There Is No Rejection, Only Selection

Change your mindset, change your attitude, choose your experience. 

To be a hopelessly positive person, is to see that there is a silver lining no matter how dark the cloud. 

There must be.

Lost a job? = It wasn't your true calling.
Got dumped? = Bigger passion is waiting for you.
Offer wasn't accepted? = It wasn't meant to be.
Hurt yourself? = Learn from it and improve. 


Among the few emotions that are frightening to me in their pain potential, rejection is a biggie. To be rejected is to have my ego bruised, my intentions turned away and my life invalidated. 

Okay, maybe that last one is a bit of a stretch...

So let's spin this:

 "There is no rejection, only selection." 

Ah. How refreshingly painless!

Amazing how a simple reconfiguration shines light on a dark, frightening thought, revealing its positivity potential. 

In my last post, I mentioned that we are responsible for our lives and that our personal realms of control are larger than we give ourselves credit for. This applies here, as well. 

To feel "rejected" is to fork over power to the "reject-or," leaving us no choice but to become the "reject-ee." Knock it off.

Just as I have a right to choose, so too does the rest of humanity. Being turned down is the opposed's choice to go a different route. In that, I graciously accept the new opportunity that lies waiting for me that I may have missed otherwise. 

There are no mistakes in life. 

Sure, I've shed some tears or ground my teeth in frustration over what I've instinctively labeled as "rejection" in the past, but had those experiences not been, I wouldn't be where I am today. I can look back and find reason for all that has ever happened to me and thankfully appreciate them for happening in the first place. 

I willfully use my power to choose to claw out the positive message hidden in every NO, THANK YOU, each GOOD BYE and all of the NOT SO MUCHes. It's always in there, somewhere and if it isn't...

Choose Happiness

At every moment, we are responsible for exactly where we are and where we are not in life, how we feel, what we have and do not have and how we choose to perceive our surroundings and situations. 

Responsibility sucks.

Hang on. Let’s adjust this thought. 

Responsibility is empowering.

To helplessly throw hands up in the air is admitting defeat.

Surrendering to feeling things that aren’t ideal, rolling over and pouting over being unhappy with where/how/who we are at the moment- living the “it is what it is” mentality in general, is a cop out. Don’t like it? Change it. 

Yes, the Serenity Prayer’s preaching of accepting that there is only so much we can control and letting go of that which we cannot is still valid, but far too often, we skew the ratios, doing ourselves a major disservice. 

Happiness is a right. Choosing to be chronically miserable is just that- a choice. For the most part, we are all equipped with the ability of choice. After all, is that not one of the fundamental features of pump it means to be human? 

Erring on the side of restraint, I will choose to pump the breaks on the preaching and leave it at this: 

Take responsibility. Figure out where your joy lies and take the first step towards it. We are more powerful than we allow ourselves to believe. There is power in choice. Choose happiness. 

Mommy

Ah, Mother’s Day- a day to honor and give thanks to the mom’s that birthed us, the women that raised us, the ladies that led the way. Thirsty after another incredible workout at the gym, I made a quick stop at the drugstore for a cold drink. I pushed through throngs of people scrambling to buy last minute bouquets of roses and Hallmark cards, frustrated that the cold beverage fridge was all the way in the back of the store. As lovely as it was to see so many people making some kind of effort to not show up to mom’s empty-handed, I couldn’t help but notice the obvious- that “Mother’s Day,” like many other holidays, is very much a hyped up Hallmark moneymaker.

Yes, it is nice to have a special day to highlight these undeniably amazing women in our lives. Truth be told, when I become a mom, I hope my kids smother me with extra love on the 2nd Sunday of every May. I do understand the purpose of the day itself; much like birthdays, it’s a way to give extra recognition and appreciation where it is aptly due. As I waited in the long checkout line among customers with arms filled with teddy bears and boxes of chocolates, I began to wonder how much the knickknacks and bow adorned gifts distracted from the true meaning of the day.

I spoke to a few mothers today, asking what they hoped their special day held for them. Not once did I hear them pray for lavish presents or exotic floral arrangements (although I’m certain they wouldn’t object to receiving them… I know I wouldn’t!). What I did hear, accompanied by twinkling eyes and broad smiles, was the excitement these mommies had overspending time with their families. Even the instances I heard about mothers covering the expense of dining out with their children, these women still beamed through their playful scoffs at the prospect of spending rare quality time with their loved ones.

The “stuff,” although fun and thoughtful, isn’t the important part of these holidays. What is more significant is what isn’t produced by Hallmark or sold on shelves- the feeling of being appreciated, the novelty of being celebrated and the reminder of how much they are loved are all what is most memorably heart warming. I guess you could equate this to the age old saying that “it’s the thought that counts.”

Hopefully this one day per year not only reminds us all of how thankful we ought to be for the mom’s in our lives, but also is not the only day we choose to express this amorous gratitude. In half an hour, when the holiday officially ends, my gloriously high-strung mother will still deserve the same amount of gratitude, love and recognition as she does right now. Sure, tomorrow she won’t come downstairs to a printed greeting card or hear “Happy Mother’s Day” from the family, but I intend to make sure that even though “her day” is over, her importance is still recognized. As the vibrant Mother’s Day bouquet wilt in the vase over the next few days, the love, respect and appreciation for my mom will continue to bloom brightly, long after the last petal withers and falls to the ground.

I love you, Mommy- today, tomorrow and always.

Uphill

The repetitive movement of running sets a perfect stage for meditative serenity. The steady tempo of foot-to-pavement strikes in cadence with the sound of air filling the lungs and circling out again. In this mental peace, thoughts come and go freely- an ideal environment to absorb any lessons being sent my way.

On a recent, particularly hilly run, the world presented me with teachings so pertinent to my disposition at the time that it was clear that life happens with purpose- it is not all random. About two miles through, I looked out in front of me to a stretch of road that seemed nearly vertical. I felt a flighty sense of panic as I momentarily considered the options of turning around or choosing a different path. I suddenly recognized this defeatist attitude as a reflection of habitually quitting when faced with seemingly large challenges. As the past has proven, failing to follow through when things get tough only presents me with pangs of regret and self-disappointment.What would my life be like had I not cowered when obstacles obscured my visions? How difficult would it really have been to tackle the proverbial mountains in my way?

If I chose to avoid that steep hill by turning around or choosing an alternative path, I would have compromised my deliberately planned route. I would have robbed myself of the inevitable sense of pride that would have come from following through with my original plan. The choice was obvious as I realized that, amongst distracting myself with reminiscing and lesson learning, I had been steadily making my way up the hill, anyways. With the simple motion of placing one foot in front of the other, focusing only on the next step immediately in front of me, the hill that seemed so intimidatingly impossible at first was disappearing behind me as I edged towards the top.

Before the next song even came on through my iPod, I had passed the peak of the hill, my hamstrings and calves enjoying the rewarding downhill slope that followed. How silly I felt to have even considered changing my path, all to avoid a (relatively small) uphill stretch of pavement. It was then I realized that the (only) way to take on, tackle and overcome any challenge is to take it one step at a time. Any hardship has the ability to be paralyzingly intimidating when looked at in its entirety; but breaking the daunting hill down and focusing only on what is manageable in the moment strips it of its debilitating powers, making anything seem 100% possible. 

Serenity

Every which way, there is a lesson to be learned if you’re ready to receive it. The other day I was in the supermarket, walking down the breakfast cereal isle. A mother was shopping with her son sitting in the cart and I happened to tune in mid-conversation.

“Mama, you ain’t the boss of me!”

I glanced over at the child, thinking to myself, “what a brat!” What this child said next was so profoundly deep, even in its simplicity, that it transformed him from a snotty little boy to a miniature Buddha- “You ain’t the boss of no one, only yourself!” Immediately, my scowl turned to awe as I looked at him, wondering if he knew the depth of the words he just spoke.

Regardless of if he meant it on a deeper level or not, the little boy’s words stuck with me for the rest of the day. He may have just been back-talking to his mother, refusing to do something she had asked him to or continuing to do something she asked him to stop, but the weight of those last words I heard him say stopped me in my tracks as if he were saying it for me to hear.

No matter what he meant by it, I interpreted his words as a simplistic version of the Serenity Prayer- a mantra I strive to live by.

“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference”

We can easily drive ourselves insane trying to conduct our worlds around us. We can get frustrated when things don’t go our way or when people don’t change to adapt to our likings. These frustrations will plague us forever, though, if we truly think we can control them- we can’t! The absolute only thing that we, as mortal beings, have control over is ourselves! Once we realize this ultimate truth and take responsibility for it, so much stress dissipates as the self-imposed weight of the world is lifted away.

It is empowering to know and claim control over yourself. Blame, anger, disappointment- all dissolve once the realization is made that the choice of how to react to something and how to handle it is claimed by you.

When I feel defeated and think that nothing will ever go my way, I reassess what is making me feel this way. More often than not, there is another angle from which to look at the situation in which I can reclaim control. I may not be powerful enough to control anyone else around me, but I sure do know that I harness the almighty power of controlling the things I do, the words I say and the way I react to my world around me.

Body Viving and Dropping the Ball

Saturday 4/28

It’s no secret that the gym is a favorite place of mine. Saturday, I rushed out to my gym at a particularly early 8:45 in the morning to make it to a featured master class, Body Vive. Inevitably, there will be many future posts on things I am grateful for pertaining to my gym, but on this day, I learned how thankful I was to be able to laugh at myself.

When trying new things, there is always a learning curve where mistakes will be made and perfection is not expected. Thank goodness! Growing up, I constantly felt the pressure to never make a mistake and carried the expectation to be perfect (now, I understand my parents’ intentions were to push me to reach my highest potential, not to cause me stress… yet another thing I am thankful for, in retrospect). This forgiveness to err that I’ve adopted towards myself was much called for during Body Vive’s 55 minutes of new steps and movements.

Regardless of my unfamiliarity with the class, I took a spot, front and center, directly face-to-face with the instructor, my Body Vive ball within reach. My first thought was “Gosh, I hope I don’t drop that ball and make a fool of myself!” Of course, the self-fulfilled prophecy that it had become, not only did I drop my ball once, but lost it a second time! Initially, I felt embarrassed as I chased the ball as it rolled passed other less-butterfingers-prone Body Vivers, thinking I was probably the only klutz that lost her squishy, purple ball. I laughed it off and fell back in to formation.

A few steps later, we were instructed on a new move that had us turning in different directions, in (what was meant to be) unison. My feet fumbled beneath me as I mis-stepped, mis-turned, and mis-Vived.  Much to my delight, it seemed most of the room joined me in my confusion as we crashed into each other and bobbed when we should have weaved. At that moment, I unclenched my useless grip on attempted perfection and released it with a wave of laughter. Truth of the matter was, most people in the classroom that morning were just as new to the program as I was. I was NOT the only one making mistakes, stepping left when told to pivot right. But, I was the only one that thought my self-described epic errors made any difference!

After I realized the normalcy of my mistakes, I allowed myself to laugh at my missteps. I was able to enjoy myself as much as everyone else was enjoying the wonderful class and got an added ab workout from all the laughter. If I can’t laugh at my own mistakes, then I impose a sentence on myself to take life far too seriously. I guess you could say that on Saturday morning, in my first Body Vive experience, I learned a valuable life lesson to be grateful for the ability to laugh at myself, all stemming from dropping the ball- twice!

Lessons From Teenagers

For the past 16 months, I have been a nanny/mother’s helper to two teenage boys. I must admit, it is a cushy job- No diapers to change, no disastrous messes to clean up after and, lucky enough, both boys have hearts of gold with stellar behaviors. The only nuisance I have to deal with every once in a while is to break up the occasional fight over whose turn it is to walk to puppy (to which I often end up taking responsibility for, myself). 

Over the short period I’ve known and cared for these kids, I have seen them take on new challenges and grow through them. I watched as the younger boy graduated from middle school and entered his first year of high school. I observed as his older brother stressed over SATs and college prep, went through hours of driving lessons and, most recently, got his drivers license.  

No doubt, I am grateful for the job I have that supplements my income as I grow my YOUfit brand, but today’s post is about more than the gratitude I have for this part time job. Seeing these boys five days a week for hours each day, I feel like I have become part-time mom to them. This in itself continues to reveal valuable lessons on a daily basis, but today my eyes were opened to something I was told I could never understand until I had children of my own…

The older of the two boys was given instruction and permission by his mother to drive to the store to pick up a birthday cake for his brother. Instinctually, I wanted to ride along with him to make sure he would be okay. Not wanting to insult or undermine his newfound ability to drive, I resisted. My next thought was to discretely follow him with my car, remaining a mile behind, unknownst to him. Again, I resisted.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that he was a highly cautious teenager. I would not have to worry about his wreckless driving- it was the other nuts on the road I was worried about, after all. As he grabbed the keys and checked for money in his wallet, I found myself demanding his undivided attention as I instructed him to “be careful and make sure to text me as soon as he got back home to let me know he was ok.” At that moment, I recognized my parents’ words coming out of my mouth…

When I first learned to drive, I rolled my eyes every time my dad always sent me off with a reminder to be careful. I brushed off the importance of letting my mom know when I got to the mall okay. I was a typical kid! But, here I was, feeding this teenage boy the same exact parental lines I had scoffed at just years ago. Suddenly, they didn’t seem so laughable.

I got to the gym, where I still am now, and watched the clock. I went to and from the locker room, checking my phone for a text that said I could stop worrying. Thirty minutes passed… nothing. An hour passed… still nothing. Finally, I called him to ease my nerves. Oblivious to my concerns, he casually picked up his phone, thankfully alive. I breathed a sigh of relief, gave him a half hearted scold for not texting me when he got back to the house, hung up and finished my workout. Sure, kids will be kids, but eventually, we all grow up and, hopefully, if we’re lucky, we get the opportunity to see things from the perspectives of our silly, overbearing parents.