6 Stages of Change

Today I finished a CE course called "Behavioral Issues in Dentistry." I looked for more clinically based courses, but I’m mostly interested in people. In behavior, beliefs, in evolution. In ascension. Dentistry is just the field I chose in which to explore that, and honestly it was a good choice. Because our patients have a lot of fear, and our industry has a lot of programming. There’s control, the need to fix things, the people pleasing, the perfectionism, etc etc. I’m generalizing here, but this is what I’ve seen, what I’ve read about, and what I’ve experienced. 

This CE reminded me that we are always wavering between different phases in our lives, particularly if we’re constantly aiming higher for ourselves. It listed the 5 stages of change; 1. pre-contemplation, 2. contemplation, 3. preparation, 4. action, and 5. maintenance. On my personal journey, I saw this as:  1. shit, this isn’t really working for me, 2. should I do something?, 3. what do I do?, 4. alright I’m going for it, 5. okay this is better. 

Then there’s this phase: Relapse. This can happen in an instant. (First, lets clarify that relapse isn't just about addiction, this is about changed behavior).  It can feel like you’ve been working and pushing yourself up this hill (metaphorically), but all you did was a big loop and you’re exactly where you started. It’s the 3 steps forward and 2 steps back feeling. I had this moment a couple years ago, when I thought I’d reached a mastery over my emotional responses. When I felt an emotion, I turned inward. I questioned it, the stories I had, the truth in it, and then I made a conscious response. I was in maintenance, and life was great. But then, when a big enough trigger came around for me, I snapped so quickly that I couldn't even remember the process I’d been practicing. I was devastated. Less about the situation at hand, and more so about the feeling that I hadn’t changed at all.

This course hit home with the reminder that: “Relapse should not be viewed as failure, but as part of the ongoing process of growth.” It’s okay to take a step back. Growth is non-linear, and sometimes feeling that regression is a kick in the ass. When you’re back where you started and it doesn't feel right to you, that’s just confirmation that this version of you has expired. This isn’t you anymore, there is a better, higher version of you that is present. That old version of you is just fighting for its life, it wants to be held onto. Love it, thank it for getting you to where you are, and let it go. 

Tennis Lessons

So I've recently picked up tennis. And by that I mean, I'm taking lessons and classes because I'm clueless about this sport. It's been on my radar since dental school, and I've recently had an urge to learn something new. I was feeling stagnant, and was craving some mental stimulation.

As I’m learning the sport, I’m learning a lot about myself. After my first class, I was hooked. It was a learning experience, physically challenging, and competitive (to me at least, because I am naturally competitive).  The challenge and beauty of it was that I had to surrender to the fact that I know nothing, and be in complete student mode. I then had to (and am still working on) unlearning all of my softball driven muscle memory so that I can rewire my mind and body for tennis. I've spent the last couple of years rewiring my thinking and patterns. It's hard, but I got good at it. Doing this physically is completely new to me.

As I’ve continued on this journey, my experience has shifted a bit. 90% of the time, I am having the time of my life on the court, I’m high on endorphins, and my time playing is just not enough. It’s like I could go on forever. The other 10%, I am completely enraged. I want to hit all of the balls out of the court, then smash my racket, and throw my water bottle at the fence. Honestly, I would destroy anything in my vicinity in this blinding rage. I get so angry because I feel like I’m not improving. I am mad that I’m not better, I am angry at the fact that I’m aware of what I’m doing wrong but I’m not correcting it. My dysfunctional muscle memory takes over, and it’s like my body is not doing what my mind is telling it to do. It is a disconnect with myself. 

This anger is unfamiliar to me. I am not an angry person, and I let very little actually get me riled up. That’s the other thing, this feeling is new, its different, and I don’t know what to do with it. Sometimes I can breathe through it, take a break, and come back to neutral. Other times, I just have to walk away and accept that today was trash. Throw it out and move on. What I’m finding, however, is that this feeling, this anger, is coming up for me outside of tennis too. It’s like when you buy a new car and see it everywhere on the road. I am recognizing this feeling in me, in my every day life. This is more frustrating because when I’m playing tennis, I am angry with my tennis abilities. When I am just living my life, I can’t identify the source of it. I am assuming that it’s the same: a disconnect.

So I am learning grace and patience for myself. (Am i?) I am feeling how angry I am with myself for all the times I’ve been disconnected, for all the stupid choices I’ve made, for all the regrets I’ve had, for all the times when I knew I was doing the wrong thing but continued simply due to muscle memory/because I was stuck in a pattern. I CAN rewire my mind and my body to work together, to function optimally, to produce the most benevolent outcome in all aspects of my life. I know this. I just have to keep going, one day at a time. 

So I'll share with you.. my reminders to me..

I am where I’m supposed to me.

I am perfectly imperfect.

Every obstacle is an opportunity for growth.

Just enjoy the journey.

 

My Map Home

 Dream from Last night:

I am in South Williamsport, it's that time of year again. The Little League World Series are started and the town is alive. I'm there with Abe, who is on a work call. "I'm going to go to the stadium while you do your work thing," I tell him, and he waves me away but walks behind me as I go. I make my way up to this gift shop at the top of the hill, and there was so much candy in it. "I've dreamt of this place," I think. I try to tell Abe that this is the place where I had that dream I told him about. I am so excited, because everything is exactly as I remembered it. 

I look out the window over Lamade stadium and see the kids sliding downhill on pieces of cardboard. I don't know why this was the funnest thing in the world when we were younger. It was like sledding with no snow.  I wanted to be out there. I wanted to try it again now that I'm older, even though it seems ridiculous to me now. But I felt like I was stuck in the store. I could see the stadium and the hills rising behind it, I could see the green grass, and suddenly I could see South Williamsport from a birds eye view, like I was looking at it on Google maps. I looked at the neighborhoods, and saw a house with a pool in the back. "Wow, I didn't know they had a pool," I thought. "They were wealthier than I thought."

I could see East Mountain Ave, looping around to meet Southside Park. There's the hill we used to bike down. We thought it was the steepest hill alive, and prayed that we'd make it to the bottom, but now I knew it probably wasn't steep at all. Everything was so lush and glowing in shades of vibrant greens. From the map I was seeing, I mapped a path back home. I used my finger like a Stylist on this screen and drew an exit from this store, the Stadium, and then the complex. A sharp left and then up the winding road, and then I'd be there.

I set out on this path, twisting through the store like a maze. I got out of a window and made it to the stadium, quickly making my way back. When I exited the complex, I was on a street I knew. There was a rusted, dome shaped bridge that I'd dreamt about! In that dream I was trying to go home with two friends, but it was dark and raining, and one of them got hit by a car. Now it was bright and clear, with no traffic in sight. I continued to walk up it until I was on my street. 

I stood there, on East Mountain Avenue, when Abe came to me and expressed, "You said you were just checking the stadium out while I was on my call." He was angry. He was mad that I'd spent so much time frolicking around, and he didn't want to be there. "I'm not here for this," he said, "so I've booked a couple nights at a hotel nearby." I was very taken back by this and told him I was done, and I'd go with him. But then I saw this small hotel room. It was dark and felt suffocating. Just like that he was gone, and I was there alone, staring at my childhood home. 

I walked right past it. I walked to the end of the street, to where my best friend lived. It was less of a dream and more of a memory. I looked at all my neighbors' homes and remembered each of them. I could smell the pine trees and see the cracks on the sidewalk that we always made sure to jump over (you know, so we wouldn't break our momma's backs). As I got closer to my best friends house, I could see her with her parents, and with a child. I assumed this little 6 year old brunette was her niece, although her brothers weren't in sight. She stood by her side, while her family all embraced each other. It looked like they were having a reunion. I could feel the joy and the warmth, they were glowing. They kissed and hugged, and in that moment I decided not to interrupt. I let them enjoy it, and I enjoyed it from a distance too. Then I turned around, and walked back down the street, back home.