A new year.

This morning, my Facebook news feed was flooded with children posing for their first day of school pictures...some under duress and clearly being manipulated with promises for ice cream or money, yet others willingly smiling for the camera. It took me back to memories of my first days of school. Only I never had my picture taken. Thank goodness. But you better believe I planned my first day outfit for a week.

Starting a new school year has always been a pretty big deal to me. While I liked summer break, I loved school. (I always wanted summer break to last about a month, as long as it took me to visit my grandparents, and then I was fine going back.) I think one of the reasons was because school was an outlet for me. I did well. I was kiiiiiiind of a teacher's pet. I liked seeing my friends. And school helped me focus on something other than the stress of my family life.

I also liked starting a new school year because everything was new. New books. New classes. New teachers. And like Rilke's quote above says, it's full of things that have never been. It's a chance to learn new things. There's a challenge to figure things out that you've never experienced before. Math problems. Science experiments. Pronouncing words that you've never seen before. Think about it... as an adult, can you remember the last time you experienced something for the first time? When was the last time that you had a "light bulb moment"?

I'm actually kind of jealous that I can't be in the classroom right now learning something new today. I want that feeling.

Square one.

There are times when I feel like I start over every day. As if every day I go back to square one. As if each day presents new challenges that I hadn't prepared for or thought of the night before, in my cesspool of "what if" thinking before finally falling sleep. Just when I think I'm able to consider all possible scenarios, life throws a curveball and I'm able to add another option to the ongoing laundry list.

If I stay stuck in that holding pattern of negativity, I know I'm headed nowhere quickly. Instead of recognizing achievements (however tiny), utilizing coping skills (self-talk, challenging negative thoughts) and reaching out to support, it is so easy to withdraw and stay inside of my thoughts. 

As easy as it is to stay stuck, it is so important to find a way to pull back as see your situation in the "big picture". That is, to see the experiences you have witnessed, the knowledge you have learned, the strength (emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually) that you've developed, and the power that you have gained. You are not the same person that you were last month or even last week. You are not the person that you were yesterday. 

Your journey is yours. Stop hitting the pause button. Keep living it.

Regret.

Have you ever listened to a TED talk before? If you haven't, I encourage you to Google it. Incredible stuff. Each talk is 15-20 minutes long, and there are a slew of topics available. This particular topic on regret was one I found several months ago, and I always find myself coming back to it. The thought of not regretting regret sticks out to me.

We're taught that we should not regret things. That "things happen in our lives for a reason". But the way that Kathryn Schulz discusses regret sheds a new light onto things that I had never considered before.

"If you want to be fully functioning... fully human and fully humane... I think that you need to live not without regret, but with it." Schulz, in her talk goes on to explain through her illustration of getting a tattoo, that we have a sense of regret when we feel responsible for things that come out badly when they almost came out well. Missing a flight just a few minutes late. Almost getting a passing score on an entrance exam.

The first time I listened to this TED talk, I was trying to prepare for a group therapy session with clients. I loved the message, but didn't know if they would "get" it. So I stalled. I was worried that they would think that this lady's issues were nothing compared to theirs. I shouldn't have worried. We had a great discussion Whether smaller or larger than the examples given in her talk, I believe that we can all identify with the characteristics that Schulz shares of regret: denial ("Make it go away"), bewilderment ("How could I have done that?), punishment ("I could kick myself"), and perseveration ("Make it go away. Make it go away. How could I have done that. I could kick myself. Make it go away.")

Like all good writers, Schulz waits until her last minute to deliver her best stuff. I'll leave you with her words.

"If we have goals and dreams, and if we want to do our best, and if we love people and we don't want to hurt them or lose them, we should feel pain when things go wrong. The point isn't to live without any regrets. The point is to not hate ourselves for having them. The lesson that I ultimately learned from my tattoo and what I want to leave you with today is this: we need to learn to love the flawed and imperfect things that we create, and to forgive ourselves for creating them. Regret doesn't remind us that we did badly; it reminds us that we know we can do better."

Miserable or strong. Our choice.

Do you remember when you were younger and you used to complain about doing your chores on Saturday mornings? You'd rather hang out with your friends first, and do chores later. You might have even tried bargaining with your parents... you'd offer to do more chores if only they'd let you go. just. this. once.
We all know what ends up happening. Usually, in the time we spent trying to bargain our way out of the chores, we could have completed them all and been out with our friends already and enjoying the sunshine of the day.

This quote reminds me of that situation. For the same amount of work, the same amount of effort and energy, we either make ourselves miserable or make ourselves strong. We like to think that we save ourselves time by complaining, as if complaining has a special time-lapse option in the atmosphere. The truth, however, is that it sucks so much time out of our days. (Have you ever stopped to think about how much time you spend complaining? It's an interesting experiment, for sure.)

We have the choice to complain to friends about why our spouse never does anything right... or to actually communicate with our spouse about our needs not being met. Same amount of work.

We have the choice to be miserable at our jobs, complaining to co-workers about supervisors who don't understand us... or to look for a job that would better suit us and our skills, or seek acceptance on what we can control from our daily workload. Same amount of work.

We have a choice to bicker with our children, getting frustrated to the point of yelling at them when they argue with their siblings... or to set limits and boundaries at home, and be consistent in parenting. Same amount of work.

You have a choice.
I have a choice.
A simple choice.
To be miserable.
Or to be strong.

Being strong isn't always easy. But being miserable is a terrible way to live.

Reading therapy.

I remember discovering my love of reading as a pre-teen. Or maybe even younger.

Ramona Quimby
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (and really, anything else by Ronald Dahl)
The Secret Garden
Island of the Blue Dolphins

One of the things that I love about reading is that I always learn something about myself. Identification with the characters, thought provocation within myself, a discussion opportunity with friends... books always offer more to me than just words on a page. Lately, the books I have read have given me a lot of food for thought. Without realizing it, they've been lined up with where I've been in life. Or I guess more appropriately, I've pulled from the pages ways to apply meaning to my life. The way they always have, and I'm guessing... the way they always will.

Books have always been a comforter to me. When teenage life was stressful, books were there. When I wanted to escape, books were there. When I wanted to understand something more about life, a book is there. When I wanted to feel connected to friends who recommend literary pieces, books are there.

As an adult, these I associate these same feelings with books. This week, I spent a lot of time with clients talking about coping skills, and found myself talking a lot about the power of reading. I realize that not everyone shares my love of books, but find that reading can offer so many opportunities for offering distraction, filling boredom, and even offering education. Additionally, I can read books no matter what mood I'm in... and can find something to suit my mood whether I'm frustrated, happy, needing comfort, or lonely.

"Books are our quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers." Charles Elliott