Learning How to Say No.

My responsibility is not to the ordinary, or the timely. It does not include mustard, or teeth... My loyalty is to the inner vision, whenever and howsoever it may arrive. If I have a meeting with you at three o’clock, rejoice if I am late. Rejoice even more if I do not arrive at all.
— Mary Oliver

I used to joke that the four most difficult words in the world were: Yes, No, Hello and Goodbye. I think I said it jokingly because it’s easier to take in that way. I thought I would start today with the first two and tackle the second two in a day or two.

Yes and No. They go together. These words are the lynchpins of decisions and commitments. These two words decide more about your time and how you will spend your days than any other words in your vocabulary. I have done many workshops with groups on ‘How to say, “No”’ and “How to Prioritize (make lists of things that you say yes and no to) and I can say that learning to say Yes and learning to say No is a lifelong skill. You think you have it and you have to relearn it again.

One of the things that I have noticed is that Yes is often seen as ‘good’ and it is the word where people get a helper’s high of ‘aren’t I wonderful for saying Yes to that?!’ Yes can be downright addictive. Good, helpful, kind people say Yes. Capable, competent and hard-working people say Yes. I want to be good, helpful, kind, capable, competent and hardworking, so of course I will say Yes! “Sure I’ll make homemade Ukrainian eggs for the first grade fair!” “Yes, of course I can go over that report before I leave.” “Yes, I can be on your board (committee, program, team).”

The problem isn’t that we say Yes. The problem is that we believe Yes and No are separate states. We believe we get equal numbers of both of them. We forget that every single time we say Yes we are also saying No. If I say Yes to your request, then I am automatically saying No to what I might have done with that time, or the flexibility I might have had. There is no right or wrong here. It is just a statement of fact. If I join your committee that meets every other Tuesday night, then I am saying No to whatever else I might have been doing every other Tuesday night.

It is what I call the invisible No behind every Yes that gets us in trouble. Because we are mostly good at saying Yes to other people and No to ourselves and this imbalance builds up until there’s an internal revolt or all-out burnout. I have worked with so many people who say that they have no time for themselves. When they talk about making changes in their lives they feel stuck because they have said Yes to so many things that they are now committed to there is no time for a Yes for themselves . All the Yes’s belong to others, all the No’s belong to me.

No gets a bad reputation. I believe that because No is the trademark of the toddler “No!!” we see No as immature. We see No as just one small step beneath a tantrum. We see No as a form of aggression—as the beginning of a fight. Yes is a word that helps us feel close to someone. Yes helps us bond with them, it says ‘I’m with you.’ But No, not so much. No says, "Sorry, I’m with me and you are on your own with that." No is a reminder that we are separate—which we all are anyway—but No wrecks the illusion Yes so nicely creates.

But there really is a mature No. A No said with the intention of realistically assessing the situation and the resources. A mature No doesn’t negate the wish, the ‘I would love to be able to do that’ but it recognizes that if I did say Yes, I would be over my limit somewhere. A mature No recognizes that while I would love to be seen as the most helpful person on the planet by saying Yes, I need to say No so that I keep my life on track right now.

One of the best ways to learn this is to find a person in your world who is a guru of the mature No. Watch your friends and co-workers. I have such a friend and I have learned more from her than any course or book or piece of good advice. It is really helpful to watch it in person. When you watch it in person you learn a couple of things. The first is that when someone says No, nothing bad actually happens. The sky doesn’t fall. No one completely freaks out. No one runs out of the room crying. It’s just a No. And then the next sentence happens and the next. And people move on and figure things out.

The second, and possibly most important, thing you learn from watching people say a mature No is that you suddenly realize that they are making an informed decision. Their ability to say No changes the way you hear their Yes. If they can say No, it means their yes isn’t just compliance or martyrdom. You don’t have to worry about asking them anything and feeling like you need to do the work of figuring out if they will be okay if you ask them to do this. When someone can say both No and Yes, you experience their Yes as more trustworthy and you experience the relationship as more trustworthy. It is a paradoxical experience, especially if you have been living your life as if Yes is the only good response. It turns out that the ability to say both Yes and No is even better.

And before I get a raft of letters telling me I don't understand "I have to say Yes to my ____ (fill in the blank: Boss, Child, Spouse, Mother-in-Law...)" just know that I totally understand that there places where we don't have the choice to say No or we would never make that choice. That's fine and part of the way the world works. But that means that you have to be even more mindful of your other Yes's because all of them aren't optional. You need to be mindful of the ones that are. You need to examine your assumptions about what is optional or not. You may even have to have conversations to check on these assumptions and you might be surprised by the outcomes.

So the purpose of this blog is not to send you all out screaming NO! The purpose is to have you asking yourself the question when you get a request: If I say Yes to this, what I am saying No to? If I Say No to this, what do I gain, what do I lose? If I say Yes to this, can I actually meet the commitment in a way that meets my standards? What of this particular request could I say Yes to and feel good about?

And see if you can’t practice some small No’s to others and some small Yes’s to yourself. See what it feels like. Tell people you are working on this and get support. Expect it to feel bumpy and awkward at first. Expect to be a bit disappointed at the experience of saying No. Remember that saying Yes is the feeling of looking good in someone else’s eyes. So when you say No, you don’t get this lovely hit of the ‘I’m a good person’ drug. You will need to be extra supportive of yourself as you learn to say No. Have a buddy you can call and get some kudos when you take the risk.

Through both Yes and No you will find your edges and the edges of others. Sometimes you will say Yes and it won’t work out for you or someone else. Sometimes you will say No and it won’t work out for you or someone else. The important thing is to stay in the conversation—with the other person, but also with yourself. Being able to say No brings you more fully into the conversation. It makes all relationships more whole. 

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 2016

Learning to float.

As swimmers dare/
to lie face to the sky/
and water bears them,/as hawks rest upon air/
and air sustains them,/
so would I learn to attain/
freefall, and float/
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,/
knowing no effort earns/
that all-surrounding grace.
— Denise Levertov

Healing from trauma requires an ability to learn to both lean on and take in help. You can think of this learning to lean, actually, as one of the pre-requisites of help. It is hard to get help or make use of help if you can’t emotionally lean on help, and essentially, take the weight off the wounded part of yourself. You would never heal a broken leg without taking the weight off of it, and you can’t heal the broken and fragmented parts of yourself without taking the weight off of them either, and that requires learning to lean.

I have been thinking about this even more this week because I have been texting back and forth with my friend Laura who has a toddler-age daughter about her daughter’s difficulty falling asleep at night. She was a good sleeper and now with her busy toddlerhood she is suddenly a terrible sleeper—having difficulty settling herself down and getting calm without her mom actually being present.

Toddlerhood is an age of exploration and movement—mostly movement away and in to the world. Toddlers stretch themselves and search and their curiosity and enthusiasm pulls them outward. It’s like they are constantly pulled to jump into the moving river of life and then they find themselves overwhelmed when they realize that they have moved far downstream from mom, dad or caretaker. “Wait a minute! How did I get here? Where are you? How could you leave me???”

Toddlers are still learning to trust in the constancy of the world and relationship—Are you still there when I can’t see you? If you aren’t there, do I still exist? Toddlers still don’t yet have the capacity to hold someone in mind. Out of sight, out of mind. They need to borrow the battery pack of their parents to relax, to slow down, to feel calm. And sleep is so difficult, for both children and adults alike because you can’t put effort at falling asleep. You can’t try harder at it because effort actually works against you, keeping you awake. And the more upset you get, the more difficult it is.

Falling asleep is about letting go. And anytime we have the dual task of learning to let go and learn to trust --at the same time -- we are challenged by one of the most difficult learning curves we will face. Some of these learning curves come in their normal developmental stages, like my friend Laura’s daughter and some of these learning curves come when we go back and mend our broken pieces. We have to learn all over again, or even for the first time, what it is like to let go and trust enough to heal.

Learning to lean and learning to fall asleep have something in common. Both of them are like learning to float. Teaching a child to learn to float is an incredibly complicated act. First of all, there is no logical reason that anyone should believe in floating at first sight. When you put an object in water it sinks. All small children know this. So when you tell them that you want them to just lie there on top of the water most children look at you like you have lost your mind. Yes they are determined to learn how to swim, but asking them to just lie there seems completely crazy.

And how do you teach a kid to learn to float? It is a really gradual process. First, you  have them lean against you. And when they trust you enough, then they will lay on your outstretched arms with you holding their entire weight on your arms. And then gradually, oh so gradually, you will lower your arms bit by bit and let the water hold them.

It must be gradual. Why? Because the minute the child gets scared-what do they do? They scrunch together and sink and then shoot up and grab your neck—proving their own point that floating is impossible. It is why Laura must put her daughter to bed and stay nearby enough to be a felt presence and gradually move further away as her daughter learns to float back to sleep. Laura has to have her emotional arms underneath her daughter enough to be felt.

I loved teaching kids to float because it was so tangible. It was easy to physically hold a child and let them feel your presence and trustworthiness. It is easy to feel how much they could tolerate floating on their own before I needed to be held again. It was so empowering to the child as they learned how to float and feel that this substance that felt so dangerous before actually could hold them up. The pride that they could master it, and feel the bliss of floating.

So often as a therapist I wished that this process of learning trust could be as solid and tangible as learning to float. Learning to emotionally lean on someone is the same process, but it is so much more incremental and so much more difficult. It is not easy to be an adult and feel so vulnerable. It is hard for adults to learn to swim and float, it is is hard for adults to learn the kind of trust it takes to lean on someone emotionally.

So if you can’t ‘work harder’ at learning to float, learning to lean, learning to sleep—what can you do? You don’t work harder, but you stay at it. You show up. You keep putting yourself in the position of leaning, of trusting. You practice all of it, even when you don’t believe. You practice until you believe. Until the day comes when you lean your head back and relax and you realize you’ve forgotten to be scared. You have forgotten that you didn’t believe. You have forgotten that you couldn’t. And you finally relax into the trust and healing and let them work. 

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD, 2016

 

5 Speeches from Dr. King: Training tapes for hope and courage

In anticipation of Martin Luther King, Jr Day I found that his words felt more powerful than any I could say about him or his work--so I decided to share those instead.  Long before the TED talk, Dr. King was sharing big powerful talks of ideas and inspiration.

I consider his speeches to be the antidote to fear and despair. They are training tapes for hope. Keep this blog in a file and pull up these speeches on the days when you think your challenge is too great. Tap into his source of vision and love. When the world around you or the morning news is just too much—start your day with one of these speeches instead. Aspire to see the bigger picture. Commit to seeing the best in people and humanity. Have the courage to live your dream.

The Speeches:

1. The full text and speech at the Holt St. Baptist Church. December 5, 1955 on the eve of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. This was the first meeting of the MIA and he had only 20 minutes to prepare for this speech. There is both audio and a powerpoint of the text.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGtp7kCi_LA

2. Love your Enemies Speech: Audio. This is a sermon given at the Dexter Baptist Church November 17, 1957. This is the speech where he said the famous quote, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. " This sermon was written while he was in jail for non-violent protest and delivered later.

http://vimeo.com/24614519

Love your enemies speech: Full text

http://mlk-kpp01.stanford.edu/index.php/encyclopedia/documentsentry/doc_loving_your_enemies/

3. Full text of Letter from a Birmingham Jail 4/16/1963. This was a letter written in response to a “Call to Unity” by 8 white clergy members written in the newspaper denouncing King’s actions. He wrote this letter “Begun on the margins of the newspaper in which the statement appeared while I was in jail, the letter was continued on scraps of writing paper supplied by a friendly black trustee and concluded on a pad my attorneys were eventually permitted to leave me.”

http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html

4. Full televised speech “I have a dream” March on Washington, August 28 1963. This one needs no description. Watch it. And watch it again.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smEqnnklfYs

Full text of “I have a dream” speech

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H0yP4aLyq1g

5. Speech given at UCLA 4/27/1965 55 minutes long (MLK begins around minute 7). In this speech Dr. King wrestles with the question, “Have we made any progress?” His patient discussion and his ability to both hold reality and a strong vision are still instructive.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ny6qP0rb_Ag&feature=youtu.be

And for more on this found speech and one other:

http://www.pbs.org/newshour/rundown/long-lost-audio-martin-luther-king-jr-speech-found-ucla-storage-room/

© Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD 2015

The Courage of Being Where You Are (Or Another Lesson in Not Getting Ahead of Yourself)

To look at something as though we had never seen it before requires great courage.
— Henri Matisse

I thought I would get ahead of myself—in the best way possible. I had planned a trip overseas after the Christmas holidays and wasn’t sure of my ability to connect to the internet, so I thought I would take advantage of all of those cool scheduling features in the website/blog/email programs and simply program my blogs to post at certain dates automatically. The blog could keep going, even if I was ‘off the grid.’ I was so proud of myself. It seemed like such a great plan.

Yet, those of you who subscribe to my blog know what happened. My plan bombed. The blogs didn’t post separately on the dates I had carefully assigned them. Instead, they all posted at once, with their assigned dates still intact, and the email program picked up all of the blog posts every day and emailed all of them every day. So that instead of something neatly timed, my email subscribers got the internet equivalent of a weeks worth of newspapers delivered to their houses every day, only, gratefully, much easier to get rid of.   And with sketchy internet and not much knowledge I wasn’t sure how to fix it. I felt like the sorcerer’s apprentice: I had just enough knowledge to get the thing going and not enough knowledge to stop it.

So my first lesson of 2016 arrives in bold print: Stop trying to get ahead of yourself.

This is not a new lesson for me. I have been trying to learn it for years. Even I have to admit how perfect it is that it showed up on the first day of the year.

‘Ahead of myself’ is where I am always trying to be. I am in a rush to ‘get there’ –to be competent, to know where I am, to be finished. I have always been a lousy beginner. Like all things this has its drawbacks and it benefits. The benefits are that I am likely to jump in, to try things, to persevere. But the sorcerer’s apprentice is the cautionary tale. I have always disliked the feeling of being at the beginning, and so I rush forward and imagine I can skip over the messy and main part of the work unknowingly releasing chaos as I go.

And it’s not the work that I mind. I’ll work hard at anything. It’s the not knowing. It’s the feeling lost. It’s the awkwardness that comes with the learning or building new skills, or working through a new plan. And mostly it’s that experience of being neither here nor there.

At the beginning of the year this feeling of wanting to get ahead of myself seems to be even more powerful.  It’s a beginning after all—what’s the plan? Let’s get started! And yet this year I can see that the beginning of the year is less about beginnings and more about transitions. And when I frame it as a transition I can see clearly why I try to get ahead of myself. I don’t like transitions. I don’t like the in-between.

And yet I know that if I can just slow down, (and I really do know), that the in-between is where such good work happens. I know this because when I have had the patience and really, the courage, to sit still in that in-between space I have been able to not only begin big changes, but also work them through to a new place. If you can stay in the in-between place you can actually untangle the threads of what you are trying to grow and change enough to figure out what is next.

So the first work of the beginning, or this transition is slowing down and sitting still. Letting go of the grip of achievement enough to let the pieces of last year come back and like pieces of a puzzle--fall in to a pile on my desk. Then I can begin the work of sorting through the work of the last year – what happened? What worked? What didn’t? Where did I stretch myself and grow? Where did I hold myself back? What did I do that helped me feel more connected to myself? My work? My relationships? My passions? And where did I follow others’ voices or expectations instead of my own?

The reflections and answers to these questions help me know where I currently am, and they provide the building blocks of what need to come next. Last year, nature kindly provided me with a series of blizzards in January where work got cancelled and I was involuntarily forced into a reflective retreat with these questions. But it looks like this year I may have to summon the discipline to create the reflection and work time for myself.

The reflection questions above help me begin to get a sense of where I am now, and to that I add other questions and reflections: What is important to me right now? What are my biggest priorities? What are my most important values? What is my noble or higher purpose? What am I in the middle of working on? What are my greatest resources? Where do I need the most help?

What is reassuring about this exercise is that you can’t do it without getting clarity about what is important to you and where your desires are aligning to others. Life is always a balance of both—there isn’t a greater value on one or the other—the beauty is in being able to make an informed choice. The beauty is in knowing where you are choosing to put your time and resources and why you are doing that.

So, if you care to, join me in the task of integrating the work you did last year and getting a sense of where you are now.  Give yourself the gift of slowing down and sorting through what you want and need. Have the courage for the awkward and messy moments, knowing that if you have the courage to be where you are you will be able to tap in to the power to go where you want to go. You can write it, draw it, put it on post-it notes or flip chart paper. I love plain old sketch books as there aren’t lines so the pages can become anything—and the paper holds up to colored markers which just make anything more fun. This work will become a great source of energy and information for the coming year.

© 2016 Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD

Other resources for Reflections and Beginnings: