to drive something brand new? It's safe, it's economical, it's pretty to look at, and I can fit real people in it. Despite my kvetching, I can even afford it.

Gratitude. That's where it's at, and that's what I have to focus on. This fall and winter, when the rain comes back en force, I will be very very happy with this decision. So why not have a new car? It's a pretty fortunate place to be.