A Subtle Difference and Sameness

Existentialist:
"There's nobody. There's nothing."











Nondualist:
"There's nobody! There's nothing!"











It's just a matter of inflection.



©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

The (Wo)Man In the Mirror: Thanks, Michael

And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and then make a change

10 Ways We Make The Work into Too Much Work

Byron Katie is fond of saying, "I don't call it The Work for nothing," meaning The Work works best when we put in some effort to see things differently...and if we are willing to put aside what's comfortable in place of what's true.

This doesn't mean doing The Work is hard to do. If you're finding The Work to be too much work, you may be doing one or more things on this list.

1. Trying to work with complex, run-on sentences. "Daniel should pay attention to me so that I can make him understand why I am so upset with him and what he can do to change." This sentence requires a meat cleaver! "Daniel should pay attention to me" is enough to work on all by itself. Other thoughts that can be worked on separately are "I need to make Daniel understand." "Daniel should understand why I'm upset with him." "I want Daniel to change." "I am upset with Daniel." "Daniel can change."

If you fill out your Judge-Your-Neighbor Worksheet in short, simple sentences, you'll find it's much easier to identify and work with your thoughts. A little editing in the beginning, a little less writing, can make for less work—and more meaningful Work—in the long run.

2. Writing a Judge-Your-Neighbor Worksheet about yourself. Many people come to The Work saying, "I know I'm my own problem." Is it true that you know that? As Katie says, when you're new to The Work, it's better to point your judgments outwards. We've been beating ourselves up, judging ourselves, making ourselves wrong all of our lives. It hasn't changed us yet; it can, in fact be brutal. As you will see, some of the turnarounds on any worksheet will be "I" thoughts and you can sit with these later. Instead of "I should have more self-control," why not start with someone else about whom you have had the same thought? You'll see how you treat them, and in doing so, how you treat yourself when you believe that thought about yourself.

3. Spinning, as in not taking your original belief all the way through inquiry in favor of switching to another. "Mary is needy. How do I react when I believe that thought? I avoid her, I don't want to be around her. I don't want to be around her, is that true?" You leave the inquiry when you switch beliefs this way; the original belief has not been fully understood. You lose your train of thought and you may find yourself back-tracking. That makes a simple process more complicated.

4. Spinning a turnaround. This takes you into entirely different territory. "Mary is needy, turned around: Mary is not needy; I am needy." These are good turnarounds. "I am not needy" is a spin, not an opposite but an affirmation that has nothing to do with your original work. It may make you feel better, but it won't do the work of investigation for you and you may find yourself having no resolution.

5. Yeah-butting. You leave inquiry when you stop answering the questions. "Yeah, but..." is a defense, an excuse, a block to learning the truth. It throws away any prior work you've done on the belief and you end up having to start over.

6. Changing your belief statement after a few minutes. "I need Daniel to change. Is it true? Yes. Can I absolutely know it's true? Yes. How do I react when I believe that thought? I get frustrated...I lean on him...I nag him...but you know, that's not really the issue, it's more like, I need Daniel to be more flexible...I want to work on that instead." Well, if you want him to be more flexible, it does mean you would like something to change. If you stick with your original statement, you may find what you were looking for when you began waffling. You can always go back to the other belief statement later, if you still believe it.

7. "Shoulding on yourself." "I should exercise" could be a covert way of trying to make yourself exercise, or excuse yourself from exercising. This work is about noticing how you live your life when you believe a thought that isn't true for you; it's not meant to be a motivator or to shame you into doing some or into stopping doing something. ("I shouldn't smoke.") So just notice your motives when you question "I should" thoughts. It may be easier to work on underlying beliefs here, such s "If I don't stop smoking, it means I'm weak" or "If I don't exercise, it means I'll die too young, and that means my children will be fatherless, and that means..." What is the core issue? The direct route would be to work on that one.

8. Using turnarounds as a medieval torture device. "Mary is needy. Turnaround: I am needy - beat, beat, beat. Oh yes, I am, I'm a terrible person, no wonder no one wants me around! I have to stop being so needy!" Oh gosh, don't go there! Simply sit with "I am needy." Is it sometimes true? Have you ever been, needy, especially with Mary (needing her to stop being needy)? This is just an opportunity to notice, no shoulds, no judgments involved. The Work is about self-awareness...which is a gentle noticing and if indicated, a gentle correction. Most of all, with turnarounds like these, we see that we are not too different from the one we've been putting on the torture rack and we can let both them and ourselves off the hook. Whew!

9. Long explanations. Notice when you start using "because" when answering a question: "How do I react when I believe the thought, 'My partner lies'? I feel angry, because it reminds me of when I was a little girl, and my father used to lie about where he was, when we knew he was at the bar drinking anyway." Not only is this justification, it's story-telling, and it takes you out of inquiry. Then you get lost and you have to reel yourself back in. More work than needed.

10. Writing your worksheet in the past tense. It's not wrong or bad to write a worksheet in the past tense; however it can leave you feeling disconnected from the uncomfortable feeling that led you to write the worksheet in the first place. There will be less of a tendency to say, "Well, it was such a long time ago, I don't remember much about it," or "It's really irrelevant, it's over." Try writing in the present. Instead of "My father shouldn't have lied," write, "My father shouldn't lie." Even if the incident happened 40 years ago, writing your statements in the present puts you right back in the place where you first believed the thought. The experience will be more immediate and relevant to you and you won't have to dig so deeply to find your answers.


©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

ADDENDUM: My friend Nicole writes, "Thinking you have to answer all the subquestions on the blue sheet [facilitation guide] each time you do inquiry (exhausting!)." Indeed. If you have any others, I'll post them here.

Ask a Facilitator: I Shouldn't be Thinking These Thoughts!

Q: I love using The Work of Byron Katie. However, when I go into question three—"How do you react when you believe this thought?"—the array of underlying beliefs I carry shocks me and I find it hard not to beat myself up for thinking them. I can pull myself back to continue the worksheet, but I experience a lot of shame, despair and overwhelm about the thoughts I have uncovered. I'm finding it difficult to see that these are all "just" thoughts and not me.

A: I really understand; I used to react that way also and I, too had to learn how to be a gentle observer of my thoughts rather than to identify with them. As you continue to unravel your stressful thoughts through The Work, you'll see that all you are doing is noticing what happens when you attach to beliefs that don't serve you. It's what we all do, so innocently.

At first it can be quite upsetting to see what's been festering under the surface; even now after doing The Work for so many years, uncovering those thoughts can move me to tears. However, once you these thoughts see the light of day, they can be met with understanding and you may find you are left lighter and freer.

I hope you will continue to take the "juiciest" of these "nasty" beliefs to inquiry. They have come to your awareness so that you can come home to yourself. (I would also question this belief: You shouldn't be having thoughts like these; is that true?)

If your stories are very tenacious and painful, you might find it useful to work with a Certified Facilitator. You can also call the Hotline free of charge, where facilitators in training will walk you through any thought that is troubling to you.


©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

Addictions and Subtractions

I found and liked this definition of addiction on a coaching website:

"...behavior that does not create lasting emotional satisfaction. From this broad perspective, addictive behavior can be seen as habitual ways of thinking and acting that limit our possibilities and satisfaction in life--including drug use, eating, relationships, money, sex, entertainment, power, and work."

What a wonderful opening for questioning. "Drug use (drinking, power etc.) expands my possibilities." "Overeating (sex, money) satisfies me."

Seeing as I have been overindulging in my self-limiting behavior of choice lately, I took the opportunity to inquire into one of my may justifications for doing so.

I invite you to take the trip with me. What habitual, fleetingly satisfying behavior backfires or ends up being too costly for you to continue....and how would you answer these questions? Who would you be if you showed up in your life without your addiction?

"Overeating satisfies me."

Is it true?
No (not in any lasting way).

How do I react when I believe this thought? What happens?
I use food (especially foods that are better for me to have in moderation, very limited amounts, or not at all) to distract myself from other feelings or from my "to do" list, to self-medicate, entertain myself when bored, to keep others company when they're eating things I know not to eat and in amounts that I know not to eat.

I get upset when people question what I eat; then justify or tell them to butt out. I get spiritual or existential about the body (it's not who we are, we all have to die of something, etc.).

I substitute food for whatever is lacking in my life at the time: employment, sex, attention, busy-ness.

I get overly interested in food and eating to the exclusion of other things that could be equally if not more satisfying (long walks, creative writing, inquiry).

I justify spending large amounts of money on special ingredients where others would do and fit better in my budget. (Does someone with $1550 rent who rarely pulls in more than $1000 a month income need to buy a $10 per 2-ounce jar of salmon caviar on a regular basis?)

I make eating about taste sensations, fullness sensations, fun, socializing, guilty pleasure, etc. rather than about fueling the body. I don't take time to notice and appreciate my food, especially when I'm "limiting" myself to "healthy" eating.

I am greedy, needy and scared. I get anxious when I think I won't get enough of something.

I seek collaboration and affirmation from fellow big eaters. I prefer to dine with people who indulge in food--especially the ones who eat more than I do, and especially specially specially those who eat a lot and aren't overweight--so that I can continue to justify my actions to myself.

This belief started in early childhood when I always wanted a second cookie or a larger helping of a food I liked, especially if my mother said "no." It became a game, a strategy and a battle of wills to get what I wanted and I did not feel satisfied and didn't give up until I did. (Sometimes I'd just sneak the extra cookie.)

Alternately I have used dieting as a way to punish myself, to give myself no undeserved satisfaction.

Holding this belief "Overeating satisfies me" costs me health, peace of mind, money, integrity, individuality...and I could go on.

Who would I be without this thought?
As I certainly have been without this thought, as recently as last night, I can speak from experience: I would be most satisfied and happy with a wonderfully fresh California-grown salad in a reasonable amount.

I would eat only when I am hungry and in the amount I really want...with common sense, weighing the pros and cons of doing it differently and being very clear about what I want to eat - no shoulds, no shouldn'ts.

I would experience no guilt over an occasional slice of (fattening, allergenic) pizza. No need for a second slice of said pizza. Enjoying the hell out of every bite of it. Not beating myself if I go for that second slice as long as I'm conscious about my decision and loving it as equally as not eating it.

I'd ask myself what it is I really want and need in the moment I think I want to (over)eat. If it's really a big slushy umbrella drink at poolside that I want, that's fine...and maybe I want something else instead, such as the feeling of belonging (in which case, start belonging, Carol!). It's the way I stopped napping in the middle of the day. (I discovered years ago that regular midday napping would turn into two hours and made me feel sluggish for the rest of the day, so I found other things that were both restful and satisfying and better for me.)

I would stop to be present with my food, my body, my life...tapping into natural satisfaction...giving myself what I want from that extra food.

I might leave food over. (Gasp!)

Turn the thought around:
To the opposite: "Overeating doesn't satisfy me." Just as true. Examples:
1. Never for more than a few minutes.
2. It doesn't satisfy me that I've re-gained weight that I worked hard to lose.
3. It's often really uncomfortable in terms of feeling stuffed, logy, sugar-buzzed out, etc.

To "my thinking": "Overthinking satisfies me."
Not true, but that's what's going on when I think I want more of something. I think, "If I eat this, I will be happy, satisfied, mollified." When this doesn't work, then the thinking has to stuff itself with something else, whether it's food or another addictive item/action/thought.

To the opposite (another angle): "Overeating dissatisfies me."
Truest.
1. I don't like myself when I overeat (and that's another worksheet).
2. I am dissatisfied with the resulting indigestion, fatigue or weight gain.
3. Going against my better judgment cancels out any satisfaction I might temporarily experience at the all-you-can-eat buffet.


©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

Why I Don't Work on My "Ego"

Teachers of nonduality and advaita advocate what they call "the direct route," meaning going directly to the source. They ask, "Who am I? Who is it that thinks, does, says this? What lies prior to 'I'? Go there!" People like this tend not to like the kind of inquiry we do with The Work of Byron Katie. They see it as window dressing, a mere "technique," too mental. They see the source of all of our unhappiness as the ego. Meanwhile these same people seem to eat, drink, speak and reproduce. What's telling them to do that if they are egoless?

In psychoanalysis, the ego is that which experiences, interprets and negotiates the outside world and other people (superego), and also acts as an intermediary between our impulsive side (id) and the actions we take. We could call it "mind." It's useful for those of us who inhabit a physical body. A mature, healthy ego makes healthy choices like eating and bathing, doesn't get destroyed if someone doesn't like our blog or our new hairstyle, doesn't rape or murder just because it wants to, knows not to stick our hand in fire or run into oncoming traffic.

The ego-self can also feel bruised and wounded when it doesn't get what it thinks it needs or wants, fears losing what it thinks it has, feels threatened or criticized; therefore, "ego" has bad connotations in spiritual circles. It's seen not only as conceit and inflated self-importance, but as the only thing standing in the way of our enlightenment or merging with God.

Years ago when I was on what I considered a spiritual path (as if we're not all on a spiritual path all of the time), I thought my job was to "work on my ego." As if an ego were something to obliterate or, at the very least, chip away at, like Michelangelo chipping away at rough, unpolished marble to uncover David.

My attempt at ego demolition was a frustrating, miserable, exhausting job that was never going to be done.

Why should an ego be worked on? "Ego" is simply a belief that there's an "I." It's a beautiful thing; it's also nothing permanent that "I" can rely on forever (as long as I believe in "time.") "No ego, no world," to paraphrase my friend Byron Katie. So here we are, until the day comes (and it may never come) that we don't need the story of a world. In the meantime, why wouldn't we love and enjoy all of this?

I live in the world of names and forms, until I don't. Using these things to understand what is (and what is not) ironically frees me from the perceived tyranny of names and forms, little by little. If I love and accept these things, I don't have to kill them off or bypass the physical world, which includes my beautiful ego which has served me so well.

It's the ego that says there's a "me" and a "you," and that story is very sweet to me. "This world is full of big egos." Yes, and how wonderful to see and hear them, to join them and love them! Enlightenment is not my business.

It's not that Michelangelo's David isn't beautiful; of course it is, and in "relative reality," few would disagree. But wasn't the marble beautiful just as it was? (Michelangelo surely realized that as he chose each huge piece of rock he sculpted.) Are the pieces and dust on the floor just useless garbage? Why wouldn't we love them as well? Didn't they bring us to David?

In addition, isn't the thought of working on the ego an ego thought? What else but an ego could have come up with such a story?

Until I love my ego, my work's not done.


©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

The Unfinished Line

(Note: at my workshops, I often use the metaphor of the loosening or loss of blinders as a result of inquiring into stressful beliefs.)


The Unfinished Line
by Carol L. Skolnick

At the starting gate, with blinders on,
My only direction is what I can see.

I ask, "Is it true?" and the blinders fly open.
And now, peripheral vision. Depth perception.

With each reversal, a wider horizon.
And something's behind me, above and below.
I can have this? And this? And this too?

The old path remains, if I still want to run there.
Everything is available...
Even not running at all.
Whose legs are these?

Funny thing...
This wider vista, dazzling, has no fuzzy edges.
Everything is so sharp and so clear;
So solid and so transparent.
It was always that way.

Why hadn't I noticed?

I close my eyes to the view.
The way home.
It doesn't go away.

The finish line.
The starting gate.

Same.

©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

Deadly Shoulds: "If I do my best for them, they shouldn't criticize me."

"If I do my best for them, they shouldn't criticize me."

Is it true they shouldn't criticize me? Especially since I've done what they wanted, worked hard to live up to everyone's expectations? YES!

And what is the reality of it? They're critical.

How do I react, what happens, when I believe that thought? Effin' A! I'm so p.o.'ed and resentful. How dare they be critical after all I've done, after I've been so agreeable, so accommodating, such a hard and dedicated worker?

When I believe this thought, I become a self-sacrificing doormat who is never appreciated for all I do. I don't want to hear their criticism; I block it, I deflect it, I put it back on them. I don't want to consider that anything they say might actually be true. I feel like an idiot for having done this "for them."

I keep score. I expect praise. I disappoint myself when praise is not forthcoming. I see them as nit-picky, impossible to please. I try to change their minds about me; I might be obsequious and over-accommodating so that they won't be critical. I step far out of my comfort zone, do too much, then hate myself for it. My happiness becomes contingent on their validating me. My love and approval for them relies on this also. I withhold love. I make them my judge and jury.

I expect them to overlook my flaws in favor of my efforts.

This one definitely has roots in my relationship to my mother, once again...as young as age eight, lots more when I was a teenager. She was honest with me; if I didn't do a good enough job picking up my toys or washing a dish, she let me know, and I hated her for it.

When I was ten and we moved, at my new school I tried hard to fit in and when I didn't receive party invitations or Valentine cards, I "knew" I was disliked and that this should not be. I treated other children as my judge and jury; I had to be careful around them, always say yes to their demands, never be myself (which would be just too weird for them, I surmised). I began to be very concerned with appearances, what I wore, how I talked, right down to how I sat in my chair at school (I'd imitate the way the most popular girl in class sat, even though my legs were half the length of hers and it was impossible.) I lived in fear of being picked on; I feared them and disliked myself.

As a direct response writer, I took criticism and correction of my work very hard if I had already revised the project one or more times to suit the clients...especially if they dared to change their minds about what they wanted!

What do I get for holding this belief? I get to be a righteous victim. How's that working for me? Not so well, as I still feel victimized. There is no satisfaction in being a righteous victim, ever.

Who would I be without this thought? Open to criticism; it could be very instructive. Not taking criticism personally; it's their opinion, as valid (or subjective) as kudos. I could ask for clarification without defense; if I truly want to do my best for them (and not to manipulate them into treating me a certain way), this will help me to do that. I would be in my integrity and in my own business mentally.

Turn the thought around:
If I do my best for them, they should criticize me.
1. It can bring about clarity about what is truly expected and whether or not I'm up to the task or even want to fulfill that expectation.
2. If they are critical, it is their job. If I am hurt or angered by their criticism, my job becomes clear: work on my stressful beliefs.
3. How else was I to get out of that dead-end job and have not one, but two terrific new careers?

If they do their best for me, I shouldn't criticize them. Oh. Oops.
1. My father did his level best for me, always, and I always let him know he failed me.
2. My direct reports when I was a manager: I could have helped them to do a better job rather than be critical (had I known how to do that. And that brings me to another insight about the first turnaround: maybe people simply don't know how to help me do better by them.)
3. A great mentor of mine, in retrospect, gave me everything she had in the first five minutes of our acquaintance, but for years, I always wanted more and more and more. Since more was not forthcoming, simply because there wasn't anything else she could possibly give me, I found fault with her over and again.

If I do my best for myself, I shouldn't criticize myself. Yes, it would be good to be gentler with myself, let myself off the hook for not being perfect.
1. Being critical of my best efforts has never made me do better and in fact has been de-motivating.
2. When I recognize my best efforts as my best, given my resources at the time, I can honestly assess whether there is any room or possibility for improvement, and improvement is more likely to happen.
3. In looking back at my life, I can see my "mistakes" in a kinder light and even determine that the choices I made were perfect...they brought me to this, now. Now, without a story, is a place of peace, where no criticism of myself or others can stick.
So how could it not have all been for the best?


©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

Deadly Shoulds: "If I work hard to please them, they'll like me."

Are you a people-pleaser? What is your motive? Do you believe that people should like you if you work hard to please them? I found this core belief for myself: "If I work hard to please them, they will like me." Cause and effect, right? Isn't that how we're taught that it works? Work hard in school, you'll get accolades. Work hard at the job, you'll get raises, promotions, recognition. Work hard at your relationship and your partner will love you forever. Let's see how that's working...

"If I work hard to please them, they will like me."


Is it true? No.

How do I react, what happens, when I believe that thought? I am out of my integrity. I say yes to things I don't want, and I forgo what I might want to have or do according to their wishes.

I don't give much thought to pleasing myself, other than believing that their love will be pleasing to me.

My work "for them" comes with conditions. It's not for them, it's for me. I don't realize this, so I blame them when I don't get the desired results. I see them as unkind, ungrateful, impossible to please, and as not loving me. Images: my mother, criticizing me for not being helpful after I've been on my hands and knees for hours cleaning cat hair and roach crap out of her apartment. Feeling devastated when my boyfriend left quickly after love-making in order to go be with his kids. Getting fired from the company where I'd worked for more than 10 years and after many raises, stellar reviews and several promotions. Hearing a speaker at an ashram program saying "There is nothing we can do to repay all that the guru has given us" and translating that as, "I need to work harder to be worthy of guru's grace."

I give away all my power and self-esteem to them. I need them to validate me, and I need this not just once, but continually.

What do I get for holding this belief? Another one of those insurance policies that don't pay out in the end due to some technicality.

Who would I be without that thought? Working hard for the joy of working, or not working so hard. Either way it would be with the recognition that I work to please myself. I would work honestly, doing my best because it feels right or to honor my commitmemts. I would not be manipulative, therefore I would be honest, saying, "No thank you, doing that won't work for me," or asking, "If I do this for you, will you love and appreciate me for it? I only want to do this as an exchange." (People don't talk this way. Why not?) I would not be afraid of losing validation; I would validate myself.


Turn the thought around:
If I work hard to please them, they won't like me. Just as true.
1. Mother: my efforts never moved her.
2. Others: they either like me or they don't, not based on what I do.
3. Job: even though I was a hard worker and bringing money into the company, when the new boss took over he preferred I not be there anymore.

If I work hard to please them, I won't like them. Oh, yeah. With every ounce of effort I put into pleasing people, there are two ounces of resentment.
1. My unappreciative mother; I couldn't stand her when I was working hardest for her.
2. Boyfriends. I didn't respect them when I was using my body as collateral.
3. My job. The harder I worked to keep that job by trying to make the new boss and his cronies happy, the more I hated my job, and resented them for not liking me.

If they work hard to please me, I won't like them.
Absolutely I can find that.
1. No man, for example, has ever made me love him by trying to make me love him; I love to receive flowers, compliments and favors as much as the next person; however no amount of flowers, compliments or favors has ever turned my head if the relationship isn't right.
2. I didn't appreciate many of my father's efforts to please me while I was growing up; in fact I found them annoying.
3. If I'm in a funk, efforts to please me are wasted. You think I'm wonderful, you want to buy me dinner? Thanks, I accept. Well, that didn't work. Now, go.

If I work hard to please myself, I will like myself. That seems like the truest turnaround. Ultimately I can only please myself, so I like myself when I do things to please myself.
1. I like myself when I no honestly and say yes only with integrity...and this is hard work for me.
2. I just love myself when I spend a lot of time to get my home, my desk, my computer files cleaned up and everything's just the way I like it.
3. If I throw a party and I'm very clear that I'm doing it out of joy, generosity, love and because I like parties, I just love myself for doing it. (If I expect people to help me, enjoy themselves, appreciate me and proffer reciprocal invitations, and they don't...I end up disliking all of us.)


©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.

Deadly Shoulds: "She should appreciate me for what I do for her."

(Note: This particular "she," while sparked by a recent incident, could fit any number of people in my life, past and present.)

"She should appreciate me for what I do for her."

Is it true? No, she doesn't seem to.

How do I react, what happens, when I believe that thought? I expect payback, or at least acknowledgment of how nice I've been. I want her to refuse my efforts if she's not going to appreciate me. I resent her, feel used, see her as taking advantage of my generosity. I see her as a taker, a sponge, even a psychopath, someone with no feelings. I am hurt and I make my hurt feelings abundantly clear by being passive-aggressive, nasty, whiny, needy.

Sometimes I do even more things for her to try to garner love and appreciation.

I treat people as if there's a contract: If I do something for you, you will fawn all over me and/or do something for me. You will always include me, think of me, be indebted to me.

I want to warn other people about her. I see her as unkind, unfit to be a friend, unfit to be with people and I want everyone to know.

I see myself as a martyr or a patsy, like someone who is not lovable unless they buy love. I beat myself up for being so naive. I stop trusting people. I consider revoking all friendships.

I don't give to her, or anyone, with an open heart and hand.

I discount everything she's ever done for me.

I regret ever having done anything for her.

The thought first occurred to me when, as a child, I excitedly bought gifts with my allowance for my parents on Mother's Day, Father's Day, birthdays...and if they didn't like the gifts I felt hurt, angry and regretting having sacrificed my time and money on them. I felt they were rejecting me personally.

I remember being kind and nice to other children at summer camp, and then they turned on me or left me out.

Underlying belief: People should be grateful. It's wrong to receive without giving. I need people to be loyal to me. I need to be included.

Why do I hold this belief? To protect myself, so that she and others won't ever walk on me, disappoint me or leave me out again (though it doesn't appear to be helping as I had two more incidences of such things within a week's time).

Who would I be without that thought? No regrets Remembering how great it felt to do things for her, to give her something, to include her, prior to the thought that I needed something back. I would be my generous and open-hearted self and we'd still be friends. I'd notice that whenever I have done anything for anyone, I have done it primarily for myself. I would therefore not hesitate to continue to be kind and generous to others without trying to secure my future with them.

Turn the thought around:
She shouldn't appreciate me for what I do for her.
1. Not if she doesn't. I can't micro-manage anyone else's behavior towards me.
2. Not if I did things for her with ulterior motives.
3. Her not appreciating me leaves me with myself to validate me.

I should appreciate myself for what I do for her.
1. Yes, truer; I should love myself for giving and doing when I know to do that, when I do it out of love.
2. I should appreciate myself for knowing that this person does not always reciprocate or even acknowledge what comes to her, and yet not going against my giving nature and continuing to be generous with her even when I felt hurt.
3. I should pat myself on the back for doing what I did for my mother for the rest of her life after my father died; it was the most difficult thing I ever did, "unappreciative" is an understatement for how she was, and I knew it was the right thing and rose to the occasion.

I should appreciate her for what she does for me.
Absolutely.
1. I should appreciate her for not appreciating me. It really shows me where my Achilles' heel is and where I have work to do.
2. I should appreciate the many ways she has encouraged me and held my feet to the fire when I was too tired, sad or righteous to do my inner work
3. I should appreciate her for inviting me to and showing me around her hometown, introducing me to some of her friends, arranging meetings for us, teaching me some great exercises, sending me photographs, driving me places...the list goes on. I haven't always appreciated these things and in fact expected some of them as my due.

I should appreciate her for what she does for herself.
1. Not only do I appreciate it, I'm jealous of it. She is really independent and self-sufficient, needs no one.
2. Because she does things for herself, she is low-maintenance, a great house guest for example.
3. I should appreciate that after I did something for her, she was done with me and thought only of herself and her desires, because it was unmistakeably what I needed. It really turned out okay; I was shown a lot of love and affection and caring that week and also had some good alone-time to see things about myself and my assumptions that I really needed to see.


©2009 by Carol L. Skolnick. All rights reserved.