I Have This Problem

"Don't take it personally" - it's a phrase that gets thrown around when someone tends to overreact to something that someone else has done. And, it's right up there on the middle-finger scale along with "so what?", "who cares?", and the Frozen-famous "let it go". When we hear these things after reacting to a situation, they can be easily interpreted as hurtful, all while you're waving your arms in temper tantrum form yelling "hello!? I care! I am personally offended and screw you for not caring!"

It's a shitty feeling. You are left feeling offended, unheard, and still pissed off about whatever caused your initial reaction, all while everyone else looks on wondering why the hell you're so worked up.

Well, let me tell you a little story (or two) about how I was able to identify my problem; that problem, as you likely guessed, was taking everything personally.

Let's start with freaking phones. Backstory: my mother way always on the phone when I was growing up. Her phone calls rolled from one to another, from friend to sibling to client. At home, in the car, at the mall, I felt like it was one big waiting game for her to end the call and pay me some attention. Now as an adult with my own family, I make a serious attempt to lose my phone when I'm home with my daughters or spending time with my husband. This makes me feel good. I'm somehow healing that inner child who craved attention by being able to give that to my own kiddos. What I do have a hard time with, however, is when someone else is on their phone. I never knew why this bothered me so much, but I could literally feel my blood boiling if my husband wanted to browse Facebook while we were all sitting around, or if a friend whips out their phone during a dinner party to check in with social media. That little Lauren inside was throwing a temper tantrum screaming "pay attention to me! put your goddamn phone away!" And then there was adult Lauren on the outside, who bit her tongue, let her blood boil and cool back down, and move on unaware of why these feelings were occurring.

I can tell you why: I took it personally. Every time my husband took out his phone, I interpreted it as one big F.U. While he's thinking nothing of it, I'm mentally creating a dialog for him that sounds something like this "you're not important enough for me to pay attention to you so I'm going to be on  my phone instead". Now, I'm upset. I'm fighting to not say anything to avoid an argument. Who wants to be the nagging wife who tells her husband when he can or can't be on his phone? He's a grown man. But I'm over here with all the needs of all the attention like a toddler. Me, me, me! So, like your cliche therapy kid with mommy-issues, my childhood comes bubbling up, and cascades into my marriage without my permission. My burst of anger about his phone use comes out of left field in his eyes. Now we're both upset and there's no real understanding on either part; he doesn't see a big deal with a few minutes of phone browsing, and I'm feeling emotionally hurt by it.

It took the recognition and ownership of taking it personally for me to pump the brakes and view this in a new light. Sure, I can blame childhood neglect, but blame doesn't solve anything - taking responsibility does. It can be my mother's fault that I feel this way, but it's my responsibility to claim ownership of my feelings and reactions. It's easy to sit back and point the finger. I could cross my arms, say that this is the way I am because it's ingrained in my upbringing and I'll forever be sensitive about this subject so screw you, you, and you. Or, I can recognize that this is a daily, shitty problem, and that I have the power to address it. And, addressing it is anything but easy. It's uncomfortable, it's messy, it's raw and honest, it's painful...but, it's also empowering, liberating, freeing, and opens communication, ground for growth and understanding. My husband and friends now recognize why this is such a sensitive thing for me, and I can remove myself from their phone equation; it has nothing to do with me whatsoever.

Taking things personally messes everything up. Realizing where my phone-sensitivity came from opened many more doors where I could apply anger, jealousy, and feelings of inadequacy right back to the source of taking things personally. Just because some family members are gifted with free kid care doesn't change the fact that my husband and I barely see each other in order to avoid constant baby sitters - but I chose to be angry about it by taking it personally. Just because some friends have their kids involved in endless activities doesn't make me a bad mom for limiting our daughters to gymnastics, but I chose to feel inadequate because I took it personally. I've been able to pin-point so many negative emotions towards other people and situations that all come back to, you guessed it, taking shit personally.

In my life through dozens of situations, I've had people tell me to forget about it, to move on, to not let it bother me - and it wasn't until I woke up to the damage I was doing myself that I could truly appreciate what they were telling me. It's not that I was wrong for being upset, or that my feelings were invalid; it's that I was creating my own inflated problems by projecting childhood fears, wants, and needs into these situations in my adult life. Identifying where this inner pain was coming from loosened the grip on my reactions. I can now let people "do them" while I "do me" and be at ease with it.

So, with that, I encourage you to dig deep. Ask yourself why you're so upset with this person or that situation. I bet somewhere in there, if you go deep enough, you'll find some aspect where you feel offended because you're taking it personally. Don't take it personally. So what. Who cares. Let it go.

2017 Lessons

2017 taught me a lot about suffering. Suffering is a necessary component of human existence in order to create a life of happiness. The same way "you can't get something for nothing", you can't know real happiness until you discover just how much you are willing to suffer for it, how much pain you will endure for it, and how hard you are willing to work for it. Because, as Mark Manson says in his book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck,  "who you are is defined by what you're willing to struggle for", and 2017 has taught me just that.

First and foremost, my marriage. It's easy to get lost in the waves of daily life; the endless sea of work schedules, house work, children's activities, exercise routines, and friendship balancing. If you don't physically chisel out time in those chaotic schedules to prioritize each other, it's easy to leave one another behind. It's even easier to resent the downward spiral as you watch the space between you grow further and further. And, instead of exposing your feelings and solving the problem, your anger, fears, and emotions keep you from taking action and suddenly you wonder where you stand. All of the "what if'" and "what else" questions come into play, and instead of taking the time to open up, problem solve, put in the work, and move forward, you shut down, you check out, and everyone loses. 2017 taught me that this never has to be an option; that any suffering, any struggle or pain in your marriage is worth the fight, worth those uncomfortable emotional conversations, worth risking it all to be so raw and open and honest that it's like you're meeting each other for the first time all over again - only new and improved and with so much more love and compassion. I thank 2017 for all the tears that have lead us to so many more laughs. 

And then, there's alcohol. I have struggled for years with my feelings about drinking, because it's something I truly enjoy - however, I come from a family that struggles with the addiction of alcohol, and this history has put a certain amount of stress and anxiety into every glass of wine I pour. I was constantly comparing myself to others, whether it was friends who have a drink or two nightly, or those who only drink on weekends. I tried just having wine with dinner, and then having none at all. It wasn't until I was able to stop fighting against who I wanted to be or thought I should be when it came to drinking, that I could accept certain things about myself that loosened that grip of anxiety associated with it. First, I enjoy having a few drinks when I do decide to drink. I enjoy that warm, relaxed, silliness you get on that 2nd glass of wine. What I didn't like was the guilt I created with it. I wasn't drinking simply because I liked the taste - like my husband does with his fancy IPA's - and I questioned whether or not this was family history repeating itself. Every sip I took of that 2nd or sometimes 3rd glass of wine, I debating pouring right back into the bottle or down the drain. I took away that relaxed enjoyment because I was encasing that moment in a bubble of stress. Holding myself to certain "drinking days" didn't help, because there are plenty of Wednesday's where a glass of wine sounded divine, and plenty of Saturday's where I wasn't in the mood. So, I decided to remove the restrictions by adding some guidelines; I only drink 1-2 days a week when I am in social settings or sharing a night with my husband, I never drink when I'm out with my kids (which has resulted in a few sober New Year's Eve parties - a challenge I gladly accepted), and I only ever drink if it's coming from a place of enjoyment - not stress, anger, or any negative associations. I also like to check in with myself here and there and give myself weeks off, partially because I know it's good for my body and partially to check in with the addiction side of my genes. It's a balance I have found by checking in again and again with myself, being aware of my own habits, and using that sense of awareness to move forward with a struggle that has had great power over me. 

And, of course, there's always the food. The food struggle is always very real for me, as it has been since my teenage years. Since the birth of our 2nd daughter over 5 years ago, I have gone through every elimination diet there is to offer, and been strict enough with my eating habits to bring my own food to family gatherings and even my cousin's wedding (where I was in the wedding party, eating my organic sweet potato and chicken out of the Tupperware I made my mother carry around with her). I thought this was making me feel good; that I was meal prepping and honoring my body by being this extreme with my food choices, when really I was adding more anxiety not only to my life but to those who had to have me as a guest. Family members never knew what to cook for me and took offense when I brown-bagged it. My kids were always thoroughly disappointed when I wouldn't taste their dessert of choice when going out to eat. And my husband and I were never the type to share meals because I couldn't have an exact breakdown of the ingredients in what he ordered. This "healthy" lifestyle became less about health and more about control. What I learned was that by controlling every little morsel that touched my lips, I was missing out on amazing opportunities. I was missing moments, missing the ability to create memories, I was missing out on the enjoyment. I wasn't a part of the family dinner despite being at the same table. I couldn't talk about how my taste buds exploded when I tried someone's famous meal, and I was certainly not the one you asked to go out for dessert with because I probably wouldn't order any - and would refuse the bite you'd offer me, too. So, 2017 taught me to cut the shit and eat the cake. I can eat healthy all I want on a day-to-day basis, so some lasagna at a party won't kill me. I gladly taste my kids treats now simply to share their sugary enjoyment - and to teach them that the best things in life really are shared. As a result, holidays and social gatherings are much more enjoyable - for me and everyone around me. I am thankful for experiencing these food struggles so that I can move forward with enjoyment and ease in 2018.  

So those are my big ones. My 3 biggest struggles of 2017 that tore me up enough to create enormous change. I can have the happy marriage I choose, I can have those extra glasses of wine without anxiety, and I can eat in a healthful manner without being a total control freak. I had to learn a lot about myself in order to get here, because without knowing my own needs, my own abilities, and my own habits, none of these changes would have been possible. The struggle never ends, and to quote Mark Manson yet again, "happiness comes from solving problems...to be happy we need something to solve. Happiness is therefore a form of action...problems never stop; they merely get exchanged and/or upgraded". I look forward to the problems 2018 gives me to solve.