What a load of crap.

Sure, words might not directly leave bruises or draw blood, but to pretend they don’t hurt … I don’t think so.

Over time we learn to toughen up emotionally. We create emotional callouses which seem to protect us, but these can also cause us to become more emotionally numb.

My First Heartache

My first girlfriend was Melody. I moved in to Wesley House when I was 16 years old. It was a group home designed to help troubled teens transition towards living on their own. Mel caught my eye almost right away. She was brunette, had a bright smile and was simply beautiful. I can still vision her bouncing down the main hall of the group home, energized by high-flying spirit that captivated me. I was in near shock when she agreed to go to a movie with me and we went out for a few months. I was on cloud nine … until she dumped me.

I spent the following couple of weeks after being dumped with my headphones on, crying and bellowing out Barry Manilow’s “Mandy” and other songs that kept me locked in the emotional dungeon this heartbreak put me in. It didn’t help that we lived in the same house. Eventually I realized this dungeon didn’t have a key and I walked out, replacing my Barry Manilow music choices with Elton John, Queen and others.

That was my first real heartache and even though I would have a few more to follow, this one seemed to hurt the most. Did this one “toughen me up” for the next ones to come? Maybe so, but it also numbed me a bit. It also made me a little more guarded in the future. I have had some wonderful relationships and I am currently married to the love of my life, yet that first break-up put a dent in me that lingered, whether or not I noticed it or would pretend otherwise.

Same thing happens with words and names.

Words Other People Use

Kids are quite creative in finding ways to get under the skin of others – at least it was the case at my school and I am quite certain it was isolated to Sherwood Heights Elementary School. In grade 2 or 3, the other kids starting calling me “Basset Hound”. Given my fragile self-image at the time, this bothered me … a lot. Did that stop the kids from riding that one? Absolutely not. In fact, they hounded me (pun intended) up to grade 8, and they only got better at. For instance, they modified “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” and, using the same tune, they came up with a whole new set of words for a song entitled “The Hound Dog Sleeps Tonight”.

I know this seems weak, but at that time, I was weak at my core. On the surface I played lots of recreational sports and would occasionally get in schoolyard scuffles. I could take a baseball line-drive to the eye or a welt caused by a hockey puck. These would never get past the surface to enter my inner space. Yet, a well-selected choice of words could easily slice within me like a fine stiletto, igniting emotional flames kept hidden from the insulation of a masked exterior.

Over time the thin shield that protects my interior grew a bit thicker, but it is still prone to piercing from the right (or wrong) set of words. I believe it is true for everyone. No matter how tough the outside seems, words alone can slice into that core.

Words I Used Myself

There is a lot of chattering that goes on between my ears on a regular basis. I know I am not alone. When I ask someone “What’s on your mind” and they reply “Nothing”, I know that is not true most of the time, but they don’t feel like talking about it.

Even right now I am thinking about the next few lines in this blog – the words, sentences and flow. But I am also thinking “I hope we have all the stuff ready for this fundraiser today”, “should I go upstairs to put more cream in this shitty coffee”, “I wonder if anyone ready this post will be offended that I used the word ‘shitty’”, etc.

The internal chatting can help or hinder.

Recently I took this internal discussion to a different level. I was trying to sort out some stuff in my business. I had read a lot of material, but is seemed like a swirling tornado of data in my head. So I decided to interview me. That’s right – me! I set up a bunch of questions and sat in a chair (only need one chair when interviewing myself). I asked and answered the questions out loud. This odd process cut through the clutter and helped create some needed clarity. The gain from doing this far exceeded how ridiculous it might have looked to someone else.

Not All Internal Discussions are Helpful

Even now, my mind frequently fills with self-doubt and scorn. For instance, I have to fight through the internal thoughts that “I am not a good writer” and “who really cares about these posts”. There is another part within me that knows otherwise, but the interior battle over this still rages.

These internal fights went on in my teens, but they were more one-sided affairs. Thoughts such as “you’re not good enough”, “you’re stupid” and “you’re a loser” would easily fly through my mind. Every time I was crushed or beat down by my father, these ideas of worthlessness would get reinforced and simply became beliefs I had about myself.

The problem is that I had little inside me to counter these thoughts and beliefs. They simply became the platform upon which I grew. It was who I became. How would I know differently as a child or teen? These thoughts ran rampant like a smothering internal dictator. These thoughts won all the time when I was younger. I could escape them by drowning them alcohol. I also thought about turning them off completely by committing suicide.

Over time, with the help of friends, family and therapists, these negative thoughts slowly received some opposition. There is still internal struggles and will likely always go on. They don’t win very often anymore, but sometimes they still do.

The Counter Attack

For me, I didn’t just simply “toughen up” over time. I learned there were other realities about me that I had to internalize to counter the beliefs built from my youth. Some of these realities I saw on my own, but many were brought to attention many times over.

I believe this is the transformation steps for many people. This is why I believe it is important to let teens, youth and many adults know they are worthy and that they matter. For youth and teens, this can help minimize the negative internal forces from growing. For adults, it can help the counter force needed to beat back their negative beliefs. It certainly did for me.

The goal is to damper the internal fire. How do we do this?

With words.

The post The Power of Words appeared first on Randy Bassett.

Back in high school, I was a sprinter. I was one of the fastest runners on the junior football team. Once the starter’s pistol went off, my pent up energy from being pinned behind the starting gates would propel me to the lead, often from start to finish. I could also do the standing long jump longer than most kids in my class, one time doing nearly 9 feet.

But it wasn’t always that way.

In grade eight things were very different. My times for half-mile runs were consistently over 5 minutes. There wasn’t a huge difference between my jogging and fast walking pace. In those days we did the Canada Fitness Test. It was a series of tests to judge strength, speed and agility. One event was the standing long jump. In grade 8 I did a lofty 5’ 3” – nearly 4 feet less than I did a year later. What was so different? What changed in only one year?

We moved.

I grew up with the same kids from grade one to grade eight. I had a reputation for being a slow runner. There were no expectations for me to do otherwise. It was my label and I lived up to it exceptionally well.

In the summer between grade eight and high school, my family moved to a different area of the city and I started going to school with all new kids. It was a clean start – new friends, no expectations, no history to dictate what I could or couldn’t do, no labels. When I had to run in gym class, it seemed like a weight was off of me and I kicked it into gear. I didn’t hold back and I didn’t let up. What resulted was a whole new set of labels and expectations, ones that were much more productive and beneficial for me. The voice in grade eight said “that’s not you”, but the voice in grade nine said “run and soar” … and I did.

Striped Cat

What about a black cat. When we see a black cat we expect it to be able to jump and play. Some people have superstitions about these cats. We all expect the black cat to sleep most of the day away and chew your toes in the middle of the night. That’s part of the “cat” label.

But what if we paint a black stripe down its back? The same animal with just some surface modifications. Instead of a cat, now we might see a skunk. What we expect now is a slow-moving, lumbering animal that if approached could cause us some nasal distress. All that changed was a painted white stripe, something on the surface and our ability to still see a cat changed.

Imposed Labels

In many ways, my step-father was a daunting figure that I feared, especially up to my late teens. Owing to his own upbringing, I now see he was not afforded the skills to be a balanced father – not knowing when to hit and when to hold, and he rarely attempted to hold. To compound that, I could see very clearly the difference how he dealt with my sister. To her, he extended a soft touch. Birthday gifts to my sister and they came once a year – on her birthday even though our birthdays were six months apart. I found out much later that my mom told him that if he wanted to bring birthday gifts to my sister, he had to bring overdue gifts for me.

I have little recall what any of these gifts were and it doesn’t even matter. Was does matter were the labels that my father subconsciously imposed upon me without my knowledge or permission. Although I didn’t recognize it then, as a young boy and teen I felt unworthy and simply not good enough. These were labels that were imposed upon me and became dominate drivers behind what I said and did for many years.

In my teens, I had no idea that these labels were driving me one way or another. Yet, it was these labels that put me on the brink of taking my own life a number of times when I was 16 years old. In my late teens and 20s, I was more able to recognize these drivers, but harnessing them was trying to hold a cup of water in my bare hands – without the cup. Even now, remnants of those labels of unworthiness remain and I find I have to push a little harder to complete the things I want and need to do, including writing a book.

Chosen Labels

As I have discussed in other articles in this blog, I spent a lot of money and time drinking throughout my teens, 20s and early 30s. When I finally hit my own rock bottom, I reached out for help. A friend of mine who I shared thousands of beers with had joined A.A. and had stopped drinking. In my early 30s, I decided to join A.A. as well. Whenever I got up in front of the group to speak, it would start “Hi. My name is Randy and I am an alcoholic”. It was a label that I adopted officially after joining A.A. even though it was something others may have seen in me beforehand. It was a label that served me well for the brief time I was in A.A.  … up until I realized it wasn’t serving me anymore.

Within a year or two of joining A.A., I had little interest in drinking. The challenge I had in calling myself an alcoholic is that it created a tension in me. If I am an alcoholic, I need to keep that part of me pushed down and that required energy that could be better spent elsewhere. I decided to label myself simply a “non-drinker”. No more tension. No more internal struggles. No more drinking. I appreciate that A.A. still works wonders for many, but for me, this shift in chosen label was liberating.

Sink or Soar

Sometimes we choose labels, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes they are brief bursts of crappy thoughts when we think to ourselves “I’m an idiot, I can’t do this, Who’s going to read this anyway”. They can also be short, empowering thoughts like “I did a great job, I am so lucky, Damn I’m good-looking”. Other times they are so deeply entrenched within us that we sink and struggle for a lifetime with the ones that hold us back, or soar with the ones that propel us forward.

Labels have greatly influenced my identity and destiny.  I’ll be returning to labels frequently throughout this blog as I take in the View From The Edge.

What labels have you carried – for your benefit and/or otherwise?

The post Labels – Soar or Sink appeared first on Randy Bassett.

Eagles

I love eagles. I admire the calm confidence they portray. Most pictures of eagles show them alone, perched upon a strong branch, yet often they are seen soaring. They seem to be alone and at peace with themselves, but they are not really alone.  They have families that they are faithful to, remaining at the nest for years.

But their first flight was not without fear. Once the time comes for the first flight, the world looks much different from the edge of the nest than it did while sitting inside their shelter. It would seem so much safer for the little eagles just to step back and settle into the nest for another day, but the mother knows otherwise. She gives her babies a nudge and they quickly discover they can fly. In his brilliant book called Even Eagles Need a Push, David McNally says “Until they learned to soar, they would fail to understand the privilege it was to have been born an eagle. The push was the greatest gift she had to offer.”

For eagles, jumping off (or being pushed off) the edge is necessary for them to grow.

Steal That Car

Besides Jacky, who was my grade-school sweetheart, Melissa was my first girlfriend who I actually dated. We were both residents in a teen group home when we were 16 years old. Technically that means we lived together, but not in a way that would make your grandmother blush. I recall when I first asked her out:

“Would you like to go to a movie?”, I sheepishly asked, relying solely on the one single nerve propping up my confidence.

“Sure”, Melissa answered, so quickly that the single nerve of confidence doubled in size.

We went on a few dates. I was limited by the budget allowed by the minimal earnings of a 16-year-old, but we had fun. At least most of the time.

One evening we were hanging around downtown Hamilton. We were only 16, still 2 years away from legal drinking age at that time, but we knew what bars wouldn’t ask for ID. We stopped and had a few beers at the Running Pump. Melissa was feeling way too good, so we decided to head home. We walked a couple of blocks to our bus stop – just a little past an arcade place called Crystal Palace. Just as we were passing the place, we noticed a car running with no one in it. It was just sitting there waiting for the driver to return.

“Let’s take that car”, Melissa said.

“No way”, I quickly and easily answered.

“Come on, there is no one around.”

“Forget it, let’s just get the bus”, I said.

“What’s the matter? You too afraid to take the car?”.

“No. I just don’t want to. I’m taking the bus.”

Melissa reluctantly followed me to the bus stop, where we hopped on the bus a few minutes later.

It was a brief, but quiet bus ride – until the last block or two. While we were still on the bus, Melissa let out her frustration by punching me in the face. We didn’t go out much longer after that night.

I didn’t recognize it then, but Melissa put me on the edge – to decide whether or not steal that car. For whatever reason, I made the right choice to pull back and not take that leap off that edge.

Bungee Cord Effect

I have taken many ill-advised leaps off the edge. I was fortunate that in most of those times, there seemed to be a bungee cord tied to my ankles that sprang me back up to the edge, but not before cutting myself on the jagged rocks below.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, I quit drinking at least 100 times during my 20s and 30s, but not long after “quitting” – sometimes only hours – I would step off the edge again, with a keg of beer in tow. Eventually, that cord around my ankles would spring me back up to the edge, allowing me once again to choose to leap or retreat, but leap I usually did. This cycle on the edge would go on until the right moment came when I finally decided to step back.

Not every poorly-chosen leap off the edge comes with a bungee cord: a fatal accident while impaired, cheating on a loved one or jumping off of a bridge.

I have found that making the wrong choice to leap instead of stepping back is risky because I would never know if a bungee cord was there until after I jumped.

I was lucky.

The Paralysis of Fear

Sometimes the edge is the stepping stone to something great, but then fear becomes immobilizing. I should have jumped, but I didn’t, for whatever reason.

This is the part of “the edge” that has most hampered me in the past. For instance, I exaggerated the severity of a hand injury in grade 10 so I wouldn’t have to play in the semi-final football game. For another example, as a Ph.D. student, I finished all requirements except for the dissertation. I left the program without ever knowing what doors may have opened up if I had made that leap and completed the Ph.D.

Lastly, this blog and the book I am writing “started” many years ago. For many years I stood at the edge, looking at what was possible if I could jump from the edge and get my pen in motion. What got me to finally jump? Quite simply, it was my wife telling me in a not-so-gentle yet loving way “you’re becoming so ordinary.”

Rewards and Challenges

As I look back, more times than not, taking the leap was (or would have been) the right choice. Shedding fear at certain times would have served me better.

The edge holds so many mysteries – what will happen if we jump? Will we learn to soar like the eagle or will we crash on the rocks below?  Will we reap the rewards of taking the chances of flight or will we fall? For me, I just needed to get wiser about when to leap or retreat and I am still learning.

I am still a work in progress.

The post What is “The Edge”? appeared first on Randy Bassett.