by : lacylit10 Leadership, Life Lessons

The (Wo)Man in the Arena.

In the opening of one of Brene Brown’s books, Daring Greatly, she references a quote by Theodore Roosevelt. I recently came across this quote again. It’s full of powerful words that I feel should really be taken to heart.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

It sure does paint a picture, doesn’t it? I just imagine some guy in the middle of an arena, fighting for his life, with an audience looking down on him, full of critics, skeptics, and supporters alike. People criticizing moves he should have made when he is tired, weak, bloody, bruised, and broken. People laughing at his inability to fight stronger and longer, and the hurtful things they would likely say. “He can’t even fight. He’s good for nothing. He deserves this.” And the supporters, tears streaming down their faces, cringing with every blow, comforting one another as they watch the defeat of a loved one occur slowly and mercilessly in front of them.

Long ago, these moments were relatively only observed by the people in the arena, and while the stories may spread throughout the land, it is often only the survivors that get remembered as heroes and regarded as great fighters of their time. As if one person’s life means more than another, because his abilities were different. Yet both had the courage to walk into the arena knowing full-well where their individual strengths lie. The man who loses is deemed a fool, yet he walked into the arena knowing his fate and did. it. anyway.

I can’t help but wonder, what does the arena look like today? And is the person in the arena a willing or unwilling participant?

The arena is obviously a metaphor for life and the observers are all the people we may encounter in it. While we may be able to control what we do in the arena under watchful eyes, we cannot control the stories the audience takes home and tells to others. This is just as true today as it would have been back in, say, the Roman Empire. 

I would just hope, for myself and for others, that we don’t just get remembered for how good or bad we fight, but that we are respected whether we win or lose because we had the courage to step into the arena in the first place.

Our lives cannot and should not be narrowed down to a single fight, because it’s all the events that led up to that point that build the character of the person who chooses whether or not to enter the arena, and fight the fight, knowing his or her odds. It’s not always the outcome that matters most, but the effort you put into it.

by : lacylit10 Life Lessons

Any Good.

Circumstances have arisen over the past several months that have caused me to re-evaluate certain relationships.  As a result, I’ve created new boundaries with people who I didn’t feel recognized my full worth.  These decisions did not come lightly, and I’m still having a hard time coping with the changes.

In only one of these circumstances was there a pretty clear cut of ties.  The others have been pretty much just my decision with no discussion about the state of the relationship.  In talking these changes out with a friend, she asked, “Why don’t you talk to them about it?”  And I responded, “It won’t do me any good.”  Then she asked, “Why do you think it won’t do you any good?”  I didn’t have an answer for her at the time, because it was something I just knew.  But I want to understand why this was something I just knew.

In Brené Brown’s podcast with Dr. Harriet Lerner, they talk about apologizing: how to apologize and why it matters.  Dr. Lerner said a few things that struck me:  

  • When you are apologizing, “focus on how you feel, not the other person’s crime sheet.” 
  • Do not ask for or demand an apology.  
  • If you need a response, then you are not ready for the conversation. (Basically, if you’re depending on the conversation to provide explanation, you’re on dangerous ground. I would argue, setting yourself up for disappointment.)

These statements kind of exactly sum up why I feel it won’t do me any good to talk things out with the people I’ve shifted my relationships.  

  1. I do not want an apology.  To me, it is clear that they are oblivious of how or how deeply they hurt me, and that is evident in their subsequent actions and behavior.  The apology (if I got one) wouldn’t be genuine.
  2. Since they are oblivious to how they’ve been treating me, pointing it out would just be calling out their crime.  In turn, they would get defensive and start slinging insults toward me.  They would feel accused rather than taking responsibility for their actions/behavior. As was said in the podcast, they would answer “blame with blame and shame with shame.”
  3. I’ve known some of these people a long time.  I know their attitudes.  I instinctively know what their responses would be if I brought the topic up in conversation based on past experiences.  (And I would be setting myself up for disappointment.)
  4. They’ve moved on, which shows me how little care they had invested in the first place. (In the situation and/or the relationship.)

With the people who I instinctively know how they’d respond, I’m actually having an easier time coming to terms with the new state of those relationships, over the one where ties were cut.  It goes to show me that if I instinctively knew that talking something difficult out with them wasn’t going to do anyone any good, then this behavior has been going on long enough for me to. be. intuitive. about it – which only gives me more confidence in my decision to shift the status of the relationships.

One might argue that I am also avoiding having tough conversations with people I supposedly care about. And that’s partly true. But I know my audience. When we know a road leads to a dead end, we don’t drive down it just to double check. In the relationship where ties were cut, I turned back when I saw the sign (literally and figuratively).

While each relationship shift has come with a sense of loss, there’s also a sense of empowerment behind the shift.

I’m garnering my strength and taking charge of how I want to be treated. It will be interesting to see how this plays out. Will they even notice I’ve become more distant? If so, will they care enough to question why? If not, at least, I will know where I stand. And that will likely be a hard truth to face.

With each of these relationships, I’m trying to accept ambiguity in closure. Relationships are matters of the heart. Although many of these relationships are still in tact, it’s the loss of the previous state of the relationship that I am grieving.

Defining these boundaries is a step toward living an impeccable life. I’m stepping outside of my comfort zone and braving the wilderness on my own. And it’s pretty F’ing scary. We. need. our. tribes.

But every hunter/gatherer leaves the tribe to find food and fiber. Right now, I am simply on the hunt for more fulfilling relationships. I’m hypersensitive to my surroundings (how I am being treated). And that’s okay. This is where we learn, we grow, and we test our skills. The better hunter I am, the better game I will capture. (Understanding how I want to be treated and establishing those boundaries upfront in a new relationship will bring a better quality of relationship.)

So, while I might think that it won’t do me any good to discuss the state of these relationships with others who are involved, that’s true in the sense of those particular relationships. But good will come in new relationships that get built, whether that’s on an existing foundation or an entirely new one.

by : lacylit10 Leadership, Life Lessons

Disappointment.

The underlying theme for disappointment is unmet expectations.  How true is that when you really think about it?  When I’m disappointed in myself, I am usually left questioning, “What did I do wrong?  How could I have done better?”  When I’m disappointed in someone else, I’m usually left wondering, “If he would only…” 🙄

It’s harder for me to be disappointed in other people than it is to be disappointed in myself.  At least when I haven’t met my own expectations, I can reflect to see if I laid my head and my heart on the line (logic and emotion).  If I didn’t, I know to do better and can take steps toward improvement.  

Other people, well…it seems a lot of other people are comfortable with complacency.

Did you ever learn about rhetoric appeals?

Rhetoric appeals are tools described by Aristotle used to persuade.  If you’re trying to convince someone of something, do you tug at their heart strings (emotions aka “pathos”) or do you need to present facts and data (logic aka “logos”)? And how do you establish your credibility (aka “ethos”) to make this person believe you?

Personally, I don’t think successful persuasive arguments focus on one or the other, I think it’s a combination of all three.  The argument should be fluid, laying in more heavily to one or the other depending on the reactions you receive.

I also believe that ethos, pathos, and logos can be applied to nearly anything in life, not just persuasive arguments. To help explain what I mean, I created a structure of appeals*:

Our ethics are our guiding principles. Like a company’s mission statement, these things rarely change. Even the most analytical person has a heart, and even the most emotional person appreciates facts. Utilizing all three drives results.

  • Ethos is my goal – It’s an expectation I’ve set for myself driven by personal beliefs.
  • Pathos is my intuition – It’s my passion, my energy, and my attitude.
  • Logos is my work – It’s the actions that go into reaching my goal.

If I don’t put my head and my heart into reaching my goal, I have a greater chance of being disappointed. When I lay both on the line, I know that I’ve done all that I can do.

I think most people focus on logic or emotion. (Or they’re complacent and don’t really give a shit about any of it. 🤷🏻‍♀️) We default to our strengths; that’s human nature. But if I want to be successful in any area of life, I’m gonna try my best not to half-ass it by focusing on one or the other.

I have a friend who is very driven by his morals and logic-focused. He says he wants to be the best he can be. But he neglects the importance of emotional intelligence and self-awareness. He dismisses emotions as touchy/feely nonsense; he equates emotions to weakness.

But if you remember Brené Brown’s earliest definition of courage…

To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.

We would never dismiss facts, so why do we so easily dismiss emotions as important? Emotions are non-verbal cues (facts) from our heart! If my friend truly wants to be the best he can be, he needs to change the narrative. Based on this definition, being vulnerable with our emotions is lit.er.a.lly. the. most. courageous thing we can do!

When you have to do something you don’t want to do, it sucks, right? You don’t give it your best effort. It becomes something you tolerate. You’re guided by ethos, using logos, and results are likely mediocre.

But when you do something you want to do, it’s a completely different ballgame. You give it your best effort. You’re enthusiastic about it. You’re guided by ethos, using logos and pathos, and results are likely stellar.

I hate being disappointed by others, so the last thing I want to do is disappointment someone else. This is why I like expectations to be laid out upfront: to minimize confusion or miscommunication. I can control how much head and heart I put into whatever I do, but I can’t control how much head and heart someone else puts into whatever they do. Laying out clear expectations at least sets that person up for success. What they choose to do with it then becomes up to them.

*I can’t take full credit for this, because I feel like it’s an adaptation of things that I’ve learned. But having learned those things over time, I can’t pinpoint the specific influence.

by : lacylit10 Life Lessons

Compassion.

Remember when I said 2020 would be epic?  I wasn’t really wrong, was I? 🤦🏻‍♀️ But this definitely wasn’t what I had in mind either.  It’s been such an interesting year so far, and we’re only half way through.

Whether I like it or not, I’m finally starting to settle into this “new normal”.  (A term I am also actually coming to hate.)  It’s been an adjustment, that is for. sure.  And really, I don’t have it nearly as bad as a lot of people.  But that’s not to discount the challenges I have faced during this transition; I’ve definitely been fighting some battles.  Still, I can’t help but feel a bit selfish for indulging in my own sorrows.  Brené Brown calls this “comparative suffering.”  

Comparative suffering is when you minimize someone else’s challenges in comparison to your own – or vice versa.  

I think it’s really important to remind ourselves that we are in. the. midst. of a global pandemic!  We all have a right to feel what we feel, as the experience and ripple effects have affected us all so differently.

Epic is defined as “extending beyond the usual or ordinary in size or scope.” I think this qualifies! 😂 There is so. much. happening beyond the usual and out of the ordinary, not just globally and collectively but individually and personally too.

I think the cure for comparative suffering is empathy and compassion.  We may not fully understand the struggles someone else is facing, but we can definitely tap into the struggles we are facing to relate.  And it’s not just about being compassionate with others, it’s also showing compassion to yourself.  

Brené Brown has a great little video on the difference between sympathy and empathy. But it also includes compassion, although it’s not specifically addressed. Here’s how I would describe the differences:

  • Sympathy – “I see you.”
  • Empathy – “I understand you.”
  • Compassion – “I will help you.”

The deer is demonstrating sympathy. The bear demonstrates empathy by looking into himself and reflecting on something that gives him the same feeling. Going into the hole, sitting with the fox, lending an ear, and giving a hug, that is compassion.

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by : lacylit10 Life Lessons

Melancholy.

Melancholy is defined as a “depression of spirits” or a “pensive mood.”  I want to focus on the former definition, because I feel like that’s exactly what we’re experiencing as humans right now.  At least, I am.

In Brené Brown’s new podcast, she talks with David Kessler on grief and finding meaning.  Kessler says that grief comes after loss.  That loss can be anything of significance to the individual.  He points out that during this pandemic, we could list a 100 different things that we have lost: our social lives, our ability to converge in public, physical touch (as simple as a handshake), and the big one: the world as we knew it.

The world as we knew it no longer exists.  That. Is. HUGE. 🤯  And he is right.  It no longer exists and will not exist as we knew it for the foreseeable future, if ever.  You guys. 😳 That is some heavy stuff to take in.

If we breakdown the definition of melancholy:

  • Depression = sadness
  • Spirit = temper, disposition, or essence

This makes so. much. sense. to me.  I’ll explain why in a minute.

But first, on COVID:

Some of us haven’t bought into the hype. Some of us think this is media manipulation and a ploy to take down Trump’s economy.  On the other hand, some of us truly believe in the dangers and efforts to prevent.  Some of us are genuinely concerned about the risk.  And there are some of us that fall somewhere in the middle. 

No matter where you stand on the COVID belief scale, all of us are making an effort to do what we feel in our hearts is right.  Whether that is going to the grocery store without a mask or putting on a hazmat suit to visit the doctor’s office, each of us is navigating through this in our own way.

Outwardly, we are putting on brave faces.  We are being strong for those around us.  We are trying to lift each other up.  No matter our beliefs on COVID, we are trying to protect each other as a community, as we individually see fit.  But inwardly, we are mourning the loss of the world as we knew it. 

The positivity that is emitting from this pandemic has surprised me.  While I think it’s amazing the way people are coming together to spread joy and appreciation, part of me is concerned that we are masking our grief and not coping with our losses.  But I’m not judging that either.  I think so many of us are merely just trying to get through this thing with some sanity.

In the meantime, we are living in purgatory.  We are trying to lift others up, because we are feeling down.  We are trying to bring happiness to others, because our spirits are sad. 

We can only put on a brave face for so long, so give yourself permission to feel what you feel.  The sooner we own it and feel it, the quicker we can work through it.  We get through purgatory by cleansing our souls of the impurities.  Indulge in self-care, friends.  Lord knows we need it, and we’ve earned it. 💖

by : lacylit10 Life Lessons

Adversity.

The definition of adversity is “a state or instance of serious or continued difficulty or misfortune.”  State or instance – which means that it can be constant or a one-time difficulty or misfortune.  Nothing in the definition refers to the intensity or severity of this difficulty or misfortune, yet it seems to me that many people tend to associate adversity with tragedy or sacrifice.  Even I do this!  (Yes, it says “serious”, but that is subjective and irrelevant for where I’m going with this. 😒)

In the Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, Manson says, “For many of us, our proudest achievements come in the face of the greatest adversity.  Our pain often makes us stronger, more resilient, more grounded.”

Is it weird that I love that last line?

Most people shy away from the hard stuff.  They avoid it.  Me?  I lean into it.  I want to feel it all in raw form, fully and completely.  And I’m not going to lie, it can be extremely rough.  But I believe that you can’t have the good without the bad.  Giving into the negative helps me recognize the positive and allows me to fully embrace the happy too.  (And if you remember from this post and this post, giving into the emotion also helps you work through it quicker.) 

I recently realized that I am an independent problem-solver.  I will seek advice and hear opinions, but when it comes down to it, I internalize working through my problems completely alone.  Whether this is healthy or not is an entirely different story, but I’ve literally been doing this since the day I was born.  (Which is a whole other story.) 

The amount of personal growth that comes with leaning into pain or adversity, then independently problem-solving, 100% makes me stronger, more resilient, and more grounded.  I am proud of who I am because of this … but it’s also made me a bit cold and closed off.  Something to be less proud of.

Brené Brown defines courage in it’s earliest form as “To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.”  (Can we just acknowledge how beautiful that definition is for a sec?)  She says:

Over time, this definition has changed, and today, we typically associate courage with heroic and brave deeds…this definition fails to recognize the inner strength and level of commitment required for us to actually speak honestly and openly about who we are and about our experiences – good and bad.

I have a lifetime of strength and experience built up in my heart.  To be truly courageous in speaking my mind by telling what’s in my heart …. I can’t even put into words how terrifying that is.  For me, that is complete. naked. exposure.

When I’m facing adversity, I can be very emotional and very logical. Sometimes my head and my heart can tell me two entirely different things.  And typically, logic wins. 

Logic works with facts and reason.  I don’t have to be vulnerable with what’s in my heart.  I let my emotional needs take a backseat.  But in doing so, I set myself up for the possibility of not achieving my desired outcome, because I wasn’t courageous enough to admit what I truly wanted.  And can I really be angry or upset when I don’t achieve my desired outcome when I didn’t lay it all out on the line in the first place?  No, I can’t.  I’m left with feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty, because I didn’t give it my all.  But if I lay out logic and emotion and still don’t get the desired result, then I can accept that as the way it was supposed to go.  I can move on knowing that I did give it my all.

But it’s all easier said than done, am I right?  I mean…shit.  Literally, the thought of having to lay out some of the sensitive things that are in my heart makes me want to 🤢.  For me personally (and probably most people), vulnerability = courage and adversity – at the same time! 🤯 

When we recognize courageous acts of vulnerability in ourselves, it promotes empathy and compassion toward adversity in others.  And if you remember, when we share things with others, it intensifies our experiences.  And that is what creates connection. 💖

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