Is Negativity Contagious?

I am a firm believer in the power of positive thinking.  Our state of mind is extremely crucial to our overall well-being, and one's mental attitude has everything to do with whether a certain situation in enjoyed or detested. 

But regardless of our own state of mind, I can't help but wonder how much we are affected by the mental attitudes of others.  Even if we force ourselves to have a positive attitude about something, how much does the negativity of others still manage to drag us down?

It's quite unfortunate that humans have a greater tendency to be negative rather than positive.  Or maybe it just seems that way.  I find that it takes more energy, at times, for me to look on the bright side of things.  Wallowing in negativity and self-loathing is such an easy thing to do....why can't it be the other way around?  

This is why I am not always a fan of venting sessions.  Of course we have all had these.  Those times where things get too crazy, too out of control, where you're so stressed or so irritated you just have to let it all out, so you literally vent your feelings, frustrations, anything and everything to anyone who will listen.  For some people this is theraputic.  For others, it seems to just be a part of everyday life. 

Does venting actually serve its purpose and relieve our anxieties, stresses, etc, or does it do nothing more than fuel the fire?  From my own experience, I find that the more I analyze and talk about a negative situation the more upset I end up feeling.  I talk and talk, and my words become more and more heated, until I literally have to force myself to step away from the issue and leave it alone for awhile.  

Venting is a common feature of the workplace.  We look to our coworkers as the ones who will listen to our complaints and lend a commiserating shoulder.  It's only natural, and in a way can serve as a form of bonding between colleagues.  But how beneficial is it to bond over negativity?  And if all we do is complain to the same people over and over, doesn't that run the risk of wearing the relationship thin rather than build it up?

Some people, by nature, will always look to the negative.  They will try to shoot down and idea before considering its potential, and they are quick to point out mistakes before complimenting what was done correctly.  However, this doesn't necessarily mean anything.  Some of us need to work through the problems at hand before we can dwell on the good things.  Not necessarily a major character flaw, just a different process of thinking and communicating.  

But how much of the negativity from others impacts our otherwise sunny dispositions?  I think it affects us much more than we might think possible.  As I mentioned above, it takes much more of our mental energy to stay upbeat.  If others around you are looking at the glass half empty, the chances are significantly higher that you will soon adopt that same outlook.  All it takes sometimes is comment, a look, hushed whispering, and suddenly your mind is reeling with suspicions.  

Is there a solution?  Probably not a definite one, especially if life circumstances force you to deal with secondhand negative energy on an almost daily basis.  The best we can try to do is shut out bad thoughts and attitudes with a counter of positive thinking.  If we do our part and keep our own positivity up, perhaps it will slowly infect those around us.    

Listening to Silence

Throughout the course of a normal day we are surrounded by sound.  Alarm clocks, music, conversation, the tapping of keys on our keyboard, it seems at every turn there is something to be listened to and absorbed. 

I went for a run yesterday after work.  I was somewhat in the "zone" having just reached the top of a hill with no pain in my sides, and some very good music blasting through my headphones.  After a quick stretch of the legs I turned to continue on my way, but was stopped in my tracks. 

It was nothing in particular that caught my eye.  Just the sight of seemingly endless rolling hills filled with wheat stalks, and the sun slowly starting to inch closer to the horizon line.  It wasn't a new sight, considering I ran this route at least four times a week, and yet I couldn't help feel a bit overwhelmed.

I hit the pause button on the music.  And I listened.

I listened to nothing and to everything.  I heard complete silence for the first time in a long while.  I could almost feel things slow down, as if a switch had been flipped.  I had never really stopped to think about how much sound surrounded me each day.....it never dawned on me until I was no longer around it.

I suppose there is really no way to escape from sound, especially since there is no such thing as "complete" silence.  And for a lot of us, we need certain elements of sound to make it through the day.  Sometimes silence can cause anxiety to build, and we yearn for any kind of sound to pierce the silence so we can center ourselves again. 

But yesterday the silence was perfection.  It was needed.  It helped provide an all too brief moment of reflection in a day that was nothing but go, go, go. 

And as I continued on my run, hearing the gravel crunch beneath my shoes, I pondered the revival power of spontaneous silent moments.  Coupled with the endorphins, I was feeling the best I had all week. 

Silence.  During the right moments it can alter you in the most wonderful way.  

When did we start doubting ourselves?

I'm sure that as a kid, all the way through school you were asked what you wanted to be when you grew up.  Do you remember if your answer changed at all as you got older?  Did you soon find yourself starting out your answers with, "Well I used to want to be....." and then going on to list an occupation completely different from your original ambition?

I did. 

When I was a kid, I knew exactly what I wanted to do when I grew up.  I wanted to be a writer and a singer.  But not just any type of singer, a singer in theatre musicals.  A writer of scary stories and a singer of songs.  These were my ambitions.  I sat up in my room in front of my typewriter hurridly, punching the keys, and pulling out the finished pages with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.  I created several "volumes" of my scary stories, with the main title of the series being "Stories NOT To Be Read After Dark!"  Catchy, huh?

I loved (and still love) musicals.  I memorized the scores from "The Sound of Music," "Grease," and just about all the songs from every Disney movie I ever watched.  I danced around the house, trying to master the ability to move around and still sing on key (although if you ask certain members of my family, they will tell I cannot sing on key even when I'm standing still.  This topic is still up for debate).

I'm not sure when it happened, or why it happened, but at some point along the road I got it into my head that my chosen career paths were somehow not good enough.  Or maybe that's not entirely correct.  Maybe a better way to describe it would be they didn't seem practical anymore.  Deciding I had entertained childhood fantasies long enough, I set about trying to determine my "logical" career. 

Don't you at times get utterly annoyed by phrases like practical, logical, and grown-up?

When did our childhood aspirations suddenly become unattainable?  Why are we so quick to give up on ourselves?

I went to college and decided to study communications.  It was really a chance decision, and while I enjoyed the field to an extent, I couldn't help but feel that it didn't entirely fit me.  So I made a spur of the moment decision my junior year and within the span of an afternoon declared a double major in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing. 

It was one of the best decisions I ever made. 

I was finally immersed in classes that FIT.  I was studying and analyzing literature, I was exploring different genres of writing, I was critiquing and being critiqued and learning how to tell good writing from bad writing.  I felt like I had tapped into a hidden passion, when really it had been there all along all these years, just merely supressed. 

I think over all this stuff a lot, especially when I'm having a particularly low day at work.  I wonder how and why I allowed myself to fall into the pattern of doubt.  Why did I ever start questioning my abilities to write, to act, to basically do anything in the creative realm?  At what point did I lose the confidence to say, "Yes, when I grow up I am going to be a writer."

Naturally I took the safe path.  I chose the popular major and got the decent starter job right out of college.  I entered the workforce and began seeking out ways to add to my resume, earn that promotion, and work on projects that would add to my professional credibility. 

But it's not enough. 

As I sit there during the quiet moments of my day I think about that bulging folder of short stories in my desk at home, or that VHS version of "The Sound of Music" collecting dust on our media stand, and I know that I am doing a disservice to myself. 

I gave up on the little girl who worked so hard to write those stories and memorize those songs.  Mainly because it was the easy thing to do. 

Instead, I chose a seemingly more practical road, which luckily for me ended with a job.  Which ultimately led to money and security.  Both nice things to have, but not always fulfilling. 

Has anyone out there experienced this in their own lives?  What is it about growing up that makes us close off our minds and resign ourselves to simply getting by rather than thriving?  Are we somehow programmed to believe that what we do for a living has to be the opposite of activities that give us pleasure? 

If you've read this blog before you have heard me rant and bemoan the fact that I am struggling with my writing; with making the time to write in general.  I believe I dedicated an entire post to the fear that I feel before writing, the fear that the words will not come or that they will simply be trash. 

I'm tired of being afraid.  And I'm tired of feeling I have to be practical and logical.  

I won't be a victim of my own self-doubt any longer.  There is no reason why I can't be the person I wanted to be when I was ten years old.  Or at least there is no good reason why I can't try.  

Pay attention, kids.  Soon enough you will see me onstage belting out the words to "The Sound of Music."      

 

Anniversary at Home

Hard to believe, but the hubby and I are fast approaching our one year anniversary.  It's exciting and a bit unbelievable to think that an entire year has gone by already, which I think is more or less the standard sentiment all couple exclaim during any anniversary.

The author of one of my favorite blogs, Gretchen Rubin of "The Happiness Project," has a splendid truth which states that the days are long but the years are short.  So appropriate when applied to describing marriage. 


Obviously there has been some discussion of an anniversary trip.  An exotic locale would be most desirable, a road trip with no itinerary, camping in the serenity of nature....or just staying at home.

I have always been a firm believer in the art of celebration.  Cakes for one's birthday, family vacations in the summer, and cards and presents to loved ones at Christmastime.  Naturally, I felt that a nice little getaway in honor of our first year as husband and wife was more than appropriate.  However, if there's one thing my man and I have in common it is our tendency to procrastinate, which means we didn't even start discussing vacation possibilities until this week.  Couple that with the fact that we are trying to save up money for looming home improvement projects, we would need to locate a sitter for the beagles, and that we haven't had a nice lazy weekend since the beginning of June, and you have a recipe for an anniversary at home.

I'm not opposed to the idea at all.  But I feel pressure, as if the anniversary is somehow more symbolic than the wedding we partook in just a year ago.  Like if I fail at planning the idealic weekend I will regret it for the rest of my life. 

Obviously I know deep down that this isn't the case.  But it's hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea of a muted celebration for such a momentous occassion.  It's just not my style.  

Then again, the idea of waking up in my bed with a weekend of no plans, no commitments, and endless possibilities is also a bit enticing.  Staying up late and waking up early for no particular reason, finally finding the time to do things around the house that we always say we "should" do but always seem to be too busy, laying out in the sun with a good book, maybe even partaking in an afternoon siesta.  

The more I think about it, the more I think an anniversary at home could definitely have it's strong points.  It almost seems more appropriate to quietly celebrate our first year of marriage in the home we are building together, day by day, slowly but surely.

Overall, the real celebration point of an anniversary is togetherness.  I guess as long as we have that going for us any location will work.       

Heavy Days

It's been a bit of a heavy day.  Sad news from back home first thing in the morning cast a somber mood over a startingly bright, hot summer day.  Even though I was not directly impacted by this news, it has crept into my thoughts and caused me to tear up unexpectedly throughout the day.  Please don't get me wrong, I am in no way trying to take someone elses tragedy and turn it into my own, but it's hard not to give in to emotions and let the sadness of the situation envelop you.  Especially when it directly impacts so many people you care about.

Being from a small town, it's customary to share in the sadness and the hurt that can fall upon others.  I think the only thing that spreads faster than grief in small towns are rumors. 

But you don't have to be from a small town to be indirectly affected by sad news.  The indirect effect of upsetting situations is perplexing to me because we still go about our days like we normally would, and yet we don't feel completely right.  Something is off-kilter, out of balance.  We feel sad and unsettled yet there is no direct reason to be feeling this way.  We feel that what is really bothering us should not be doing so in such a profound way. 

Then comes the backlash.  Because once one floodgate opens several others must follow.  One sad thought leads to another, which is followed by another, until we are practically in tears over things we thought we had gotten over years ago. 

I mentioned heavy days in the opening sentence, because that is the exact result of indirect affect.  The day just sits there, weighing you down, and the smallest of tasks seem impossible.  The drive to accomplish is muted and all you can seem to do is lose yourself in thoughts of the past.  You ask yourself impossible questions that demand impossible answers, and you wonder if there really is a reason for things happening the way they do.

For some people I know back home, heavy days are just beginning and will be here for awhile.  For others, they will pass much quickly and we will soon find ourselves back in the swing of everyday life, back to the everyday thoughts, and the everyday worries.

It's just a simple fact that heavy days are a part of all our lives at some point.  I suppose the only good thing is they help us to appreciate the light ones.     

     

Choices

My husband gets insanely irritated everytime we go through a fast food drive-through together.  Why you may ask?  Because I insist on examining the menu each and every time before placing my order.  Nine times out of 10 I will end up choosing the same meal I had the last five times we visited the eatery, but that is not the point.  The menu must be scrutinized because I would hate to think that I missed out on something fantastic all because I didn't take the time to look and see what was there.

Life is all about choices.  You heard that in all the speeches at your high school and college graduations, and it's touted in every self-help book, speech, and article that has ever been written.  I think about choices all the time, not just when I am sitting in the fast food drive through.  I think about past choices I have made, future choices I haven't made yet, and choices I will be forced to make as the day goes on.  Choices rule our lives, from the color of shoes we wear on a certain day to where we decide to buy a house, you can't escape the everyday necessity of having to pick a certain thing over another. 

So what drives us in our decision making process?  The answer is everything.  Maybe not everything all at once for every single decision, but there are a plethora of forces at work in our mind as we weigh the pros and cons of a given situation.  I think emotions are at any given time the hugest factor in our decision making.  How we feel about a situation or a person today could be vastly different tomorrow, therefore changing our overall decision.    

As we get older we become much more aware of the choices we make.  Where to attend college, when to get married, when to have kids, all pretty major life decisions, all usually preceded by much agonizing contemplation.  It is absolutely terrifying to think that you might choose the wrong thing.  What if the wrong choice can't be undone?  

Then there is also the fear of missing out.  Because let's face it, if you say yes to one thing you are also saying no to another.  As you are preparing to walk through one door, another one somewhere is closing.  Pretty soon you find yourself boxed in, choices made, and nowhere to go. 

I sometimes jokingly tell my husband that I'm going through my quarter-life crisis.  I'm married, we have a house, both have stable jobs, both are driving new cars, and we have two dogs.  Nice, huh?

It is nice, except that sometimes I can't help but ask myself if all the choices leading up to this life also closed off experiences that I'll someday look back and wish I had.  Should I have made the decision to jump into the work force right out of college instead of travelling and seeing the world first?  Does buying a house at a young age mean my husband and I have resigned ourselves to living in the same town for the next 30 years?  I think about these things and practically work myself into a panic at the thought that my life is already played out and decided. 

The more seemingly permanent choices we make, the harder it is for us to tell ourselves these choices can be re-made.  It takes a subconcious effort on our part to remind ourselves that these things are not forever, and that change is inevitable.  

I think it's important to contemplate choices, although from time to time we should also throw caution to the wind and jump into something new, forbidden, and unknown.  Whether good or bad, it's all a learning process.  And isn't that essentially what our lives are about?

When we are forced to make hard decisions and close certain doors, I think it's important for us only to close the doors....not lock them up forever.  Ultimately, we are the ones who tie ourselves to the things we like and dislike in our lives.  The effort to change is a conscious choice, sometimes one that is easier to avoid than confront head on.

I think the best thing to try and do when it comes to the choices we make is to not look back.  We have all made bad decisions before. Poor choices, spur of the moment gambles, call them what you will, but everyone has at one time or another strayed down a path they wish they hadn't.  I look back a lot, sometimes to times and situations that would probably be best forgotten. And I can't help but wonder, is this some kind of ongoing self-punishment, or am I trying to remind myself what I have learned from these not-so-great decisions?  How many times must a situation be examined before the lesson is truly learned?   

The best thing we can do after having made a choice is to look ahead.  Not behind.  Don't think about the doors we have temporarily closed, but think about the windows we can open on our chosen path.

I will continue to remind myself of this everyday.  And I will continue to study the menus at fast-food restaurants.  Old habits die hard. 

                 

Do we really change?

The beginning stages of a relationship are always so exciting.  You're learning new things about a person, you're growing closer, and (in some cases) developing very strong feelings for this person you're spending so much time with. 


After almost a year of marriage and over six years of dating before that, I feel like I have my spouse figured out.  I know the traits I love and admire, as well as the habits that will forever drive me bonkers. 


When we first started dating I loved absolutely everything about my husband.  Everything about him was perfect and alway would be.  Typical attitude of a person falling fast in love.  As reality slowly set in I came to grips with the realization that there were some traits I wasn't particularly crazy about, but over time I figured these things could be worked on and modified. 


They could be changed.


Ah, such an idealistic viewpoint.  To change aspects about the one we love.  Things that in and of themselves aren't relationship dealbreakers but would be oh-so-nice not to put up with.  You know what happens when you try to up and change things about another person?  Or tell them that they should be doing things your way because it's the right way? 


You fight.  And usually not very nicely.  Guess who ends up winning these fights?


No one.


Change is something that some people crave, and others shy away from.  There are also varying degrees of change and each of us are only comfortable with the concept to a certain degree.  There are people out there who could up and quit their jobs, move to a foreign country, start a new life, and never miss a beat.  Then there are some people who break into a nervous sweat at the thought of trying a new brand of coffee creamer. 


But the changing of an individual, of a human being, is in my opinion a rare occurance.  And no matter how many times we hear the sage advice of not trying to change others but simply accept them with all their faults, we can't help but think there's still a small chance that we can alter them in some way.  


Is it simply human nature to try and change ourselves and others?  We have all at some point in time made New Year's resolutions, gone on diets, and tried new hairstyles.  These are all attempts at change.  And don't we usually assume that changing one tiny thing about ourselves will cause others to change as well?  It's only natural to strive for change every now and then, but how long does it take before we revert back to our old ways?  

Ultimately what I'm curious about are the expectations we so foolishly hold about the person we love somehow changing over time.  Why do we expect people to conform to our expectations, after a certain amount of time?  Is there something about being with a person for a certain amount of time that leads us to believe somewhere down the road they will undergo a sort of metamorphosis? 

A lot of questions.  Not a lot of answers.  What I have learned after almost eight years of being with the same person is that these traits and characteristics that we often wish would change, will not.  As part of keeping balance you learn how to coexist, maybe even appreciate these traits, and stop thinking of how to change them. 

Taking out the trash, making the bed, hanging up one's clothes, these are all things it's okay to nag about every now and then.  But we should not try, nor should we want, to try and change our partner.  Human relationships are the best arena to learn the art of acceptance and adaptation.  

Go forth and learn.