My son has this new scream that kind of sounds like bloody-murder, like someone had starved and deprived him of everything he ever loved, soul-curdling. It’s a SAW 10 worthy of a scream.
It’s just a fart.
And when I hear that little noisy poof of air, after the massive build-up of emotion, fear, stress, and anxiety, I have to laugh.
How often does a problem seem so screamingly large? And yet, in reality, it’s just stinky, hot air.
Our perceptions filter what is. Our reality is not reality itself. It’s our conscious reality, yes, but is it the reality? No. It’s what we perceive it to be our reality.
We can wail and scream at it...and usually, we do. (Let’s be honest.) Because that’s what we’ve learned to do since infancy. You were never taught another option, another resource, to change our response.
Joseph Campbell said, “The meaning of life is what you ascribe to it.”
How much meaning are you putting into something that’s just gas? And what emotional charge are you connecting to that meaning? Are you like my 6-month old, wailing and screaming, making your emotions bigger than the actual problem?
Even if the situation you’re in smells rotten - you’re going through a divorce, you’re deep in student loan debt, you just caught your kid stealing from you - what can you gain from that experience?
How can you use your stinky sitch to grow?
Before I got pregnant with Declan, I had my heart set on giving birth naturally - no drugs, no hospitals, nada. When I found out I was pregnant with Declan, I went in for my 8-week ultrasound. I was so excited to see my little tadpole for the first time. But the doctor had news for me - I had placenta previa, and it was bad. Basically, my placenta was completely covering my cervix. If I were to give birth naturally, I would bleed to death. I could still give birth, but it would have to be a C-section unless my placenta moved as Decky grew. I asked the doc about my odds.
He said, in his experience, I had a 50/50 shot. Now, some might think, 50%, that’s an F. And for an A-student like me, I much prefer grades in the 90-100%. So, I took his 50% and flipped it on its head.
I made myself 100% certain that it would move. And by our 20-week appointment, it did.
I believe, in life, you always get a 50/50 shot of something turning out the way you want it. So how can you make the most of your 50%?
NO.1 - There is no problem. There is only the solution.
For 12 weeks, I only focused on the solution of my placenta moving. I meditated and dreamed of it moving out of the way. I talked to Declan about the importance of him being born naturally and all the health benefits that he would have throughout his life because he will pass through the vaginal cancel. (It helps set your microbiome and immune systems up for success.)
A problem is only a problem if you think about it as a problem.
Instead, ONLY focus on the solution.
NO.2 - Tell Only Your Tribe
The problem with problems is a lot of us like to go out and discuss the problem…and eventually, we get around to talking about finding a solution. The problem with that, though, is that we’re continuing to engrain the problem as a problem. Making the solution more of an unconscious afterthought.
I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “Misery loves company?” Sometimes your friends, while they have the best intentions, can be the most harmful for supporting your solution. Because as you talk about your problem, they’ll relate to your problem, and talk about their problems or the past problems that they had which are related to your problems. And you wind up with everyone talking about their problems.
Making all the problems - yours and theirs - continue to be present, even if they happened in the past.
When I got my diagnosis from the doctor, only Spike, who was with me, knew. I chose to tell one person, a very spiritual friend of mine who was also a midwife. And of course, my team of midwives also knew as well. That was it. I didn’t even tell my mom.
When I consulted with my friend, she advised me on some homeopathic herbs that could help, as well as meditation. Once she had given her HOW to the solution, we stopped talking about it. When I went in for my checkup with my midwife, I mentioned the diagnosis. Her response, “Eh, placentas move,” in a “fo-get-about-it” sort of manner. Thus, further deepening my resolve to only focus on the solution.
When I went in for my 20-week ultrasound with the doc, I wish I could have had a picture of his face. “It…it moved,” he said staring at the screen in dismay. “I know.” And I did.
Because the problem was just an illusion of hot air.
If you’ve got a friend who’s dealing with a little hot air of her own, share this with her now.