There was a time, back when I was not as wise as I am now, when I actually worried about stupid things like appearances. What other people thought of me, why they thought such things, and how those thoughts might come to be.
And it was a crazy, stupid way for me to think because, as we all know, the thought processes of others are completely out of our control. Also, worrying about that was unhealthy and cumbersome to my self confidence and well being.
Since then, I have learned a better way.
Own it.
When you end up taking your kid lunch money still wearing your sweaty gym clothes and no makeup, own it.
When the neighbor comes to your door at 2:00 in the afternoon and you’re still in your pajamas with a fist full of tissues and bed-head—own it.
When you’re on your way to a formal benefit and need to stop by a book launch to support a friend (even though you’re vastly overdressed in a gown) own it.
You are who you are, even when the public perception might be somewhat…less flattering than you’d prefer. I’m not saying you should let yourself go and never try to look and be your best. On the contrary. Looking our best for certain occasions is very important (hence the formal dress in a casual setting).What I’m saying is we’re all human, and occasionally all humans are seen in a light different from what they would normally prefer to be seen. If, by some odd chance, that different light makes people stare a little bit, just smile and wave. It’s all good.
Be glad they didn’t walk in on you naked. Or did they?
Smile and wave, peeps. Just smile and wave.
**Don't forget to enter to win my October Give Back Giveaway. The deadline is extended to Friday at midnight!
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Memorable People
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ~ Maya Angelou
I have a theory. Probably not an original one, actually. In fact, someone somewhere has most likely done a study on it at some point. But I believe that our memories are based not on sights or tastes or sounds or smells, but on feelings first. Everything else is secondary.
For instance, we might remember our first vacation because of the excitement and happiness we experienced during that trip. And then we associate smells and sights and sounds with that incident, and voila, we have a memory.
On the other spectrum, we might remember a broken heart because of the hollow ache, the physical pain. And again, all the other sensations we remember are linked to that original gut-wrenching feeling.
I don’t remember a lot of books I read as a child. But there are a handful that I do, and they affected me enough to help shape what I became as an adult. Thinking back, I’ve always been a fan of romance in plots. Even in Nancy Drew, I couldn’t get enough of the almost-kisses between Nancy and Ned. That’s the feeling I latched onto, and the only part about those mysteries I really remember. Well, that, and the fact that Nancy always conveniently carried a change of clothes in the trunk of her car. But ya know. I think that had more to do with believability.
Another example: People.
I’m terrible with names. It takes me at least three times of meeting you before I remember yours (unless you’ve done something to make a huge impression, then it might only take two). But if you made me smile, I’ll remember that feeling and associate it with your face. If you made me angry, I remember that too. And if you said or did something outlandish or incredible or absolutely impressionable, if you made my cheeks hurt from laughing, or my heart flutter with happiness, or my gut clench with pain or anxiety, I will definitely remember your name. The first time.
How do the people you meet remember you?
I have a theory. Probably not an original one, actually. In fact, someone somewhere has most likely done a study on it at some point. But I believe that our memories are based not on sights or tastes or sounds or smells, but on feelings first. Everything else is secondary.
For instance, we might remember our first vacation because of the excitement and happiness we experienced during that trip. And then we associate smells and sights and sounds with that incident, and voila, we have a memory.
On the other spectrum, we might remember a broken heart because of the hollow ache, the physical pain. And again, all the other sensations we remember are linked to that original gut-wrenching feeling.
I don’t remember a lot of books I read as a child. But there are a handful that I do, and they affected me enough to help shape what I became as an adult. Thinking back, I’ve always been a fan of romance in plots. Even in Nancy Drew, I couldn’t get enough of the almost-kisses between Nancy and Ned. That’s the feeling I latched onto, and the only part about those mysteries I really remember. Well, that, and the fact that Nancy always conveniently carried a change of clothes in the trunk of her car. But ya know. I think that had more to do with believability.
Another example: People.
I’m terrible with names. It takes me at least three times of meeting you before I remember yours (unless you’ve done something to make a huge impression, then it might only take two). But if you made me smile, I’ll remember that feeling and associate it with your face. If you made me angry, I remember that too. And if you said or did something outlandish or incredible or absolutely impressionable, if you made my cheeks hurt from laughing, or my heart flutter with happiness, or my gut clench with pain or anxiety, I will definitely remember your name. The first time.
How do the people you meet remember you?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Do They Know?
After last week’s discussion about encouraging—rather than discouraging—our children in their creative efforts, I started to wonder. Do my kids know how much faith I have in them? Do they truly understand what they can do if they really commit themselves?
My kids aren’t little anymore. In fact, they’re on the cusp of adulthood. As they make this transition, will they spread their wings and take off? Or will they burrow into a hole and be afraid of the desires of their hearts?
Granted, most of us end up somewhere in the middle and walk into adulthood on legs—and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I have to wonder. If we knew—really, truly knew—our own potential when we were teens, would we have chosen to walk? Or would we have run? Or maybe found wings?
I don’t know the answer to that particular what if, and I have no regrets. I love where I am in life. But I wonder about my kids. Do they know what they can do?
I don’t know for sure one way or another. But I can help them realize their potential. I can help them find the things they love most in life and excel at them.
I—their mother—have the power to give my children the ability to fly. I just have to remember to use it.
So there you have it. This week’s profound parenting thought.
*Don’t forget to stop by my book review blog and see my review of a fab new book, Perilous by Tamara Heart Heiner and enter to win one of several fantabulous prizes, including a Kindle!
My kids aren’t little anymore. In fact, they’re on the cusp of adulthood. As they make this transition, will they spread their wings and take off? Or will they burrow into a hole and be afraid of the desires of their hearts?
Granted, most of us end up somewhere in the middle and walk into adulthood on legs—and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I have to wonder. If we knew—really, truly knew—our own potential when we were teens, would we have chosen to walk? Or would we have run? Or maybe found wings?
I don’t know the answer to that particular what if, and I have no regrets. I love where I am in life. But I wonder about my kids. Do they know what they can do?
I don’t know for sure one way or another. But I can help them realize their potential. I can help them find the things they love most in life and excel at them.
I—their mother—have the power to give my children the ability to fly. I just have to remember to use it.
So there you have it. This week’s profound parenting thought.
*Don’t forget to stop by my book review blog and see my review of a fab new book, Perilous by Tamara Heart Heiner and enter to win one of several fantabulous prizes, including a Kindle!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Judging Personal Success: A Thought
Thought of the week:
Never judge your own success on the reactions of other people.
I’ve been known to do this, and it’s something I’m working on. I’m getting better. Not perfect, it’ll be a life-long quest. But it’s a goal toward which I’m aiming, that I know will play a large part in my personal happiness.
Do you have such a goal? I’d love to hear it.
Never judge your own success on the reactions of other people.
I’ve been known to do this, and it’s something I’m working on. I’m getting better. Not perfect, it’ll be a life-long quest. But it’s a goal toward which I’m aiming, that I know will play a large part in my personal happiness.
Do you have such a goal? I’d love to hear it.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
From the Outside Looking In
By Nichole Giles
Every so often, I have a day when I feel like a bug under a microscope, the rest of the world watching my every move, waiting to see what I do next. Most assuredly, I have no idea what it feels like to be famous, or have paparazzi following me everywhere I go so they can speculate on what I could possibly be doing at the grocery store. (Um, buying groceries, duh!) But still, there are times when I feel the crushing weight of glaring, squinty-eyed people who are just waiting to jump on the rumor train.
Not that there’s any reason, mind you. I’m as boring as they come. But some people will find things to talk about even when you’ve done nothing more than change your hair color or bought new shoes. For example:
Says one lady to another:
Every so often, I have a day when I feel like a bug under a microscope, the rest of the world watching my every move, waiting to see what I do next. Most assuredly, I have no idea what it feels like to be famous, or have paparazzi following me everywhere I go so they can speculate on what I could possibly be doing at the grocery store. (Um, buying groceries, duh!) But still, there are times when I feel the crushing weight of glaring, squinty-eyed people who are just waiting to jump on the rumor train.
Not that there’s any reason, mind you. I’m as boring as they come. But some people will find things to talk about even when you’ve done nothing more than change your hair color or bought new shoes. For example:
Says one lady to another:
“Uh. Did you see those shoes she wore to church on Sunday?”
Second woman nods. “Um, hm. I did. They must have cost at least fifty dollars!”
First woman scratches her chin. “And her hair! She must have had it done by an artist the last time she was in New York.”
First woman scratches her chin. “And her hair! She must have had it done by an artist the last time she was in New York.”
Second woman shakes her head. “No, too recent. Must be L.A. I wonder how she affords to look like that.”
First woman leans in for a classic gossip whisper. “I heard they inherited an enormous amount of money from a long lost dead relative.” 
Second woman leans to meet the first halfway. “Well, I heard the husband’s related to royalty of some obscure country in the Caribbean. So that must be true.”
First woman rolls her eyes. “How would it be to have millions of dollars and never have to worry about money again?”
Second woman fans her face. “Oh, I’ll tell you. I’d be wonderful. Don’t you wish you could fit in her shoes?”
(Disclaimer: The previous scenario is totally and completely made up in my head, but resembles conversations I’ve eavesdropped on periodically. Okay, I admit it, I’m an eavesdropper!)
Don’t you ever wonder where people get that kind of information? When I was in junior high, one of my teachers constructed an activity where she’d give one student a piece of information, then have that student whisper the information to the next student, who then passed it on, and so forth, until the very last person in the class had received the message. Every single time, the end message bore no resemblance to the beginning information. Funny thing, isn’t it?
And if the beginning message was inaccurate in the first place—say, the person doing the passing on got their information by standing outside the living room window and watching things transpire inside—no one is safe.
From the outside of the glass, an observer might see two people running around, screaming, and then falling to the floor wrestling. That observer would probably be inclined to call the police and report a domestic disturbance.
But from the other side of the glass, the same person might have witnessed a family playing something like hide-the-cell-phone, the “it” person running through the house screaming, “I got it! I got it,” and then other family members tackling him or her to the ground to wrestle for the final phone rights. No domestic disturbance there.
It’s all about perspective.
As easy as it might be to pass judgment on a person because of the size of their house or the type of car they drive, where they shop or how they chose to dress, ask yourself when was the last time you stood inside that house? Spent time with or even talked to that person? If you have a question, don’t you think you should go ahead and ask rather than speculating on the hows and whys of things?
Maybe the owner of the house can afford it because he or she has five jobs. (Not impossible, by the way.) And maybe the car wasn’t as expensive as you think. Maybe the person shops sales—refusing to ever pay full price—so his / her family can afford better quality goods. And maybe they dress well because someone in the family spent lots of years working retail, taking fashion merchandising classes, and studying the art of fashion expertise.
Or it could be the other way around. Maybe the family chooses to live in a very small house because by doing so they’re able to escape the drudgery of being obligated to pay the bank every month. And maybe they drive an older car because it’s dependable and gets good gas mileage. Perhaps they shop at thrift stores and big box chains because they truly like the treasures they find there. In fact, maybe the hunt becomes more intriguing for them—especially because the seasonal merchandise is limited and finding the right sizes requires skills and diligence. For some people, style is a state of mind, and they’d rather be comfortable than trendy. But they have the things they need, and are by no means poor.
Do you ever wonder what people are really thinking when they look at you? (Or scowl, or sneer, or smile, or wave?) I used to. Really. I used to wonder, and worry about those very speculations. Throughout my life, I’ve been on both ends of the spectrum. I’ve overheard rumors about myself (Yes, people, rumors ALWAYS get around to the people they’re about) that have claimed I inherited large amounts of money…(he he) and other rumors claiming I had no grocery money and was starving to death—which, by the way, is how I got so skinny. And did you know I suffer from an eating disorder and an exercise obsession? (Ha ha, again.)
Anymore, though, I’ve come to understand that I can’t control the thoughts of others. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. Really, why does it matter what they think anyway? As long as I know the truth, and as long as I’m happy with myself (and my husband and children) what does it matter what anyone else thinks? Unfortunately, someone will always think badly of me, and someone else will always put me on an undeserved pedestal. And it’s okay. Because when I get to the end of life, the thoughts of those people won’t matter nearly as much as what I think of myself, what my husband and children think, and what God thinks.
In the meantime, I’ll try to remember the same about the people around me. I don’t know their circumstances or the reasons behind their choices. And it’s none of my business, anyway. Thank goodness! I have my own custom picked issues. And for that, I’m eternally grateful.
(Disclaimer: The previous scenario is totally and completely made up in my head, but resembles conversations I’ve eavesdropped on periodically. Okay, I admit it, I’m an eavesdropper!)
Don’t you ever wonder where people get that kind of information? When I was in junior high, one of my teachers constructed an activity where she’d give one student a piece of information, then have that student whisper the information to the next student, who then passed it on, and so forth, until the very last person in the class had received the message. Every single time, the end message bore no resemblance to the beginning information. Funny thing, isn’t it?
And if the beginning message was inaccurate in the first place—say, the person doing the passing on got their information by standing outside the living room window and watching things transpire inside—no one is safe.
From the outside of the glass, an observer might see two people running around, screaming, and then falling to the floor wrestling. That observer would probably be inclined to call the police and report a domestic disturbance.
But from the other side of the glass, the same person might have witnessed a family playing something like hide-the-cell-phone, the “it” person running through the house screaming, “I got it! I got it,” and then other family members tackling him or her to the ground to wrestle for the final phone rights. No domestic disturbance there.
It’s all about perspective.
As easy as it might be to pass judgment on a person because of the size of their house or the type of car they drive, where they shop or how they chose to dress, ask yourself when was the last time you stood inside that house? Spent time with or even talked to that person? If you have a question, don’t you think you should go ahead and ask rather than speculating on the hows and whys of things?
Maybe the owner of the house can afford it because he or she has five jobs. (Not impossible, by the way.) And maybe the car wasn’t as expensive as you think. Maybe the person shops sales—refusing to ever pay full price—so his / her family can afford better quality goods. And maybe they dress well because someone in the family spent lots of years working retail, taking fashion merchandising classes, and studying the art of fashion expertise.
Or it could be the other way around. Maybe the family chooses to live in a very small house because by doing so they’re able to escape the drudgery of being obligated to pay the bank every month. And maybe they drive an older car because it’s dependable and gets good gas mileage. Perhaps they shop at thrift stores and big box chains because they truly like the treasures they find there. In fact, maybe the hunt becomes more intriguing for them—especially because the seasonal merchandise is limited and finding the right sizes requires skills and diligence. For some people, style is a state of mind, and they’d rather be comfortable than trendy. But they have the things they need, and are by no means poor.
Do you ever wonder what people are really thinking when they look at you? (Or scowl, or sneer, or smile, or wave?) I used to. Really. I used to wonder, and worry about those very speculations. Throughout my life, I’ve been on both ends of the spectrum. I’ve overheard rumors about myself (Yes, people, rumors ALWAYS get around to the people they’re about) that have claimed I inherited large amounts of money…(he he) and other rumors claiming I had no grocery money and was starving to death—which, by the way, is how I got so skinny. And did you know I suffer from an eating disorder and an exercise obsession? (Ha ha, again.)
Anymore, though, I’ve come to understand that I can’t control the thoughts of others. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. Really, why does it matter what they think anyway? As long as I know the truth, and as long as I’m happy with myself (and my husband and children) what does it matter what anyone else thinks? Unfortunately, someone will always think badly of me, and someone else will always put me on an undeserved pedestal. And it’s okay. Because when I get to the end of life, the thoughts of those people won’t matter nearly as much as what I think of myself, what my husband and children think, and what God thinks.
In the meantime, I’ll try to remember the same about the people around me. I don’t know their circumstances or the reasons behind their choices. And it’s none of my business, anyway. Thank goodness! I have my own custom picked issues. And for that, I’m eternally grateful.
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