Nothing Changes Until You Do: A Guide to Self-Compassion and Getting Out of Your Own Way (13 page)

There’s nothing wrong with our tears, even if we get a little embarrassed, uncomfortable, or pained when they show up. As we give ourselves permission to cry, we not only release toxins from our bodies, stress from our systems, and negative thoughts from our minds—we tap into one of the most basic and unifying experiences of being human. Crying is powerful and important. It’s not only okay; it’s essential.

CHAPTER 21

Swing Hard (Just in Case You Hit It)

In July of 1992, the summer between my senior year in high school and my freshman year at Stanford, I got invited to play in the U.S. Junior National Baseball Championship tournament in Boise, Idaho. It was a pretty big deal. Some of the top high school players in the country were there, including a 16-year-old shortstop from Miami named Alex Rodriguez. So there we were, a group of pretty talented and confident (i.e., cocky) high school baseball players, but beneath the outward cockiness was a deep sense of insecurity, especially being around other players of this caliber.

The first day we were on the field, they sent us down to the batting cage. We were all standing around watching as each of us took turns hitting. Given the nature of the tournament, the group, and the fact that this was the first time we were on the field together, we were all definitely trying to impress one another. While we were all pretty good ballplayers and relatively impressive, there was one guy on our team, named Geoff Jenkins, who was literally like a man among boys when he stepped into the batting cage.

Geoff was an unbelievably talented player, and I’d played against him in summer ball the year before. He had this huge swing. Lots of coaches and scouts would comment on it, saying,“He won’t be able to get away with that huge swing at the next level.” Geoff was heading to play at University of Southern California that fall and since I was going to Stanford, we were going to be facing one another in the coming years at the college level.

As he was in the batting cage that day, he was putting on such an incredible display of hitting that, even in the midst of our cockiness and posturing, we were all looking around at each other in amazement at what he was doing. At one point, toward the end of his round of batting practice, Geoff swung so hard that on his backswing when he slammed the bat down, he actually cracked the wooden platform under his feet. I’d never seen anyone do that. He had to stop early and come out of the cage. The maintenance crew had to go in and try to figure out what they needed to do—either fix or remove the platform.

As Geoff walked out of the cage with his bat over his shoulder, knowing that he’d just been quite impressive, he had a sly, pleased-with-himself look on his face. One of the other guys on our team said, “Geoff, dude, why do you swing so hard?” Geoff stopped, spit, looked back at him, and, after a long pause, said, “Just in case I hit it.”

I remember thinking,
Wow, that’s not how I usually approach baseball, or life for that matter.

Geoff went on to be an all-American while playing at USC and then a first-round draft pick of the Milwaukee Brewers. By the age of 23, he was a starter in the major leagues, where he played for 11 seasons—including winning a World Series ring with the Philadelphia Phillies in 2008, his final season. He never stopped swinging hard, and throughout his very successful major league career, he got quite a few hits (1,293 total) and hit a lot of home runs (221 total). He also struck out 1,186 times.

Far too often we hold back and play safe in life—worrying that we might fail, mess up, or embarrass ourselves. Some of this we do consciously, but much of it is unconscious; it’s almost hardwired into us to do whatever we can to avoid looking bad.

A number of years ago, I was running in my neighborhood. In those days, when Samantha was still very young and before Rosie was even born, I used to get up before anyone was awake and go for a morning run. I was coming to my favorite part of the run (the end) and whenever I would get to the corner near our house, I would kick it into high gear, so I could “finish strong.” That morning I was having a pretty good run and was really into the song on my iPod, so when I got to the corner, I took off even faster than normal. Sadly, I wasn’t paying attention to the ground and didn’t notice a big lip in the sidewalk. I hit it with my foot, and I went down—hard! I hadn’t fallen down that hard in years. My iPod flew out of my hand, my hat came off my head, and I caught myself inches before hitting my chin on the pavement. As shocked as I was to have fallen, as I was lying there on the ground, before I stopped to assess my physical condition, I immediately looked up to see if anyone had seen what had happened. It was a reflex. Once I saw that there were no cars driving by and no one else on the street, I finally took a moment to think about my injuries. I was a little scraped up, although not that bad, and I had bumped my knee pretty good on the ground, but it didn’t seem to be actually injured, just a little sore. I got up, brushed myself off, and, as I limped the rest of the way home, all I thought was,
Well, at least no one saw that.
It was a painful and humbling reminder of my own attachment to looking good (or, at the very least, not looking bad).

What if we weren’t so concerned with messing up or looking bad? This is about being willing to take risks, be bold, and “swing hard” in our lives. And although this concept is pretty simple and we all understand it, like many things in life, understanding something is quite different from actually practicing it. In other words, it’s much easier said than done.

Being bold, while scary and challenging at times, is essential to living an authentic and fulfilling life. Boldness is about stepping up and stepping out onto our “edge”—pushing the limits of what we think is possible for us. It’s about living with courage and passion, and letting go of our attachment to the outcome along with the perceptions and opinions of others (including our gremlin). Living this way is not only thrilling, it’s how we consciously evolve as human beings.

Will we swing and miss sometimes? Yes. Might we fall down and embarrass ourselves? Of course we will. But, as Wayne Gretzky famously said, “You miss 100 percent of the shots you never take.”

CHAPTER 22

Embrace Powerlessness

A while back during one of our sessions, I was talking to my counselor Eleanor about the pain, embarrassment, and disappointment I continue to feel at times about my physical appearance and aging process—specifically my thinning hair. She said to me, “Mike, it sounds like embracing powerlessness is something that would benefit you right now.” When she said this, a chill went down my spine and my body tightened up. “What do you mean, ‘embrace powerlessness’?” I asked. “Why would I want to do that?”

Powerlessness seemed almost like a dirty word to me, at least to my ego, for sure. I pride myself on being a powerful person and I’m in the business of empowering others, so I couldn’t imagine what embracing powerlessness even meant, let alone see the value in doing it. But, I gave Eleanor the benefit of the doubt and continued to listen. She went on to say, “Allowing yourself to
feel
powerless doesn’t mean you
are
powerless. In fact, the more willing you are to embrace the
feeling
of powerlessness when it shows up, the more authentic power you’ll be able to access.” She then taught me a simple meditation/visualization technique to embrace the feeling of powerlessness, which I’ve been using for the past two years.
²
It’s been incredibly liberating.

Through this process, I’ve realized that in many of the areas of my life where I’ve struggled most, one of the key factors has been my inability to acknowledge, feel, or embrace powerlessness. Instead, I often end up erroneously attempting to force outcomes in the name of being “responsible” or “powerful,” when what is usually driving me is fear and the need to control (hence the struggle).

I saw my friend and fellow author/speaker Chip Conley speak at the Wisdom 2.0 business conference in San Francisco a while back. He opened his speech with the serenity prayer, which I appreciated and heard differently that day based on the work I’d been doing with Eleanor regarding powerlessness—“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.” I’ve always had a bit of a reaction to this prayer and its underlying wisdom—not wanting to fully acknowledge the idea that there are actually things I
cannot
change. However, this prayer is all about consciously embracing our own powerlessness, and there’s true brilliance in its simplicity and insight.

What if we stopped obsessing about the things we think need to be fixed about life, others, and ourselves—especially those things that are out of our control? What if we were able to bring a deeper level of acceptance and serenity to the difficulties in our lives, instead of piling loads of judgment, pressure, expectation, and more onto them (as well as ourselves and others)?

It’s incredibly liberating when we’re able to acknowledge, feel, and express our true emotions, even the ones we may not like, such as powerlessness. We tend to have lots of beliefs and a real hierarchy when it comes to emotions—deciding that some are good and others are bad. The reality is that emotions are positive when we feel and express them in a healthy way and negative when we suppress them. We’ve all had lots of positive experiences in life when we’ve had the courage to feel and express what we judge and consider “bad” emotions (e.g., fear, sadness, anger, jealousy, dread, hurt, shame, and so on). We’ve also had negative and painful experiences when we’ve withheld or suppressed what we consider “good” emotions (e.g., love, excitement, passion, gratitude, and so on).

The meditative technique that Eleanor taught me for embracing powerlessness also works with any other emotion we may be having difficulty feeling (usually the “bad” ones). However, remembering that just because we
feel
sad doesn’t mean we
are
sad, or just because we
feel
jealous doesn’t mean we
are
jealous, is an empowering distinction.

It’s also important to remember that human emotions aren’t sustainable. They are meant to be felt and expressed so they can then pass through us beautifully. This is why we often feel much better after a good cry. The more conscious we are about our emotions and the more willing we are to feel and express them—the happier, healthier, and more alive we become.

As I’ve allowed myself to embrace my own feelings of powerlessness (and other emotions that are challenging for me), even though it can be a bit scary and uncomfortable, especially at first, I’ve experienced a deeper level of peace and power in regard to some stressful circumstances in my life.

Embracing powerlessness can fundamentally shift our outlook on life and liberate us from a great deal of undue and unnecessary pressure, struggle, and expectation that we put on ourselves.

_____________________

²
Specific instructions for how to do this meditative technique yourself, as well as a link to the page on my website where you can download a free audio recording of me guiding you through it verbally, are listed in the appendix section of the book on page 203.

CHAPTER 23

Be Willing to Talk about Difficult Things

In July of 2010, Michelle and I found out, surprisingly, that we were expecting our third child. Since this wasn’t something we’d planned, we were shocked, excited, and a bit freaked out, all at the same time, as we started to imagine our life with another baby. We began telling lots of people about this big news.

Within just a few days of learning about the pregnancy, however, we had a miscarriage—something we’d never been through and weren’t at all prepared for. The emotions we experienced during that week, and in the weeks that followed, were quite intense. I felt sad, confused, and even relieved, although the feeling of relief was coupled with a deep feeling of shame, and some hardcore self-judgment and self-criticism. Michelle’s experience, although similarly mixed emotionally, was different from mine, which just added to the complexity of it all.

As we moved through this painful experience, Michelle and I both got to a place of peace and gratitude—choosing to believe that this happened for a reason. While it was difficult, it turned out to be a very rich time of growth and connection for us.

One of the most complicated aspects of the whole experience was sharing it with others, which we were forced to do given that we had told a lot of people about the pregnancy as soon as we found out. Many people don’t talk about their pregnancies until the second trimester, since the majority of miscarriages take place in those first three months. I understand, even more so now, why people keep this private—talking about a miscarriage can be quite emotional and uncomfortable for everyone involved.

However, even though it was an intense process for us and many of the people we talked to about it—especially those who had gone through this same experience—Michelle and I were so grateful for the amazing love and support we received. We were also blown away by how many other people had experienced a miscarriage—some we knew about, but many we didn’t.

Even in the midst of this personal and emotional experience, I was fascinated by the human phenomenon of authenticity at play. There is such power available for us when we get real. And while I do believe that it’s important for each of us to make conscious choices about what we share and with whom, far too often we choose not to share certain thoughts, feelings, or experiences because we deem them to be inappropriate or too much for people to handle. In other words, we don’t allow ourselves to let people know what’s really going on with us due to our fear of making them uncomfortable, of being judged, or of being disappointed by their response.

Sadly, in this process of withholding our true experiences and feelings, we miss out on opportunities to connect with people in an authentic way, get support, and share love, wisdom, and empathy. We also tend to focus so much on our own experience and our fears about what other people’s perception of us might be that we forget that having conversations about difficult things can actually be liberating and healing for everyone involved. A number of people I talked with about our miscarriage thanked me, and, in some cases, when I talked to people who had been through this same experience, I both appreciated their wisdom and insight and could tell that talking about it with me was helpful and healing for them. I even chose to write a blog post about it and to share this experience with a larger group of people, which I was a little concerned about initially. The response to my blog post was overwhelmingly positive, and lots of people responded with their own stories, as well as with an overall statement that it’s so important for us to talk about things like this, even if it’s hard. When we do, we learn that we don’t have to go through these things alone; there is a lot more support out there for us than we realize.