Why Sitting With Our Discomfort IS the Way to Move Through It (and the Various Ways We Try to Bi-pass the Feelings)

We do not grow in the space of comfort.

I have this conversation with clients and family and friends on a nearly daily basis. No matter how many times I have the conversation, no matter how many times I hear it or read it from others far more “evolved or enlightened” than I am, the inner dialogue in my head remains:

  • I want the easy button!

  • Haven’t I endured enough?

  • Isn’t there another way?

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Why an “Attitude of Gratitude” is Garbage. Simple Steps to Making It Your “Practice.”

Several years ago, I started posting every day in November messages of gratitude. While I am cognizant other people mostly see me as a positive person, and I’ve been referred to by clients as “little miss sunshine” and “hippie/peace-loving therapist”…. lovingly, I’m sure….. my outside persona has not and does not always fit what is stirring inside of me. That scary, dark place as it has been referred to by a dear friend. As life ebbs and flows, my mindset does as well. And while I believe this is part of the human condition, I also know from decades of clinical practice, we cling much more readily to negativity than we do to positivity, or in this specific example of humanity, gratitude.

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Hustling for Worthiness

On a flight recently across country, I decided in my infinite wisdom to start Brene Brown’s book “The Gift of Imperfection.” If you are not familiar with her work at all…it isn’t exactly “light” reading, and thus I should have known it would awaken some sort of emotions in me. Trapped in this metal capsule hurdling through the air, and yes that is the best possible way I can describe flying in my opinion, and sharing an uncomfortable finite amount of space….I thought, hey why don’t I explore more of Brene’s research. Surely this can help me be a better therapist, because after all…I am certain (at this point) I have dealt with all of my own shit……

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5 Simple Steps to “Unlearn” Body Shaming

In college I didn’t weigh myself and I didn’t own a scale. My diet consisted of a bagel in the morning and a diet Dr Pepper, an Otis Spunkmeyer chocolate chip cookie for lunch and probably a diet Dr Pepper, and dinner was chicken and rice or pasta and possibly water (on a rare occasion I would eat a salad from the cafeteria but only if they had red peppers because I am slightly obsessed with them) and shock tarts candy late night at UDF run, and Milano’s turkey submarine sandwiches anytime I could afford them, and a minimum of 3 days a week I drank without any concern of calories or how many was too many. I didn’t exercise regularly. The only memory I have of doing so was this….

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Your “Dash”...

I attended a funeral yesterday. Over the course of the 16 years I’ve been working for or volunteering for Gilda’s Club, I’ve lost count of how many funerals I’ve attended. Working with people with cancer, the possibility of someone dying is omnipresent. That statement sits somehow uncomfortably with me because it presumes the rest of us who aren’t diagnosed get a pass from the certainty of death, when in reality, none of us knows when our last breath will come on this earth. So why do we live as if our moments are infinite, when in fact, other than taxes death is the only certainty we face on this earth.

But the “dying” and “loss” and “grief” part isn’t what I want to write about today. Today, I want to write about the “dash”….Have you heard of it?

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