Cate LaBarre

I remember – a little girl sitting on my hands on the walkway. The gravel dug into my palms, hurt bad and I cried. But I mustn’t, mustn’t suck my thumb, my mom admonished me.  My big brother and sister didn’t suck their thumbs. I was shamed for wanting to soothe myself, give myself the comfort I did not receive.

(My parents, of course, thought they were doing the right thing, and from their perspective they were saving on future orthodontic bills. I showed them, I needed braces anyway.)

It seems a very significant event, my three year old self sitting on my hands, causing myself deep pain. I began to hide my true self. I hid the joy I felt as a five year old leaping across the floor in Fanya DelBorgo’s modern dance class. My mom continued to drive me to class each week until I was old enough to drive myself. (If she knew how much I loved it, would she shame me and stop driving me?)

I hid my trips into the woods surrounding our house to visit the woodland creatures I imagined there but rarely saw. I would talk to them and make up elaborate stories in my head. I began to create little books. These I showed to my dad. He did have an appreciation for good literature. I began to hide my stories and then stopped writing them.

I hid my eating as an 8 year old, shamed for having to shop in the “chubbies” section of the local department store. I hid the shame of that extra weight by starving myself when I was 11 because I was terrified of being shamed for my weight as I entered a large Junior High School. I would be thin. No one would know that inside me lurked a chubby girl who just wanted comfort, who just wanted to be soothed, who just wanted to be loved and accepted.

I continued to feel unhealthy shame. Beating myself up, judging myself, for not being smart enough, strong enough, for being afraid to speak up. Beating myself up for feeling different, having needs and desires that didn’t look like the needs and desires of others.

Pretty soon I hid all of the richness of who I was. The dark, self-destructive behavior, and the light, my gifts and talents.

I’ve been getting to know myself and reclaim all of my parts that I’ve disowned over the years. I wouldn’t be where I am in my healing process if it weren’t for the ground breaking work of Debbie Ford. I attended my first Shadow Process at Omega Institute seven years ago, where I took a quantum leap in healing my shame. Blessedly, there’s been no turning back.

I continue to find more of the cobwebs that insidiously and secretly took over my psyche.  I feel a deep sense of excitement and relief. Most of all, I feel a wave of love, acceptance and compassion for that 3 year old and the girl and woman she grew into as she continued to hide away — and now, heal.

It is almost embarrassing to admit that I finally wrote a letter that I “should have” written when I was 15 years old. At 15, I was so terrified of being rejected that I kept a deep, dark secret all these years.  In truth the secret has hurt only me. Boy has it hurt.  A victimless act that I was afraid to share with the one person I loved most in the world at that time set the stage for years of shame.

I won’t be sending the letter. I wrote it for me. I sat down and got in touch with that sad, scared 15 year old girl inside me and wrote. I feel free.

I’ve decided not to beat myself up about taking so long to actually put pen to paper to write this letter. Well, okay, that’s partly a lie, my inner critic did say, “Well, DUH, that was hard, dummy!  Took you all of 5 minutes and look at how relieved you feel!”  Along with the critic, there is a loving part of me that trusts that I carried this pain for some higher purpose that I don’t completely understand yet. Maybe it’s partly to share this experience with you today, just 10 minutes after I completed this powerful “cleansing” act, so that you can write a long held secret in an un-sent letter to the person who most needs to read it — YOU!

My mother moved about from from one task to another, making fabulous meals in what seemed a chaotic dance, like a hummingbird flitting from flower to flower. If I dared to enter the kitchen during her creative process to grab a snack or, heaven forbid, ask if I could help, I might suddenly find myself between her and her place of interest and hear the words, “one of us is in my way!”

I can’t say that I always loved my mother’s sense of humor, which bordered oh-so-closely on sarcasm, but this remark always made me laugh, jump and flee the room. I hear her voice in my head when my husband prepares toast in the morning and I try to get into the flatware drawer. I’m convinced that the reason I haven’t relocated the toaster or the flatware is so that I will hear these words in my head every morning, because they remind me of a valuable lesson.

What I’ve learned since those days growing up in a slightly crazy-but-loving and often chaotic household, is that no one can be in my way unless I allow it. And the one person who most gets in my way is ME! I would love to blame the world out there, my husband, my deceased parents, my son, politicians, the economy, something, someone, anyone out there for my “lot in life” when things aren’t going exactly as I would like. But the truth is, it’s only me.

“Getting-out-of-my-own-way” has become a daily practice. How do I recognize when I’m IN MY OWN WAY? I hear myself making excuses, whining, complaining, sighing, feeling frustrated or otherwise unable to make a choice and move forward. What do I do about it? Ask myself what’s really in my highest and best interest. Sometimes it does mean being lazy, soaking in the tub, taking a power nap, so that I can return to the tasks at hand refreshed. Sometimes it means kicking my own butt and keeping my commitments and schedule. All the time it means staying in the awareness that life is all about choice and that the choice is mine to make.

On Thursday, I had a conversation with a coaching colleague about the power of Spiritual Divorce/Heal Your Heart coaching as she shared with me a little bit about her divorce and how she feels this work saved her life. We shared ideas about book studies and tele-classes and I left the call both excited about our shared passion and somewhat uncomfortable. That discomfort was just a hint of what our talk began to stir up by the next morning.

The same evening, I led the final call of a six week tele-class called Meeting the Shadow. I was honored to offer this class and humbled by how participants were impacted.  What I didn’t expect was how deeply I would be affected by leading this class. I was curious and excited about what was coming up for me:  new gifts, a richness and depth of shadow and light I hadn’t anticipated. If participants got only a fraction of what I experienced, it was a great class.

Next morning, in a content mood, driving on a beautiful spring morning for business and a visit with my son, I heard my inner voice loud and clear. That inner voice soon became an outer voice as I said out loud, “It’s time to let go and heal from ______.” (My first lost love) You could have knocked me over with a feather.  I was shaking. I had to pull the car over and pull myself together.  That afternoon, I called another coaching colleague  to ask for support.  Though I was aware she has been struggling with whether to do more coaching or concentrate on her other business, I needed to talk to someone I knew would understand. She shared with me that she was just praying, asking for guidance, when my call came.  Each of us received a message from the divine. Both of our prayers were answered.

I shared with her that I couldn’t believe that it had taken me so long to address the shame, regret and guilt of the loss of my first love. How long have I been doing this work? How could I NOT see that I had been intellectualizing, rationalizing and denying the depth of this wound? I felt it; there was no denying it any longer. The world’s largest adhesive bandage had just been torn off my heart revealing a huge hole.  In her great wisdom, she reminded me of what I tell my clients when they ask themselves and me, “What took me so long?” She said, “Cate, it’s time. You weren’t ready. Now you’re ready. And I’m ready to coach you.”  Thank God.

I shared my decision with my husband, not sure how he would respond. “First love” seems to be a thorn in the side of many partners.  Wow, clearly that is a projection of MY stuff. The thorn is in MY side!  My husband is fully supportive of my decision. I know, in the deepest core of my being, that healing from this early loss that I have never fully faced, will allow me to be more loving with my husband, because I will be more loving with me.

I’ll keep you posted.

My client Sue Ann shared this quote with me a week or so ago and it has been returning to me daily:

“Between stimulus and response is a space, in that space is our power to choose our response.  In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” Viktor E. Frankl

When I was a girl and young woman, I struggled with that space. I would think and often say aloud that it didn’t matter what choice I made, I just needed to make it and live with it. It truly is a miracle that I am alive today when I reflect on the hurried, thoughtless choices I made, for the choices I allowed others to make for me, all because of the discomfort of the “space”. All those years I gave away that “space”, my power, my choice.

As this quote from a man who survived a concentration camp returns to me over and over these few simple words: space, power, response, choice, freedom, growth, reverberate in my heart and soul. “…in that space is the power”. Space = Power. My power to choose my response. Choose.

I have learned to stand in my power, guard my space, make and own my choices. Through deep inner work and my training as a coach, I have become comfortable with this space, this place of not knowing, of “needing” to make a choice, where I choose to respond. Do I always make “good” choices?  Heck no.  But they are mine. And as Dr. Frankl states succinctly, in my response lies my growth and my freedom. Growth.  Freedom. I am free to choose.

Debbie Ford says in her book The Right Questions, “…no matter now large or small, easy or difficult, each choice we make, individually or collectively, alters the directions of our lives.” I have no regret for my choices; they have led me to this exact spot. That said, I do feel blessed to still be here. I am certain I was watched over by a flock of guardian angels. Through surviving the choice to let others choose for me, I am guided to my higher purpose, supporting others to find their own answers, their own responses, their own growth and freedom.

Perhaps space truly is the final frontier. (You remember, opening line on Star Trek — Space: The Final Frontier) That place we visit sometimes only for a nanosecond to respond to stimuli, and that response, that choice projects far into the future.

One of the most profound challenges of my adult life has been to shift my “people pleasing” behavior and practice how to say “no” to others and “yes” to myself.  For years I feared that I was worthless without the love and approval of others. I gave until I had nothing left to give because of my deep feelings of inadequacy.

In her book Why Good People Do Bad Things: How to Stop Being Your Own Worst Enemy, Debbie Ford explains that the challenge of the people pleaser is “to feel the hidden emotions that they suppress through the act of giving” and “recognize how in need they are of their own charity.” Once a people pleaser learns that it was not their job to please others “they can focus their attention on the one person they do have the power to please: themselves”.

It may sound simple, but for the people pleaser it is very difficult to shift these habitual patterns.  The guilty feelings and worry that result from just one “no” can be overwhelming when you base your worth on the approval of others. I found that as I practiced conscious choice, I began to see that by pleasing others, making “nice”, feeding my own need to be appreciated, was deeply damaging. I kept others from finding their own solutions and appreciating their own inner strength. I created more problems by rushing in to put out a fire just to find that my water hose held gasoline! How?  People pleasing can lead to taking sides, sometimes both sides, gossiping while trying to “fix things”. Suddenly I was in the middle of something I couldn’t easily extract myself from without more people pleasing.  I recognized this exhausting cycle as truly destructive to myself and others.

Pleasing others leads to trouble as you give away your time, resources and energy in your ongoing effort. Being “nice” and saying “yes”, when you’d rather care for yourself by saying “no”, leads to resentment toward the very people you are trying to please!  A no win situation.

How do you break the people pleasing cycle?  The first thing to do is “fess up”.  Recognize that you are a people pleaser and know that deep down inside you aren’t a bad person, that your desire to please is truly from a core of goodness and caring.

Second, ask yourself this question: Am I standing in my power or am I trying to please another? (From The Right Questions by Debbie Ford) Give yourself the time and space to make a clear choice centered in your personal integrity.  Understand that when you give up people pleasing you risk not being liked, but it’s likely an unhealthy relationship if it can’t withstand your empowerment. Those who truly care about you may be confused by your change in behavior; ultimately they will respect and love you more for taking good care of yourself. You’ll also be empowering them through your new choices. You’ll set an example for others on how to have healthy personal boundaries.

What about saying “yes” to others sometimes? You will.  And when you do you’ll feel the joy of standing in your power and giving from your heart.  When you say “yes” to yourself first, everyone wins!

You’ve heard the old adage, when you assume you make an ass out of u and me. This became crystal clear to me when I participated in a recent “intensive” training with my coaching institute.  I’ll explain.

Coaches were invited to “deliver” undelivered communications with one another.  “Stuff” that was in the air, preventing us from being fully present, trusting and connecting as individuals and as a community. We were told to listen and have our only response be: “Thank you, I’ve received your communication”.

One of my fellow coaches, who I did not yet know, walked up to me and told me that she felt discounted, ignored by me.  I had left her behind in the airport in DC. She was sure I didn’t have time for her because I am one of the “old” experienced coaches and I couldn’t be bothered.  Well, these weren’t her exact words, but you get the drift. I was horrified, mostly because I was unconscious of any snub. Mostly I was feeling like she just didn’t like me. I responded to this non-verbal communication in the airport by giving her space and reminding myself that not everyone is going to like me.

Assume. We project our own fears and insecurities on each other and assume we know what the other is thinking and feeling.

It was liberating to clean this up.  Later when I had my turn, I shared with her that I thought she just didn’t like me. Later still when this exercise was over, we shared with one another and the group how amazing it was that we could be so WRONG! 

I decided to look at where I make assumptions and how many of them MUST BE WRONG!  How can I possibly know what another person is thinking or feeling?  I flunked mind-reading in my woo-woo, New Age, wanna-be-a-clairvoyant days, so what makes me think I know ANYTHING?  I can barely attest to my own thoughts and feelings, let alone yours!

I took this a step further.  I committed to say HELLO to everyone in my dance class this morning.  I have had greetings and conversations with about half of the class and decided that the other women “just don’t like me”. And, of course, that’s okay, there’s no rule that says I need to be liked!  I got to class early and greeted everyone who came in.  Except for one woman, who looked at me like I have two heads, everyone said HELLO or GOOD MORNING in response to me and smiled. It was exhilerating!  And FUN!

I love my dance class.  It is my favorite exercise hour of the week and I am always smiling and laughing.  But this morning was extraordinary. I felt a connection to everyone (even the woman with double vision) and felt more playful and energetic than usual!  My little three-year-old dancer inside me felt FREE to flit around the room like a butterfly.

I have a new practice. Eliminate assumptions from my life.  Assumptions keep me from being connected to others.  Debbie Ford says, “Knowing is the booby prize”. I close myself off to possibility when I assume.  Nothing new can step through the door when I think I know, because I’ve locked the door with assumption.

When I assume I really DO make an ass out of you and me!

I walk into my house Sunday evening, fresh off the plane from San Diego, fresh out of energy. I am struck by the stillness, quiet and peacefulness of my home. The only sounds breaking the silence are the ticking of a pendulum clock and the beginnings of the fire crackling in the fireplace.

We spent time in silence during my five day “intensive” training. We were surrounded by sound — traffic, boats, people going about their busy-ness.

It isn’t until I step over the threshold that I realize how much sound we are assaulted by every day, even if we practice silence.

The quietest moments I have ever known was when I lived off the grid for three years in the 1970s. At the end of a two mile road, this old sheep farmer’s house had the luxury of a “party-line” telephone, a gravity fed water system for indoor plumbing, propane lighting, refrigerator and water heater. It was so quiet. In the evenings the sounds were gentle. The hiss of propane lights, the hum of the frig. motor, the sound of wood crackling in the wood stove in Winter, crickets and frogs in Summer. In quiet surroundings I more easily drop into silence. Not needing or wanting to speak, comfortable with the silence, not wanting to break the gentle spell.

As I sit in the early morning hours in my still house, I realize that there is always sound. The beating of my heart, the sound of breath moving in and out of my lungs. I use the gentle sounds to find silence.

Silencing my mind, the internal chatter that busily creates “to-do” lists, all that’s wrong with my life and the world and what needs to be done to fix it, begins to fade. When I disconnect from the noise of technology for just a moment, I can hear the whispering of my soul. My soul whispers to me of love and connection to the precious part of me that is connected to all of you, the earth and God. My soul whispers to pray for others, as I connect to all that was, is, and ever will be. My soul whispers, reminds me, of my life’s purpose.  When I take the time to sit in the stillness and quiet of the dawn, I can hear my soul in the silence.  My day unfolds from this grounded, heart-centered, connected place of hope and possibility.

Just a note for those of you who are reading my blog for the first time. I send out a “Constant Contact” newsletter that links to my blog.  I use my blog to share my personal process and insight. The newsletter shares tips and ideas, enrolls others in coaching, workshops, programs of The Ford Institute, and work other coaches in my community may be doing.  If you’d like to receive my newsletter (you can unsubscribe at any time) leave me a post or find me on Facebook and I’ll add you to my list!  With love…

This morning I surrendered to the weather.  I didn’t want to. Part of me wanted to bundle up, risk the weather and be one of the only brave souls to show up at the Y for exercise class — if it wasn’t canceled.  But I learned my lesson several years ago when I had what could have been a very bad accident in a white out.  If you haven’t experienced a white out it is when the snow is being blown horizontally and when you hit it, or, more likely it hits you, you are completely surrounded in white.  There is no way to see a thing.  Terrifying and dangerous.

Now I’m smarter.  No more of THAT particular drama.  If I know the weather is going to be bad, I stay put. I whined for a while and then surrendered to the weather.  Plan B.  I took our elderly dog for a walk, he loves the snow, and then came back and slapped on my snowshoes to do the loop in the woods behind our house.

As I carefully latched the bindings and hooked my gaitors (leggings that keep the snow out of your boots) I realized that for 10 years I created DRAMA with my snowshoes!  How stupid is that?  I have excellent snowshoes.  Probably the best brand.  But until this year it never dawned on me to put my gaitors over the nylon bindings that in certain snow conditions clump up with snow.  Now I admit carrying around an extra five pounds of snow on each foot IS extra exercise — but what I realize now was that it was the perfect excuse for me to complain and whine!  How much HARDER I had to work!  Why, oh why, was the snow clumping up?  So involved in my DRAMA over the darned snowshoe clumping thing that unless conditions were perfect, dry snow (yes, there is such a thing), I did not enjoy my hike as much as I thought I wanted to!

Fast forward.  This year I figured out the gaitor thing. I happily did the hour plus route alone.  Only silence through the hemlock, pine and cedar forest.  Only the crunching of my snowshoes and the gentle snow hitting my hood. I smile. No drama.

No drama means that I am actually enjoying myself and this peaceful experience. That I am grateful that it is snowing and I’m alone in the woods. I am happy, content. And allowing in this contentment actually means that I believe that I deserve it.  Yes, I do.

I love Debbie Ford’s book The Right Questions.  This morning I think of this one:  “Will this choice propel me into an inspiring future or keep me stuck in the past?

I take one snowshoe step at a time into that inspiring future (of less drama)!

I met my husband for coffee after we went in two different directions for exercise this morning.  I sat over black coffee, his was black, too, but with a side of heavily buttered bagel.  I sighed.  I love hating him for eating six meals a day with no apparent ill-effects.  He maintains his weight and his health is excellent. Despite my current passion for exercise, it hasn’t always been that way and sometimes I just wish I didn’t “have to”. My most recent belief about the “gift” of struggling with my weight is that it helps me understand womens’ body issues, because I’ve been there, I am there, I am that. I can and do help others. But I discovered more today.

Only moments before I am at my Barre Strength class with sweat pouring down my back despite the coolness of the room. It is, by far, the hardest workout I do all week.   I stand at the ballet barre and look in the mirror down the line of women. All are younger than me.  I wonder why they are there.  They all look fit and healthy and I decide they want to stay that way.  As I allow the instructor to continue to torture me, my thoughts wander to why I’m there, which leads me to a surprising place… To keep my weight in check and look pretty darn good for my age.

Wow, how vain is that? Okay, yes, I’m vain. Then part two hits me. I see little old frail ladies who never had to worry about their weight. Like my mom. She always looked extraordinary. Able to wear the tiniest clothes with the tiniest waist, even after three babies.  Her exercise consisted of “gardening” and hovering like a hummingbird, never actually sitting in her waking hours. Later in life she suffered heart problems and got quite frail.

As my husband munches away on his bagel, offering me a little bite with no butter, I tell him that I realize I am a closet couch potato.  That if  I had gotten my mom’s genes and didn’t have to exercise to keep the fat cells at bay, I would sit on the couch and read in my spare time. My exercise would consist of “gardening” and an occasional leisurely walk about the property.  I surprise him with this confession.  “No, not you. Really?” he asks. “Really!” I answer.

Forced to exercise by my vanity, I discover the greatest gifts of all.  I get to hang out with amazing women who dare to put themselves on top of their “to-do” list.  And more.  I am strong, my bones are dense, my heart is healthy, my blood pressure is superb, I have great balance, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll keep the “frail old lady” in me at bay for a long, long time.