afraid of help? seek a supporter, maybe a champion

sometimes I am afraid of help, of asking for help, of being seeing to need help. my brain will tell me the following:  needing help is weakness. it’s showing lack. it’s deficiency. it’s vulnerability. it’s showing a soft underbelly. now someone will know that I don’t know it all, have it all. sometimes it’s not all self-contained and together in here. 

and that’s fine to feel afraid. fear is part of life. unfortunately. but we all need to find the right kind of help. not a “helper,” who is using help as a form of control or to externalize their own anxieties about you or about failure or about whatever is going on in their brainscape. and not an I-told-you-so-er. definitely not one of those. but a supporter. the person who comes in and stands beside you, solid, so you can lean as much as you need for as long as you need, and when you’re okay – you’re rested, recovered, reset – the supporter moves out of that position into their usual place in your life. they are back to spouse, friend, cousin, neighbor, co-worker. and you don’t feel like you did something wrong to ask for help. the soft underbelly might be one of their favorite parts of you, in fact. the supporter is there to support. and that’s that. 

sometimes the supporter turns out to be a champion. they are just as excited as you are that you are trying something new – taking a risk, being vulnerable and brave. and with each attempt they are solid. your success or failure doesn’t flag their enthusiasm for your enthusiasm. they want to hear your stories of your attempts. they want to revel in the wins and sympathize with the mistakes. and it’s even more special to me if that supporter-turned-champion is an expert at the thing I am just trying out. there is a magic there – and it took me a long while to really allow and then feel that magic. 

when an expert admires your first clumsy attempts at the thing they love and know so well. it’s like time folds backwards on itself and they are back at their starting line again, seeing their own beginning steps through your beginner’s eyes. they are seeing it all anew and loving it all again for the first time. your success becomes their success. they are suggesting and supporting out of love. because you are falling in love with their love, and it’s so exciting and beautiful. the help and support and encouragement is real and deep and sincere because they know. they were there a long time ago, taking their first steps just like you are, and they loved it then and they love it now and they want you to be great at it too and love it as much as they do. and nobody says those words aloud. but I feel it when a supporter becomes a champion, my champion. even for a moment. 

i’ve felt it for my students they’ve written something beautiful, questioned deeply, lost themselves in a book. I feel awake through their awakeness. and I’ve felt the same when a champion has seen my beginner’s efforts and it lights them up. they are alive in the process and the trying and the growing. the champion is seeing me sing my seeds awake, and they are stepping in to create the harmonies. it’s an inspiration loop. a love loop. for the thing we are working so hard to do, for being in the moment with it, fully immersed. in the truest sense of the word, it is wonderful. 

so yes, it is hard to ask for help from people who will help begrudgingly or anxiously or scoldingly. and it’s a moment of miracle when a champion steps forward to support. and when it happens to you, be soft. allow it. let it in. it can be beautiful for both of you.  

you ever feel afraid of trying?

me too. I want to do it right the first time, or pretty close to right, pretty close to the first time. and it’s partially because I want to be good at things and have things turn out the way I want them to turn out. and partially it’s because I don’t want other people to see me trying. this is for several reasons. 

some people feel so much when they see you trying – the feelings exude off them. some people feel embarrassed on your behalf. they look away and think, “wow, I’m so glad that’s not me out there trying. I’d look like a fool for trying so hard.” those people have probably been shamed or made fun of at some point for trying, and so the pain of trying is too much, even when someone else is doing the trying. and even when they’re looking away, I feel like I can tell they’re trying not to look. 

some people feel angry at your trying. they think that in addition to being an embarrassment, you’re taking up perfectly good space that other people could be using to do the same thing, only better. those people are very hard on themselves, I’d say, and are locked in their own cages of judgment and regrets for trying and not trying. there’s maybe resentment there, as in, why do you get to try and I don’t? I can hear that voice sometimes, coming from the inside.

some people give lots of feedback – lots of “helpful” feedback. I especially don’t like those people. I understand the embarrassed and angry people, because in the past I’ve had those reactions when I’ve seen others trying, and I’ve been around those kinds of people the most growing up. however, the helpful feedback people are also difficult to be around. because there you are, just writing your poem or drawing your picture, dancing your dance or running your race or whatever it might be – happily in the moment, just doing, just trying. and someone sidles up and says, “you know, if you just blah blah blah blah blah.” to help. but you didn’t ask. because part of trying – at least for me and at least in the early stages – is the joy of something new and making mistakes and being okay with that. it’s part of the process to do it wrong and understand how it’s wrong and then adjust and improve. if we forced a flower open too soon or made a baby walk perfectly, no stumbles or falls along the way, then how would they know all the intermediate parts to blooming, to walking? 

and that’s when I feel afraid of trying. not because of the actual trying, or because of the process of failure and improvement. sometimes failure is so god-awful it’s sweet or silly, sometimes it’s so close to success it stings. but that’s okay. the fear comes from having to hide or protect my trying from others and their judgments and their offerings of help when I don’t want it. because I want to just try. 

so I say this to myself and maybe to you too:  step back and let someone try. and let your heart be open to witnessing the sweetness and silliness and sometimes sting of trying and failing. you won’t break if you see someone try and fail. and the person trying won’t either. 

there’s somewhere in here for the supporter, or the guide – not the “helper” – but another kind of person who assists the trying. but maybe that discussion is for another day. maybe tomorrow I’ll try to tell you about it. 

sometimes heaven is

just there

behind a golden sunset cloud

in the palm of your

gently outstretched hand

among us on a bright blue

day only sun

with us in 

the soil below our feet

– we are forgetful because of 

shoes and hurry to be on time –

in the juice of a succulent

fruit 

your choice

they’re all a good choice

in a breath of air a sigh 

of quiet

wrapped in a laugh your round

and sparkling laugh

sometimes it’s 

here 

sometimes

it’s you

on the process, from whenever in the past till 16 July 2025

do you also get the date wrong sometimes? like I thought 2024 as I write today’s date. does it mean anything? 

anyway. a recap. 

my creative process is slow and needs external deadlines, but deadlines that aren’t too stressful, because if they’re too stressful then I avoid it by cleaning out all the kitchen cabinets or – let’s be real – I freeze and start a new TV series with at least 4 seasons, and then I feel like a failure for not meeting those deadlines and then I remember that I’m the one who made those deadlines, so I can change them at any time because I make the rules around here, and if I make the rules then that’s great I can do what I want like go back to watching TV or napping and also no one’s watching and no one cares which is really sad I should feel bad about that, so what I should do is I should definitely go back to watching TV or napping and that’s sad so sad too. unless. unless I make a deadline. 

so that’s what that’s like in here sometimes. and you? 

I know I am extremely hard on myself. and also fearful of making mistakes or being bad at something. but when I’m in it, I forget all about that and I’m in the joy of doing. like I just started roller skating and I don’t know how I look – maybe bad because of the people (men) at the roller rink checking in and trying to give me advice about how to do it – but when I’m doing it I don’t care how it looks. because it feels great. and same with doing any other creative thing – listing ideas, writing a poem, even writing this entry. I’m doing it. I’m doing it and I don’t care how it looks because how it feels is so much better. 

so I guess. I guess that’s the thing. chase the feeling of being, of being in it. turn the volume up all the way on that. and disregard the rest. 

The Achiever on Vacation

As an Achiever (see previous blog post for details) vacations can be hard on me. Sometimes space opens up and the clouds lift and I’m able to just be, to just relax. More often that doesn’t happen, or happen for very long, and I’m back to thinking, “What have I even done on this break?” Because, you  know, how can you lord over someone how relaxed you are — there’s no winning in that, you’re too relaxed!

That said, one good way for an Achiever to find a little balance is by reframing their achievements and focusing on the achievements in a non-work task or activity. So for this winter break I wanted to accomplish the following:  1. Read everyday, 2. Exercise six times (yes that’s very specific — but trust me — complex calculations took place before deciding on six), and 3. Be in the moment at least once a day.

I’m happy to say that I’m well on my way to achieving the crap out of this vacation. And to celebrate, I’m going to list a few of my smaller accomplishments.

  • Watched the entire Twilight series over the course of two days — eventually my eyes started to hurt but it felt good to just sit and revel in a guilty pleasure
  • Sat in a cafe and read The Sun cover to cover — so good!
  • Played Let’s Go Fishin’ with family members on Christmas Eve — things got intense with the grown ups
  • Tried a new recipe for Christmas Day — delish!
  • Yoga with one of my favorite teachers and spent 99% of the class just enjoying it — normally my mind is in 110 places at once
  • Glow in the dark mini-golf with some hilarious kids, oh, and some PacMan and Skee-Ball and that silly drop the claw and try to get the prize game
  • Snuggling with the cat on the couch

None of that seems very impressive — a fancy vacation to the Bahamas it is not — but as someone who wants to win everything, everyday, all day long seeing these small acts as a achievements is hard for me — so I count these activities and my perspective on them both as wins.

And honestly, even if I weren’t an Achiever driven to accomplish Big Things everyday, who cares if this simple list was my dream vacation, best of all worlds? Why let myself get sucked into trying to compete with other people’s lives — ones that are very likely highly curated and filtered? Most of life is the everyday, and cherishing these everyday moments — and recognizing them as moments to cherish — is an achievement in itself.

The Achiever at Christmastime

At the beginning of the school year I took the Clifton Strengths assessment, a kind of long survey that asks you to rate what you prefer between two choices or what you think about two options. I wasn’t shocked when my top strength came up as “Achiever.”

Achievers like to write lists and check things off, get things done, and not only work long hours but work hard. Based on how I see other people spend their time during a work day and a work week I just thought I was a crazy person when it came to work, but it made sense after I read the description. It sounds like me. And in some ways I now understand why, in the past, I drove many of my co-workers crazy.

I’m learning to manage my achiever tendencies at work, and I’m trying to see other areas of my life as arenas where I can achieve — like Christmas!

Oh, and I’ve done it this weekend. From Friday night after work when nothing in our house seemed Christmas-like or Christmas-ready to Sunday night at 9pm when I write this, things are a near 180. Christmas presents for everyone on the list? Check! Tree up and decorations out? Check! The numerous holiday cards and matching postage are ready to go — just waiting for some friends and family to get back to me with their addresses. Oh, and have you heard? We talked it over and we’ll be hosting Christmas Day, maybe up to 25 people! I guess I just have to send out those invites…

You see what I did there? I crushed it! But wait — is that the way the holiday season is meant to be done? Are we supposed to crush Christmas? Yeah, probably not. But as an Achiever, the to do list is both anxiety-producing and addictive to get done, and except for a few loose ends and waiting for Christmas Day to come, most of it is done. And the loose ends that are hanging? It’s taking all my might not to stay up till midnight tonight and do them — the lesson planning and grading that’s due tomorrow be damned!

That said — I’m going to take a deep breath and try to let the list and all the doing it entails go. Because what’s the point of a holiday season if I’m going to try and crush it all into one weekend? There’s fun and enjoyment in letting a few things stay undone, saving them for next weekend, or even a spontaneous weeknight between now and December 25th.

It’s hard for me to not want to turn Christmas and the holiday season into another whirlwind, 12-hour day, accomplishment. But I’m going to try my best to let things linger and last. And maybe that will be my achievement this holiday season, pushing myself to allow a few things be undone — or spontaneously done — rather than listed, scheduled, and checked off at breakneck speed. After all, I’m not Santa:  I don’t have to get it all done in one night.

On failure

I experience so many failures in a day. And it begins as early as not getting up when the alarm clock rings. Failure. Leaving late for work. Failure. Losing my temper at slow drivers on the get-on ramp to the highway. Failure. On and on throughout the day till my head hits the pillow at night. Failure. Failure. Failure.

But you know what? I’m tired of feeling like I’m failing, of being mad at myself and disappointed that I’m failing and falling short all that time. Because you know what, I’m not. I’m not failing, I’m alive and I’m living. And sometimes my desires to be perfect (or even just seem perfect) get in the way, measuring myself up against an imaginary standard for just about everything — but who cares? WHO ACTUALLY CARES?

When I’m an old lady — hell even now — I will not and do not look back at my past self and think, “I should’ve really been much harder on myself.” It’s actually the opposite. I’m sad when I remember how mean I was to myself, picking on every little thing that fell short — and in turn critical of people around me who weren’t living up to my imaginary standards. What misspent time!

Because really, what was I so concerned about, so disappointed in? Do I even remember those work tasks I didn’t do perfectly, whether my apartment was clean or dirty, or how many months of the year I was the “wrong weight?”

What I do remember is the times I uplifted someone or hurt them, times I really came through for someone in need, the missed opportunities to be a better friend or better family member — and most importantly — the beautiful feelings of freedom and happiness that have come through things like travel and one-on-one time with people I care about.

So, yes. If I’m going to continue living I’m going to continue failing — probably at some of everything until I breathe my last breath. But I’m trying to remember that it’s not the falling short that I deserves the attention — it’s the living and doing and being that does.

singing or asleep?

A few weeks ago, at the start of the summer, really, I went with my wife and a friend to a special event where we got to lay in a dark room and listen to a musician make crystal bowls and glass objects sing. I know, I know — depending on how interested or open you are to “woo woo” types of activities, this event may seem like either the best or the worst way to spend a Friday evening. Believe me, I get it. But, even if you’re not into the energy of life, letting go of things that don’t serve you, and opening up space in your energy field for magic, it’s still nice. After all, you get to lay down and rest — and the music’s not bad.

That said, I was there laying on a couple of stacked yoga mats with a bolster and some blankets, making myself comfortable to enjoy this …experience. It was my first time at this type of event, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would it be weird? Would it be cool? Would my dead grandparents or future children come to me and tell me something deep? Would I just be uncomfortable laying on the floor for 90 minutes without a mattress?

The musician found that nice balance of alert and playful as she greeted us and helped us settle in, the lighting soft and dim, and I felt more comfortable on the floor than I thought I would. When the musician’s set began I immediately started to relax and breathe more deeply. The bowls and glass contraptions made a soft, resonating tone that filled the room floor to ceiling. I felt my body vibrate softly, too — not uncomfortable, but a distinct, non-me vibration. It was was weird and it was cool and I settled into a deep stillness to absorb the changing tones and volumes and — kind of like night tennis — to use my other senses to tune into the music’s movements as the musician walked the room with her instruments. I didn’t see any ghosts or visions, but my whole body and even my mind began to relax and take in sensation rather than words. Ah…

At some point, I did have to shift around on my mat and that’s when I noticed it:  snoring. There were about a dozen of us in the L-shaped room laid out in a variety of angles and postures and I couldn’t quite tell where the sound was coming from but it was most definitely a snore. At first I was annoyed but then I re-relaxed and reflected. Maybe someone needed the rest and this was their only chance during the week to have that time to just be still, with no outside demands on them. The snoring flagged then faded away. Back to the singing, sounds resonating, the vibrations and energy. Then it happened again. More snoring. But from somewhere else in the room. And while that person sawed away, another person joined in. Now snoring was in stereo!

It continued on and off for the rest of the session, ending with at least one snort when the music itself ended. As soon as stereo snoring began, I decided to have a sense of humor and imagine that the snores were part of the sound experience, an extra flourish to the spiritually healing soundscape. But truly, it made me wonder — what was it about this setting or this experience that put multiple people to sleep? Were they so rundown or overworked that this was their only place to find rest? That in itself seems problematic, even sad. Imagine — having to go somewhere outside your home and pay just to guarantee yourself 90 minutes of uninterrupted rest. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe they were unable to be present in a relaxed body — they were so unaccustomed to being simultaneously awake and relaxed that once they reached a certain point of relaxation their minds just checked out and they slipped away. Maybe the healing they were looking for was there and accessible for them, but they just couldn’t be awake for it, they couldn’t be present and clear for it — whatever the reason or barrier.

And that led me to think about myself — where am I asleep in my life? What are the experiences that I’ve had or often have where I’m not present or clear for it? And why is that? Am I physically exhausted? Am I stressed or anxious about things that are beyond my control? Am I holding on to old pain, limiting ideas or ideals that keep me from taking in and absorbing what’s around me, keep me from growing or changing, keep me fuzzy and unfocused? And if so what can I do to get clear, be alert and playful?

Each of those questions deserves a lot of reflection and action, so I can’t answer all of those here and now, but I can say that time and space, quiet and stillness are key tools that help me clear out. And I guess the unexpected, like snoring, can’t hurt with keeping me alert and playful.

Doing it out of hate, or doing it for love

Like writing, health and fitness was something on my list of things to do that kind of fell off the list for a while. I was finishing up the school year — just trying to get through it — and in the flurry of deadlines and things to pack I just wasn’t able to be very physically active. As a result, I’ve gained a few pounds, and I haven’t been feeling my best. In fact, I started to really dislike myself and to feel frustrated and angry about where I was health-wise. That’s not a good thing, to be walking around in a body that makes me feel uncomfortable and even downright mad.

So a couple of weeks ago I had a little talk with myself. I could either continue as I was, mad and frustrated at myself — at my body, really — or I could decide to make a change. I decided to try change (yay for positive decisions!) and then I sat down to spend some time looking at my weekly schedule and overall summer calendar. For me I can’t make a decision and let it wither and fade, sidelined by inaction. It has to be made real for me with things that are visual and tangible like schedules and lists. So I made a weekly exercise schedule and I’ve been sticking to it — with some missed sessions here and there — but I’m working on staying positive, valuing the process and growth, rather than trying to be perfect.

That said, when I was back at the gym for the first time in months I realized in the middle of my workout why I was there — why I was really there. Originally the schedule and list and all that were a reaction to something negative — my frustration and anger at myself — but once I was there, looking in the mirror doing squats or whatever it was I realized I was actually there because I love myself, not because I hate myself. I was there to take care of myself, to spend time with myself, and to invest in myself — in my physical health, of course, but also in my mental and spiritual well being. Because it turns out that I like to move my body and feel strong and see myself grow. I like feeling my heartbeat and having my face turn pink and my muscles get that jiggly-weak feeling after doing something hard and catching my breath before trying it again. I like that timeless feeling of being in the moment, focused on what I’m doing exactly here and exactly now. All of that is a great gift to myself, and a way for me to really experience the fact that I’m here on earth, alive, in a body that supports me, in a body that is my greatest gift and tool.

And I think we all need outlets to get our bodies moving, to reaffirm our connections to our bodies, and to spend some time having those timeless moments where clocks and schedules and even the ideas of goals and perfection fade and become distant so that all we can hear is our heartbeats in our chests, our breath move through our bodies, and that beautiful moment of body and being coming together. There’s nothing better than that — that’s what I’ve been missing, and those parts coming together feel like home.

So I don’t do work outs or yoga classes or bike or swim or run because my body frustrates and angers me and I hate it. No, I do it because my body is my home and I love living in it. I’m doing it for love, love, love.

30-day Yoga Challenge: Four Challenges in One

Since I’m nearly done with it, I feel safe to share the fact that I’m participating in a 30-day yoga challenge:  30 consecutive days of yoga classes, come hell or high water, from April 2 to May 1. And in some ways this challenge isn’t challenging at all — in other ways it lives up to its name entirely.

Challenge #1:  Deciding — And Sticking With It

For most things in life, the deciding part is hardest. Well, not the deciding part so much as everything else that follows once the deciding has been done. After I decided to do this challenge, a lot of things had to shift in my life to make space for it, the biggest being how I spent my time. My alarm clock has been going off faithfully every morning, no sleeping in on the weekends. Most days I’ve had to either stay late at work or leave most of my work to do list undone so I could fit in a yoga class. I’ve had to rearrange social engagements on the weekends so that I can get to yoga, and sometimes skip or reschedule appointments during the week. This may seem extreme, but it’s what commitment looks like when any one of us makes a decision and then sticks with it. Those things we’ve decided are the big deal things in our lives take precedent — or they should — so they’re setting the tone for the day, the week, the month. Everything else should be secondary.

And I have to say that the “sticking with it” part has been tough when I’ve been faced with a tempting alternative to my decision — most often sleeping in on the weekends or skipping an evening class to go home and laze on the couch. But it’s been a good test of my will, to see that I can be determined and strong enough to push myself out of my habits to I achieve something new.

Challenge #2:  Pacing Myself

Unfortunately — or maybe fortunately? — I tend to be a competitive person, even in a noncompetitive setting like a yoga class. Most days I have some form of Rubber Neck Syndrome, where I’m checking out what everyone else is doing, looking at their form, their flexibility, their strength, and then of course comparing it to mine. Maybe it’s from my many years of dance training or my perfectionist tendencies that I naturally start to compare myself to others, but in this challenge I had to really let go of that. In some ways it was good to know that I wasn’t in the same place as most of the other people in the room — there were only about 12 of us doing the challenge overall and maybe one or two in the room with me most days, so that meant that the pressure was off — or maybe not off — but my mindset definitely adjusted when I went into a class. Like I mentioned in last week’s entry, I was really running my own race — or yoga-ing my own yoga. Because of course I couldn’t force myself into the splits and then flip myself upside down into several reps of a forearm stand and then push through a dozen jump-backs from crow pose to chaturanga (first and foremost, because I can’t do crow pose jump-backs to chaturanga) but also because I had to come back to class tomorrow and the next day and the next.

I had to pace myself for the long haul, take it slower than I usually would, and really focus on my own process, listen to my body and my body alone to make sure that we’d get through the month in one healthy piece. Because if I “won class” for the day but felt miserable and sore — or even injured myself — then I’d be defeating the whole purpose of the challenge, and of yoga itself.

Challenge #3:  Imbalance Exposing Imbalance

I mentioned earlier that once I’d made the decision to participate in the challenge I had to reprioritize the way I spent my time, and now that I’m almost through I can look back and see how much this yoga challenge — in some ways its own imbalance on my time — exposed other imbalances in how I spend my time, particularly at work. Without the yoga challenge to pull me away from work and to put some pressure on how I spend my time in the evening, it was easy for me to excuse long hours at work, sometimes up to 12 hours a day. But this challenge has made me notice that work really demands a lot of me, and a lot of my free time. I’m not complaining that I have a job that requires after-hours time, but I’m concerned by the amount of after-hours time I was spending — and am still spending — usually up to 20 unpaid hours a week. This challenge has made me feel some stress, and even anxiety, around time but mostly because there never seems to be enough time for work and also for myself. It’s something that I’m going to be further exploring even after this challenge ends; balance is such a key value that I hold and I want to embody that more.

Challenge #4:  What Happens Next?

This leads to the final challenge within this challenge. I’m almost done with it, but I’m already thinking about what’s next. Do I want to continue daily yoga classes? Do I want to take a break from yoga? Do I want to continue daily exercise and meditation, but expand into to different forms, like gym workouts and more traditional cardio or pick up my meditation practice from months ago? I’m not quite sure yet, and I have a couple of days to decide, but I do know that this challenge has pushed me to make a decision and to make shifts in my life that push me to be more balanced. I’ve also seen that competition is not as important as compassion — especially self-compassion — and that even when I don’t think I’m making any gains I am. I’ve surprised myself this month by becoming physically stronger even when I didn’t think I was, by becoming more patient with myself, and more able to let go, even if momentarily, of the demands of the outside world on my inner life.

After this challenge ends on Tuesday, I look forward to Wednesday and the days that follow and the decisions I’ll get to make that will quiet the outside world and amplify my inner voice, one that is still keenly competitive, but also more compassionate and striving for balance.