Changes are Coming


If you are a frequent reader of the blog, this may come as a surprise – things are changing around here. August will be the last month that this blog functions as a group blog address various points of view on topics related to giftedness. As my focus changes, so does the social content of the things I am involved in.

Starting Sept 1, 2013, the blog will broaden its focus to include a large variety of areas related to living a purpose-filled life. From healthy living to building resiliency, mindful parenting to authentic living, this blog will focus on the topics I address in my self-help books and workshops.

I want to thank the many contributors to this blog over the last 18 months including Jen, Donna, Kate, Tom, Edith, Dave and Kathy, and Cassidy.  Your insight has been wonderful.

To the readers, I hope you will stick with us during the transition. I am truly excited with the upcoming features and focus – and think you all will be to. In the mean time, excuse the mess as the blog undergoes various changes in preparation for the switch on Sept 1.

Thanks for reading!

My own worst enemy


I really am my own worst enemy. I’ve kinda known that for a long time, but it’s really hitting home for me lately. For the longest time I thought I just couldn’t say no to other people when they requested something of me, mainly my time and effort. Turns out that wasn’t exactly true. I do say no to others, and it gets easier every time I do. I just can’t say no to myself.

Maybe can’t isn’t appropriate, especially since I’m locked in a death match with that word. I don’t. I don’t say no to myself, or rather, I say yes to far more than I have time and energy for. This is how I find myself with a multi-level to-do list and the feeling that life is just passing me by as I desperately check things off in an attempt to control my surroundings.

My husband and I attended the SENG conference in Orlando this past weekend. I went last year and it was good. I learned a lot, met so many people, had a great time. This year, with my husband also in attendance, it was life-changing. While I have notes upon notes to review and digest, one line from the very last session I attended has been ringing in my ears ever since.

Is what I’m about to do going to get me to where I say I want to go?

The part that shouts the loudest to me is the “I say” tidbit. Remove those two words and reread the sentence: Is what I’m about to do going to get me to where I want to go? It has a different flavor, doesn’t it? The “I say” intimates a goal has been set, people have been told, something is on the line.

I say a lot of things. I say I want to exercise (I currently do not, and feel it with every staircase I face), I say I want to write more (right now writing is something that gets pushed to the end of my daily life because I feel selfish when I do), I say I want to dive in and enjoy summer (or what is passing for summer in Chicago this year; slippers and sweaters in July is WRONG) I say I want to read The Hobbit with my boys (see earlier line on the varying degrees of my to-do list, imagine the time involved with that, guess if we’ve been reading). I say I want to do a lot of things, very few of which get done because I say I want to do a lot of things. There’s a heartbreaking irony right there.

Is what I’m about to do going to get me to where I say I want to go?

Because there are so many things I say I want to do, few of them have any urgency or importance. I run into this with my sons and their piles of treasures; if every single thing is the most important thing ever, then nothing has any importance. Pick and choose, dude. Pick and choose, Jen.

In less than two months I have a birthday that ends with a zero. By the time that date rolls around I no longer want to be my own worst enemy. I want to pick and choose the most important things to me and focus only on those. I want to have time to think and play and enjoy my life guilt-free.

It’s time to say no to myself a little more often, and yes to a more satisfying life.

Decluttering


Clutter accumulates in our space and in our mind.  The mind finds way to file things and close doors.  Other times the clutter of the mind leads to overwhelm.  Lots of decisions to make and responsibilities to manage contribute to clutter and overwhelm.  The amount of input we receive from our observation and connection abilities lead to clutter.  Our emotional intensities lead to clutter.  It piles higher and higher, enveloping the space within the mind.  What can we do to declutter?

Physical space reflects and has an effect on the clutter of our minds.  Thus, decluttering our living and work space, creating organization and clear areas, helps to declutter the minds storage banks and processing centers.

Morning pages (Julia Cameron); Journaling; doodling; are ways to clear the mind and declutter.

Meditation – formal/structure, walking, music, a format that works for you; also clears the mind and declutters (provides the space for the brain to reorganize the information).

Physical exercise allows for release, clarity – and thus decluttering.

An idea book is a place to write down (electronically record) all the ideas, connections, solutions, questions that come to mind and one does not have to try to remember freeing space and energy.

The emotions and intensities are facilitated by the above methods.  Another method is identifying the emotion and using such things as acupressure and flower essences to integrate and formulate the experience.  And remember conscious breathing is of great value for all of the above.

Understanding your values and their priority at this time in your life helps to bring clarity, focus, organization of the data input, experiences, sensations, decisions, etc – thus minimizing the clutter.

How do you experience clutter?  What are you doing to declutter?  What happens for you with decluttering?

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Edith writes at Howtoinlife.com  – sharing thoughts, experiences and resources for personal development of multi-talents.

Finding a voice


You_are_here_galaxyI read. I read books and blogs and articles and I am pulled into the miasma of it all, overwhelmed, adrift in the sea of words and caught up in the ebb and flow of …everything.  It’s amazing. I love it and yet it makes me doubt myself even more. My self-doubt of why my voice matters in the maelstrom of amazing voices makes me balk at writing anything.

Even the marginal books I read I can appreciate (usually) and I wonder why in the vast ocean of words my voice would make a difference. There are so many amazing stories and writers that all my if’s add to the downward pull of what if my story isn’t compelling enough, what if I can’t come up with the right words to deliver the message?

Writing a blog for me is fear. It’s more than just an Imposter Syndrome thing, but it could be involved. It could include higher anxiety as well. Either way, it’s an ugly monster that washes me in, caught in the under tow, pulled away from the assured safety of the shore line voyeurism of just reading, my safe haven of reading.

Then I recall the advice given to me by a powerful lobbyist when I asked about what they do when they have a politician who is just completely against them. (This was a person who lobbies nationally for developmental disabilities) “I just add what I can. I think of it like a water glass. Some politicians already know about the needs of others and how to help. Their glass is already full, but we still want to give them what we can so they have extra. Others have an empty glass and I try to just add a few drops here or there if they are strongly opposed to it because you never know. One day they may have a niece or nephew who has an extra chromosome or a close encounter with a learning disability that makes all of my attempts come flooding back and fills his glass quickly, or it just may be that a few drops as often as possible will eventually start filling that glass.”

When I started advocating for gifted and learning disabilities, I focused more on the learning disabilities because I saw more of the short end of the stick on the side that didn’t allow their intelligence to be recognized and appreciated. As I’ve moved on, I see more and more that it’s the same struggle. It’s inappropriate education and a lack of understanding and my voice is more than just my stories.

Now I just need to keep my courage up to write. I’m so much better at presenting than writing. I get caught up in the moment and flow happens. Writing can occasionally be a flow experience for me, but more often than not, is a long hard slog.

Intensity With a Hormone Booster


My house has always been intense. Emotional, sensory, intellectual, psychomotor, and imaginational intensities have all had permanent seats at the dinner table since Dave and I have been together. Around the house, my son likes to announce, frequently, that he has “all five intensities,” thinking this might absolve him of reason and responsibility (it doesn’t.)

But lately, things have had the added boost of hormones joining us, too. My daughters are beginning the first stages of puberty, and we’ve had to pull up another couple of chairs. Except, the hormones want fancier, bigger chairs, and they want to decorate the intensity chairs, too. The girls have started having impassioned speeches with each other, and us, over everything from breakfast to library trips. There’s more screaming, and crying, and wailing in general. This morning, my son came down to announce that once of his sisters was “crying while peeing.” He threw up his arms and walked down into the basement, hiding out until things calmed down upstairs.

I know it’s upsetting to be feeling such powerful feelings, and not fully understand, or be able to control them. I remember having an intense adolescent separation process, and being unable to explain why I felt the way I did (it certainly would have helped to know about giftedness and intensities!) I also remember (vaguely) learning about the “separation and individuation” theory in medical school as applied to adolescence, in which the individual establishes an identity apart from others and completes a healthy separation from the family. It is naturally a “push-pull” phase of life, simultaneously pulling the family in closer – while fearing becoming independent – and pushing the family away, knowing that independence is necessary, and desirable.

But none of this higher-level knowledge is much help when I’m dealing with two daughters who are at each other’s throats over imagined transgressions in the bathroom. The intensity makes it even more spectacular. I’m sure it’s also harder to be a twin; it helps that they are fraternal, and look nothing alike. Regardless, it must be doubly difficult to separate from your family and your twin, too.

It does help me not to take anything personally; I can support their molding an identity without feeling personally affronted by the sparks that are thrown off during the process. Meanwhile, I have my sights on the outcome: a healthy separation from our family, while exploring and ultimately finding an identity they can be comfortable with, grow with, and celebrate as their own.

So, hormones, let’s have a open and frank discussion. Decorate things any way you like, just don’t destroy the house. I’ll still plan to feed you dinner.

Kathy and her husband, Dave, blog about homeschooling their three gifted children at www.chasinghollyfeld.com.

If


For such a tiny word, it sure packs a wallop.

Half a gazillion years ago I had a dear flute student. For her Sweet 16, her mom put together a scrapbook of sorts, full of pictures and memorabilia and letters of advice from favorite teachers. She asked me to contribute a letter, and I was honored to do so. Now, this was long before I did any writing, probably six or seven years before I fired up my blog, so I really struggled to get out what I wanted to say. What could I possibly say to a 16 year old, when I was maybe only a dozen years older? It’s not as though I had a whole lot of life experience to pass along.

I finally settled on the theme of What If. Together those are two of the most powerful powerful words in the English language. They are full of possibility and hope and adventure. Those two little words inspire, encourage, and push us to greater heights. I really wish I had kept a copy of the letter I wrote, but this was some fifteen-odd years and at least four computers ago, so it’s lost to the ages.

What If we build the schnafoodle to connect to the whoozit, program it to gafliddlyfoink, and set it to work while we’re sleeping? What If we say yes to the things we usually say no to, and vice versa? What If we provide appropriate academic interventions for gifted students, because fair is everyone getting what they need?

The yang to What If‘s yin is If Only. If Only. Is there a word pairing more frustrating than If Only? I can easily berate myself into a pulp with those two words. If Only I knew what was going on with my son I could fix it and we could all finally live in something resembling familial harmony. If Only I had another six hours in a day I could finally get everything done and relax. If Only I hadn’t given up my career, or had any kind of career now, then maybe I would worry less about the future. If Only I hadn’t made the decisions I did back in the day, maybe then things would be different (and better) now.

If Only, If Only, If Only… Dangerous words, those. They’re full of despair and frustration and anger, the very opposite of What If. And yet they’re the words that hold me hostage to myself. They grab me around the neck and squeeze, usually late at night as I’m trying to sleep. If Only is the invasive plant of the soul, choking out any hope of What If setting down roots to grow.

What If. If Only. Two two-word phrases that can lift us to great heights or drown us in our dark thoughts. Opposite sides of the coin we all carry in our mental pockets, one defined by possibility, the other by despair. What If we made the conscious decision to set the positive roots, and let the invasive If Only die off?

What If?

Do You Rest?


1-1-napping cap

Many exceptionally gifted children have trouble sleeping at night because their minds do not shut off enough for sleep to come.

D.V. Lovecky, “Hidden gifted learner: The exceptionally gifted child”

Parents of gifted kids often realize in retrospect that the sleep challenges their kids faced as infants and toddlers were the earliest signs of their children’s’ giftedness. From birth, the constant need for stimulation, the craving for novelty, and the drive to learn interfere with a child’s ability to rest. Parents of gifted kids whose willingness or ability to take a nap never existed or withered at 18-months look with jealous bewilderment at children who must be weaned off afternoon naps before starting full-day kindergarten programs at 5 years old.

It isn’t just gifted children who have trouble with turning their brains off. Gifted adults struggle with this as well.

As we get older, we find ways to get enough sleep – maybe not enough sleep to be truly rested, but enough to get by. But many of us continue to struggle with rest.

Far too often, the cultural story we hear that reinforces rest as an important part of enjoying a fulfilling life goes something like this.

I worked all the time through my kids’ childhood, missing the first words, the early walking, the sports games and dance recitals because I thought my work was more important. When I was diagnosed with cancer and my doctor told me that with aggressive treatment, I might make it another 5 years, but the likelihood was that I had a year, I stopped. I just stopped. I quit work. I gave up my networking and client meetings. I connected with my family and made sure I was with them for all the time I had left. I was transformed by connecting with them. Cancer has been the greatest gift life has ever given me because it forced me to slow down and become present.

But, it shouldn’t have to be that way. We need to find ways of resting, slowing down, and connecting with the important things in life without dying or nearly dying.

Many of us need permission to rest. We place our value on what we have done or what we are doing and worry that we will cease to be valuable if we cease to produce. We fear that rest will somehow translate into a deep failure from which we can never recover.

For many gifted adults, work is a cover for existential questions. Being too busy to think means being too busy to face the underlying questions that plague many gifted people – in the face of all we know from science and history, what is the point of being;? Humans are a drop in the cosmic bucket with destructive tendencies that lead to war and strife through all of known history; why should we go on? How can our lives have meaning or purpose? If we never rest, we never have to face those questions.

For me, my fear of resting manifests in my use of social media. Now that I carry a computer in my pocket, I can always fill my time by being active on Facebook. I have many other bright friends on Facebook who also fill their time sharing fascinating things, so I delude myself into thinking I am thinking about important and interesting things, but in reality I am thinking for the sake of thinking.

I have challenged myself this summer to put the smart phone down and find real ways to rest more deeply and more often. And, I am discovering that when I do, I play more, smile more, and connect with my family with more joy.

I need to honour my body’s need for rest to live fully. It isn’t always easy. As I protect sleep for my kids for their growth and well-being, I must protect rest for myself.

This summer, are you finding ways to rest?

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Kate is the founder of ImprovLiving: Improve Your Life with the Power of Improv and writes about creativity and story-telling as tools for making sense of the world at www.katearmsroberts.com.