Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Fake it till you make it...

How cute is this photo? At first glance it looks like I'm riding a bike... but look a little closer and you'll notice my dangling feet are nowhere near the pedals. It reminds me of a coping tool I learned at the ADF back in 1999 - fake it till you make it.

ADF stands for Anxiety Disorder Foundation. It's an Adelaide-based support group that I frequented weekly soon after being medically diagnosed with an anxiety disorder in the late 90's.

The group was facilitated by a fellow sufferer who, by practicing certain techniques, was able to manage his condition - that was inspiring. We then watched a video of Australian comic actor, Garry McDonald, talking candidly about his severe anxiety - that was enlightening.

We continued on to learn that our feelings are a result of our thoughts, dispelling the belief that we cannot change our feelings. By altering our thoughts, we have the power to write a healthy prescription for the way we feel - that was liberating.

The key to making this all work is to operate with awareness, as opposed to being on autopilot.

Our thoughts and reactions are habits, often cultivated by our environment. I see these habits forming in young children. They mimic their parents, older siblings and peers. Awareness is deactivating our autopilot, taking the wheel and plotting a new course. We have the power to choose our reactions, we have the power to choose our feelings.

I might sound like an expert at this, but I alas I am an eternal student.

Frustratingly, I continue to lapse into my old habits. Most often when I'm stressed, the autopilot kicks in - which is actually the most critical time for me to be at the helm. Out of control negative thoughts cause a fast downward spiral. The only way to prevent oneself from colliding with disaster or thudding onto rock bottom is a sudden awakening. Choosing thoughts with awareness is the fast way to alter the course and claw oneself back out.

So... back to this photo and fake it till you make it...

We were taught a bunch of self-management tools at the ADF and instructed to continue practicing even if we felt like we were being a fake (anxiety is often a symptom of perfectionism and a perfectionist would get anxious about not doing it 100%, and ultimately feel like a fake). Fake it till you make it was just another tool that gave us permission to continue practicing our anxiety management tools, even though at times we completely sucked at it.

The thing is, fake it till you make it was meant to be a tool to facilitate us - not a facade to fool you.

Just as you saw a little girl riding a bike when you first looked at this photo, only to discover she couldn't reach the pedals - the same may be said of people's impressions of others. At first glance you see someone who is brave, courageous, adventurous, strong and resilient, but look again and see beyond the facade. Anxiety sufferers who are 'faking it till they're making it' are often seen to be all those things - and whilst at times we are, there are also moments when we barely reach the pedals.

Until next we greet, liberate yourself by choosing thoughts that have you feeling the way you want to feel... and be sure to look beyond your first impressions.

Grace xxoo

Thursday, 2 February 2012

In the beginning...

I love beginnings. It's the promise of something new. A cocktail of excitement, anticipation and nervousness, garnished with a sprig of giddiness and a healthy dash of angst.

Embarking on something new takes courage. It's having faith to go ahead, even though you don't know if what you've imagined will come to fruition. This gives beginnings a sense of adventure.

Many people (myself included) are adventure junkies and prefer beginnings to middles and ends. We're guilty of ending things prematurely just so we can experience the thrill of starting something new - but that's another story.

Not only do I love starting something new, I also love hearing how things get started. I'm fascinated to learn about the beginnings of people, places, organisations and trivial things i.e. how Oprah was conceived, Hawaii was formed, the genesis of Google and the birth of sticky notes.

So in my quest to learn about how I came to be, I asked my parents.

According to my Mum (that's how we spell it here in Australia), it all started with a twinkle in my Dad's eye (which might sound like a pun, but my father was blinded in one eye at the age of 9 after his pupil was split by a slingshot projectile).

Their meeting was random. My mother was at a family function and my Dad was accompanying his friend who dropped past the 'do' before moving on elsewhere. Dad was eighteen. Mum was sixteen. They saw each other across a crowded room and both admit, it was love at first sight (Hollywood producers apply here).

Soon after locking gazes, a new song by Roy Orbison called 'Pretty Woman' started to play. Dad asked Mum to dance and whispered the words into her ear. After a five-year courtship they married, and on Melbourne Cup Day 1970 (nineteen days before their first wedding anniversary) I was born.

If Dad had not been with his friend that night, he would have had no reason to go to the function. I can't help wondering whether their paths would have crossed at some point at some time, or was it divine timing that their meeting ultimately led to my birth. I will never know for sure.

Learning the beginnings of something gives us context - much like an artist painting a background before getting into the detail. Whether it's a person, place, situation or thing - I've learned that going back to the source gives us greater appreciation and understanding - and is instrumental in understanding the big picture.

Until next we greet, take the time to learn the beginnings of something and you just might find it fascinating - even enlightening.

Grace xxoo

Monday, 30 January 2012

How did I get here?

Most self help literature talks about being in the present moment - the here and now. It's about 'letting go'. The past is the past and the future is unforeseen.

While I agree there is merit to having your head, heart and body all in the same place at the same time - I also find that notion a little too simplistic [gasp!]. Denying ourselves time to reflect and space to imagine, robs us of being human. It's our relationship with our past and future that matters, and ultimately impacts our present moment.

In my experience the key to being in a 'good place' in the present moment is having a resolved past with views of an inspiring future.

A resolved past is different to a forgotten past. They are not the same. Resolution means you can revisit people and places of past and the hurt is gone. There is room to build something new. If you can't go back, you are not resolved. If you say you've moved on - you haven't. Sorry, but that's the way I see it based on my own experience (I went around the world TWICE to find that out).

I've come to observe that many people interpret 'letting go' as sweeping things under the carpet. To me, letting go is what needs to happen before we can have resolution - it's not the resolution itself. You need to let go of being right and create a space for peace. You need to let go of blame, judgement, anger and resentment - then replace that with understanding and compassion. This only happens by choice. We need to choose it.

So how do I know all this? Because I've been there - I am there - I choose this often (willingly and unwillingly). But before I continue to talk about here and now, it's best we find out how did I get here. Well, it all started with a twinkle in my Dad's eye...

Until next we greet, create a space in your life for resolution to occur (start with an easy one).

Love Grace xxoo


Sunday, 29 January 2012

A story that needs to be told...


In 1997 I was diagnosed with clinical depression. I didn't respond well to medication and in an attempt to restore myself, I retreated to my parent's beach house located between the sea and vines on Victoria's beautiful Mornington Peninsular.

Soon after settling into my new abode, I picked up a copy of The Celestine Prophesy at a local bookstore. I ate the words like a starving child and started to become acutely aware of 'coincidences'.

Soon after devouring the last chapter, I won tickets to see an internationally renown DJ who was touring Australia. I was paired with a blind date and after our introductory pre-event drink, we made our way to the night club. As we turned into a quiet St. Kilda street, I couldn't help but notice a bright orange, free-standing stove on the side of the road. It had a large handmade placard which read, "FREE 1973 In Working Order"... It was a sign (literally and metaphorically).

At that point, four men seemed to appear out of nowhere and I asked them if they could assist us in loading the stove into the back of my car. They obliged. It was a perfect fit - unlike my blind date.

My life has taken me on a terrifyingly thrilling roller coaster ride since that day. Yet always remaining in the background was the free stove. Somehow that stove represented something about me and my future, but I didn't know what. I believed that if I walked through doors that appeared before me and followed the unknown paths that followed, I would be taken on a journey that I could never have planned for myself.

This is the story of The Freestove. This is the story of my life.

- Grace xx