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Posts tagged ‘Self improvement’

Jan 9

Calling Each Other Out to Growth

I call things out. I call myself out, which is ugly; my spiritual director calls me out, and I call others out professionally. Being called out is a must if we’re willing to risk personal growth. If my readers haven’t figured this out yet, you sure will by the end of this post. 

I’ll begin with calling myself out. Growing up, I was hard on myself. I expected to do the work of personal change, and to move forward in life. As a child it wasn’t as noticeable as it was when I entered the university to study. 

As I look back on it now, I need to divide it up into categories. There was the mainstreaming of Gail, in which I was made to feel, and was told, that I should keep up with abled peers, despite the fact that I was not abled. Mainstreaming can cause confusion. I was visually and hearing impaired. From the very beginning of my education, I was at a disadvantage. I had to work harder, study longer, and still turn out quality work. It was marginal work. When I transferred to a California university, it got better. I discovered that I could think with the best of them. I had a reader and was able to learn what I needed at a faster pace, and I could type it all up and turn it in. I became less critical of what I was doing. In the nineties, when PCs and Macs became a real thing, my ability to keep up with my grad school peers was increased. I had readers for that as well, and cruising through books was a must. Now I just get it via Audible or Kindle. The two years of certification work for the Spiritual Direction work I now do along with the therapy I provide, and access to Audible, meant I could take my reading outside and sit under my large parasol.  

I escaped the harshness of a religion I was raised in because I blew off the crazy of perfection. I knew that wasn’t right, and when I left the LDS Church, that was one burden I did not have to resolve. I’d dropped the concept by age twelve. 

I was all about being my best self; it was personal. I constantly pushed to do better, and to grow myself in new ways. I learned from my parents to be my best self, and my mother encouraged me not to beat myself up. I could call myself out on things and resolve to improve. I’m invested in my own personal, emotional, and spiritual growth. I’ve learned to be gentle on myself. As an Enneagram type eight, it has become part of the journey. 

My spiritual director calls me out. Direction is not about fixing someone. Direction is about listening to where you are being led spiritually. For some people it is about God; for others it is about whatever they define as being within themselves that guides them. My spiritual director calls me out when she hears me saying or doing something that I need to be aware of. This last session she called me on the carpet by asking me if I meant “never” or “not now,” and as I sat in thought I realized that the binary options I was presented with also had an “I don’t know” option. As I sat with the not knowing versus the two options that were more certain, it caused me to rethink multiple thoughts. Sometimes our not knowing is the best place to go. 

Not knowing is liberating! It frees us from certainty, and it allows us to sit, and to think about multiple possibilities. Not knowing opens us up to the unexpected options that are out there. The more I dwell in uncertainty, the more I appreciate what it offers. “I don’t know” is a legitimate answer to many questions. 

Because of uncertainty, my family and friendship connections are things I cherish more than I have in the past. My desire to leave something lasting has become something I want to do. 

Recently, my younger brother (and now my only sibling) and I were talking about the fact that our two older siblings had both died rather young. They both had not listened to their bodies. My brother died of a list of complications long enough that we’ll never know what caused his death. My sister died from liver cancer, and fought. In the end I think she wasn’t too certain of letting go. It was a hard death that could have been shortened by her willingness to let go and let it play out on its own. I bring this up because I think certainty killed her. Being certain is a trap. 

Certainty cuts us off from all possibilities. So, I let my spiritual director call me out. My past therapists never did call me out as they should have. I’m better for the call-out situations that have come into my life. 

That brings up the client and directee call outs. I approached therapy with the thought that I was doing the work to grow, and to be a better person. I was listened to but never called out on the hard stuff that I needed to be called out on. Maybe the therapist didn’t believe in doing such things. Maybe the shrink was afraid I’d walk out and never return. This is a legitimate concern, as clients leave out of fear for the work ahead of them. Another possibility is that the therapist didn’t think I was ready to be called out. Another option is that the therapist failed to understand that calling clients out can be a good thing for the client. For whatever reason, it never happened to me, and it took me longer than it might have to move to where I needed to go. I believe in calling stuff out. 

This brings up the point that the average client may stay no longer than six sessions. It takes about six weeks to begin the deeper work. I do insight work with my clients. Insight work is challenging because it means that a person is essentially doing soul work. Working in the shadows is dangerous, and it requires the person to sit in the unknown. Grief and loss require us to take leaps into the unknown. More than anything else, what I went through after my husband’s suicide took me deep into the shadowlands of my soul. I bored through the mountain and came out someplace else, and on a different path. I’ve talked about it in terms of navigation on a river and crossing the River Styx. In time, I’ll most likely post some new insight along these lines. 

Are we willing to be called out?  Do we have the strength and courage to explore the hard things?  

When I stop and think about why I go to this place, even though it is hard, I think it is because of what my disabilities have taught me. Society discounts the disabled person. Spirituality places the disabled on equal footing with every other human. It is like the deep roots of a tree that extend into places we go independently, and without the need for assistance. It is a good thing this growth stuff.

Mar 28

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Adult Work Is Life Work

This weekend I spent several hours completing some Continuing Education Units (CEU), so that I can renew my license. I’m at the point in the process where I’ve done the required courses and can now attend to the exploration of new things. This is where the fun of learning comes in. This time around, my focus on deepening learning took me to learning something I know something but not enough about: LGBTQ2s or LGBTQIA+, the choice is yours. 

I have friends and know people who claim identity in this community. I work with those who claim residency in the LGBTQ2s community. The weekend of learning was helpful, and I learned some things I didn’t know from an instructor who really knows his stuff. It was time well spent. 

All of this got me thinking about the process of coming out to oneself, and to others. Coming out isn’t a one-time event: it is a constant. There is risk in uttering the sentence that includes the words “I’m lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans or queer.” The person speaking those words in a conversation of one or one hundred is putting themself out there in a way that you might never have to, or need to, do. It’s a risk. Then I got to thinking about my own truths. 

I’ve been a part of the disabled community all my life. How much do those I work with and associate with really understand about my daily life and what it takes to do what I do? 

I’ve made mention here that I have a spiritual life. I don’t talk about it; it’s private. We’re in a time of Lent, and this season I felt the need to add to the process rather than fast from something. I added in the need to interact more, and in many ways come out fully as the disabled person that I am. My faith community accepts everyone. LGBTQ2s, the person of color, and the disabled. At times it challenges us to have some difficult conversations. Last night, after a month of services around service and giving, and bringing in the voices of my sisters who are disabled and a part of this community, I came out. 

Speaking my truth was soul wrenching. It took six takes to produce a video that I could share—a video where the tears weren’t streaming down my cheeks. A video in which I let anger, but not rage, show. A video where I could speak my heart and soul, and let the words stand. It was raw. I’ve done raw before, and this was raw. 

Most of the time, when the disabled explain their disability, we tend to work up a pleasant presentation that informs and instructs. This wasn’t that type of pitch. This caused me to really think about what I wanted to say, and not say. Still, at the end of the service, I found myself sitting with the tears streaming down my cheeks. I’m still raw. 

Coming out is about sharing, embracing, and being embraced. Coming out is also about risking something new, and discovering where the support in your village resides: who will stay, who might need to leave. And leaving the village has to be an option for safety reasons. At some point, the former resident may do the work needed to return as a productive village member. Hold the option of leaving and returning, and the hard conversations around that as a possibility: it happens. 

If coming out is a process, it is also seasonal. We mourn in different ways throughout our lives; we reframe, rethink, and return to explore places we thought had been completely explored and thought through. In our exploring we discover new ways of being, and new places to dig deeper. The work of life is not done until the last breath is taken. 

If the work of life is never completed, if coming out to ourselves and to others is always a work in progress, what options do we have to get on with the work in all of its wonderfulness? How do we embrace the joyous, work through the difficulties, resolve, rediscover, and then move forward?

There are two ways that I will talk about. Both versions of self-discovery are useful. Both can lead to the same outcome. Both are lifelong. The first is to find a therapist who does long-term growth or insight work. This is about depth, and not running from your personal truth. It is about putting someone on your payroll who will walk with you as you discover the places in your life that you need to move to. It has nothing to do with behavior and everything to do with relationships. The greatest area of focus will become the relationship you’ve built with yourself. 

The second option centers around spiritual direction. Spiritual directors, like therapists, have various areas of focus. As our spirituality is as individual as we are, so is the direction. This isn’t about an authoritarian person telling you what to do: this is about you discovering how spirituality is working in your life, and where you are feeling pulled, led, or, for some people, called. It works the same way as therapy in that we sit and talk. Maybe I light a candle, ring a sound bowl, or offer a prayer, if that is what the person desires. Sometimes we both sit in silence and reflect on what has been said. The sessions usually happen once per month, last an hour, or sometimes longer. SD is a place that is well suited to come out to yourself on multiple issues. If you need to do some therapy around something, you’ll be told to seek out a good therapist to do that portion of the work. 

Both therapy and direction can focus on the spiritual if the therapist has the ability to do spiritual work. SD, on the other hand, doesn’t touch that type of change or “fixing.” Directors don’t look to fix. 

I now realize that my life would have been deeply enriched by spiritual direction. I’m glad I know of it and can offer direction as part of what I do. 

At the end of this writing session, I sigh, breathe deeply, scan my body to see where I’ve gone, and how I feel. Not so raw, and somewhere else. Where have I moved? I don’t know. There will be more to come on this, I’m sure.