Category: anxiety

anxiety, inspiration, leadership, management, work life

The ‘ShootingMyMouthOff’ & The ‘ShouldaCoulda’ Flu

mimijk

I hope the title evokes thoughts of  Johnny Rivers or Aerosmith – that’s what was playing in my head this morning.

How many times have you said to yourself, “I shoulda said”, “I coulda said” or “I woulda said something, but….”.  It’s a common malady, the ‘should-woulda-coulda’ flu.  I’ve been infected more times than I can count – at work certainly, and in other areas of my life as well.  Its onset is so rapid you don’t even know you’ve got it until you try to open your mouth to counter a comment or action with which you take issue, and then rationalize why you shouldn’t say a word.

There is of course a corollary to this bug, which manifests itself with almost uncontrolled verbal expressions which are provided with or without invitation.  It’s also common in the workplace – the ‘shooting-my-mouth-off’ syndrome.  Again, there are no early symptoms, other than the overwhelming urge to say whatever is in your head without filter or forethought.

Although neither is recognized by the AMA, the effects of both can be lingering and negatively impact your relationships and your career.  The good news?  Both are controllable – and with a little exercise and a change in your emotional diet, you should feel pretty good about the prognosis.

There are times when we all feel the need or desire to speak truth to power – or at least what we perceive the truth to be.  You see an issue or problem that is being overlooked, diminished or ignored by those above you in the management hourglass.  In the first instance, you say nothing at all – you don’t want to be seen as negative, maybe you anticipate an angry or dismissive response or feel resigned that your perspective isn’t going to affect the outcome anyway.  In the latter, you tell your supervisor everything you see and hear, rationalizing that you want to keep your boss ‘in the know’,  assigning an ‘urgent’ rating to each conversation and feeling strongly that it’s your job to put it out there, and your supervisor’s job to remedy the situation.

Neither is absolutely right, neither can feel all that good and neither is reflective of your best professional aspect.  I believe that timing is everything – and though certainly I don’t always get it right by a long shot – I have learned to wait until I feel the odds are best for my audience to be attentive to what I’m saying.  (In the interest of full disclosure, I am undoubtedly also driven by my disdain for confrontation and will do what I can to minimize the likelihood of a conversation becoming hostile.)  No one controls what you say and how you say it other than you.  For those who feel your comments are futile – consider that you are in a position where there is an expectation for to you provide your insights, recommendations and perspective.  Although it may easier for you to ‘go along to get along’, if you can improve a situation you have a responsibility to do so.  And if any of you out there have a tendency to speak before thinking about the content and manner of your delivery – the expectations are the same for you too.  Impulsive, ill-conceived comments will sabotage your success with equal speed and force.

Take ten – ten minutes to stop and think about the problem that you see.  Evaluate its urgency, where your audience is at the moment and how to best disseminate the information.  Presuming the situation is not an emergency, think about the possible solutions you can recommend.  ‘Initiative’ is more than bringing an issue to someone’s attention – it also references your ability to provide some potential resolutions as well.  You need to take time to consider problem-solving alternatives before elevating the concern.  And for those who hesitate to say anything – you need some time too – to accept that this is part of your responsibilities and determine the approach that will be most comfortable to you.  Doing nothing is not an option, so don’t even go there.  The goal of the conversation is the same regardless of which ailment you may have – to identify a concern, assess its accuracy and provide objective recommendations for cure.

I realize that when you’re under the weather with symptoms of  either virus, such counsel may be unwelcome.  Yet the bottom line is – real business concerns need to be brought forward – and your professional stock will rise if you do so in the right way and at the right time.  Walk around the block, take some Vitamin C and if you need to,  practice your comments before you make them.  I speak with many managers all the time who feel there is no point in bringing issues out in the open.  I feel their sense of resignation and I ache at their feelings of futility.  I have to say that there are some conditions far worse than the two I’ve mentioned today.  Giving up and giving in to indifference is a far more dangerous and intransigent bug – one which spreads with impressive virulence.  Your views do matter, your recommendations are important and valuable – just make sure your outlook is healthy before you speak.

anxiety, humor, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness, motivation, training

A Very Happy Anniversary Of Sorts

mimijk

On March 31st, I celebrated my first year of ‘retirement’.  I put the term in quotes, because I don’t know that the word ‘retired’ is applicable – if you scramble the letters around, I think you get to a more appropriate description of my state of mind – ‘tireder’ and/or ‘retried’.  I had grown more and more tired of trying to retain a culture and philosophy that in an evolving firm had become outdated and probably to some, pretty hokey.  I had tried too often to excite senior management about employee engagement, accountability, career development, and the joys of communicating in any manner that didn’t require technology.  At the risk of redundancy, I was so flippin’ lucky – I worked in a firm that embraced me and my crazy commitment until I realized that it was time for me to pack it in.  I wasn’t going to be able to contribute anymore – the train was pulling out of the station and I chose not to buy a ticket.

But – it’s still an anniversary.  I should get a  present or something (note to self – talk to husband).  It’s been a year of tremendous growth, with incredible highs coming from places I would never have expected and dark blues that I hadn’t anticipated which gripped some days with vice-like intensity.  I’ve learned that retirement doesn’t separate you from your convictions (I know, big duh if you’ve been reading my blog) – I still care as passionately about the principles I followed when I was working full-time.  I’ve learned that you are not going to be defined by what you did for a living but how you lived while you were working.  Over the course of this past year, I’m sure I have been vilified and canonized – perhaps even at the same time, remembered fondly and with derision – that is the territory of all who have experienced extended employment tenure.  And I’ve learned that it really doesn’t matter – what counts is my continued love and commitment to the people who have remained my friends.

I discovered that working independently is both freeing and lonely.  A side benefit of going to work each day is having people to engage with, who are also struggling with intense workloads and challenges as well as lives outside of work that they are struggling to stay connected to.  The transition from 200 emails in my inbox each morning that required me to accelerate from 0 to 60 pre-coffee, to coffee and the paper first with no rush to get out the door wasn’t easy (though I have come to LOVE it).  Connected to that intensity was the implicit need that others had for me in one way or shape or form, and I liked that.  Finding a new rhythm was a challenge – knowing I had a groove, but not knowing where the hell I was supposed to dance.  Consulting has provided an excellent segue for me – allowing me the freedom of self-exploration with the structure of developing meaningful programs and training opportunities.  It’s also given me time to hang with my kids who are local (when they’re not working or with their spouses), go to the gym, make some new friends, be a better friend to my old friends, and continue to fight with a bit more focus on a body that keeps throwing me medical surprises and loops for which I’m never prepared.  That old Faces song “Oh La La” reprises in my head “I wish that I knew what I know now/When I was younger”…

Finally I have learned that there are phenomenally talented, generous people out there in Bloggerland who teach me something new every time I read their posts, share a conversation online or exchange a ‘shout out’ in appreciation for their tremendous efforts.  These virtual friends evoke very real emotions within me – I celebrate their success, try to answer the questions they pose of their readers, laugh, etc.  Sometimes it feels like there’s lots of virtual hugging going on – and quite honestly, long may it continue.  These writers have inspired and humbled me.  When I started this in mid-January, I had no idea what I was doing.  I still don’t – but now it doesn’t bother me as much.  There are many more who have been more successful, but there are unquestionably few who have derived more delight and connection than me.  So, Happy-Sorta-Anniversary to me…may new adventures still greet me each day.  “Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive.  One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.” — Eleanor Roosevelt (and agreed to this day, by me :-)).

anxiety, humor, life lessons, mindfulness

I Was Only Kidding

mimijk

In the great big scheme of things, I’m not too surprised I didn’t win the lottery.  Recognizing that the odds weren’t really with me was the first clue.  The fact that I didn’t buy a ticket was the second.  I would have liked to have won though – and I don’t really believe anyone who says otherwise.  Come on – it immediately takes the term ‘winning’ away from Charlie Sheen, so right off the bat, it’s a good thing.

I think we kid ourselves a lot – and not always in a way intended to make us laugh.  The biggest fibs are not those we tell others, it’s the ones we tell ourselves.  The reasons are understandable – we don’t want to change something about our environment or ourselves, the risk of admitting the truth is too great – sort of like touching the house of cards upon which our ego strength rests.  Is it necessary to always be truthful to one’s self?  I think it’s a moot question, for I doubt that the most self-actualized person (Dalai Lama excluded) can lay claim to complete inner candor.  I do think though that as we face spring cleaning – of our yards, closets, garages, etc – we may want to do a little dusting off of some of the lines we’ve been repeating in our heads and see if we can’t box them up and put them away.  Here’s my top ten list so far – in no particular order…

1.  I’m my own worst critic (no I’m not – I only self-flagellate to the point where I feel some discomfort)

2.  It doesn’t matter

3.  I need those shoes

4.  I can handle it – whatever ‘it’ may be

5.  I’ll do it tomorrow

6.  I’m not good enough

7.  I’m too good

8.  It doesn’t bother me – rolls off my back like water off of a duck

9.  I don’t care

10. It’s just how I am

The corollary of course is that the flip side of such statements are undeniable truths.  The tricky part is figuring out where the two meet.  I’ll let you know when I figure that out – after all, spring cleaning typically takes more than a day if it is to be done well.  Who am I kidding?  I haven’t even started yet.

anxiety, humor, life lessons

Marlon Perkins And Me

mimijk

My husband thinks he’s Marlon Perkins.  I don’t want to dissuade him, for it gives him such joy and feelings of power that can’t reasonably be replicated in any other aspect of his life.  I feel like I’m a bit player on “Mutual Of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom”, though we live about 25 miles outside of Washington, DC.  I don’t think of myself as Bill necessarily – I always felt bad for that guy – Marlon would narrate as Bill was sent to wrestle the alligator, run from a charging silver back gorilla, etc..  I am more of a hysterical observer as I watch my husband approach his nemesis,  his focus nothing short of laser-like, his exhaustive knowledge of his prey’s behavior shames those of us lesser beings who are just simply grossed out.

He is in search of the notorious brown marmorated stink bug.  For those of you who live on the East Coast and/or China, these interlopers are not uncommon to you.  A few of them apparently booked vacations here, arriving by boat only to find the environment conducive for permanent re-location.  The vineyards were plentiful, the fruit crop bountiful, job prospects were strong and the housing market very competitive.  What a place to raise a family – very large families.

These are disgusting bugs.  I’m sorry if I offend those of you who find all of God’s creatures to be wondrous, but these guys rate right up there with cockroaches in my book.  They have these hard brown shells and emit a potent, offensive odor if challenged (or squashed or vacuumed up).  They prefer the warmer weather, so after hibernating in the eaves and crevasses of one’s home, they emerge in the spring.  Needless to say, they don’t even have the good manners to bring a thank you gift for allowing then to stay rent free on your property for part of the year.  At first I thought they were a new form of psychic terrorism –  like water torture – they just keep coming back over and over and over…They have no known natural enemies ( but for a specific type of stingless wasp who is still hanging out in China), are virtually impossible to completely eradicate and make their presence known in some very inopportune places (I have had one crawl across the keys of my computer – while keying; take a car trip with me to the supermarket; one even jumped out of my briefcase when I went through security at the airport – until then I had never heard a TSA agent scream).  I love the outdoors; I hate sharing my space with these pre-historic looking insects who actually think they are entitled to be here.

Enter my husband, pith helmet jauntily placed on his head, shorts, knee socks and a safari jacket to die for, stalking his prey with his weapon of choice – The Bugzooka.  This is a large cylindrical contraption with suction-like properties  (sold by Ronco or some such company).  If you bring the tip of the Bugzooka within touching distance of the offending bug and press a button, it sucks the insect into a holding cell.  There they remain imprisoned, no doubt wondering what happened to the free food and room service, before being unceremoniously flushed down the toilet.  Of course, we have a septic system, so you can imagine my anxiety when considering how many of these ugly little buggers are clogging the tanks (my apologies in advance to the people who will come and empty those tanks – it will be a really awful experience which I hope doesn’t leave them permanently damaged).

My husband has quickly become  my hero.  I just have to whisper “stink bug at 2:00” and he is at the ready, calmly pursuing his prey and dispensing his swift, unequivocal  justice.  I think he has probably developed a reputation among the stink bug population, for there do seem to be fewer this year.  I am a  member of the Humane Society of the U.S., the SPCA and really believed I loved all animals great and small.  Yet I now must admit that I have been bested by the brown marmorated stink bug, and saved by my very own Marlon Perkins.

anxiety, life lessons, mindfulness

The Art Of Confrontation

mimijk

Let me say upfront – I never developed this skill.  Not only don’t I have any talent for confrontation, I have so studiously avoided it that I think I show some real ability in this area.  It’s somewhat ironic that frequent moments in my career required that I confront people, my passionate belief in my professional purpose fueled my provocative challenges at times and it’s hard to get through the adolescences of three boys without having to go toe-to-toe every once in awhile.  But, I have never sought out such exchanges preferring more peaceful resolutions (which admittedly took longer and arguably required more patience).  This wasn’t because I’m such a great person – honestly, it’s because I really can’t stand vitriol and words spoken with such hostility that do-overs are impossible.

But boy oh boy, this weekend I wanted to rush Limbaugh.  Literally.  I wanted to rush the guy and wither him with my superior vocabulary and make him cower in fear of the scorching venom that would drip from my fangs.  Oh, and I wasn’t planning on providing any anti-toxin either.  I am not going to write about my political persuasions – I’ll leave that to people to the left and right of me who write more capably.  I do think the guy should be fired, and in the interest of equity – feel similarly about any shock jock who delights in the extreme denigration of others.  With all the devastation and heartache that is evidenced in the news, my palpable reaction to his idiotic cruelty was off the charts.

The kids were over for brunch yesterday and my son provided the voice of reason.  He’s a very smart guy, and perhaps a little more absolute in his perspective than I. Typically he is more inclined to opine and do so with confidence and bravado.  Although one of us leans more to the left and the other more to the right, we respect each other enough to know where our buttons are and we leave them alone. I was the one who raised the topic, unable to shake my disgust with the Limbaugh narrative.  We agreed that regardless of one’s political beliefs, there’s too much hyperbole, blustering b.s. and not enough substantive discourse for informed decisions to be reached. And for reasons which defy me, if there is nothing sensational to discuss, we will create it.

And I admit – when I’m standing in line at the supermarket I look at the cover of the National Enquirer, though I can’t bear to pick it up (although I was once tempted as a kid, when the cover story was about Martians landing on earth and they had these grainy black and white pictures of extra-terrestrials).  As I’ve written before, I guess I avoid situations and discussions that reflect the worst of our human nature.  It assaults my senses.  But then again, I’m clearly part of a minority. Full disclosure – I’ve never watched reality TV either  – maybe it is more than the real deal…maybe it is sensational.

anxiety, humor, life lessons, mindfulness, work life

It’s Your Choice

mimijk

Cash or credit; paper or plastic; wheat or sourdough; grande or venti; bootcut or straight-leg; warm or cool; volume or length; matte or gloss; MSNBC or CNBC…It’s not even 8AM and these are just a few of the decisions I’ve had to make just to get in gear.  And I’m retired now – what was my morning like when I was working?

If this is indicative of the ‘new minimalism’, I don’t get it.  I consider it a paradigm for insanity.  I don’t want to make any more decisions, it’s hurting my brain and making me cranky.  Perhaps this is why I find shopping malls so punitive – just parking is an exercise in over-stimulation.  And once you walk inside (choosing one of a hundred different alternatives for egress) there are too many stores, too many people, too many colors…If I go to Nordstrom, am I an ‘individualist’, ‘savvy’, ‘tbd’, ‘petite’?  Do I want firm control or moderate control?  Anklets or tube socks?  Yes.

This is my response going forward.  Yes.  Do with it what you will, but it seems far better to me than just responding negatively to everything and winding up with nothing and never leaving my house.  Yes.  I cede all decision-making authority to the salesperson, grocery store cashier and Starbucks’ barista.  It’s all fine with me.  I just want a cup of coffee, the perfect pair of jeans, a blush that brightens my face so I look naturally healthy and a moisturizer that erases wrinkles.  I want a handbag that holds everything and weighs nothing.  I want to know which is better – counting calories or protein loading.  Are we Lin-ing, Tebow-ing or Winning this week?  Yes.  Just tell me the lexicon-of-the-moment so I can feel like I know what is going on.  It’s fine.  I’m overwhelmed with choices and underwhelmed with the results.  So whatever you choose, it’s fine with me.

No wonder people don’t feel like working once they arrive at the office.  I always thought that the deferral of difficult decisions was a result of a collective abhorrence of provocative dialogue.  Wrong – it’s exhaustion.  It’s easier to have a cabal of ‘yes’ people around.  Ok – it’s exhaustion and ennui, but the latter is a topic for another day.  Of course here we are expending all of this energy just to get to wherever we  need to be, and if one pauses for a moment it’s clear that none of the choices made along the way really matter.  In hindsight, all of these decisions are elevated to a level of importance prompted by the urgency of the moment, not the urgency of the matter.  It’s all a bit embarrassing.  When I consider the offenses I may have caused by being thoughtless, I’m both rueful and redeemed.  I now have an excuse.  I had run out of mental energy.

So I guess this means that when we really need to step up to the plate and connect with the ball, it very well may be a swing and a miss.  I don’t want to miss the next pitch.  From now on it’s ‘yes’ to everything that really isn’t going to matter to me tomorrow.  And in response to the more thought-provoking questions?  I’ll get back to you on that.

anxiety, life lessons, mindfulness

It’s Enough To Make You Crazy

mimijk

“I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once” — Jennifer Yane

Apparently April is National Anxiety Month – I had no idea.  If someone had told me that I had the option of deferring my anxiety, collecting and storing it in one of the many compartments in my head pending one outrageous release from April 1st – 30th, I can’t imagine how much more organized my thought process would be.  I really think this deserves more publicity, which is why I’m telling you in February instead of waiting to celebrate in April.

My brain operates much like an active ball in a pinball machine.  I know this because my husband has a pinball machine from the 70’s (the kind that make a racket), and he is able to keep a ball in play, hitting multiple targets and causing that damn bell to ring for ridiculously long periods of time.  He plays for hours (ok, it feels/sounds like hours).  And that is the perfect metaphor for the processes in my head (which could explain the genesis of migraines, but probably not).  I tried to follow my thoughts this morning for one minute – one flippin’ minute – and here’s just a portion of the cacophony that plays in my crazy little head…

“I wonder how D is feeling/should email her/Did S get home ok…damn, I’m going to be late for the gym/I don’t want to go to the gym/I have to go to the gym/when do I start looking like I even go to the gym…should stop at Whole Foods and pick up some tilapia/it’s 6AM, who the hell wants to think about dinner…look the sun is rising earlier…Good Morning, Good Morning, Good Morning (the Beatles)/Good Morning to you, Good Morning to you, You look kinda drowsy, In fact you look lousy, Is this anyway, to start a new day (who taught me that)…Tragic about Whitney Houston/Enough about Whitney Houston…I haven’t called the kids/should I call the kids/does that mean I’m being too intrusive/don’t be stupid, call the kids…I need to get milk too so that it doesn’t snow tomorrow..I never knew there was a place called Chagrin Falls, Ohio..Tin soldiers and Nixon’s coming, We’re finally on our own, This summer I hear the calling, Four dead in O-h-i-o/Do I have Joni Mitchell’s ‘Blue’ on my iPod?/There’s no way I could exercise to CSN&Y/I look like an idiot on the bike…maybe I should have some more coffee..

You see, this is just a snippet of the free association with musical accompaniment in my head.  I operate at all times on two mental tracks – a song is always playing in my head along with a concurrent blend of disconnected thoughts running on another loop.  Ambidextrous thinking.  My hunch is that I’m not unique in this regard (well, maybe about the music part).  And if that assumption is correct, then it’s no wonder that anxiety gets its own month.  Depending on how much perseverating is going on, it’s entirely reasonable for anxiety to be given its own year.

The funny thing is, I don’t consider myself an anxious person – rather one who has a mind in perpetual overdrive.  This thought alone does make me anxious however, which logically suggests that if I stop thinking I won’t be anxious.  Well, that’s impossible, for I don’t take well to terms like ‘airhead’ or phrases like ‘if you get too close to her you can hear the wind’.  Not that there’s anything wrong with the wind..makes me think of the Joni Mitchell song ‘Twisted’…Bette Midler did a terrific rendition as well..Ah, here I go again.  And my husband wonders why I’m tired.  I think I need a nap…go into the arms of Morpheus…dream a little dream of me/Mama Cass, loved her. Never mind – I’m going to the gym.