Practicing What I Preach…
Since high school, I have been a dispenser of advice—a Dear Abby in a plaid kilt and cable knit sweater. I was, my mother said, “an old soul.” I liked when people asked me what they should do about a complicated friendship, a romantic dilemma. Helping made me feel useful and wise. Is it any wonder I became a schoolteacher? This summer, loosed from the familiar contours of schoolife, I find myself thinking about how our identities shift over the course of our lives. I crave the wisdom of those who have, like me, made big life transitions. But, in the middle of the night, when it is too late to reach out to a friend or mentor, I remind myself that I know a lot about how to navigate this new chapter. I simply need to listen to myself.
Sometimes, when a student sat on the green couch my office, crying, twisting a tissue in her hand, distressed about a personal situation, I would ask her what she would tell a friend in the same situation. Almost always, she’d offer a terrific piece of counsel.
“What if you tried that for yourself?” I’d smile, and she would leave my office lighter. It didn’t always work, but often it’s a great way to get unstuck, to move from hopelessness to action.
These days, I’m in list mode. Lists offer the illusion of control in the midst of the sea of unpacked boxes that continue to refuse ro unpack themselves. Lists feel purposeful and actionable. I make lists on my phone, in my journal, on little scraps of paper on the kitchen table or by my bedside. I love checking items off those lists—sometimes, I write a task down even after I’ve done it, just for the satisfaction of checking it off!
Today’s list is a compilation of bits of wisdom I’ve been sharing with friends or colleagues or students or parents or women I mentor over many decades!. Perhaps sharing this list will inspire me to do a better job of “practicing what I preach.” Maybe by day’s end, I can check off all I’ve done: Chair yoga—check; write in my journal—check; walkthe dogs—check; be gentle with myself—check. Perhaps you, too, could use a list of reminders that center your wellbeing. Here we go:
You are enough.
You do not need to take up less space— in terms of your appearance or demeanor.
You need to belong to—or create or shape—communities that value you for who you are. It is far too fatiguing to sustain being inauthentic!
People who try to one-up you are insecure. Smile, move on, and don’t accept dinner invitations from them. Stop texting with them. Walk away. Boundaries are healthy.
You are not a tumbleweed—you have agency.
Be curious—what have you not considered? Is there another point of view you may have missed? Might you have a blind spot you’re not even aware of.
Avoidance fuels anxiety—thank you, Laurel School’s Center for Research on Girls.
My mother taught me that a real lady speaks to everyone in the same tone of voice—this one has never failed me. Everyone deserves our courtesy and respect.
Rise above—another one of my mother’s truisms—is just the right approach for many slights or indignities, but don’t rise so far that you forget to have your feelings.
In general, displays of temper do not make you feel better, but can make you feel ashamed of yourself.
But righteous rage—a term I learned from my daughter recently—does have its place.
Our feelings cannot hurt us or others unless we act on them in destructive ways.
Feelings pass—they move through us like water if we are brave enough to name and express them. If we cannot speak them, try writing them; sometimes, that feels safer.
Doing, making, being of use—these are all antidotes to feeling stuck or feeling anxious—see the Marge Piercy poem, To Be of Use
Doing something for someone else helps us feel less self-absorbed..
A gratitude journal helps me remember how lucky I am to have my health, my family, my friends.
Long ago, a mentor advised me to count to 10 in Japanese when I was about to lose it. When I told her that I don’t speak Japanese, she said, “Well, now, that’s the point, isn’t it?”
Hydrate.
Keep stretching—literally and metaphorically. Chair yoga, which I disdained as being for old people, is now one of my daily practices, but I am trying not to beat myself up when I don’t get to it some days.
Do not confuse busy with productive—this one is hard for me.
Worry doesn’t actually change outcomes. Worry is a bad habit of mine—and a fruitless one. I am trying to be deliberate about naming what I worry about in order to stop worrying! Worrying simply exhausts us.
Wonder, however, is one way to vanquish worry. Take a walk. Go for a swim. Watch a bee. Be present and be aware of the majesty and mystery of the natural world.
On Commencement morning, each year that I was a headmistress, I shared with the graduating class the words of Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata—remember, I am a child of the 70’s. In college, I learned it by heart, copied it into every new journal.In fact, I think I’m going to do that again a few days from now when I start a new notebook. I told the girls that I still return to the comfort the familiar words offer. “Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness” Though it used to make me mad when my mother told me that things often look better in the morning, the fact is that she was right. Often, after a little sleep, things feel less hopeless. And Ehrmann reminds us, too, “Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.” I love that.
It’s all so clear, these bulleted bits of sage counself typed in neat rows. Now, the trick is to live them, to follow them.
Inhale. Exhale. Begin. And then, begin again. Each day gives us the chance for start over. That, all by itself, is a remarkable privilege.
If you find yourself making a list today, add something that makes you feel useful, glad, cared for. You and I are both worth it.!
