2009: year of the superpower

A really unexpected thing happened to me four years ago. I had scheduled about 20 research interviews for late January and early February. My teaching schedule normally prevents me from collecting data early in the year, so this was a new experience for me.

As I started my interviewing I was totally taken aback by the number of references to disappointment and shame around already-lapsing New Year’s Resolutions.

The resolution reference was new – the connection between expectations and disappointment was not.

For me, the juiciest part of resolution-making is dreaming and planning. I love to sit down over a big plate of chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes and dream about the size 6 swimsuit that I'll be wearing in a few months. I love to picture my name on the New York Times Bestseller List while I avoid writing like the plague.

There is nothing better than the hope-filled planning period when you're envisioning the results, but the official start date has yet to arrive. The last indulgent meal before the diet tastes better than any other because I’m eating whatever I want while, in my head, I’m already skinny. Sigh.

Most of us aren’t very good at goal setting – doing it well is really tricky, and, worst of all, it’s not at all fantastical. It’s so much easier to say, “I’m going to be out of debt by August,” than to say, “I’m not going to buy that sweater today.”

In fact, resolutions or goals without small, weekly, measurable objectives are basically wishes. And, as my dad likes to say, “If you shit in one hand and wish in the other, guess what you end up with?” (reads like poetry in Texas).

So, here’s what I’ve decided. No more resolutions. I’m letting it go this year.

Yet, the human pull to do something for the new year is strong. So what will it be? "To Do Lists" are a really good idea (like Karen's) and I'll probably do that. I also like Ali Edward's one little word approach.

This year I want to cultivate, celebrate, and nurture something that's already inside me.

Oh Might Winds That Blow on High . . . Lift Me Now So I Can Fly!

2009 is going to be all about naming and honoring the superpower. I was reading Karen’s fabulous interview series and one of her questions is, “What’s your superpower?” I absolutely believe that we all have superpowers and it’s our obligation to the world to figure out what they are and to use them for good.I also believe that we all have our own forms of kryptonite and, if we’re going to be effective stewards of our superpowers, we must understand those vulnerabilities.

Steve and I spent the Christmas car ride to San Antonio talking about superpowers. Here’s what I came up with for me:

I have bionic powers of observation and making meaning from what I observe. They tore me down in my doctoral program – physically, emotionally, and intellectually – then they rebuilt me. Stronger. Faster. Better. I think my superpower is observing human behavior and seeing, then naming, the subtle connections that help us make meaning of our thoughts, behaviors, and feelings.

I’ve been stalling on my new books because I’ve talked myself into believing that unless your superpower is writing, you shouldn’t do it and you certainly shouldn't call yourself a writer. It’s been paralyzing for me because writing is not my superpower, yet I love it. Granted, it's often a frustrating, awkward struggle, but I feel so good when I'm putting my ideas down on paper. Steve helped me understand that what I really love about writing is that its the most honest way for me to share and explore what I've learned with my superpowers. I can't explain why, but understanding all of this has changed my life.

This year I’m going to honor my superpower by believing that it is enough and that what I’m learning is worth enduring the struggles of writing. I might even embrace the word writer. Yes, my one little word for 2009 might be writer (just in case you're thinking that this is easy for me to share with you, know that I'm afraid, a little bit embarrassed, and resisting the urge to delete this post or hide in a vat of peanut butter).

I’m also going to be more aware of my kryptonite. It is very easy for me to use my superpowers to hide out. When I feel anxious or “less than” I can easily slip into a place where I’m observing life rather than living it. I’m so busy making meaning in my head that I stop creating meaning in my heart (think detached workaholic). It’s a total hazard and explains why, in my opinion, many academics don’t function so well beyond the ivory tower.

Let’s celebrate our superpowers together in 2009! Let's spend the year discovering them, honoring them and sharing them. Let’s cheer each other on!

It was really fun to do this exercise with Steve. His superpower is definitely perspective. He has an amazing ability to quickly assess a situation and distill what is important, all the while staying very grounded. We’re still figuring out his kryptonite (which may speak to what it is).

Tell me . . . what is your superpower? What is your kryptonite? I know it can feel so weird to name it, but we need all of the superpower we can muster!

claiming space

I've been in hiding. Seriously. I spent this week writing in Austin.  I stayed with my dear friend, Chaz, and outlined my new book (chapter titles, content, etc.). I even finished the second chapter (I never write the first chapter first - it's too stressful).

It was so weird and wonderful to spend 10 hours a day doing nothing but writing, thinking about writing, and talking to myself. I completely turned the days over to the process. I would write, do yoga, fall asleep, write some more, watch Law & Order, take a walk, get Indian take-out, stay up until midnight, sleep late, blast the music, and dance.

There were moments when I felt like I was watching myself. Like I was the lead actor in a Lifetime movie about a middle-aged woman who was trying to write a book and had rented a cottage on the shore. It felt too good to be real.

There were also moments when I had to push back feelings of indulgence. I had to silence the shame tape that loves to play "Who do you think you are?" over and over and over.

 

There were also moments of real homesickness. I missed the mornings. Bringing coffee to Steve and smelling my kids' hair when I nuzzle them awake. I missed this . . .

 

The funny thing is that Steve has never been resistant to the idea of me taking a writing week. I've blamed him for years, but he wasn't the problem. I was the problem. I didn't believe in my own worth. Some most of this was tied to money. If I were making tons of money from my writing, taking time to do it would be easy. I know that sucks, but it's my truth. I know this kind of thinking is playing into terrible cultural values, but these are my feelings.

I've been thinking a lot about success lately. What is it? How do I want to measure it? Do I deserve it? What would I be willing to give up to have it? Am I willing to invite it into my life?

Writing this new book, which is about rebuilding my life after losing the great emotional street fight of 2007, has proved to be a jarring reminder about the power of defining your own success.  I've tasted just enough success to know that it can be as delicious as dark chocolate or as foul and metallic-tasting as blood.

Here's what I'm thinking about success (right this minute):

I want to be true to myself. I want to be imperfect, authentic, courageous, compassionate and connected in my work and in my life.

I want to be physically available (read not too much travel) and emotionally engaged with my family.

I want to do work that I love and work that might make the world a kinder, gentler place.

I want to find happiness and beauty in the ordinary and the now, rather than buy into the belief that only the extraordinary is worthwhile and "the good times" are in the future. 

OK - here goes . . . don't look . . . I want to be successful. I don't need a lot of money or recognition for self-worth purposes, but I do want to value my work enough to put value on it.

And, man . . . that's hard sometimes. Especially in a world where teachers and social workers make less than corporate raiders. In a world where one-of-a-kind works of art on Etsy are less expensive than mass-produced works of plastic. In a culture that pays lip service to the importance of raising children, but does little to support and validate parents, especially mothers.

 

It's hard when your academic and activist training says, "If it helps the world, money isn't important" or "If you get to do what you love, asking to get paid for it is selfish." It's hard when your self-worth says, "Don't invite success! What will people think? Better to push it away then resent it for not coming."

But here's what I know for sure: change is in the air. I'm starting to believe that it's not about rejecting success, but rejecting the definitions of success that the world hands us. We need to develop our own standards for success and cultivate the courage and self-love we need to invite success into our lives.

 

Marianne Williamson writes, "Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you."

How do you define success in your life? What messages make you shrink and keep you from claiming the space you deserve? 

what's your six-word memoir?

If you haven't heard about the six-word memoir, you need to check out Smith Magazine and their latest book, Not Quite What I Was Planning. There's also a great story on the six-word phenomenon on NPR.

After giving much thought (and too much time) to my six words, I came up with these:

My personal journey: 

I am my only unique contribution.

My work: 

Telling our stories changes the world.  

My truth:

Writing keeps my head from exploding. 

My day today: 

Finding six words instead of working.  

I'd love to read your six-word memoirs! I will warn you that this exercise can quickly turn into an obsession and suck away as much time as a Law & Order marathon.

Leave your six-worders in the comments or a link to your blog if you've posted it there!