I believe that the process of maturing is just figuring out what a schmuck I’ve been up to this point.  Poetic? No. Accurate? Well, yeah.

Given how we’re chatting right now, it may surprise you to learn that I’ve never really journaled.  I mean, I did in Ms. Quall’s English class in high school and I did a little when my mother was dying; but, for several reasons, it’s not something I’ve done much of.  One reason is that it’s just dangerous.  What if a journal fell into the wrong hands?  There could be blackmail fodder for years! (Or maybe worse, it could become a best-selling sleep aid.) Another reason is that if I write honestly (and what would be the point to do otherwise), my true innermost thoughts are reflected.  When I have read back over the few journal entries I had before Hurricane Katrina got them all, there was a whole lot of wincing going on.  It was the reading equivalent of watching the qualifying rounds for American Idol – there were a few good thoughts, but a maaaaany more that should have been stopped long before they hit the stage.

Some of those thoughts involve my opinions of other people. My opinions of others are not always sweetness and light – shocking, I know.  I’ll give you a moment to recover.

This week, I had the opportunity to review my attitudes and opinions regarding two people I once knew.  I’ve held solid and not necessarily positive opinions about them for years.  Turns out, my opinions were based on incomplete information.  My opinion was, frankly, wrong for one of them.  For the other, I was right on the money.  Still, it was refreshing and freeing on both counts.  For the one, I was able to begin appreciating the journey and talents of the individual for what they are.  For the other, I was able to see that my intuition is still right, at least some of the time.

Alan Alda said, ” Begin challenging your own assumptions.  Your assumptions are your windows on the world.  Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in.”

You know that I’m forever issuing one challenge or another to myself and you just get splattered with them, too.  Well, this week, the splatter is to scrub off a few windows.  Let’s challenge our assumptions about others, ourselves or some sacred cow concept.  Let’s let some new light in and see what happens.

P.S. – Just heard from a friend who was approaching One-derland for the first time in over 20 years…She’s IN!!!!!  Well done!

Remember when we were kids? We played in the rain, ran for no reason whatsoever, laid in the grass, and stomped in puddles.  Okay, so maybe you didn’t, but I did.  I don’t do those things anymore.

I dash through the rain to avoid getting wet. I run for exercise. I rarely even WALK through the grass if I’m not mowing it.  I walk around puddles or jump over them.  Those simple joys of childhood are things I actively avoid now.

Why?

On Sunday, while I waited for my aunt to return to her house, I pulled a blanket out of the car and laid in the grass on her front lawn.  I was in the shade of a tall water oak, enjoying the feel of a slight breeze, and the muffled sounds of Sunday car washes and far-off lawn mowing.  When she returned home, she apologized that I’d had to wait outside.  Apologize?  For what? I thoroughly enjoyed it!  I remembered the joy of just lying there with nothing to do for a little while.

I wasn’t pushing to go to sleep because I had to get up early.  I wasn’t thinking about business calls.  I wasn’t thinking about the three books I have started and need to finish.  I wasn’t thinking about unpaid bills or dogs that need feeding or cats that need a new scratching post.  I wasn’t thinking about the bajillion things that hold my attention (and sometimes my joy) hostage each day. I gave myself permission to just lie there for a bit and be in that moment.  I allowed myself to just Be….and it was fantastic!

As an adult, I’m easily caught up in all of the things I HAVE to do and I forget about the things that I GET to do.  Lying in the grass, tuning out is something I GET to do – not every day, but certainly with greater frequency than I actually do it.

I am alive.  I am healthy.  I am loved.  It is pure foolishness for me to squander all opportunities to celebrate those things.

I’ll tell you what, let’s do this: let’s do something childish this week.  Run for no reason.  Skip. Eat a soft-serve ice cream cone. Stomp in a puddle.  Let a ladybug walk on your hand.  Walk in the rain.  Let’s do something that reminds us of the joy it is our privilege to feel.

Let’s give ourselves permission.

I recently spent a little time with a childhood friend.  This woman always had the sweetest, most loving spirit.  Seriously, she’s one of those people who was kind through and through.  I see her infrequently and had noticed during our last couple of visits that her spirit seemed to be fading.  This visit I was hardly able to see it at all and, frankly, I did not know what to do with that.  If this meeting was a test, I failed miserably.

Do you know someone like that?  Someone whose spirit has been killed by an abusive parental, spousal, or work relationship? Someone who’s made some bad choices and hasn’t been able to move past them? Someone who maybe was just dealt a raw deal and has given up?

What do you say to that person?  What do you do?

Their soul needs encouragement more than any other; but, I find myself unable to offer it properly.  I think some of the problem may be my victim/volunteer philosophy.

People are victims of abuse. They struggle with mental illnesses and physical challenges not of their making. They are subjected to stressors that break them.  Initially, they may be unable to control their exposure to these stressors; however, at some point, they make the decision to stay in these abusive or just unhealthy situations.  Or, they choose to remain untreated for their mental or physical issues.  At this point, I believe, the person goes from victim to volunteer.  Knowing myself and how I think, I’m pretty sure this philosophy is a radical over-simplification of the situation.

How does one person become Naomi Judd (and if you haven’t read 20 Choices to Transform Your Life, I recommend that you do) and another one become Hedda Nussbaum?  How does one person chose to fight to live every day and another chose to roll over and die, if not physically, then spiritually?  I don’t know.

I do know this: it’s not easy for any of us – well, no one I know, anyway.  We all have struggles.  We all have crosses to bear, so to speak, even the “don’t hate me because I’m beautiful” woman. Shoot! Even Ann-Margaret has had her share!  For all of us, we have overwhelming days and circumstances.  That’s why we build and maintain positive support systems for ourselves and why we are part of those systems for others.

I saw a meme today that said, “Keep people in your life that truly love you, motivate you, encourage you, inspire you, enhance you and make you happy.” With the exception of that last thing (I don’t believe other people “make” us happy), I agree 100%.  I would take this a little further and say that we should strive to BE a person who truly loves, motivates, inspires, and enhances the lives and happiness of others.

Okay, so with that, here’s my goal for today: be the kind of friend I want to have.

Two friends of mine are approaching real milestones: after years of weighing more than 200 pounds, they are approaching one-derland.  I broke into that mythical kingdom on 20 September 2011 – on my son’s 17th birthday.  I remember being so thrilled over it!  I looked back through my Facebook comments to see what I wrote about it.  Nothing.

Nope, not one blessed thing.

What?!  How could I not have written about it?  That was huge for me, just as it is for them. I am so excited to hear that they’ve crossed the threshold.

When one of them first started, she said something to me that made me just want to shake her.  She said that she’d lost “just two pounds.” Another woman I talked with last week has lost 15 pounds, “but,” she said, “I have so much further to go.” Just.  Only. But. Those three words steal our accomplishments.  She didn’t lose “just” two pounds. She lost two pounds! The other woman lost 15!  That’s fantastic! Whether those were the goals or the starts, those two woman are making progress.  They are moving in the right direction and are both feeling healthier.

We all have to give ourselves credit when it’s due – for one pound, two pounds, or fifteen!  We get credit for starting and for persevering!

I recently spoke with my sister who is doing great on her journey to eating more healthfully. (You remember she discovered that fast food hamburgers make her knees hurt worse.)  She said that the best part of this has been that she doesn’t feel exhausted all the time.  Her body is running more efficiently.  She’s awake and alert.  I can report that her skin, hair and eyes all look better than they have in years.  She looks younger, more alert and happier.  She looks great!

So, what about you?  What food changes are you making and what improvements have you noticed?

Give me a compliment. Go ahead. I dare you!

Whatever the compliment might be – personal, professional, Ann-Margaret related – I can guarantee you that my response will be to point out every way in which you are CLEARLY mistaken.  All the while, my internal conversation is, “Just say ‘thank you,’ Jon Anne.  Normal people just say thank you.” (I like to imitate Normal from time to time.)

What I’m coming to believe, though, is that Normal is telling the complimenter that they are a moron – if only they knew, right?

By way of illustration, let me tell you about a conversation I was involved with.  I was talking with two women, one of whom complimented the second one’s cute sandals – and they really were cute. There was a boomerang compliment, then a confession of ugly feet. A beautiful woman with truly awe-inspiring hair and all she’s thinking about is her Fred Flintstone feet.  You want to know the saddest part of that? That’s is such a common reaction to a compliment!

Think about it for a second.  What was the last compliment you received? You look nice? What a beautiful smile you have? You’re so smart? You handled that situation beautifully?

Now, how did you respond?

Did you say “thank you?”  Or did you say something about how old your clothes were? Mention years of orthodontia? Confess the last bone-headed move you made? Point out how you could have handled it better? Did you sell yourself short?

I am so bad to sell myself short.  Do you do that?  I’ll bet you do.  Why do we do that?

It’s that stupid Less Than thing.  We are supposed to be modest.  Well, okay.  We can be modest without being Less Than, without being nothing.  We can accept a compliment without tearing the gift of it all apart.  We’re allowed to do that!

Just this week, a woman complimented my accomplishment of having lost weight.  It was right on the tip of my tongue to say, “But I gained some back.” I literally bit my lip to keep it in. So what if I gained some back? 1. That doesn’t mean I didn’t lose all that weight to begin with, and 2. I’ve lost some of The Great Regain, and 3. I am losing back down to where I want to be. I don’t remember all of the words that came tumbling out of my mouth; but, I can tell you that I did not thank her gracefully. In fact, I’m pretty sure she thought I was having some sort of verbal seizure when I finally stopped yammering.

Several posts ago, I challenged you to join me in offering a stranger a compliment. (I think that’s something we should all do every day.) Today, I’m challenging you to accept all compliments gracefully.

Join me in my own struggle to stop selling myself short.  Join me and just say “thank you.”

At a recent sales training event, the speaker had everyone announce with conviction, “I am exceptional.” These declarations were followed by titters of laughter, as you would expect. Most of us are just not comfortable making those kinds of declarations because, well, maybe we aren’t exceptional.

My question is this: what’s wrong with that?!  Why do I have to claim to be exceptional? I can be honest, admirable, hard-working, loving, kind, intelligent, funny, and a snappy dresser (at some point in my life I want someone to describe me as a snappy dresser).  Not one of those traits (or necessarily even the combination of them) makes me exceptional and THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT.

We don’t all have to be exceptional.  In fact, if we all are, then by definition, none of us are. Elvis, Jane Goodall, Irena Sendler, Nelson Mandela, Genghis Khan, Chuck Yeager – those are exceptional people.  I don’t rank in their number; however, that doesn’t make me garbage. If you rank up there with them, then, fantastic!  Go you! But, if you’re like me and just a normal person doing their level best to have a positive effect on the world around you, then, fantastic!  GO US!

I was involved in a recent “conversation” with an internet troll over Mr. Rogers and whether or not it was a good thing that he told millions of children that they were special.  Somehow, this troll equated “everyone is special” to “everyone is a winner and gets a trophy just for showing up.”  I just don’t see the causal relationship there or even a logical connection. I guess it all depends on how you define “special.”  To me, special means unique and I would argue that, at least to a point, we are all unique. To the troll, special means exceptional. And, I suppose it could.  In the context of The Neighborhood, though, I don’t think that’s what Mr. Rogers was saying.  Still, I don’t think that the troll is the only one making that correlation. I think that many of us have been convinced that we are all – or should be – exceptional.

For instance, in that training event, the implication was the “special” isn’t good enough.  “Exceptional” is the requirement, but (lucky us) we are already in the E-Club.  That’s been bothering me ever since.

Is it my Presbyterian heritage? Catholic school? The obvious theological train wreck between those two? Is it my nature? My social experience? Or is it because I know my heart, my soul and my weaknesses?  I know where the loose stones are in the castle walls, my friends. I know the castle isn’t flawless (feel free to disagree). If I lay claim to Exceptional, I feel like I’m laying claim to Perfection which is so patently false that I can barely even type for fear of divine retribution. (Plus, I can hear my sister laughing 286 miles away.)

You know what, though? I don’t really care. I maintain that I’m special and that’s good enough for me.

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that a colleague had done something new with her hair, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.  She got bangs cut.  “They were cheaper than botox,” she said. Now, this woman has beautiful eyes – gorgeous, I tell you.  They remind me of Barbara Eden’s – kind of almond-shaped like the Magyars.  She had lost sight of her beautiful eyes, though, and saw only a lined forehead when she looked in the mirror.

That’s at least a little true for all of us, isn’t it?  We see our flaws to the extent that they become all we see.  After a lifetime, I still see myself as fat.  I don’t really know what size my body is. I turn sideways to go through two pieces of furniture or to walk between two people even though I may not have to anymore.  I still find myself looking in the XL racks in the women’s department.  I have usually already stopped at the Lane Bryant window before I remember that those clothes don’t fit me anymore.

Looking for a grey shrug, I stopped into a boutique in Nashville last week.  I saw a cute little jacket but wasn’t going to try the tiny thing on.  The saleslady gave me an odd look until I explained the whole situation to her.  She said, “Oh! You guys are my favorite people to dress!  You have no idea what size you are and you get so excited about how things look on you!”  Well, she was right on both counts.  And the tiny little jacket fit.

Also last week, my cousin Mary Katherine shared a blog with me: This Is How To Be Fat.  I loved it!  I love the account of the woman at the pool and how her confidence made her the most attractive woman there.  She was comfortable in her own skin.  In addition to the health benefits and stuff, isn’t that what we really want? To be comfortable in our skins?

It’s tough, though.  Everywhere we look, we are bombarded with subliminal or blatant messages telling us that something is wrong with us.  We are too fat, too thin (maybe not that one), too white, too black, too old, or too young (maybe not that one, either). Our teeth aren’t white enough or straight enough. Our car isn’t sexy enough. Our dogs’ coats aren’t even shiny enough and we don’t vacation in the right places.  Every day, all day long, we are told that we are Less Than. You know what? Nerts to that! (Totally not what I’m thinking right now, but this is a family show.)

Madison Avenue never met me or you! They have neither basis nor right to tell us that we are Less Than.

Let’s ignite our own inner fires today to show our strength and confidence.  Let’s go with it, comfortable in our own beautiful minds, spirits, and bodies.  If you are healthy, rock what you’ve got! Dress to show your confidence.  Get you some bangs cut. Or, pull your hair back and display what experience has given you. That’s the way to victoriously face this day and it’s way cheaper than botox.

AMC’s “Breaking Bad” is one of my favorite shows.  I love the character development. While Flynn has cerebral palsy, it’s not a Thing – it’s just part of him.  It describes him, but doesn’t define him.  Neither Walter nor Jesse are all good or all bad; but, at any given time, you might want to hug or throttle either of them.  Marie’s favorite color is purple.  It’s unnecessary information and they never make a big deal about it.  But, because she surrounds herself with purple things, we get it.  The tidbit makes her more relatable.  The writing is really good and I love that the characters feel real and that they evolve.

Last night, I caught up on season five and was struck anew at how Walter has changed from a desperate man who just wanted to take care of his family to this… well, I won’t say.  I don’t want to spoil it for you.  I will say that old Walt has far more on his mind now than just a legacy.  He has evolved from a doormat to the poster child for megalomania.

“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” – Abraham Lincoln

Walt performs poorly in the Lincoln test.

How does that relate to weight loss, positive thinking, attitude adjustments and healthful living?  I’m not really sure.  I’m just thinking about the show and jonesing for next season.  (Plus I over-analyze absolutely everything and make connections between apparently dissociated things.) I think it’s the devolution that fascinates me.  Most of the characters actually devolve more than they evolve; but, they do it so slowly that they don’t even realize it.

That was how I found myself in the midst of The Great Regain.  I wasn’t paying attention.  I used ego-driven excuses to allow myself to revert to bad habits. I lied to myself about what I was doing and, voila! There were 30 pounds.  As my friend David says, “Automagically.”

I talk a lot about focus and awareness.  Of course, I didn’t sit down and make a list of goals that included gaining weight. I lost focus, was unaware and achieved the unwritten goal.  How does it go? If you fail to plan, you plan to fail? Pithy saying, that, but true nevertheless. I failed to plan for a maintenance strategy.  I failed to plan for times of professional and spiritual challenge.  So, I failed to keep all of the weight off.

My slide was slow, slower than Walt’s, for sure, and not nearly as dramatic.  I’m not going from chemistry teacher to meth kingpin.  Seriously, I was terrible at chemistry! But I did go from the best shape of my life to a little hippy.  Thankfully, I became aware of the slide before I was all the way back at zaftig (what a great word!). I’m much more conscientious now and struggling to stay that way.  You all help more than you know.  Thanks!

Oh, and my favorite color is yellow.

In a parable credited to the Cherokee, an old chief teaches his grandson about life.