A 30-Something Girl Scout?

Last year was my year of dealing with "stuff" as we prepared to sell our flat and buy a real grown-up house. Not only did I embark on my life-changing clear out, but my Mom sent over all my childhood belongings. Now everything I own (O.K., the childhood doll house was not shipped to England) resides under my roof.

One thing I discovered during this process is that not only have I struggled with chronic procrastination my whole life, but I also am not good at finishing tasks, even ones I'm enjoying. I have ventured to try to understand this and -- even without the help of a professional psychologist -- I have come to the conclusion is that this has been completely about perfectionism, which is completely about anxiety.

When I describe this to people they are always baffled as they perceive me to be driven, organized and together -- a honest-to-goodness nerd. But that's the problem: I am driven and organized, and I use those bursts of energy to make up for all the time I spend not getting around to things or not getting them finished. And then everything works out O.K. in the end (or even better than O.K.), so in a way it's never been a "problem".

Oh but it has. It's hard to enjoy life and the work that you want to do when you're in a constant state of anxiety about being behind on everything.

Which made me realize that something had to change. And when I saw my Girl Scout sash among my childhood belongings I decided to do something radical. The sash was not complete -- it was accompanied by a neat baggie which contained some of the badges that I had never sewn on. I was mortified: what kid wants to be a Girl Scout, does the work for a badge and then doesn't sew it on? There was even a sewing badge there! What the what?

So over Christmas, which we spent at my in-laws, I sewed on all the badges that were missing from the sash. Even the cookie sale ones. (Consequently my father in law said he had a badge he wanted sewed on a sweatshirt, so I did that one too. Everyone wins!)

I know it sounds nuts. But for me it was a symbolic activity. It was almost as if with each stroke of the needle I was telling that little girl who is still in there somewhere that there's no reason not to be bold. Whatever it is I want to do, why not do it whole hog and not care what anyone else thinks? Whether it's being a Girl Scout, a writer or something else entirely. And, maybe even more importantly, that I am capable of these things -- there's no reason to fear this specter of failure I've been running from my whole life.

I think Girl Scout cookie time is coming up soon, so if you live in the U.S., please support this great organization. It's still teaching me lessons, even as a 30-Something former Girl Scout. I have my order in already for a box of samoas.

Related posts:

• Top 10 Things I Learned From My Life-Changing Clear Out
• What If I Need It?

2

Routines

What is it about routines? Why is it that even something nice like a bank holiday on a Monday throwing off my routine can make me feel a little icky, a little unsettled?

In my early 20s I discovered that I was having panic attacks. I wasn't sure what to call them and didn't even know that they had a name, in fact. The only 'mind problem' I was aware of was depression. But I didn't feel sad. I was just having moments of sheer utter panic for no apparent reason. Sometimes it would happen late at night while I was awake lying in bed, or on the subway going to my art class downtown. I knew something wasn't right, and looking back I even remembered having some attacks when I was very young.

Eventually I did something about it. I went to see a psychologist and had sessions with her for about two years. I learned what a panic attack was, that they were actually very common, and she taught me some techniques for dealing with them. Doing some therapy was a great experience actually. I think everyone should do it at some point in their life – it's like taking a continuing education course – on yourself. As long as you are ready to work, because facing your own demons ain't always pretty.

I truly believe that people's general anxiety levels are set pretty early on. And I am a worrier. Give me a spare moment and I will come up with something to worry about. My parents used to call this my 'overactive imagination', like it was something good or at least interesting. But when you draw pictures age five of giant blue monsters that tower over the end of your bed, I do wonder.

As I talked about in my post Baby 19, there is some scientific evidence out there to back up my anecdotal evidence (my own observation of myself) that we don't have much control over our anxiety levels.

But what we do have is control over is how we cope with our anxiety.

I was given a great cognitive behavioural technique (CBT) by my therapist back in the day that helps if I do find myself having panic attacks. But I find these days I don't need it so much as I've developed other coping mechanisms. In fact, I don't have many panic attacks anymore.

One of the most helpful things is just knowing my triggers. Holidays (sad, but true), routines being broken, extreme work stress (particularly working late at night), lack of exercise, too much time alone, not enough time alone (ironically) and abundant amounts of drinking. Alcohol may soothe the anxiety short-term but a build up of cocktails – no matter how nice that cosmopolitan tastes – isn't helpful.

Exercise helps, especially taking long walks and yoga. Writing helps too. Having a place where I can fully discuss things that emerge from my 'overactive imagination' (such as Shrapnelphobia) is a Godsend (so thank you, MB&S readers, for listening). But mostly, knowing that my anxiety is normal for me and will happen at certain times, allows me to just hang on and live through it. I know it doesn't feel particularly nice, but I know it won't kill me and that it will pass eventually.

I don't know, I think I'm not alone in suffering from anxiety – the world can be a pretty sad and scary place sometimes. And people do seem to love their routines, and things I feel are helpful too, like exercise or meditation. We all need our coping mechanisms. Do you suffer from any kind of anxiety? How do you cope?

Related Posts:

• On Breathing
• Uncertainty
• Friday Find: On Mental Illness

0

Shrapnelphobia

I'm glad that I didn't know I was going to have an MRI scan yesterday until about an hour before I did. There was no time to discuss it with friends or look it up on the Internet – in other words, no time to fret. Because I'll tell you this, I had enough to worry about when I was actually having the MRI. Extra time to create dreaded scenarios would not have been a good thing.

My first thought? Being put into this type of contraption is definitely what would happen to me if I was ever abducted. This is an amazing way to torture someone – it's just like being buried alive in a space capsule. And I wonder why I was breathing so heavy during my first five minutes in there.

I was also sure there must be some shrapnel in my body that I didn't know about. Before the scan they ask you about all the foreign objects that could be in your body. Dental work, IUDs, metal shavings in your eyes (say what?), and of course, shrapnel. What if I have some shrapnel that I'm not aware of? Secret shrapnel. At one point my knee hurt and I was sure it was because some sort of metal was going to work its way out, like in Alien.

The MRI was loud and long – even though technically, it was only 20 minutes. I did lots of slow breathing and pretending I was in Bikram yoga, comforting myself that at least I wasn't also sweating my brains out. But I swear I could feel the liquid in my body sloshing around due to the magnets moving around my body. And I really have never thought I was claustrophobic, but apparently I am and maybe have some other phobias I also wasn't aware of, like shrapnelphobia.

Of course I was cool as a cucumber on the outside, joking with the radiologists about Grey's Anatomy. This is typical of me. No one believes I'm as anxious as I am. "But you are so calm," they always comment. Honestly, I don't know why this is. Perhaps it is one of my superpowers, the other one being my ability to eat more cheese in one sitting than should be legal (all without an ounce of tummyache).

The day started out nice enough. I went to my spinal surgeon appointment (for the background to this story, click here). And even though he actually made me wait for an hour to see him, he was so nice that I felt guilty and easily forgave him.

After listening to my story about the back pain that has persisted on and off since a year ago and examining me (in addition to reading the detailed letter from Super Physio), he said that my symptoms – where the pain comes and goes, often getting better only to get worse again – was consistent with a disc problem. My heart sank. I was hoping he would say the opposite, such as: "No need to get a scan, you sound fine!"

But no, he said we would get an MRI done and take a look at my spine. He added that typically we'd see a bit of damage to my spine anyway, considering I was born in 1976 and it was now 2011 (his exact words – I like the way he phrased it). Over the years it sees quite a bit of wear and tear, he explained, which is kind of amazing as I'm only 35 – what would an 80-year-old spine look like? Or do you see most of the damage in the first 30 years? (Something to investigate, perhaps)

I am kept quite calm by the fact that my physio sent me to a surgeon who she considers is not "knife happy" (her words). Also, that she thinks the most likely scenario would be a shot of cortisone to calm down the inflammation and then continue with the physio I've already been doing. And what the surgeon said, finally, was that we would look at the MRI scan to see how to make my physio work "most effective". That didn't sound like someone prepared to cut into me.

Luckily, I am seeing him on Monday, so will know quite soon what the scan shows. In the meantime I've been going to yoga and trying not to think about it (not really working). But I have to say, if there is a disc problem, I might actually feel happy, as this past year has been quite frustrating. Now that my neck/shoulders are behaving so beautifully and there's no more pain there, I could really do with having my back sorted out too. And the Hub – he'd really like to play tennis with me. It's a small thing, but it kind of represents the difficulty with the situation. There are tennis courts near our flat and it would be really nice to meet after work, hit the ball around a bit and then go get some dinner. It's the kind of thing that most people in their 30s can do without hesitation. It would be nice.

Related Posts:

• On Back Ache
• Hips Don't Lie
• Fear And Pain

2

Book Review: The Now Habit

Run -- do not walk -- to the nearest book shop or visit your favourite online retailer and buy this book. You will never look back.

In recent weeks (perhaps months) I've been stuck in a real procrastination rut. One could argue that I'm too hard on myself (true) but I'm also sick and tired of feeling bad that I'm not accomplishing the things I want to get done. I've made the decision that either got to find a way to do them or just forget them and enjoy my life. I refuse to be caught in a constant stress cycle of wanting to do things, but not being able, and then feeling disappointed in myself.

So thank goodness I picked up The Now Habit by Neil Fiore, PhD. Compared to the last book I read on procrastination -- The Procrastination Equation -- this book gives the reader some really specific and novel ways to tackle procrastination. I read this book last week and although I do tend to get a little excited about new self-help books, I honestly feel like a different woman. In the last few days not only have I done much more work than usual but it also has been accompanied by far less stress. Perhaps I was ready for a solution (which always helps) but still, I can't see how reading this book could be a bad thing for anyone.

According to Fiore, there are three major fears that block action and create procrastination: the terror of being overwhelmed, the fear of failure and the fear of not finishing.

As he so aptly puts it, this is what a typical procrastinator thinks:

"I have to finish something important and do it perfectly while enduring long periods of isolation from the people and things I love."

Procrastination is a coping mechanism. Putting off something you are dreading is a reprieve from these feelings -- albeit a temporary one. It just creates more dread, terror and fear as the deadline fast approaches.

Fiore explains that people who procrastinate need to change their thinking about work. Those who are likely to procrastinate have often been told from an early age that life and work are hard and things won't be easy.

For example:

"You have a lot more work to do before you can rest on your laurels; you'd better get used to things getting tough because adulthood is even worse than childhood; and while you're out having fun, some catastrophe is lurking around the corner, waiting to surprise you."

Sound familiar? Even if we haven't been told this specifically by our parents, there are other ways to pick up these types of messages: school, work, religion, our bosses, the media and the IRS (or your government equivalent). The reason these types of messages are so stressful is that they invoke feelings of "I have to" or "I should" and mean that your brain has to not only muster the energy needed to do the dreaded task but also provide the energy needed to resist threats to the integrity of the self.

Fiore's book spells out new ways to speak to yourself and ways to change your thinking. It's a clear and easy method to follow and even if you don't believe what you're saying at first, over time the brain should experience some rewiring.

But Fiore also offers a novel way to get started on projects. He explains how to break things down into manageable chunks (which we are probably all familiar with), but also gives a concrete method for getting started while at the same time alleviating the pressure to do things 'right' from the get go. He calls it the 'unschedule' and it's brilliant. I won't give it all away -- also it sounds a little silly unless you read it all the way through and actually try it out (but it's an exercise that's really worth doing).

I can't recommend this book enough. Not only has it given me hope for completing my projects, it has also taken me a step closer to being kind to myself without sacrificing meaningful work, creativity or leisure time. Go buy this book. You can thank me later.

 Related Posts:

• Making Peace With Red Tape
• Ten Bags Of Clothes
• Book Review: The Procrastination Equation

0

Opportunity Cost

There is a big opportunity cost to planning a wedding. I suppose there is a big opportunity cost to anything in life though, really. If you're not familiar with the economic term, opportunity cost is the cost of passing up the next best choice whenever you make a decision. For example, by going to university/college you sacrifice three or four years of income you could have been making. That money – or whatever your next best choice is (travelling the world, perhaps?) – is the opportunity cost of going to university.

So I suppose when I tally up what this wedding actually costs us and our families I should also think about the pay check I could have made by having a part-time job. (It’s definitely THAT time consuming.)

The other 'cost' of planning a wedding is the toll it takes on your energy for other things. It’s quite ironic that I am spending a small fortune to have my hair and makeup professionally done on the day. Because for the past few months I have been incapable of wearing any makeup to work and because I am wearing my hair 'up' have not been able to have it cut and styled – so it has grown out way too much. Alas, most days I just wrap it in a bun at work like an old school teacher. And today I’m not sure that my clothes actually match.

I think it's fair to say that I was a bit of a mess this week in general. I left the deli one day without my lunch. The woman had to run after me. When I told her I was getting married in less than two weeks she understood! She also nearly hugged me with joy, which was actually really nice (since I was having a bit of a wobble that morning over a family issue).

It's funny, the less I sleep and the more of a sort of general mess I am, the less I feel worried and anxious. People keep telling me to relax or try to give me tips on how best to sleep. It's all nice and I appreciate the thought, but strangely, I'm actually ok with feeling a little strung out. Because I know it will pass. I really wouldn't expect anything different at this point in time with what's about to happen. I think if it were things as usual and I wasn't sleeping well I'd be far more worried.

This is actually a big step for me. I'm no stranger to being stressed but I'm also no stranger to being stressed about being stressed. Which is taking things a bit too far. But these days I'm busy and have a lot on my mind, and I'm ok with that. I'm just checking things off the list and trying to be kind and nice to myself. Being alone sometimes helps me – so I worked from home one day this week just to feel the peace of being by myself and not being distracted. It was really helpful -- not just for my sanity but also getting things done (need to remember that for the future).

As we gear up for the wedding 'week', when everyone starts arriving and all the finishing touches need to get done, I'm not going to be able to keep blogging (at my pre-wedding turtle-like pace). I think it will be a good three weeks where I won't be here much – although if I am so inspired and can manage to sneak away in a closet somewhere with my laptop I may do a cheeky post…

But in case I don't, thanks for listening, dear readers, to my musings and tales about the wedding and everything else in the past few months. I'll be back with a lot more time on my hands and lots to say (I'm sure) towards the end of March.

Related Posts:

• More Parties, Please
• People Pleasing

1

The Common Cold And Not-So-Common Hysteria

I have a cold. And I am miserable. I don't know what it is, but getting ill – even with only a common cold – sends me into a hysterical state of mind.

I think a lot of it is the fear that my old fragile state has returned. Before I had my tonsils out in early 2008 I was constantly sick. I felt like everyone pitied me as I went from one razor blade throat to another. When I didn't actually have full-blown tonsillitis (or strep throat as it's known in the States) I still had a dull ache in my throat and was pretty much constantly tired.

One of my first-ever bosses came to the conclusion that I just had a weak constitution. The NHS doctors here either told me there was something wrong with my head (seriously – one said to me, "sometimes there's something wrong, but often it's in our heads") or that I just needed to take more vitamin C – as if I had never had that brainwave before.

After fully recovering from the surgery, I have gone from weeks of sick days a year to one or two here or there. But still. I hate any form of sickness, even the common cold, as those old feelings of inadequacy and freakishness come creeping back in, as if my gunky infected tonsils that I carried around with me for years was my fault.

It doesn't help that I've got the "biggest day of my life" looming in four weeks and my perfectionist fears are starting to take hold.

Being sick reminds us that we're human and fallible, and worst of all, don't have absolute control over our bodies. I'm seeing Super Physio more than usual right now even though I'm not in any pain, as we are trying to make sure that my body stays in tip top shape before the wedding – the right muscles loose and the right muscles strong.

As she said, it's not time to experiment with new radical exercise routines or seeing how long I can go without doing my physio exercises! There's no time in the next few weeks for my hips to get tight (causing backache) or for my neck to get sore from shoulders hunched up around my ears. As much as I want to be hard on myself right now for all variety of reasons (like not posting frequently enough!), now is the time to take care of myself, be kind and (gasp!) even try to enjoy the run up to the wedding, as everyone knows it will go fast enough. This is the one thing that all former brides and grooms have said – the actual day goes by in a heartbeat.

I don't always enjoy things as much as I should because I'm too busy thinking how I could be doing them better. It's a miserable way to live when I do fall into that trap and it's quite interesting that the next word in the Word by Word Self-Discovery Series that I've been participating in over the past few months is 'pleasure'! So stay tuned for a more in-depth look at that concept… I'm still mulling what exactly to say, but I'm forming an opinion pretty fast. If you want to learn more about the series or participate yourself, click on Joy's kick-off post. I think it's a great word choice!

In the meantime, it's soup for me and some rest (today it's Wagamama's Chili Chicken Ramen - pricey but effective). As much as I'd like to go to Bikram yoga tonight I don't think it's going to happen. I went through a whole pack of tissues in my last meeting. Yuck.

 Related Posts:

• A Happier Immune System?
• Beware The Flu
• Pain Can Make You Ill 

4

Calendar And Control

The other night over Thai food Future Hub looked at me and said, "We're in countdown mode, aren't we?"

Soon he will just be the Hub (gasp!).

We proceeded to spend the rest of the dinner verbally checking things off, sorting out our schedule, trying to figure out when we'd have time to complete the laundry list. We aren't discussing our lives anymore, but one event. It's a little like the weeks before we exchanged (closed) on our flat last year. Every night after work we went through the checklist of what needed to get done. In some ways living like this is unbearable – in other ways it's good, as I feel like we're in it together.

And there's the whole 'controlling the calendar element' to these days, which makes me feel calmer. As I add appointments into Google calendar I feel a sense of control – at least that there will be some sort of order to the weeks ahead. However, it struck me yesterday that this isn't much different from my regular life. Emails come in about planning things, emails go out. And then dates go in the diary. I move a yoga class from a Saturday to a Sunday. And thus my life is planned out, controlled, OK.

Some people are addicted to drugs, others food, others video games. I am addicted to planning. This addiction, like most, I assume, doesn't provide long-term happiness, but sustains me in some way as a quick fix. I get a buzz from seeing my future weeks so full and ordered.

I don't know. Part of me is alright with the planning – I am a social creature, I like to do things and go places, primarily with other people. And if you want to see anyone in London, believe me, you have to book ahead. I recently got an invitation for a 30th birthday party – in June.

But then again, what is it about empty space and the absence of a fixed plan that makes me feel so nervous?

This calendar obsession also dredges up memories of when I couldn't control my body at all due my neck and arm pain. When I was doing well and getting better I would schedule in exercise classes on my Outlook calendar, recurring appointments – a fantasy schedule, if you will. Maybe I thought if I used enough willpower and hope, I would make it to all those classes or pool swimming sessions.

But life isn't like that.

I'm contemplating trying to go back to a short daily meditation (10 minutes tops) as the weeks roll forward closer to the big day. I was planning (again, here we go) to try to go to yoga two times per week as a way to de-stress, but I'm not sure my body likes that idea.

In the spirit of my post on listening to myself, from earlier this week, I have asked my body what it thinks. Right now it's very cool with the rhythm we've got going of yoga, tap, Zumba – three distinct classes a week. It's quite happy, can handle it and isn't going to rebel. But I feel like it's whispering, "Go ahead, just try it lady, see what happens if you push me."

So I'm keeping it as a free option. I've blocked out Thursday nights in the old Google calendar in case I feel like going. For someone as controlling as me, that's a big step. Clearly.

Related Posts:

• Turbulence
• Uncertainty
• Life Is Messy
• Inshallah

2

To Know Or Not To Know

I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but all of a sudden Future Hub was mentioning current events and my mind was just coming up blank. He was incredulous that I wasn't aware of some parliamentary scandal or another. "You mean, you haven't been following it at ALL?" he said, probably one normal Tuesday evening.

Thing is, one day I just got tired of reading the free newspapers in London. In the morning there's Metro and after work The Evening Standard. Everyone seems to read them and they litter the train seats and the tube seats and the flat bit in the middle of the escalators. There's a lot of highly entertaining stuff in them – restaurant reviews, celebrity gossip and of course news. The regular serious stuff like budget cuts and politics and business news but also pretty much every horrible thing that happens in Britain and the world. Children being tortured and abused, accidental holiday deaths and women cyclists in London being run over by lorries (trucks). The women always seem to be exactly my age. And of course whoever she was, she definitely had a promising career and there's always a pretty picture of her smiling back at you.

A week ago the header read: Mother and Son Killed in Bathtub. Apparently they were electrocuted when an heater fell into the tub. I didn't read the story, just peered over at it across from the tube aisle (which also toughened my resolve to write this particular blog soon).

I am aware that horrible things happen in this world. Everyday, all day long. But does it do me any good to read about them morning and evening, day in and day out? Perhaps it would be useful to know not to keep electrical appliances close to the bathtub, however, my Mother has hammered that lesson into my head for as long as I have been alive. And in Britain they don't even have electrical sockets in bathrooms, such is the fear quotient about mixing electricity and water (which begs asking how this freak accident actually happened – and I don't know, not having read the story).

I'm not suggesting totally cutting oneself off from the news flow entirely. For work I need to know what's happening in financial markets, so I read the free business newspaper (City A.M.) every morning and also get to the Financial Times later in the day as well. I also digest all sorts of trade journals about my particular industry.

But do I need to know about every terrible thing happening in the world? Does it help change things in any way? Would I be more likely to make a difference in this world being a calm, happier person who doesn't dwell on every real-life horror? I hope so. Because that's the particular tack I'm taking at this moment. Not only does reading the daily free papers upset me, but it also takes up precious free time when I could be writing or reading books on my long list, or spending time chatting with friends (here and abroad).

And I still find out about stuff. It's amazing how much people tell you about current events. If you're interested in something in particular you can then go and read about it. Even just reading the Saturday paper once a week will tell you more than you need to know about anything that has happened in the past seven days (if indeed you want to know about it).

'They' say knowledge is power, and it is, but is all knowledge power? And there are always things we'd rather not know. Does idle horrible gossip about friends or co-workers help anyone? I say, when it comes to knowledge, be selective. Pursue what you're interested in, challenge yourself, but don't think you need to know everything that's going on – all knowledge certainly isn't equal.

Related posts (on attempting to avoid some stress):

• Silly Stress
• Success Is Fun But Work Should Be Too
• Email: Channeling Josephine

3

Inshallah

It's the shortest day of the year today. In England, the sun rose this morning at 8:04 a.m. and set at 3:53 p.m. It's been really cold here and the recent tiny snowfall has crippled the country, including the airports. All my American ex-pat friends (me included) are worried about not getting home for Christmas.

I'm not the biggest fan of travelling or packing myself up for a few weeks away. And with Christmas and wedding planning plus tying up loose ends at work, there's so much to do before heading off. I thought I was stressed before I found out there was a chance that I couldn't get home, and then the snow arrived.

This all has made me think about control. As a self-confessed control freak (I actually corrected Future Hub last night on his cheese grating technique), what bothers me so much about the possibility of not getting home Christmas Eve is more about the sinking feeling you get in your stomach when you realize that you truly have very little control over many things that happen to you in life.

When you hear a practicing Muslim talk about most things in life, they typically add a phrase to most statements of intent – Inshallah – which is an Arabic translation of the phrase 'God willing'. As in, I'll be going home for the holidays, Inshallah (abbreviated IA when written).

I love this. Whether or not you are religious or whether you believe in a God, or Gods, or just some sort of universal force, to add a sentiment to your statements of intent that leaves room for the fact that you are not always in control is a wonderful humble reminder.

Because it's so easy to forget.

I haven't been meditating much recently. Last year I was doing small short bursts a few times a week and trying to get into a routine. But this year, I've got lost in being busy. And when you're busy and getting a lot of things done, that illusion of control often sneaks in.

I think the reason why meditation (and yoga for that matter) is called 'practice' is because when you practice letting go and just sitting there, accepting things as they are and not how you want them to be, it makes it slightly easier when you are faced with the less-fun things in life. Like cancelled flights due to a dusting of snow or having to wait for ages for the bus and then sitting in a seat that smells slightly of vomit.

And worse things, of course.

For me, part of trying to maintain the illusion of control is not wanting to accept things as they are. Sometimes I don't want to meditate and practice. I just want everything to be perfect and easy. I know life's not fair but I want to pretend, no matter how miserable it makes me.

And I guess that's the thing. When you fight the lack of control tooth and nail, life can be a real misery. It's just hard work. You miss the joy because you're too busy feeling frustrated and upset.

So this Christmas maybe I'll try to just accept whatever comes my way, Inshallah. That would be a very nice gift indeed.

 Related Posts:

• Greener Grass
• Good For The Soul
• Turbulence
• Uncertainty

2

When Is A Crisis Not A Crisis?

When is a crisis not a crisis? When the crisis involves envelopes. I have to say, I think I have remained relatively sane throughout the process of wedding planning. Despite my night sweats and terrors over whether or not we're going to be able to fit everyone into the venue. But that's been private (well, except for when I talk about it on the blog).

But yesterday, I had a sort of public meltdown over our wedding invitation envelopes. You see, the invitations to this wedding have definitely caused me the most agita.* In America there is certain etiquette, in England there is certain etiquette and I just couldn't make heads or tails of whether or not I should combine the two or have separate invitations. In the end I just did what I wanted, which was to take whichever bits of the whole thing I felt applied best.

The envelope crisis occurred when I neglected to order enough envelopes for both UK and US mailings and the supplier ran out unexpectedly. Why was I ordering separate envelopes? Well, this may be a lesson for another day, but I was trying to save money, which is not my normal operation mode. I should have applied my general rule to saving money which is not to try to cut corners but to instead only go out and buy what I need, no matter the price (within reason, of course). My hope is this should save me money in the end because I don't usually buy things I don't need.

But I didn't apply this method. For some reason, unlike the cost of food, drink and the dress, spending loads of money on paper invitations incensed me. So I found a design I really liked from a supplier that was amazingly cheap. Not surprisingly, the envelopes that came with them were crappy and I had to order some separately. And so, in this case, the panic ordering of about 150 extra envelopes yesterday has probably not saved me any money.**

Luckily, my friend came over to my desk and suggested something sensible and creative and calmed me down. This is where a crisis is not a crisis. I don't know what it is about me, but I'm sure this is true of many other people as well. It's the small things you think you can control that give you the most stress.

We've all had very bad things happen to us. We've lost loved ones, failed at jobs and had our hearts broken. And I'm not trying to say that these things aren't incredibly difficult and life changing. But I believe that it's the things we stress over day-to-day that are what makes us unnecessarily unhappy -- and yet these are things we can actually stop reacting to so badly. As Richard Carlson would say, we tend to sweat the small stuff.

Running out of wedding envelopes was indeed annoying, but if I hadn't become so crazy, ranting to all my colleagues over it, I could have thought with a clearer head, asked for some advice in a calmer manner and figured out a quicker solution without the drama.

A crisis becomes a crisis when we make it that way. We can't control everything, but we can keep things in perspective. All of which I really failed to do yesterday. I get one get-out-of-jail-free Bridezilla card, right?

*Agita is one of my favourite words ever. My mother uses it all the time – particularly when I was a child, as in, "you're giving me agita!". It is Italian in origin and literally means to have heartburn, but can be used as slang to describe a feeling of agitation or anxiety. Where my mom picked this up I have no idea, as she's from Wisconsin originally. I don't think I've ever really heard anyone else say it.

**The white envelopes I bought are of an amazingly good quality. I couldn't find replacement ones anywhere, but still ordered 150 extra ones in a variety of colors and styles to replace them (I only needed about 50). That is, until my friend suggested buying black envelopes (the invitations themselves are actually black) to go with the invitations, and use a silver pen to address them. Brilliant!

Related Posts:

• More Parties, Please
• People Pleasing
• Upstaged By The Royals
• Priorities

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Authenticity: Being True But Growing Too

The other day at work I got the news that my desk was to be moved. Not the most tragic of news, or even bad news at all. In fact, I ended up with a great desk, still near the window and near people I like to chat with. All good stuff.

But I still felt weird, what with my overactive fight-flight reflex. I spent a few weeks feeling disoriented. I'm not asking for sympathy here, but just trying to make the point that I knew I was going to feel this way. I've become more aware of myself as I've careened through the ups and downs of adulthood and I know that I'm an anxious person – and part of this is that physical change does affect me. (This might be a good time to read an older blog of mine called Baby 19, where I discuss an ice cream shop touring opportunity I sadly missed at the age of five).

Knowing myself, knowing why I react to things the way I do, knowing what it is I prefer and what I don't like – that's what authenticity means to me. I believe it's about being true to yourself and not trying to be something or someone you're not. Such as trying to avoid situations where you have a boyfriend who surfs and suddenly you need to buy yourself a wet suit.

That said, I'm glad I tried surfing (badly) in the freezing cold water in Ireland. And one of my friends got good use out of the wetsuit during her two-year trip to Australia.

So where does accepting yourself as you are meet pushing yourself to try new things and be someone you never thought you could be? Where is it productive to be true to yourself and where does it harm you?

When you push yourself to do something that you know is tough for you, it gives you a small bit of insight into what life could be like if you weren't so scared or didn't create arbitrary limits. Sometimes it may reinforce your belief that something isn't for you – perhaps you actually don't enjoy it and it shouldn't be a priority. But occasionally, doing something that's a challenge – and even possibly making a fool of yourself – is a great experience to have. It keeps you humble and from taking yourself too seriously.

And that's what authenticity is about. Keeping it real (ha, ha). Knowing who you are but also being open to expanding that definition from time to time. For example, you could move desks every once in a while.

When I moved to London nearly nine years ago it was terrifying and lonely and it took a few years to actually feel like I fit in and that I was part of my adopted country. And although I still don't like pre-made sandwiches, I can complain about the weather like an old pro. More importantly, I learned that I can push myself to do new scary things, in spite of my anxiety. And by living on my edge, I got to know myself pretty well, which in my opinion is what authenticity is about. It's trying to get closer to your truth – whatever it may be.

This post is part of the Self-Discovery, Word by Word series. Katie at Health for the Whole Self kicked it off this month with 'authenticity'. Click here to read more about it or get involved.

Related posts:

• Baby 19
• Gratitude: Pumpkin Pie Mix In England
• Vulnerability: Being Broken Isn't So Bad

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Keeping Score

I have a very large Excel spreadsheet where I have kept track of all things physio-related, including various exercises done (how many reps), heart rate, anti-inflammatories taken and general comments about my pain – how severe and where. A thrilling read. And it goes back to early 2007.

Recently, I've just stopped filling it out. I kept forgetting – which is surprising – as I have kept it faithfully every day for over three years. Recently I started to use it to keep track of the new exercise I was starting to incorporate into my routine. In fact, I decided to start a new one – focused more on regular exercise and less on the physio-kind. But I've failed miserably to fill that one in as well.

Maybe it's that I've started to internalize what it is I need to be doing without the need for anything external. I don't need to keep track anymore. It's clear to me which exercises I still need to do daily, and those that I need to only use from time-to-time. I rarely need to take ibuprophen (or the stronger anti-inflams) anymore. And I can tell when I'm feeling run-down or over tired – my morning pulse rate probably only confirms what it is I already know.

I've settled into an exercise routine over the past six weeks. I go to tap class on Mondays, Zumba at the gym on Wednesdays and Bikram Yoga on Saturdays. I'm not doing any walking other than the 10 minutes each morning and night to and from the train station. Frankly, I'm not too keen on walking these days – now that I can finally do other things.

Three exercise sessions a week suits me just fine. When I told a friend recentlywhat I was up to these days in terms of exercise, she said: "That doesn't sound like exercise, that sounds like fun!" Exactly. And I feel better. You don't realize how much you like something (even exercise), until it's gone. It's a privilege (and if you don't believe me, read a recent post from Nourishing The Soul on another reason why exercise is a privilege – specifically running in this case).

I don't want to keep score any longer, I just want to do it. It's like when I went away to college. Throughout much of my childhood, I was a fanatical journal writer. But I ditched the habit when I moved away from home for the first time, keen not to observe, but to enjoy, to live a little more. And likewise, I'm ditching the spreadsheet.

There is quite a bit of research out there that shows that people who measure things do more of them, but there's also the theory that to get something done what you really need is excitement. One of Leo Babauta's recent posts along these lines has got me thinking about achieving, without goals, and although I'm not ready to throw away the to-do list, there may be something to not keeping track of everything.

And maybe letting the spreadsheet go is part of the journey to view myself as a 'normal' person. I still find it hard to believe that I'm going to be able to play golf and tennis next summer. And that I don't really need to take anti-inflammatories everyday anymore (you wouldn't believe the amount of drugs I carry with me at all times, just in case). It's as if I'm afraid to accept that I am well and healthy. That I just might jinx it.

But I suppose it's time to relax a little – stop keeping score and start enjoying the game.

Related posts:

• What's Your RPR?
• Tap Dancing And Mind Shifting
• Other People's Backs
• Give Me An Inch

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Uncertainty

We live in constant uncertainty. But yet we convince ourselves that isn't true. And perhaps it's our greatest defence mechanism.

I remember once knowing that someone was going to break up with me. He gave me a pretty good indication by writing a letter… but then I had to wait two days before I saw him to find out for sure (I'm not bitter – I understand there's just no nice way to break up with someone). But having an early indication was torture. It was so much worse than just knowing it was going to be over, because there was still that bit of uncertainty. I remember cleaning the flat frantically thinking: at least if he breaks up with me I'll have a clean flat!

There's a fair bit of commentary out there on the link between uncertainty and unhappiness. This Economist blog post shows how humans don't behave rationally when there's substantial uncertainty in their environments.

But what is it about uncertainty that bothers us?

Daniel Gilbert, who is a professor at Harvard University and author of Stumbling on Happiness, wrote in a blog post for the New York Times about this phenomenon. He cited a few instances of research where knowing about something negative was much better than not knowing.

For example, research at the University of British Columbia showed that people who learned they had a very high likelihood of developing the neurodegenerative disorder known as Huntington's disease were happier a year later than those in the study who did not learn what their risk of developing the disease was.

Gilbert says in his post:

Why would we prefer to know the worst than to suspect it? Because when we get bad news we weep for a while, and then get busy making the best of it. We change our behavior, we change our attitudes. We raise our consciousness and lower our standards. We find our bootstraps and tug. But we can’t come to terms with circumstances whose terms we don’t yet know. An uncertain future leaves us stranded in an unhappy present with nothing to do but wait.

I agree, and my own theory is that it's as if our brains are better geared towards solving definite problems than dealing with unknowns. When we don't exactly know what the problem is, or will actually be, it's as if the brain heads off to work and searches to locate it, spinning round in circles like a tire when a car is up on blocks.

And it's very hard to stop. The brain can often act a little like a runaway train, getting faster and more out-of-control. But I think that the best way to regard terrible uncertainty is the way we deal with the rest of the constant uncertainty in our life, including the ultimate one – death – by just not thinking about it.

Am I crazy for saying this? When you're facing very bad uncertainty: the results of a scary medical test, the possible end of a relationship, potential job loss or a missing person – how do you not think about it? The brain is racing and it wants to solve the problem, but guess what, it can't.

Obviously I'm not telling anyone not to do proactive actions about uncertain situations when they can do something. But there are so many situations where all you can do is wait. And it's really hard not to think about something when you're in distress – but we've all had experiences of doing this successfully. Something funny happens and suddenly the worry is gone for a moment. Where did it go? If we can try to extend these time periods, by focusing on the present moment and realizing that there's nothing we can actually do, we can help ourselves and the others around us.

The problem with not being able to deal well with uncertainty is that it's always with us. Sometimes it's worse than other times, but essentially, having a successful coping mechanism for dealing with uncertainty is something that lasts, frankly, for a lifetime.

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People Pleasing

On Wednesday, I shared a little insight about what I'm learning through this whole wedding-planning process. Another one has since occurred to me.

So here is wedding-planning lesson number two: Things that you generally get upset about will also make you upset during the planning process – but on a much more magnified scale. If you're a people-pleaser like me, planning a wedding and sorting out the guest list is a veritable mine field. You can't make everyone happy and I've had a few sleepless nights trying to figure out if maybe this concept is actually wrong – that maybe I can make everyone happy! (My brain is like a big blackboard with equations scribbled over it as I try to prove the theorem: me + trying really hard = happiness for all creatures, big and small).

Being a people pleaser is not a great thing generally and it's something I really struggle with. I did some sessions with my friend while she was training to become a life coach and one of the exercises she gave me to do was to say 'no' to at least one thing everyday, no matter how small the request was.

Cue terrifying music. In fact, I'm not sure I even did the task I found it so daunting. This is not like me, as I'm such a goody two shoes that now I'm worried she is reading this and is upset with me for not doing it.

I'll give you another example of my general people-pleasing tendencies. My friend was buying a cookie at the coffee bar the other day and this is my recollection of our conversation:

Me: I have one of those cookies in my desk drawer. I wish I had known you were going to buy one, I would have given it to you. I don't even like them.

Her: Then why do you have one in your desk drawer?

Me: Well, someone gave it to me and I didn't want to offend them by not taking it.

Look, I know this sort of behavior isn't normal. But I'm working on it! Throwing a colossal party into the mix with a guest list of people from a few different continents is certainly giving me a lot of practice.

For one thing, I have seriously scaled down my social life to give me time to do all the wedding-y stuff. How else will I have time to trawl through photographers' websites and decide what color my shoes will be? This means saying no to friends, which I'm not great at (because I genuinely do love seeing them). But I've done it.

The problem with being a people pleaser is the only person who ends up miserable is you. I am trying to put myself first these days more and more. It sounds selfish, but it's not, because when I'm tired, cranky and overwhelmed from taking on too much, the people who suffer most are me and those people closest to me – the ones who have to see me day in and day out (like Future Hub). When I say 'yes' to everyone I become a much less loving and caring person.

So I'm working on it – and as I just stated, this wedding is good practice. Maybe I should try my friend's coaching exercise again. If you hear me say 'no' to you, please understand – maybe even pat me on the back?

(Incidentally, my friend's coaching business has now taken off. She specializes in career fulfillment and career transition. Jung is based in California, but does a lot of work over the phone. If you're interested, check out her website.)

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Turbulence

We crossed through two jet streams on our flight from San Francisco to London. The first was shortly after takeoff and the second was right before landing. Whenever the plane shakes like that I swear I'm the only passenger convinced we're going to plummet from the sky. I usually clutch onto the arm rests and glare at everyone else in an accusatory manner, wondering why they don't look terrified too. "People, we're going down!" I have to keep myself from shouting.

According to Patrick Smith, author of Ask the Pilot, turbulence is wind, and "just as you don't suddenly grab the wheel in a white knuckle panic when your car drives over a gravel road, pilots don't sweat during in-flight bumpiness." Smith explains how pilots are not too fussed about it. "A wind-whipped landing is nothing too tense on the flight deck. Airplanes are inherently stable, always wanting to return to their original spot in space, and the crew is not wrestling with the beast as much as riding it out."

So, Smith says, turbulence isn't much too worry about. Mostly it's the flight attendants who get injured from it (no wonder with the way they continue the drinks service while sweat trickles down my brow). Only about 20 passengers each year are hurt from turbulence annually in the United States – out of the 800 million or so who fly each year there. (For everything you ever wanted to know about flying, check out Smith's website, also called Ask the Pilot – it's got all the answers to everything you've ever wondered about flying.)

Smith does admit that turbulence can seem scary, after all "everybody who steps on a plane is on some level uneasy, and there's not a more poignant reminder of flying's innate precariousness than a good walloping at 37,000 feet."

Yes. I'll say. The whole flying thing is quite scary to me even if I (sort of) understand the physics of it. I watched a TV program once about fear of flying and apparently it boils down to a melange of three separate phobias: claustrophobia, lack of control and heights. For me, fear of flying has become worse as I've grown older. Something to do with another phobia, called one's own mortality, I believe.

But here's the thing. I don't want to give up the good things that come along with flying. I want to see different parts of the world. I want to fly home each year to see my friends and family in New York. And I want to go to my friends' weddings, even if they are happening 10-11 hours away by plane.

Standing in the security line last Monday afternoon I scrunched up my face and did quite a bit of whining in my head (although perhaps some of it was out loud?) about how I didn't want to get into what my Mom calls, "that tin can in the sky."

But that's the thing about life. Pretty much you get the bad with the good. And flying in a plane isn't actually that dangerous – turbulence doesn't really hurt you (unless you're very, very unlucky). And I think that's a good metaphor. Sometimes fear really is what we have to fear. I find time and again that going through something painful is painful, yes, but at the end of it I'm still in one piece, and sometimes even better off.

So when things get bumpy, just hold on, breathe and think about which movie you're going to watch next.

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Fear And Pain

Chronic pain can be a terrible thing. It follows you around everywhere and there is no relief. But the fear of pain can be debilitating as well. And so, I had a pretty crappy time of it this weekend.

If you aren't already aware, I hurt my back in May moving house (click here for the background story) but recently it has been well on the mend. In the past week or so I was even cleared by my physio to start introducing some exercise (other than walking) back in. On Monday night I swam at the pool for 15 minutes pain free.

But on Saturday I seemed to regress. I was walking around quite a bit and I started really feeling twinges in my back. It got worse and worse on Saturday as the day wore on. By evening it still wasn't any better and in the middle of the night it must have woken me up (I was actually dreaming about it as well). I laid there awake, willing it to go away and just hoping that it would. I am usually quite good at taking pain relief medication when I need it, but it was as if I couldn't stomach it, like taking the ibuprofen would mean admitting that my back was actually that sore.

I realize I'm being dramatic, but when you've had an experience with chronic pain (which entailed four years of hard work in physiotherapy), there's no underestimating the fear factor. I just don't want to be back where I was before and any little twinges can often send my mind reeling onto the 'what if' roller coaster.

But lying awake in the darkness, I eventually came to my senses and took some anti-inflammatory pills.

Yesterday things didn't get much better. I ran the week over and over in my head searching for what might have caused the hiccup. I think it was something stupid I did on Friday night. I got home from work, and although I had the house to myself and sole control over the remote, I just couldn't physically make myself get off the couch to do my physio exercises (I usually watch TV while I do them - it's my 'treat'). It was a stupid thing to do. I've made a lot of progress with my back. My hips are looser, due to numerous bouts of hip stretches (see Hips Don't Lie). And Super Physio did say on Monday when I saw her that now was not the time to skip a day of the exercises.

In penance and pain, I did my exercises three times on Sunday. I took a steady stream of ibuprofen. I can only hope that things improve – particularly before we take the 11-hour flight to San Francisco in a week.

I'm just tired of it. I want to stop feeling like an invalid. It was really amazing over the past year when things were improving and I was able to get back into a wider variety of exercise. I miss that feeling of freedom. I feel a little sick to my stomach with fear when I feel the twinges in my back.

But I know things could be worse. Generally I'm healthy and alive, employed, with food to eat and surrounded by lots of lovely people. And the chronic pain from years ago hasn't returned. It's easy to get hysterical about things, but it doesn't help much. So I will try to stay calm and just keep doing my exercises.

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Baby 19

If there's a way, there's a worry. I wouldn't say I am paralyzed by worry, in fact, it's almost the opposite – I am an extreme worrier, but I do things anyway. But that doesn't mean it's easy.

Here's how I would explain it. No matter how well things are going in my life (and I've been very lucky) I have this low-lying nagging sense that there's something I should be worried about. It's like that horrible feeling that you left the oven on at home. And I often feel like arguing with my brain about it. "Listen brain, why do you insist on thinking there's always something bad right around the corner? Just because that person didn't return your email/phone call/letter doesn't mean it has anything to do with you. Why is it always about you anyway? Can you just relax and enjoy yourself a little?"

So if there's a worry gene, I've definitely got it. Which is why I was incredibly intrigued by an article I read some time ago and forwarded to every anxiety-prone person I know. It details a longitudinal study by a psychology professor at Harvard, Jerome Kagan, to examine whether or not there are people who are predisposed to be anxious. In infancy the participants in the study were observed to see if they were "high-reactors" – essentially whether they freaked out or not when exposed to something new.

The first 18 babies in the study were cool as cucumbers, but Baby 19 became incredibly distressed when she was exposed to new sounds, voices, toys and smells. And the oldest high-reactive subjects in this study, and other studies of the same sort (like Baby 19), are now in their 20s. The article states that "for many of them, no matter how much they manage to avoid looking anxious to an outsider, fears still rattle in their skulls at 3 o’clock in the morning. They remain anxious just below the surface, their subconscious brains still twitchy, still hyper vigilant, still unable to shift attention away from perceived threats that aren’t really there."

This sounded particularly familiar to me. Which got me thinking, was I like Baby 19? I'm sure it would be hard to accurately collect data on whether or not as an infant I freaked out when exposed to new things. In hindsight, people's memories are often very subjective. But there was an incident when I was five years old in kindergarten class. I totally freaked out about a class trip to an ice cream shop. It was a Carvel store (for those New York State readers) and it was one I had been to numerous times with my parents. I remember it distinctly – I was absolutely terrified about going. But I still can't verbalize why. Ice cream really isn't the scariest thing. They had to call my Mom to come get me, but luckily my kindergarten class was actually on the college campus where she was a professor and she knew my teacher pretty well.

Sounds pretty Baby 19-ish to me. As an adult I've dealt with my anxiety in other ways. In fact, I moved countries about eight years ago and despite feeling terrified (and hating it for about the first year) I did it anyway. The article talks about how some people are able to actually harness this nervous energy. I wouldn't say this is true all the time for me – often I find it unharness-able (probably not a word) and something I'd rather not cope with. This is particularly true if I have a lot of free time, which is probably why I make sure I'm pretty busy (which creates other problems). And when I'm busy I like to do things that keep my brain active – to distract it from worrying. Interestingly enough, although some anxious people might find socializing anxiety-inducing, I find it just the opposite. I get to focus on someone else and get outside of my own head.

But the one thing I appreciated most from the article was the fact that it said that maybe this excessive worrying wasn't actually my fault – perhaps I'm pre-disposed. Which was a bit of a relief. Because there's nothing worse than trying not to worry and others around you telling you to chillax, like you mean to be this way. Sometimes it's not that simple.

The article is from the New York Times Magazine, so it's super long, but if you have any interest in the area, or suspect you may be a Baby 19, click here to read it.

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