Sour Grapes

So I didn’t have the best day today. My dog chewed my new shoes and I got really angry. Not at her, it wasn’t her fault. Just at myself for leaving them out in the open.

And my mind did this thing where I was really angry and then I was thinking up excuses about why I wasn’t really in love with those shoes anyway.

And to some people, this may sound like sour grapes. You know, the fox can’t get the grapes so he says they are sour anyway.

But I’d like to offer a different perspective: I’d like to think that this gut reaction of my brain is a more evolved, adultier way to deal with my problems. A quiet optimism if you will.

So the next time something unfortunate befalls you, try flipping the situation around and asking why you were angry in the first place. Has something else been bothering you? What else is on your mind? Then, ask yourself, did you really need to react that way in the first place?

Try the sour grapes. They are delicious.

Love,

Bailey

Give Up Just a Little

I never, ever give up on the things or people I love.

I read books even if they stink halfway through, I try to eat everything on my plate, and even though I took a break from blogging, I’m here now.

But it’s okay to give up…just a little.

The other day I was writing my novel and I couldn’t get a scene to work. I stressed about it and grew frustrated. The more I sat and worked on it, the more the hours seemed to drag on and the more I got angry that I was working on it for so long. It was a vicious cycle.

I finally gave up for the day and went and sat on the couch. But the story still nudged at me, and a few hours later, I came back and everything was fresh and new. I suddenly knew how to solve the problem.

But in the act of stepping away from it just for a little while, I was able to clear my head. If you give up, just a little, every once in awhile, you might be able to step back with a fresh perspective. As long as it’s temporary and not a permanent giving up, then you’ll always have a better time coming back.

Love,

Bailey

Fully Full

I don’t think anyone would say that they are intentionally ungrateful. I’m not sure I’d have much respect for someone who says, “Yeah, I like my warm bed at night, but I’m not really living until I can make it vibrate with a touch of a remote,” anyway. But it happens (not the vibrating bed thing, the ungratefulness thing).

We forget how lucky we are to have food on our table, electricity and running water in our houses, and most importantly for some, internet access so that we can talk to the rest of the world. Sometimes we just get caught up in what we should have and we forget about what we do have. Like I said, it happens–and it happens to the best of us.

But why?

I have a theory. You know that half full/half empty/optimist/pessimist glass of water metaphor? Well, I’d like to extend that idea. I think everyone is given a cup when they’re born. We gain and lose a lot of liquid from our cups. The more we give and do for others, the more we drain that cup. And that’s alright.

Unless we don’t leave any for ourselves, any liquid to hydrate with, any warmth to soak up through that cup. That’s when we get frustrated and stressed. That’s when we get a little ungrateful. Because we’re giving and giving, and then we have nothing left. And we can’t see half full/half empty because we see nothing.

Then, when the cups are full, we notice that, too. We notice the weight, we notice the warmth it gives us. We are more likely to be grateful for what we have when we can readily see it.

The problem is then really simple: we need to be grateful when our cups aren’t so full. When we don’t have much left, and what we have left is going to be given away. But how?

Of course, that’s where I get stuck a lot, and I don’t have all the answers. But I think I figured out a solution: when we have nothing left, when we’re not fully full, we have to be grateful for the cup, which in case you got confused earlier, is quite simply, the fact that you are alive. So, if you have nothing to put in your cup, just be thankful for the fact that someday you will. Because the capacity to be grateful is all you need to be so.

Anger is a Splinter

When you think about emotions, what comes to mind? What does happy look like? Is it a group of friends laughing together? What does sadness look like? Is it raindrops running down a window? What does fear look like? Is it a dark room with a single door?

And what about anger? Is it more than the color red?

For me, anger is not an emotion in the traditional sense. It is a reflex in much the same way that someone may tap your knee, and it will respond with a kick. In simpler terms, you may notice that anger is first out of you when something bad happens, instead of an emotion like sadness, because you haven’t had time to rationalize or process your feelings yet. Once you have taken the time to think it through, you turn to another emotion to cater to your expressive needs.

On the other hand, sadness, happiness, and even fear are not reactive. They are the product of something, but only after you’ve had time to ruminate. Anger is somewhat pure in that it is not tainted by thought, and actually, it is so strong because it’s devoid of thought entirely.

But of course, anger is problematic as a result of its nature. You may find yourself lashing out because of not being able to form what it is that you want to convey, and so anger beats you literally and metaphorically to the punch.

This is why anger is like a splinter.

Splinters. You will notice when you get one…or at least you think it’s a splinter. It could be just a little bump of unusual pain in the middle of your hand. You don’t really know because you can’t see anything. All you know is that you are hurting and the sharp sting of the tweezers is not making it any better.

It’s the same thing with anger. You don’t really notice that anything has happened until you are crying and honking uncontrollably at the car that cut you off. You don’t really think that you are upset until you are eating your feelings and swaddling yourself into a snuggie. You don’t really know what’s come over you, but you would love to start a fight club right after your book club. Anger is also a generalized, unreachable pain.

Now the trick is to head off your anger. You have to identify the exact issue you are angry at, the exact position of the splinter. Because your pain and frustration radiates and poisons everything else if you don’t. It creates layers and layers and layers until you are shouting at a shadow when you should really be telling a loved one “I’m sorry.”

Simply remember that anger is a symptom like pain, and that it is does not represent the emotion that you are actually feeling. Rather, anger is a substitute, a filler, and until you can identify what you should be really feeling (frustration, grief, jealousy, confusion), you need to root around with your tweezers until you can find the right spot. Ask yourself: Okay, I know the barista getting my order wrong is not what I’m actually cheesed off about, but what is making me so upset? It may be momentarily painful for you, but it will save everyone around you their own anger.

And even more like splinters, remember that anger is pretty much unavoidable. It would be great if it never happened again, but since that is unlikely, it’s simply best if you kept a pair of emergency tweezers nearby. And of course, ask for help when you need it.