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What are you worth?

A wise man once said that something is only worth what a person is willing to pay for it. The dictionary says that worth is something of significant value to justify investment of time or interest. When referring to objects, I suppose this is true. A 1966 Ford Mustang 289 V8 with a 4 barrel carburetor holds a certain value based upon what buyers have been willing to pay for it in the past. According to a recent web search, that price is somewhere around $10,000 to $14,000. This is an interesting fact given the Mustang could be purchased new for approximately $2500 from 1964 to 1968.

When applying worth to people, the concept becomes a bit more complex. My dad used to say that he was worth more dead than alive. I didn’t know what that meant until I became an adult. He died when I was 27, and I can tell you that he was wrong. He was worth a whole lot more to me when he was alive. But what is any life worth?

My feelings of worthiness and unworthiness have fluctuated as my life has progressed. When I was a child, my sense of worth depended upon my outside world and the way others treated me. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Griffin, loved me and thought I was a brilliant and entertaining child. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Houck hated my guts. I couldn’t do anything right and spent an inordinate amount of time in the cloakroom or out in the hall. I didn’t feel very worthy in third grade to tell you the truth. By fourth grade, I had transformed into a wonderful student who was a leader in her class in academics and citizenship. I led by example and Mrs. Galvin adored me and truly valued me. She followed the dictionary definition of worth to the letter. I was definitely a child of significant value to justify the investment of her time and interest. That was the year that I developed my theory that odd numbered grades would be bad and even numbered grades would be great years.

Feelings of worthiness are what dictate the way I experience life, what joy, love, success, fun and pleasure I will allow myself to receive.

When my feelings of worthiness are attached to what I do, from my achievements, bank account, address or body, I become a human doing instead of a human being. I don’t value myself for who I am, but for what I can accomplish. What happens if I get older and can’t accomplish the things I once could? What if I am in a terrible accident and can no longer be a productive member of society in the traditional sense? Do I become less valuable? We say no, but we mean yes. I would become a to-be-pitied drain on social resources if I had no other support system. I would feel badly about that and I would feel worthless.

While every moment will be different, the moments that I spend cultivating my inherent worthiness is time well spent. I do this by trying to expose the behaviors I engage in that undermine my feelings of worthiness and then make a conscious effort to make a better choice that will leave me feeling worthy.

I’m worth that!

I was recently in attendance at a women business owners forum that included 15 business women from Rwanda who have been in Oklahoma City for four weeks as part of the Oklahoma City based  Institute for Economic Empowerment of Women’s Peace Through Business program. The forum was hosted by EWF International, which is also an Oklahoma City based company that provides professionally facilitated peer advisory groups for women business owners and executives.

These Rwandan women are simply incredible. They are bright and articulate, well educated and willing to do what ever it takes to succeed in business, with one caveat. Each woman expressed how her business model included more than profitability, it must also serve the greater good, the Rwandan people who live in scattered villages and live in extreme poverty. They actually do want to create peace and prosperity for all through business. 

I was asked to present a business issue to the group. The process is the genius behind EWF International, but it can be challenging. Basically, an issue is presented to the group, then the group is allowed to ask clarifying questions that I may answer. The last round is feedback from every forum member. This is the part where I don’t get to talk. No explanation, no “yeah, but,” no excuses. This is my opportunity to just be still, take it all in and actually hear what is being said. 

I mention all of this because somewhere in the clarifying question stage, I felt an old familiar companion creep in. His name is Self Doubt. He had lots to say to me as I tried to answer questions like, “what makes you qualified as a coach?” “What makes you different from other coaches?” “Why would I want to work with you?” I could feel the panic rising. My old companion, Self Doubt, whispered, “see, they know you…they see through you…who do you think YOU are, anyway?” I felt totally exposed and vunerable. In walked another old buddy, You’re Not Good Enough. He sat down beside me.

Later a friend told me that she saw me turn to moosh. She said that because I have always been known for directness with myself and others. My dad used to tell me that I called a spade a spade and sometimes I called it a damned old shovel. The truth is I allowed Self Doubt to creep in and take over. It happens to all of us from time to time and that’s just one of the many reasons I chose coaching as a profession.

Feeling vulnerable, belly up, is a horrible feeling of powerlessness. That is a false conclusion, of course, because each of us has a companion like Self Doubt who lingers just below the surface, but we don’t have to buy what he’s selling. We don’t have to give in and indulge him and let him bring in his buddies, Fear, Shame, Worthlessness. We have a choice. We have a great counter-measure and that’s Awareness.

From a place of awareness, I was able to hear the words without letting them completely engulf my mind. In Awareness I can see that as a human I will always have moments in which I feel inadequate. They are a natural function of the wounded ego, the false self. I can embrace them and say, “I know you are afraid, but I love you anyway. We can do it anyway.” Fear and action are not mutually exclusive. We can be afraid and do it anyway.

My willingness to be vulnerable and to experience it with awareness was actually a gift. I remembered that I can be belly up and I won’t die. I can always stand up.

How many times have you found balance in your life, only to end up in the same unwanted yet familiar territory of unwanted behaviors? You realize it’s not different this time. You’re stuck again.

You are not alone.

It’s part of our humanity to sabotage our best efforts. Understanding and acceptance of this truth is key to your personal growth in every area of your life. When you can embrace the truth, really embrace the truth in the old saying, “no one is perfect,” you allow yourself the freedom and the space to get back on track.

The Process

You say you are going to make it to the gym, or run, or whatever three days a week. You get yourself out the door and make good on your commitment to get healthy. Afterwards, you feel great! You ask yourself, “Why didn’t I do this before?” You go back and you feel great again and again and again! You keep going back. You feel really good about yourself.

Then, one morning, for no explicable reason, you turn off the alarm and roll back over to snooze just a few more minutes. The snooze alarm sounds and you either hit it again or turn it off all together. You tell yourself, it’s just one day, and sometimes it actually is, but more often this is the beginning of the end of your new found motivation.

As the days go by, the voice inside your head starts to tell you that you’re a loser, lazy, worthless…you know what it sounds like. Once you start beating yourself up, there’s little hope of a recovery in the near future.

The Way Out

At this point, you actually do have an important choice to make and it’s not whether or not you should drag yourself back to the gym. This the moment you can make the choice to lay down your resistance to the obvious…you are human!

The way out of this vicious circle is to try a little tenderness. Yes, I’m suggesting that you offer yourself a little compassion. Consider what you’d say to your best friend under the same circumstances. Would you say, “I knew you wouldn’t stay with it because you are such a loser, liar and you never keep your commitments?” Or would you say, “It’s no big deal, you can get back to it. I believe in you. You inspire me?”

Face it. You’re human and humans are flawed. Get over it.

The Possibilities

In a word, the possibilities of giving up being ashamed of your humanity are endless. Once you can embrace the truth that you are human, you have created a fertile place for endless possibilities to grow. Acceptance is the key to happiness. Acceptance is the soil in which we plant our dreams and our goals. In a field of acceptance, possibilities for a new outcome begin to germinate and grow. What would be possible if you were willing to give up making yourself WRONG when your behavior falls short of your ideals? The answer is anything. What would be possible if you could treat yourself as you would a loved one or your best friend?

The Practice

In the course of the day, starting today, notice how many times you make yourself or others wrong. You don’t have to do anything beyond that. Just practice a little awareness and when you catch yourself, just notice it. Truly, that’s enough to begin to change the pattern that not only gets you off track and stuck, but keeps you there.

A little awareness goes a very long way. It offers you some leverage to move forward in every area of your life. It shuts down the endless mind chatter and creates a space for a new you.

A wise man once said that something is only worth what a person is willing to pay for it. The dictionary says that worth is something of significant value to justify investment of time or interest. When referring to objects, I suppose this is true. A 1966 Ford Mustang 289 V8 with a 4 barrel carburetor holds a certain value based upon what buyers have been willing to pay for it in the past. According to a recent web search, that price is somewhere around $10,000 to $14,000. This is an interesting fact given the Mustang could be purchased new for approximately $2500 from 1964 to 1968.

When applying worth to people, the concept becomes a bit more complex. My dad used to say that he was worth more dead than alive. I didn’t know what that meant until I became an adult. He died when I was 27, and I can tell you that he was wrong. He was worth a whole lot more to me when he was alive. But what is any life worth?

My feelings of worthiness and unworthiness have fluctuated as my life has progressed. When I was a child, my sense of worth depended upon my outside world and the way others treated me. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Griffin, loved me and thought I was a brilliant and entertaining child. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Houck hated my guts. I couldn’t do anything right and spent an inordinate amount of time in the cloakroom or out in the hall. I didn’t feel very worthy in third grade to tell you the truth. By fourth grade, I had transformed into a wonderful student who was a leader in her class in academics and citizenship. I led by example and Mrs. Galvin adored me and truly valued me. She followed the dictionary definition of worth to the letter. I was definitely a child of significant value to justify the investment of her time and interest. That was the year that I developed my theory that odd numbered grades would be bad and even numbered grades would be great years.

Feelings of worthiness are what dictate the way I experience life, what joy, love, success, fun and pleasure I will allow myself to receive.

When my feelings of worthiness are attached to what I do, from my achievements, bank account, address or body, I become a human doing instead of a human being. I don’t value myself for who I am, but for what I can accomplish. What happens if I get older and can’t accomplish the things I once could? What if I am in a terrible accident and can no longer be a productive member of society in the traditional sense? Do I become less valuable? We say no, but we mean yes. I would become a to-be-pitied drain on social resources if I had no other support system. I would feel badly about that and I would feel worthless.

While every moment will be different, the moments that I spend cultivating my inherent worthiness is time well spent. I do this by trying to expose the behaviors I engage in that undermine my feelings of worthiness and then make a conscious effort to make a better choice that will leave me feeling worthy.

I’m worth that!

Ever noticed the meaning you assign to people, their actions, their words, even the way they “look” at you? As humans, we believe that we just ‘know’ what a simple expression another person makes means. We are certain that our interpretation of the world is not only correct, it is the only one!

I offer up this question: how do we know?

The meaning we assign to all aspects of our lives is not random. In fact, it is not even a choice until we begin to consider what it means to be responsible for the experience we know as human life span. This meaning-making is a phenomenon first described by the brilliant Swiss psychiatrist and founder of the school of analytical psychology, Carl Jung. It is the phenomenon of projection. We assign meaning not based on what another person says, but upon what we choose to hear through a filter that has been in place from the moment we began to develop a personality. Jung referred to it as ego, the illusory self, who we believe ourselves to be.

“We don’t see others as they are, we see others as we are, ” (paraphrased Anais Nin.) We cause ourselves and others a great deal of pain because we are constantly making meaning, extrapalting tiny threads of a conversation and weaving them into great meaning that supports who we think we are. It’s a woulded ego thing that is fueled by our shadow selves (see Jung).

An example of this would be if we worked very hard on a project and instead of receiving the feedback we desire, as in “what a great job you did!” we are told that the project is lacking, flawed or less that perfect somehow. From a shadow-self, wounded ego perspective, what we would hear is we are lacking, flawed, imperfect. The wounded ego cannot separate itself from the world. To the wounded ego, everything is about it.

The thing to pay attention to is when this happens to us. In the above example, the idea, not the person was lacking, but the ego could not make that leap. You can see how this creates untold suffering. The rememdy to this is to practice self-awareness and observation. 

Take the time to observe what reactions you have when you or your work is criticized. Notice how  you identify with what’s wrong rather than what’s right. Notice how you willingly take create and take on negative meaning. 

The old warning that instructs, don’t take things so personally, is born from this same concept. Much to the ego’s dismay, everything is not about us. 

So, I began today like any other. I had a 7:30 a.m. coaching call. I coached my client ( and dear friend) about how transient life is. I discuss the fact that the height of arrogance is to believe that we know…that we know anything at all about the future.

I complete the call.

The phone rings. It is my husband. He tells me that he is with one of our daughters. Her 10 year old yellow lab has been shot and killed by a neighbor. Her other two dogs are injured, one seriously.

The contents of this incident are insignificant, although brutal. The process is the thing. What do I do with this information? What are my choices and what does this mean? And, most importantly, how can I support my daughter?

Emotionally, I am flattened. This brings up all of my unprocessed grief. My dad…whose name the dang dog shared, my deceased husband and only God knows what else. I have nothing else to offer today beyond the reality I began today with: we do not know what the next moment holds. Our lives can change in a moment.

Today, my unprocessed pain is projected onto a dog who was a part of our family. And while I comprehend that the loss of a dog at the hand of another who is armed with a shotgun is not considered murder, I must assert that the loss is cathartic for me and my daughter.

What I know for sure? This, too, shall pass.

Eventually.

God speed.

When I was in high school in the 1970s, A spoken-word recording of an essay, penned in 1927 by Max Ehrmann, was made by Les Crane and reached #8 on the Billboard magazine charts in late 1971. The Desiderata was essentially a manifesto for living a meaningful life and it spoke to me as I came of age.

Here are some basic facts about what was going on in the United States during the 1920s, the era when this essay was born from the heart and mind of Ehrman, compliments of the Kingwood College Library:

106,521,537 people in the United States
2,132,000 unemployed, Unemployment 5.2%
Life expectancy: Male 53.6, Female 54.6
343.000 in military (down from 1,172,601 in 1919)
Average annual earnings $1236; Teacher’s salary $970
Dow Jones High 100 Low 67
Illiteracy rate reached a new low of 6% of the population.
Gangland crime included murder, swindles, racketeering
It took 13 days to reach California from New York There were 387,000 miles of paved road.

Some basic facts about the decade of the 1970s are offered from the same source:
Population: 204,879,000
Unemployed in 1970: 4,088,000
National Debt: $382 billion
Average salary: $7,564
Food prices: milk, 33 cents a qt.; bread, 24 cents a loaf; round steak, $1.30 a pound
Life Expectancy: Male, 67.1; Female, 74.8

The point I’d like to make is that regardless of where we are in life, when we are born or what is going on around us, deep within us, our soul’s desires change little. Outside of the ego structure that we have developed through out our lives, I assert that our authentic and essential selves remain pure and untouched.

I offer this beautifully wise and inspired essay as it is found in it’s copyrighted format:

DESIDERATA
Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others; even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in oyur own career however humble; it is a real posession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism

Be yourself. Espacially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy

MAX EHRMANN 1927

As I write, I witness my mind in rewind x8. Just today I went to see my mother in my old hometown. I didn’t really “see” her, I brought her most recent batch of laundry and a few new spring outfits I thought she might enjoy. I didn’t have time to visit.  It was strange to travel those old roads of my childhood while practicing “presence.”
As I drove down the old “drag” I couldn’t help but consider the strained and oppressed life I had lived as a child and teenager. I passed an old friend’s house and recalled the lie I told my parents so that I could attend a sleep over. Normal. Normal. That’s what attracted me most. It just seemed so peaceful and uncomplicated at my friend’s house.  But, what do I know? I have no clue as to what went on when I wasn’t there. Yet, I still believe that it was more normal than my home. Evidence? They had company over! That is something I dared not ever do. My family life was too unpredictable. Anything could happen at any moment.
Today, I can say that this is most probably true of any family. I offer the movie, Friendly Persuasion, as evidence. I won’t digress into a synopsis of this movie now, but suffice it to say that we are all damaged. We all evolve and grow within the limitations of our unique family history.
I have lived in the shadow of my story, my fears, my illusion of who I am and from whom I came, and it is with great respect and honor that I can finally say that I am at peace with my life. I am at peace with my family, my self righteous positions and I have arrived at a place of sincere compassion for the heavy burden my sister carried.

The end of this part of my  story is that I learned extremely early on to seek and identify the One who would help me survive. That was my sister. She never asked for the job, but what choice could she have had? She was set up by life, serendipitously it seems, to be both my savior and my demon. With her approval, I survived to be the woman I am today. Without it, she became the target of all my childish blame, excuses and judgments that kept me small and minimized all the ways our souls needed to collide for the benefit of countless people.
I cannot say, at this moment, how relieved I feel to finally and forever be free of my emotional and innocent need to have my sister’s approval. Maybe in the near future we can actually be authentic with each other and  be sisters, not just by blood, but by choice.
What I have written here and chosen to share is a raw and unedited version of my growing awareness of the fragile line I…we all…walk between what is possible in Awareness and the heavy cost of steady sleep.
My self-righteous position that my sister is/was a sanctimonious, self-righteous bitch has become the perfect mirror for me to see my own self-righteousness.
My sister is a very, very brave woman who has loved me as well as I would allow. Not perfect…no she is not that, but she is human and she did protect me and she was hated for it by all who had their toxic guilt to contend with.
I grant all of us absolution from the past and I embrace, with all of my heart, the gifts I have received from the human foibles of those who went before me.
What a relief.

The personal history that my sister and I share is rich with fodder for a dysfunctional relationship. It’s been rife with opportunities to love, hate and misunderstand each other. I’m not placing blame when I say that our home was filled with frightening uncertainty that had a lasting imprint on my own personal narrative as well as that of my sister. I can’t speak for her, but I can tell you what my experience was. This is the personal account of the birth of a self-righteous position.

I was born in 1955 to a World War II US Navy veteran and a strikingly beautiful and intelligent woman. I was the second, last and not planned for child. My mom doesn’t think I know, but I was the surprise. My sister had been born just a little over seven years earlier and she was destined to be an only child. Mother was of frail health and was under doctors orders not to have any other children. By looking at the old family photos, it becomes almost painfully obvious that my arrival was not on anyone’s radar. The photos tell the story that my sister was a doted on child who was given all the attention and love my parents, aunt, uncle and grandparents could offer her. The years before my birth were golden. With hindsight, I can say that I am happy she shared in the golden days of my parent’s Camelot. The years ahead would not prove to be happy ones.

By the time of my birth, my paternal grandmother, for whom I would be named, had suffered a massive and fatal coronary attack as she waited in the car for my grandfather to close his barbershop. My mother’s health had been further compromised and my father’s alcoholism was becoming apparent along with its catastrophic consequences.

Still, my birth was, by all accounts, uneventful. I was wrapped in swaddling blankets and brought home, a new life to celebrate in the wake of such a loss, the sudden and disappointing death of my grandmother. The few photographs of the days surrounding my birth were taken with a Polaroid, clear evidence of the classical post WWII, abundant lifestyle to which I was born. I was precious, they looked happy, my sister looked concerned.

In 1960, I began my first year of school, kindergarten. My first memories begin at about the same time.  They appear to me as fragments, bits and pieces that don’t always make sense. The substance of dreams, flashes of recall when the world and everything in it was huge and I was not. I was not.

Somewhere in between the time I was born and the time that my brain began to record retrievable memory, I already knew that my survival depended on my sister. I knew at some very basal and organic place within me that she was my protector and savior.

This is the moment that the seed of my self righteous position was planted. It germinated and then thrived as a growing dependency on my sister for my survival. In a world in which I was dwarfed by alcoholism, combat flashbacks, serious family illness that took my mother from the home and deeper family dynamics that cannot be expressed now, I understood well, instinctively that my survival depended upon a 12 year old.  Her approval of me meant my life. I did whatever it took to ensure I was on her good side,did what she asked to remain under the protection of her good humor.

I’ve only recently come to understand the life-long impact this conclusion would have on both of us separately and together.

That will be the subject of part III.