A few weeks ago, the entire staff of the small nonprofit organization I work for took a field trip to a Mindfulness Institute. For two hours, we learned about and practiced mindfulness; relaxing, breathing, being present, paying attention and listening under the guidance of the Director of the Institute. Only two of us on staff had ever practiced mindfulness, so it was encouraging to be there with my colleagues. Some were more open to the experience than others, but that is to be expected.

First we took some time just being aware of our bodies in the room. Many staff confessed they felt stressed by taking two hours out of the work day and couldn’t stop thinking about everything they still had to finish. They were back in their offices, not in the airy, bright space where we were all seated in a circle, and they were feeling worse instead of better. But we practiced focusing on our bodies; our feet on the floor, our butts in the chairs, and we breathed. Our moderator reminded us that there was nothing we could do about the work because we were there in the room, a very simple fact that so often people forget. Worrying is just a waste of energy.

We also practiced mindful movement with several quigong exercises. Quigong is a holistic system of coordinated
body posture and movement, breathing, and meditation used for health,
spirituality, and martial arts training. I’m not a big fan of Quigong or tai chi, which I have also practiced a few times, but I respect their value. 

What was most profound for me was the last exercise we did, an exercise in listening. We all split up into pairs and our moderator began explaining that one of us would be given a topic to talk about and the other was to listen, only listen, and remain completely silent. She continued for a few moments about the exercise and made a point of saying, “And I haven’t told you what you’d be discussing yet because I know you’d all stop listening to me and start thinking about what you’d say.” How right she was. 

I was designated to speak first and my partner, a dedicated volunteer, was to listen to me. At last we were told to speak about something we’re grappling with. For two to three minutes I spoke about my concerns regarding the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and how I don’t really like this time of year. I found that I was talking faster and faster, not to fit more in, but because having this woman’s undivided attention somehow felt selfish, like I was wasting her time. She nodded in agreement and smiled and made other sorts of sympathetic gestures, but didn’t say a single word!

I realized that not being interrupted for two to three minutes and just being able to speak seemed so foreign, so unnatural. Do we really all interrupt with our own thoughts and questions, advice and suggestions, stories and experiences so often that speaking uninterrupted feels… strange?

Next we were told to talk about how we plan to deal with what we’re grappling with, and again I spoke uninterrupted for a minute or two. 

Then it was my turn to listen. I don’t know this woman personally. She is extremely personable and I enjoy working with her, but I realized as she was telling me about what she’s grappling with that I don’t know her at all. I listened attentively, grateful to have been given explicit instructions not to speak because once we were done, I felt as if I had given her a gift, the gift of my full attention and a chance to speak uninterrupted. In return, I felt as if I had been given a gift as well, the gift of her honesty and openness.  

Then she spoke for another minute or two about how she plans to deal with what she’s grappling with. We spoke to one another for no more than five minutes each, but before we went back to our original seats, we embraced. In under ten minutes our relationship strengthened, simply because we spoke and listened to one another. 

Someone once told me that when we interrupt someone, we are saying that what we have to say is more important than what they have to say. It is absolutely true. We want to say something so badly that we can’t just wait. In doing so, we take control of the conversation, like a passenger taking control of the wheel of a car. 

But what about active listening? We talked about that after the exercise as a group. I said, “At no point did I want to make the conversation about me by telling a similar story, or offer advice, but I did feel the urge to agree or ask a question.” Many of us have been told to ask questions to express our interest. It is a social tool we all use to engage in conversation.

The Director’s response to this will stay with me. She explained that when we ask questions, we take control of the conversation. Now the speaker feels obliged to answer our question, redirecting them from their thought process and what they may have said. 

It blew my mind. 

I don’t want to be a crappy listener. Being given the chance to speak uninterrupted about what I was grappling with gave me the chance to formulate all my ideas about what I was feeling. Had my partner asked me a question, I would not have found it rude. It’s what we do. But in answering, I would have switched gears and allowed her to take control of the wheel and steer my thoughts in a direction of her choosing. I understand this now. For now on, I will practice holding my questions until whomever I’m listening to has stopped speaking.  

There was one other thing I took away from the exercise that I’d like to share. It occurred to me that no one in that room raised their hand and said, “But I’m not grappling with anything.” 

We are ALL grappling with something. In practicing mindfulness, I think it is skillful to keep this in mind. Remembering that no one is immune to suffering creates room for compassion and kindness. 

I stumbled upon a former friend’s birthday in my calendar when scheduling some appointments and my stomach dropped. When I originally entered the occasion eight or so years ago, I scheduled it to be repeated annually. When prompted for how long, I selected “forever”, what I assumed the duration of our friendship would be.

I was wrong.

I deleted the series without hesitation, permanently removing any written reminder of her birthday. If I happen to remember it on my own, I will send her metta (loving-kindness) and go on with my day. But having a permanent reminder doesn’t serve me. Reminders of her sting like paper cuts – hardly visible, not at all critical nor long-lasting, but painful nevertheless. They add nothing positive to my life, so therefore have no reason to stay.

Holding on to painful memories that don’t serve us is masochistic. It welcomes unnecessary grief and stunts the healing and growing process. Time heals wounds, but only if we leave them alone. Looking at pictures, keeping note of birthdays or certain “would-be” anniversaries, and leaving numbers in your phone are all acts of scab-picking that reopen wounds. These acts create scars that remain visible and then serve as their own permanent reminders. What you end up with is trauma over the loss, and additional suffering over the way you handled the loss.

I have experienced a lot of devastating trauma around friendships throughout my life. During my release ritual, I dealt with my feelings of abandonment, resentments, and sense of inferiority. I let so many of those lingering traumas go, but although faded, I will always carry the scars of a major loss that occurred during adolescence. The reason why is simple — the event shaped who I am. I don’t lament that loss, however. I have accepted it.

The loss of this friend whose birthday I deleted from my calendar hasn’t had such a lasting impact on me. The friendship came at a time when I desperately needed one. I literally prayed for a friend and I felt that my prayers had been answered when she entered my life. The truth is, however, that we weren’t very good friends to one another, and in hindsight, it’s easy to see why our friendship didn’t survive its challenges and outside influences. What is weak is easily broken, and our friendship had weakened over its last couple of years until it simply faded away without a single parting word.

Although I struggled briefly with the lack of finality (I like closure), I acknowledged that was a need that would serve no one if pursued. Shortly after things were obviously over forever, I had a wonderful dream. In that dream, I visited her in her new home. As was often the case throughout our friendship, I struggled for her attention, having to compete with her child and cellphone as I struggled to make small talk. Finally, she looked up at me and said, “I love you, but not as much.” This news was wonderful and I replied in excitable agreement, “Oh my God, I feel the same way. I don’t love you as much anymore, either!”

I awoke from my dream smiling and feeling lighter. I had gotten my closure. Sometimes it’s that simple — you just don’t love as much as you once did. And sometimes people come into your life for a reason, and when that reason has run its course, it is time for them to go. I don’t regret this friendship because I fully understand the purpose it served and I have a lot of great memories. But I also understand why it ended, and this is why I do not grieve. My heart is not broken.

But just because I do not grieve, doesn’t mean I care to be reminded of the loss of this friendship and the lingering negative emotions that sometimes accompany thoughts of her. During the minimalism challenge earlier this year, I disposed of some of the physical items that reminded me of her. Then later when I read Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, I was able to hold a remaining item and ask myself truthfully: does this bring me joy? The answer was no, so I thanked the item for its time in my life, and placed it in the trash.

Although not a physical item, a reminder on a calendar can be clutter. Technology and social media rule our lives. Consider cleaning up your calendar, old saved e-mails, and who you’re following. If someone or things that someone often shares don’t serve you or make you feel anything but happy or educated, then they don’t serve you and can be deleted from your life.

Allowing these negative triggers to stay is an invitation to be hurt. I cannot tell you how many times I have searched for an e-mail using keywords and old hurtful or stressful e-mails have shown up in the results, sidetracking me and inflicting painful jabs. I have minimized my possessions and those things that do not bring me joy. It is time to take those habits online.

I may think of my friend on her birthday and I may not. At least I won’t be caught off guard by a reminder. This wound is nearly healed — I think I’ll keep leaving it alone.

We all want to support our best friends and closest loved ones the best we know how. We also want to feel supported by them in return. It’s not always easy though, because just like how we all speak different primary love languages, I realize we all speak different primary support languages. Do you know how you feel best supported? Do you know your go-to support method when you’re the one doing the supporting?

Many of us lean towards one of two directions, I think. Borrowing my friend Kathy’s words, I will refer to these methods as “Mom” and “Dad.” For example, in times of stress or sorrow, do you have a tendency to skip over sympathy and jump right in with advice or attempt to come up with ways to solve the problem? That’s the ‘Dad’ method. Or are you a hugger, back rubber, and more likely to sympathize and listen? That’s the ‘Mom” method. (Yes, I am generalizing.)

I have had a tendency to crave the ‘Mom’ method for myself when I’m hurting, but speak the ‘Dad’ method when offering support. I am action-oriented. When I am clear-headed, I am a problem solver. But when I’m not, like when I’m upset, I don’t want to answer questions and take advice. That kind of support often makes me feel worse. When I’m upset I want a great big hug and to be told everything will be okay, or something like “Damn, Jess, that (insert any of one million upsetting things here) really sucks and I’m sorry that happened.” Oftentimes the offer to beat someone up for me makes me smile and speeds up the healing process. Oh, and a good joke.

I know this because I have been thinking about support a lot lately. At times I have felt poorly supported, but it has recently occurred to me: Have I made it clear how I want to be supported? Have you? I also realize I have been a crappy supporter at times, not for lack of trying, but for lack of offering what the person needed. 

As I become more mindful and practice listening (really listening), I have worked on doing two things:

1. Expressing my expectations (saying how best to support me):

Recently I wanted to confide something to Kathy, but I hesitated because Kathy has a tendency to ask tough questions and make me do work, like hard work, that I wasn’t interested in doing yet because I was still processing. She’s not so much ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’, but more like ‘High Priestess/Therapist/Earth Angel’.

So I said, “Kathy, I want to tell you something, but I don’t want to do The Work and I don’t want to answer a lot of questions.” Then I told her ‘something’, and she supported me perfectly, exactly the way I needed because she is an amazing friend. I think she would have supported me the same even if I hadn’t told her what I needed, but it was better for me to be clear, I think. And even though I didn’t ask her to offer to beat someone up for me, my wonderful, petite friend offered anyway.

Don’t worry so much about how people will interpret your expressing your expectations. Communication prevents confusion. Several days later Kathy and I were still on the topic of support and she said with a laugh, “People judge way more when they don’t know what the fuck’s going on.” She’s right.

2. Being ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’:

People like to vent; it’s good for them. Most people, in my experience, don’t want you to help solve their problems, at least not right away. Most people want to be heard, and they want their problem validated, whether you consider it deserving or not. Validation does not mean you agree or approve. Validation is simply recognition. I may not consider a stained expensive shoe worth getting upset over, but I can at least recognize how that could be upsetting.

I have oftentimes made upsetting matters far worse by failing to be supportive in the way someone needed. For example, my mom has a lot of physical pain and she often breaks down in conversation because it is upsetting and debilitating to be in pain all the time. I often failed to sympathize with her. I would jump right in with suggestions. “Did you try this? Did you try that?” Since she wasn’t in the mood for advice and suggestions, she’d often get more upset and then I’d accuse her of not helping herself and we’d both wind up feeling awful. I see now she only needed someone to listen and be sympathetic.

Now I try harder to be ‘Mom’ first by sympathizing and listening, even though it isn’t my inclination. I also try to empathize by putting myself in their shoes.

Afterward I ask if there’s anything I can do, and I offer the obvious. “I can call a few dry cleaners in the area and see if they can get the stain out?” Whether my help or advice is requested or accepted, I make it known I am available for help or to listen.

I’m trying to be a more supportive person. But I still struggle when I don’t feel supported. I know I need to be able to support myself, but that still doesn’t take away the desire to feel supported by my loved ones. I also know the root of suffering is attachment and I’m attached to my desire to be supported in certain ways. I have tried making it clear, but what happens when you explain how you’d like to be supported, and you still don’t receive that support? That’s where the suffering comes in.

What about support over dreams and goals?

If you were about to rock climb a tall wall, would you want:

a. Someone at the top reaching for you to pull you up?
b. Someone below you, giving you a boost?
c. Someone alongside you taking every step with you?
d. Someone on the ground cheering you on?
e. Someone at home who gave you the space to do this on your own?

I feel best supported when I am encouraged and when there is an expressed interest in what I am doing. I don’t need someone to rock climb with me. I want someone to believe I can climb the wall, tell me so, and whether I fail or succeed, to ask about my experience and care about my response. That’s the support I desire.

We are all story-tellers. The only difference is that some of us write our stories down. But make no mistake about it, we’re all crafting stories in our heads starring the people in our lives, and we’re starring in their stories, too. These stories all have something in common: they are fiction.

I’m talking about the story-telling we do when we make assumptions and project our feelings onto others, or our insecurities onto situations.

He didn’t call me back yet. He doesn’t like me anymore.

Susie & Mary went to lunch without me. They’re talking badly about me. 

He didn’t say I look nice. I’m so fat and gross!

He’s not wearing his wedding ring. They’re headed for divorce.

I haven’t invited Jessica to dinner because she’s always busy.

My son behaves this way because he knows it drives me crazy!

Any of this sound familiar? What stories are you telling yourself? My overactive story-telling mind has caused me a lot of suffering. The reason being is that I wasn’t aware my stories were fiction. For example, when my husband would break plans with me, I’d tell myself it was because he didn’t want to spend time with me. I absolutely believed this to be fact. My evidence: he broke plans with me. That’s all the evidence I needed. I couldn’t even hear anything else because I was so hurt that he didn’t want to spend time with me. The story was already written. Therefore, whenever we made plans I feared he would break them again (further proving my story). This built up a lot of anxiety for me and a lot of pressure for him. We ultimately stopped making plans just to avoid it all.

All because of the stories in my head. I use this example because I know it is not uncommon.

This is only one of hundreds of the stories I have told myself and believed to be true. As I’ve cracked the nut on my suffering, I have come to learn the difference and to stop writing so many destructive stories in my head. There is a simple question you can ask yourself when you begin believing your own stories.

Is this true?

Byron Katie is the absolute master of story-telling. She asks the question: Who would you be without your story?

“The Work of Byron Katie is a way of identifying and questioning the thoughts that cause all the anger, fear, depression, addiction, and violence in the world. Experience the happiness of undoing those thoughts through The Work, and allow your mind to return to its true, awakened, peaceful, creative nature.”

There are four stages in Byron Katie’s The Work, a simple yet powerful process of inquiry that teaches you to identify and question the thoughts that cause your suffering. It’s a way to understand what’s hurting you, and to address the cause of your problems with clarity. In its most basic form, The Work consists of four questions and the turnarounds, and it is all completely free online. I am going to use one statement and go through the process as an example, but I do highly recommend you read more about it at the links provided. It really is a remarkable and most helpful concept.

I will use the previous example of me and my husband to demonstrate how The Work… works?

This is my thought: When my husband breaks plans with me it is because he does not want to spend time with me.

Step 1 of The Work: Complete the Judge-Your-Neighbor Worksheet. “For thousands of years we’ve been told not to judge—but let’s face it, we do it all the time. We all have judgments running in our heads. Through The Work we finally have permission to let those judgments speak out, or even scream out, on paper. We may find that even the most unpleasant thoughts can be met with unconditional love.” – Byron Katie

Using my example, statement #1 on the worksheet would read: I am angry with Mike because he doesn’t want to spend time with me. I would continue filling out the worksheet, writing down how I want him to change, what I want him to do, etc. This is the time to let it all out and really think about how this thought makes you feel and be completely honest with yourself about what you think you need and how you feel about the person you are having this thought about.

You only need to ask this one if you answer “yes” to #1. If you said yes, this allows you a chance to dig deeper. Is it really really true?

How do I react when I think that thought? 

Angry, hurt, lonely, abandoned, accusatory, insecure, unworthy of affection, closed off to compromise and discussion (to name a few).

Who would I be without the thought?

Willing to listen, willing to compromise, rational, patient, understanding, secure.

Example: Mike doesn’t want to spend time with me.  

“Until you can see the enemy as a friend, your Work is not done. This doesn’t mean that you have to invite your enemy to dinner. Friendship is an internal experience. You may never see the person again, you may even divorce him or her, but as you think about the person, are you feeling stress or peace?” -Byron Katie

I walked through a brief example of The Work because I truly believe it is a helpful exercise. Byron Katie has so many wonderful videos of her going through The Work with people regarding all different stories: a woman who lost her daughter in a car accident who couldn’t figure out how to say she would ever look forward to losing her daughter again, a man who hates his cancer and cannot figure out how to turn that around, a son who wants his Mom to be happy and has his own thoughts about what happiness means.

The Work is another tool for your toolbox. Be aware of the stories you’re telling yourself. Ask yourself if they are true. Turn them around, and work toward peace.

“The root of suffering is attachment.” – The Buddha

My mom has been depressed and ill most of my life. The little girl that spent her childhood waiting and hoping and expecting her mom to be something more still lives inside of me, and she is still waiting and hoping.

Heatherash Amara explains in “Warrior Goddess Training” that whenever we have an expectation for how people, things, or events should be, that we are forming an attachment. “The stronger the expectation, the deeper the attachment, and the more we suffer when it is not met…” (xxiii). My attachment to who I want my mom to be has led to a lifetime of disappointment. I am only beginning to understand that I want her to be someone that she might just be incapable of being.

The fault is all mine. I have been unable to accept her for who she is, limitations and all.

Detachment, gentleness and compassion on my part is the silver bullet to put an end to my constant disappointment and resentments. But it’s so damn hard, because the little girl inside of me still just wants a mom, and the adult in me struggles so much to understand and be patient with her.

I have to learn to release this expectation of what I want my mom to be, this vision that I am so attached to, for both our sakes, and accept her for who she is. I have the tools and the knowledge, but the little girl inside of me is still longing for a mother…