Spendifirous Porthos Movie Poster
I’m getting ready to go see some Musketeer movie with a dear friend this afternoon.
When I called him to arrange our usual Sunday movie date, I could hear the bone weary fatigue in his voice. Of course I was curious and more than a little concerned as to what was up. Turns out earlier this week he started one of those intense P90X work outs programs and his body is aching. As I listened he told me about how he came to the decision to — finally do something about it.
As his words tumbled out I found myself cringing repeatedly. The way he spoke about himself was horrid, so cruel. Each word a blow of self flagellation.
I don’t look right in clothes.
I’m ashamed to come out and have people see me.
Am afraid what they’ll say about how I look since last year.
How did I let myself get this way?
I instantly had a vision of a dog, tail nestled between its back legs. Small. Unempowered and turning in upon itself. Such hurtful words.
Because I know this man, he’s one of my most beloved friends – I knew that he needed to get those words out, needed a neutral place for them to flow into. So I listened and waited for the lull, the pause.
When it came I asked him this:
If we were out together and you overheard someone speaking to me that way, they’d be on the ground in a second, correct?
After a few beats of silence he answered: “Yes.”
“Then don’t talk to my beloved that way. Or you’ll be going from horizontal to vertical in the blink of an eye.”
Figuratively speaking of course.
This is how we talk to ourselves all the time, my people. We think nothing of it. It feels like it’s what we’re supposed to do. It’s acceptable to belittle ourselves.
No it’s not.
When you’re used to being the visionary warrior, the doer who Does with a capital D, who fixes, solves, and Handles. It. All.
With style, tenacity, flair, magnificence…
You’re Coping with a capital C, maintaining until you go home and…collapse.
Until your trusted friend can hear it in your voice when you answer the phone.
Bone weary.
This is bullshit.
Like my loyal friend, gentle linebacker that he is…my personal Porthos who’d rise up to my defense in a heartbeat if he overheard someone disrespecting me,
..who misses that he gets to have that same compassion, love, and loyalty. It extends to him too, as we are all worth that same treatment.
We forget this. I forget this.
When you overdraw from your own bank of compassion, talking to yourself in this way…how does that work?
Does this inspire you to rise up and care for yourself? If it does that’s OK. I’m just seeing who’s in the room.
If you’ve gone off course, got a health issue, found yourself a little off target from an end result you want…
Do you see this as information (simply data) and respond? Or do you personalize the emotion/experience making it mean something?
I invite you to cut yourself some slack.
Are you still vertical or have your words got you on the ground seeing stars?
Comments welcome. Share this post with the someone this reminds you of. And you can cease the beatings anytime now, your choice.
I’m off to the movies.
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Boundaries & Barge Queens
by Linda Eaves on October 28, 2011
No question about it, lack of boundaries affect you.
And even when you’ve got your red velvet ropes in place, keeping them stationary in the long term is key to your well being. Handling interruptions, shifting focus on a dime, and finding your way back to the true north of your task is trickier than it seems. Even when we think these micro shifts are effortless – in reality they take a toll.
We need to start a specific conversation about this. What I’d really like to know is exactly how you handle the splits and shifts…how you find your way back.
The inspiration for this post happened during a quiet Friday afternoon at the office. A woman came by my office that day,
more precisely –
…a VPI (very possibly important) person in charge of a big office move stops by to see me.
We’re lending one of our cubicles to another work group who needed an extra office. The cube has been ready for its new occupant for a while. Or so I thought…
If I’m seeing this woman, it’s certain that there is something not-quite-right. But it’s Friday, and I’m the point of contact person for the office.
It’s clear that I’m on a telephone call with a customer. She sees this and does not leave. Madam VPI hovercrafts at the entrance to my cubicle.
Completely normal Barge Queen behavior.
I think briefly about asking VPI to give me a moment. For some reason it doesn’t seem like a good idea to ignore the VPI. I decide to end my call – abruptly. Inside, I’m frustrated because of the rudeness. In a bit of a snit.
On the outside a completely different story is broadcasted.
“What’s up?” I ask in the most graceful voice full of honey butter tones.
As I speak with her, lyrics from a song called Chasing Cars drift across my mind:
“I need your grace To remind me To find my own.”
(One of my all time favorites, go have a listen.)
Ahhhh. That’s nice isn’t it?
Now that we’ve located our grace, back to her Majesty.
She: “Aren’t you going to clean out that cube?”
Hmm. My mind flicks instantly to a scene. Full cubicle, unclean, full of books from old owner, file cabinets in the way that need out, now!
I quickly head over.
Reality: Cube has been cleaned out. What was left you ask…?
One box of pencils and,
A tabletop document in box.
Whew! I didn’t need to grab the handtruck after all.
I moved these things. Moved what she needed, then asked if there was anything else. Calendar off the wall perhaps?
All the while I thought…
Specificity is a beautiful thing.
How different would the scenario been had it gone down like this:
“There are a couple things left in the cube. I’m not sure where you want them, can you come take a look?’
Lovely.
I get it that she’s stressed about coordinating a big move and it needs to go efficiently.
To her, the pencils and document box were annoying and needed to be moved immediately. She was in the get it done – there’s a million tiny details – zone.
Focused.
Again I say: Specificity = Beautiful Collaboration.
When we know what is, when we have the information, we get to make an informed decision. With grace, and blood pressure remaining in the normal range.
And how about not speaking in absolutes? “Aren’t you going to clean out this cubicle?”
Big this, or little this?
Depends on the perspective. From her view, the box of pencils and the document holder.
Biggish.
Truthfully – I don’t envy her. Moving sucks.
Do you have a Barge Queen (or King) moment? How do you handle those priority requests and majestic moments?
Tell me.
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