You Can't Always Get What You Want

I was raised to believe that if I worked hard enough, I could achieve anything. This statement–repeated overtly to me in my early years as fact more than aspiration–has proven true in my thirty-some years of life experience. I devoted more time to studying than most, and I earned straight A’s from first grade through college. (Okay, okay…there was that one B in penmanship in fourth grade.) As a veterinary nurse at an animal hospital, I initiated several improved processes that led to my promotion to supervisor. I wanted to become a yoga teacher, so I spent twenty hours a week in a training program while working full-time at my real job.

Yet despite my track record of success with this maxim, I’ve finally had to acknowledge that not everything in life can be overcome by sheer force of will and applied effort. I fought harder for my marriage than I have ever fought for anything in my life, yet it didn’t survive. But in the process I learned countless other important lessons about how to be a better partner, friend, and human.

I learned that it’s okay to be vulnerable, to let myself cry in front of people, and to be honest about how I’m feeling instead of putting on a brave, happy face.

I learned to ask for help. Then I practiced accepting help when it was offered, without letting my pride and ego get in the way.

I learned to let myself be angry–to explode with anger sometimes. I learned to accept my outbursts of intensity without judging myself for them. I eventually learned appropriate ways to express my anger and that it often stemmed from my lack of boundaries. I learned that a few minutes of very loud shouting can cause laryngitis.

I learned to trust. I learned to trust in my intuition because my mind prefers denial. I learned to trust in the goodness of other people and that the messy events of the past two years were necessary for whatever comes next in my life.

I learned that no one can read my mind. I learned that it is my responsibility to ask for what I want. I learned to stop feeling guilty for having wants and needs.

I learned that I’m not responsible for how other people feel. I’m responsible for my own feelings and for having kind and honest intentions when I communicate with others.

I learned to listen and to keep listening even when I don't like what I hear. I learned to let painful words hang in the air without shutting down or becoming defensive. I learned to listen to my partner’s perception–entirely different than my own–and accept that neither one was right.

I learned to say, “I’m sorry.” I practiced saying it without justifying my actions or making excuses. I learned to examine my words and actions and make an apology when one was needed. I learned how powerful this short little phrase can be.

I learned to forgive and forgive again. I practiced forgiving even when I didn’t receive an apology. I learned that practicing forgiveness without establishing boundaries is an invitation to be hurt again. I learned to forgive myself for my own mistakes, which was the hardest of all.

I learned to love, despite all the obstacles. I had the opportunity to love deeply and openly even when walls were thrown up and doors slammed in my face. I learned that love is not static nor is it just a feeling­–it’s also a choice. Sometimes it’s an easy choice and sometimes it’s a grueling one, but it’s a choice that I make day by day, moment by moment.

When I look back on this period in my life, I feel conflicting emotions. There’s been so much sadness and disappointment, but the pain has been a catalyst for curiosity, introspection, and growth. Until now, I’d always been able to get what I wanted by being persistent and working hard. What I wanted was to save my marriage; what I got was totally unexpected and maybe exactly what I needed. 

Get It Wrong

Last weekend I had the pleasure of attending a three-day Sanskrit workshop through my yoga school. It was taught by an endearing instructor, Joshua Michaell, who made the trip from San Francisco to offer an intensive training on the Sankskrit language and yoga philosophy. I had been looking forward to this workshop because I love learning languages, especially one that is so essential to the study of yoga. While I was amazed at Josh's ability to make pronunciation of this new language so effortless, the most memorable lesson for me was a demonstration of two very different models of learning. 

According to the first model, which is prevalent in this country, the way that we are trained to think places the emphasis of learning on Getting It Right. We want to give the right answer, perform the calculation correctly, or pronounce the word properly. Our goal is not understanding what we are learning or immersing ourselves in it for the pure joy of learning. Instead our primary concern is to Get It Right and to avoid Getting it Wrong at all costs. If we Get It Right, we think other people will see us as smart and good and successful. Getting It Wrong feels bad and makes us think we're failures or that there is something wrong with us. Our beliefs about ourselves have become tightly bound to our ability to Get It Right, and there is a lot of pressure and fear to not Get It Wrong.

As a straight-A student throughout my life, I relate to this dichotomy very easily. When you believe that you are smart because you have the right answers, feeling good about yourself hinges on your continued ability to give the right answer. Even when I would get an A on an exam, I could be devastated by getting one question wrong. I never wanted to raise my hand to answer questions from the teacher because I was terrified of giving the wrong answer in front of all of my classmates. That would prove I wasn't smart at all, and everyone would see that I was a fraud. As you can imagine, it felt great to be successful but under the surface I lived with a constant fear of falling from that perch. No matter how many times I Got It Right, every situation presented another opportunity to Get It Wrong.  

Is there another way? Can I change my perspective? What if I take away all the judgments that go along with Getting It Wrong? What if I approach Sanskrit with the honest joy that I have to meet the language and to revel in the new sounds I discover? Josh gave me the opportunity to test out this model of learning during his workshop. He asked the class to accept that all sounds were equally good; therefore, there was no way for anyone to make a wrong sound. Then he took it one step further. He asked us to put our belief in that statement into action because he would later be asking for volunteers to recite Sanskrit vowel sounds to the class. There would be no reason not to shoot your hand into the air when he asked for volunteers, even if you weren't sure of what sounds to make. If any sound was as good as the next, then you couldn't Get It Wrong.

Yet I was still terrified of raising my hand without confidence in my ability to make the right sounds. I didn't feel prepared. I wanted more time to ensure I would be able to Get It Right. Then Josh told us to take a deep breath, and he asked for a volunteer. It may seem low risk but in that moment my heart was pounding. I was raising my hand without knowing the answer! And so were eighteen of my classmates! It was scary, but I also felt a rush of excitement at breaking out of a pattern that never fit right in the first place.

As luck would have it, Josh called on me. And I didn't know the sounds to sing. In fact, I panicked and had to ask for help from my classmates. Three beautiful people joined their voices with mine to chant the line. Nobody thought I was dumb or a failure, and I realized that I didn't either! What a tremendous gift–a simple and honest way to think about new experiences in my life. It will take practice to make this thinking a habit, but I am happy to unload my fear of making a mistake in order to focus on my love of learning.