Tag Archives: comfort zone

Making things harder, just to avoid the fear

I went snowboarding today: first time in over a year, only one of about 5 days doing this in my entire life.  It didn’t get off to a good start.

Picture the scene: me, sitting forlornly in a pile of soft snow that wouldn’t allow me to easily stand up again.  I had fallen repeatedly on the way to this point, hitting my head more than once and getting into a panic that I couldn’t keep up.  My legs shook with tiredness as my fella disappeared over the horizon and two cross-country skiers trudged up the mountain without paying me a glance.  At this point, I whimpered, looking at them with pleading eyes.  Rescue me, said those eyes.  Help me stand up.  I feel so alone!

Oblivious, they carried on and left me behind with my fear.

By the time I had picked myself up and wobbled back onto the piste, I was hugging my snowboard close to me and ready to curl up into a ball and sob. I looked longingly up at the lift that would take me effortlessly back to the car park, then glanced down to my fella who was waiting on a corner for me to catch up.  I knew I wasn’t going to take the easy way.  I headed down to meet him with my board in my arms.

I somehow regained my sense of humour on the rest of the run, remembering the sheer joy of the moments where you find a rhythm, where your body knows what to do and the fear steps out of the way.  I slid and tumbled back to the car for a rest and a cup of hot soup.

I wanted it to finish there but my fella had other ideas.   The times you don’t want to go, he said, are the times when you must. 

He was right.  (He usually is, damn him!)

I think I always thought that when you find something you want to do, it will simply be easy.  I thought you just had to step up to the things that give you joy and you’d just know what to do.  I’ve tried snowboarding just a few times, but I know one thing:

The times when I’m not afraid are the times when it is most likely to workBut at first there is a lot of fear.

In the good moments, I find the flow and settle into a rhythm and simply love every inch of a run.  I’ll take greater risks, my body relaxed, my whole being ready to respond to the terrain.  But it takes a few knocks and I’ll fall back into the fear, my body stiffens and I fall into a new rhythm – of falling, complaining, getting tired and wanting to turn around and be carried away.  Each time I take a tumble it seems to increase the inevitability of it happening again.

I fall into patterns of ‘safe’ behaviour – like sliding sideways rather than down – that feel less of a risk but actually increase the chances of a fall.   The safest route, however, is to actually point myself straight down the hill!! 

It is highly unlikely that a new activity, no matter how exciting or fun it feels, is going to be easy at first.  That, it seems, is lesson one.

Lesson two – when it gets hard we are likely to beat ourselves up about it, decide we’re no good after all, wait to be rescued, or simply fight our way to the end and hope no one ever makes us do that again, no matter how much we want to.  The risks are just too great.

Lesson three – we find safe patterns of behaviour that give the impression that we are making progress but repeatedly prove to us that we’re no good.

Lesson four – the easiest way is almost ALWAYS the one that seems the most terrifying.

 

Ah.

 

There are always beautiful moments of no-fear, but these are often few and far between.  The success comes from managing to relax with the fear – or despite it – and carrying on.  Fighting the process is what makes it so hard.

Am I still talking about snowboarding here?  Not so much.

Am I going back next week?  You bet I am!

Mapping the boundaries – the search for Real You

Mapping your boundaries

I would currently describe myself as schizophrenic – in a good way. That is, I’m totally aware of my two different personalities and know it’s only a phase.

 Ok, if you haven’t left after that announcement, I’ll explain what I mean by that

 Well, first there’s Small Me, the me that is looking outside of herself for validation and reassurance.  Small Me doesn’t believe in her abilities despite a lifetime of evidence to the contrary.  She becomes timid and self-effacing in the presence of those who appear to believe in themselves more than she does.  Small Me is the me that is busy trying to be everything for everyone else.

 Small Me is full of negative self-talk: I’m not good enough; I can’t do it; this or that person is just waiting for the opportunity to get me out of their life.  Small Me thinks these thoughts to make her small and useless enough for all her worst fears to come true.

 Then there’s Real Me.  I like Real Me, I’m getting to know her incrementally and little by little she’s moving in and making herself at home.  Real Me steps in when I’m coaching, writing, dancing and making things with my hands.  She’s powerful, excited by everything and when she’s at home, nothing can stand in my way.  She exudes an infectious inner confidence that brings exactly what she needs into her life and inspires others to trust her.

 The schizophrenia stems from the fact that Real Me is coming into my life more often these days, and the change can happen more suddenly, more rapidly – in either direction.  It only takes a small event to slip from one to another.  This is also why it’s good – I know Real Me is there, just over the fence, so Small Me can no longer win.

 Mapping the boundaries

 Last time I wrote, I talked about the gap – that space which is yours and yours alone.  That’s where Real You lives.   I keep thinking of that house in Harry Potter, which is large and sprawling, yet takes up absolutely no physical space in the street, except for the people who belong there.  That’s your gap.  

 Your gap as big as you need it to be (it will keep growing, in fact).  It’s always there.  You’re looking for its edges, feeling your way in the dark trying to understand its shape.  Sometimes you’ll fall in by accident, meet Real You in a dark alleyway you never visited before, in an activity which gives you joy, in a chance encounter with a stranger.  These encounters with Real You don’t last long at first, but you start to get a vague glimpse of her nature and a desire for more.  Slowly, over time, you’ll come to understand what takes you there.

These encounters will become more frequent as your activities are refined, your Small You thoughts and behaviours reduced.  You’ll  move closer to the boundary and be able to see it’s shape.  You’ll learn how to hop over it at will.  You’ll start to recognise the Small You behaviours which take you back outside.  The map becomes clearer. 

Bring all of you inside

 At some point, very soon, you won’t need to step outside any more.  Having painstakingly mapped the boundaries, you can be with Real You as long or as often as you like.  Mapping the boundaries is not always a comfortable process, because Small You is very scared of the gap.  I’d suggest inviting her in so she can understand and feel safe too.  Then, when all of you is inside, you can be whole again.

 Now go further and start to explore.

The Danger and Beauty of Allowing Yourself to Stop

What would really happen if you stopped?

My current focus on time is raising so many questions for me.  Why, for instance, do we actually feel so desperate about time?  Why do we never seem to have enough?

This morning it hit me:  we don’t have enough time because too much of the time we have is being spent on things that go against our nature, that do not make us happy or move us forward in our lives.   Time doing the right thing never, ever feels like time wasted!  The stress of having a lot to do on the right things is nothing like the deep inner frustration of wasting our time on something which, to us, is pointless or not in alignment with who we are.

In order to deal with this, we have learnt to keep ourselves busy!  A character in the hilarious ‘Hitch Hiker’s guide to the Galaxy’ concludes that humans keep talking because otherwise they may have to start using their brains.  Similarly, I think we keep busy because otherwise we’d have to start looking inside and addressing the difficult things, such as asking ourselves what we’re doing here, making decisions about what we can do to make ourselves happy… and facing up to the fact that it’s time to make changes.

The other danger of stopping is being hit by huge, debilitating waves of exhaustion! Because we never stop, it becomes harder and more dangerous to stop a little bit because what we actually need to do is stop a LOT, regroup and let go of the reins.  Scary stuff.

I suspect that there are a great deal of us out there who, if they’re honest, have little going on in their schedule but never actually allow themselves to stop.  Somehow, we’ve programmed ourselves into believing that busy is the same as productive, that stopping is failure and that nothing will work if we don’t do our bit. 

But what if….?

  • What if the world did actually manage to carry on without you while you rested and remembered how to enjoy yourself?
  • What if you took the time to look inside and found inner resources that you never knew you had?
  • What if you found a better way to spend your time that felt worthwhile, exciting and fun?
  • What if you stopped wasting your time on things that aren’t right for you and found you’re actually more productive when you focus on the right things?

Stopping hurts.  Stopping is hard because we have forgotten how to do it.  Stopping will cause all sorts of pain and frustration to float to the surface that you’ve kept nicely in check by keeping yourself busy.  Stopping will ask you to assess what on earth you’re doing with your life.  It isn’t going to be easy.

But stopping will help you remember who you are, and that is a wonderful, exciting opportunity that may change your relationship with time forever.   Take that opportunity if you dare!

Scissors and small children

This week, I had the privilege of watching a 2-year-old learn to use scissors.  It was fascinating to watch him learn the necessary motor skills and a huge challenge for myself not to interfere or bark ‘be careful’ at him while he worked it out.

I held the paper, and he started with one hand on each handle of the scissors, using all the strength of his arms to try and cut the paper, which just folded beneath the blades. He kept trying until finally he got a clean cut. Then he got another one, and managed to work his way across the page. Within 5 minutes the scissors were in one hand, and the paper in the other as he happily cut it to pieces!

I watched as he moved his little fingers out of the way before each cut, calculating his own safety time and again. I never once had to tell him to watch out; he just did it.

If I hadn’t been reading ‘The Continuum Concept’ by Jean Liedloff, I fear the experience would have been greatly different. The book describes a South American tribe whose babies are held by their mothers the whole time until they choose to become independent (it doesn’t take long). Liedloff describes a 1-year-old spending most of his day by a 5 foot pit, falling in every direction except into the pit; the surprising lack of accidents despite ever-present machetes and arrows; and groups of young children managing heavy log canoes in a fast flowing river by themselves. The parents are always available to their children, but the children are expected to vocalise their need for support. From a very young age, these people are self-reliant, and they survive.

So, I watched a small child do what I thought it wasn’t safe for small children to do, kept my mouth shut and watched him succeed – what an amazing experience!

Help others trust themselves

When we tell someone, with all the best will in the world, to be careful or to prepare for the possibility of something bad happening (insurance is the worst culprit for this!) we are creating fear.  By doing the thinking for them, not allowing them to think things through for themselves, we are undermining their self-reliance.  By telling someone how to do something, we deny them the privilege of true learning through experience.

This is why coaching is so powerful, because it works from the belief that each and every one of us holds the answers within themselves. It’s so hard not to just tell. Our whole culture is built around telling; as a result, millions of people doubt their own abilities and we never benefit from their uniqueness.  Let’s change that!

Next time you feel the urge to say ‘be careful’, or ‘there’s a better way to do it than that’, stop and think whether it’s really necessary.  It probably isn’t.  Next time you feel the urge to ask for help, stop and see if you can work it out first.  You probably can.

Open up your world

 

I need insurance to be able to coach people.  This has at some point become a legal requirement (why can’t people make choices for themselves any more?), which I suppose it is for any profession nowadays.  All well and good, then, off I go to find an insurer.  One who is open to the wonderful possibilities of cyberspace.  I want to open myself up to the world and to see who comes my way.  I want to be free to work from anywhere in the world I happen to be.  That’s the wonder of the internet, surely? 

 Well actually, maybe not.  So far, I’ve found ones who will insure me to work with the world as long as I keep my feet in the UK, and ones who will insure me from anywhere in the world - for a limited period - as long as I only work with UK clients.  Not quite what I had in mind.

 That got me thinking.  This world is controlled by insurance companies.  Teachers can’t take their class out of the school grounds without planning 3 weeks in advance to get the risk assessments written and authorised (hardly impromptu).  They’re not allowed to touch children – console them if they’re crying, or even apply sun cream.  People are encouraged not to clear the pavement in icy weather in case of legal action.  Torbay in Devon, England was rumoured to consider the removal of its famous palm trees in the name of the Health And Safety monsters.  I would also swear that sell-by dates are shorter than they need to be – and when food’s out of date, companies can’t even feed the homeless with it because the risk is too high.

Risk.  That’s it.  Insurance assesses the risk of every single situation and then places limitations on every life out there to minimise that risk.  It encourages us to withhold from performing acts of kindness, to throw away mountains of perfectly good food, and to remove things of beauty that happen to be a little spiky (at 60 feet). 

We most certainly – all of us – have a responsibility here, but that’s another post.  What does avoiding risk do to you?  You have to make your life smaller, reduce your options, and eventually stagnate.  When we take risks, we open our hearts to other people and to new and exciting possibilities.   It is only by taking risks that we can understand who we are and where we belong in the world.  It’s the only way to make a difference and be noticed.

Talk to the person next to you at the bus stop – you might make a friend.  Try something you’re afraid of – you might love it.  Try out an idea that others think won’t work – listen to your intuition.  Find ways to challenge this crazy world – you might actually make a difference! 

I challenge you to take one risk today.  And when you’re comfortable with that, take another one.  Step into the unknown and you’ll open up your world to infinite possibilities – how exciting is that?

New challenge… old challenge?

I know I’m outside my comfort zone when I find myself procrastinating.  Take setting up this website, for example.  Really, I should be learning about key words, marketing, SEOs and really thinking about how I wish to present myself to the world.  Instead I’ve spent an astonishing amount of time learning about how WordPress works, uploading, installing and creating more passwords and user names than you could possibly imagine.  This followed by a few hours tweaking colours, fonts and themes.

I’ve been telling myself all afternoon that I’m stretching myself but really it’s comfort zone stuff all over again.  I know how to battle with computers, I’ve been doing it for years.  It’s not always easy but it’s a safe little fight with something that isn’t going to judge, question or deride my efforts.  Stepping out there in PUBLIC and telling people my thoughts, aspirations and what I can do for them – now that’s scary.  And I’ve avoided it for a week so far.  Not bad.  This is my first small step in the right direction.

What are you struggling with  – old, safe challenges that just  feel like progress?  Or are you doing the thing you’ve always suspected you’d be good at, but have been afraid to try?  You know what that is – off you go.