Coaching for High-Achieving Men Ready to Lead Differently — Carla Royal Coaching & Consulting

For When You Are Falling Apart

“We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”  Pema Chodron

I’ve been sitting with this quote for a while, returning to it repeatedly throughout the week. It has such resonance. It reflects the story of my life perfectly. Coming together. Falling apart. Coming together. Falling apart. Yours, too?

I read Pema’s words differently today than I did when I first heard them many years ago. I’m learning not to take the “falling apart” so seriously and personally. I’m learning that the “falling apart” is not bad news. I’m learning that I don’t have to create some grand meaning about it, analyze it for weeks (or years!), or spin a stressful story about it. I can just let the emotions of it move through me in their own time, like storm clouds moving across the sky.

Pema says that the healing comes from letting there be room for it all. I don’t have to be so afraid of the grief or even the misery. Relief and joy will come once again. Eventually. Always.

I didn’t believe this when I went through a 6-year period of deep darkness and depression. I believed it was permanent. I couldn’t see my way through it. I spun terrible stories of doom. I tried to end it. It did end, but not in the desperate way I planned. It cleared. It cleared. I survived the storm.

When we take our falling apart times terribly seriously, we are seeding the emotional clouds. We do this innocently. The clouds become denser and more intense. There is no room left for the healing. When we leave the thoughts about what’s happening alone, the emotional storms dissipate naturally. There is room. There is nothing we have to do. Just as atmospheric storms naturally come and go, so do emotional storms. That’s just how the human psychological system works. We could leave them alone. We could let them dissipate.

I see Pema’s words as such good news now. We don’t have to fear the falling apart. We don’t have to cling to the coming together. We can make room for all of it.

I dedicate this post to my clients whom I love and for whom I have so much respect. They are doing the brave and daring work of transformation.

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If this blog post resonates with you or if you’d like to explore a new perspective on grief, I’m opening up one session on my calendar this next week for the first person who responds, at no charge to you. Contact Me

What is the Story of You?

“Can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?”
— Charles Bukowski

I’ve been thinking about passion, inspiration, talent, and success lately. Since early adulthood, I’ve been told how much potential I have. Growing up, my family had few expectations of me, other than, “Don’t be ugly, Boo” (meaning, you need to act like a nice girl). I got the message that my best avenue for success would be to get married and let a man take care of me. I was told I was a follower, not a leader. I believed it.

I had headaches from the time I was six so my parents didn’t want to pressure me, thinking that expectations would make them worse. Apparently, I had quite a talent for the piano but my parents let me quit after only a couple of years, fearing that it would consume me because I was so gifted (Consume me? What does that even mean??). At the same time, they believed I was slow because I didn’t speak early enough and because I didn’t excel in school. Again, they didn’t want to pressure me.

Did my parents believe all that? Did they really give me all those messages? I doubt it, but, I created a story from their words and actions, nonetheless, and I lived as if it were true. I was gifted musically and athletically but slow intellectually, or so the story goes. They couldn’t encourage my talent too much because it might consume me or might make my headaches worse. They couldn’t expect much intellectually because I was slow and what’s the point? So, I floated along, buying into and keeping alive those stories. I fed them. I went to therapy. I nursed them. I used them as an excuse (innocently) for not mastering much of anything. I got by.

Over the years, I had some success here and there but I kept alive the story that I was slow and that I should avoid things requiring more than a little effort. After all, I wouldn’t want to make myself sick, or consume myself, or make a fool of myself.

I bought the story. I fed the story. I lived the story.

Here’s the thing, it never was anything but a story. A story I took seriously. A story I analyzed for years. A story I judged and agonized over. You see, I didn’t know it was a story. I thought I was those things. I innocently identified with the story and I lived accordingly. I suffered this made up story for decades.

Knowing that it is a story helps my grip loosen. It means that I no longer have to take it so seriously and personally. I no longer have to believe it. I no longer have to act on it. When it rears its ugly head, and it does, I can ignore it and carry on with my day. I can wake up to it and show the story out the door. I may even be able to master a few things.

I want you to know that whatever story you have about you is just a story. Family, friends, religion, and culture do not define you, though you’ve received many messages and stories from them. Some of those messages have been positive and some have been negative. None define you. You are not your story. When we wake up to the truth of that, we are free to get on with it from a place of clarity. We are free to create our lives.

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If this blog post resonates with you or if you’d like to explore a new perspective on who you are really and why it matters, I’m opening up a couple of times on my calendar this week for the first two people who respond, at no charge to you. Contact Me