What we won't do to stay put

Who doesn't like a science 

book that starts with a picture

 of ducks?

A long time ago, I had this problem eating alone in nice restaurants. One night, I sat alone in an intimidating Boston restaurant, all dressed up, waiting for my husband who was flying back from some trip. 

I sat in the restaurant waiting, but he didn't arrive and I finally got word that his connection had been cancelled. I hadn't ordered anything, I had to decide to stay or go, and I remember having this thought:

I want to be comfortable with this.

I called the waiter over, ordered steak and asparagus and a glass of wine, and did what I wanted to become good at, even if it felt like I was the most noticeable person in the place.  

It was a bigger deal than I thought. Some of you know exactly how big a deal it was. It changed many, many things, that little dinner alone.

Two posts ago, I wrote about choosing to leave college when I was twenty-one, before I had a degree. I was 87.5% finished. This is also known as quitting. 

That's fine. I went on to have a nice life with mostly normal bumps and turns and revelations, but eventually, I began to think about that 12.5%

I know the joy you can experience when you return to unfinished business and kick its ass with all the stuff you've learned while you were away. I also see it as a duty to the self to act on any notion that life could be better, even  if all you do is learn what the steps are to reach "better."  

Hence, I made arrangements to go back to school and get the 12.5%  that I left there on the quad, next to my towel, sunglasses, baby oil and cassette of Eagles songs. 

I'll start in the fall and I'll major in psychology. If you think I write about psychological wellness now without the credentials to do so, just wait.

My daughter asked me recently what my "end game" is, if I know yet what I'll do with the degree. The answer is I do and don't.

It will take a little time to get over myself. I may have to use phrases like "oft times" in casual conversations with my loved ones until they mock me, and then I'll be fine.   

After that, I'll probably start exploring options for further degree work, because people who get their degree at age never-mind do it for the love of learning, not because someone else wants them to.  

And why wouldn't I go further and get a master's? And then, why wouldn't I want to talk about psychological wellness with my new, 100% education?

If this were a few years ago, there would have been one reason which is that I was a classic self-saboteur when it came to change, a thing most of us "don't like" but which most of us need to master if we ever want to sleep in the big bed of life. 

Even without a degree, I have learned that while certain unhappiness will come from resisting a pull toward change, it is, for many, still preferable to uncertainty.

For me, it would take about an hour and a half after I came up with a great idea for my anxiety and self-doubt to ride-share to the center of my mind and say: "Wait, wait, wait. Don't confuse a fantasy with possibility. My God. What if you're wrong? You'll never be able to go back!"

I  have learned a few things about silencing those two, and if you've identified with what I just said, maybe these observations will help.

First, great plans often start as far-fetched fantasies. They don't come fully formed, there may be many, many steps.  It is a fragile juncture you're at when this happens. Innocent fantasies usually can't stand up to practical considerations long enough to flower into plans, and that  is how great ideas die on the why-bother vine.

Second, self-talk – the things we say to ourselves - is everything. It isn't just a concept that psychologists began exploring in the thirties. We choose our self-talk. Out of habit, out of fear, out of doubt. And, we say defeatist things to ourselves without even knowing it. Then we believe it. Then we act on it.

Third, mantras. Ask the Wall Street Journal, they work. Mantras, are what you say to yourself to stay above the mental fray. They are usually short phrases, a word or two that deliberately interrupts your self-talk before it leads your train of thought into the side of a mountain.

When my self-talk choice is a bad one, I say, often out loud, "choose again." I'm amazed at how easy it is to change the mental subject.  

Choose again.

I still take the memory of that night in the restaurant out like a souvenir to remember the feeling of doing a small thing, that I would be proud of - or not.  In a small way, I became my own ally. 

There is word for what happens when you realize you've held yourself back, but then cannot imagine doing it again.

The word is choice. 

And there is a word for how it feels to choose and choose again. 

The word is brave.

How *oft-times it happens, that we live our lives in chains. And we never even know we have the key.

---The Eagles.