Butterflies = Keep it Moving (forward)

Butterflies

Am I the only one on this planet that has that sick feeling in their stomach when embarking on a new venture? That feeling often leaves me confused on whether it's a signal to keep on trucking because I'm on track - or to stop right now because there's an impending crash? Do those butterflies in my tummy mean onward or retreat?  I've found for the most part, that feeling points to my need to keep it moving, forward, in and through that fear. I've more often than not found that past that threshold is an exciting new discovery like a new skill, passion, great relationship or destination.

A few years ago, I got tired of that yuck feeling signalling something wonderful on the other side.  Shouldn't markers that point to all things good feel good?  Lately, I've been listening to a tonne of mindfulness podcasts and self awareness speakers and the common thread is the mind and body detests change. Even when it knows the change is for our own good. It hates discomfort, even if it will be temporary and something better awaits beyond.

So I went on a journey to trick my brain into being excited about something I'd maybe wanted to try but was confronted with those darned butterflies instead of a blissful feeling. I quickly learned that my tendency to default to anxiety and problem-atizing (that's not a word) the unfamiliar was not suddenly going to transform to glee just because I wanted it to. So I settled with trying to coach my mind to not respond emotionally at all. That emotions were not a marker of rightness or wrongness. Emotions were a marker of predisposed thinking that often had little to do with the task at hand but historic factors completely removed from the present. What if I could treat the next step as an objective task I needed to complete in order to enable me to move to the next step without attaching my success or failure to my sense of worth.

This thinking was reinforced what some experts refer to as micro-goals or as my friend likes to say "chip away" things.  What often causes anxiety is the size of the target. When we want more, more is hardly a small thing. A promotion, travelling the world, making an epic meal, hosting friends or family members, losing weight, starting a business, adopting puppies (that was my one). Off the bat these things appear monumental when they are new territory for us.

The Bubbas

With my pups, I knew I longed for animal companionship. I love the playfulness and personality of dogs and as a person living alone, I wanted a warmth and non judgmental sharing of space. I desired canines to walk with, sit with, hang out with in the presence or absence of human company. But the desire was wrapped with anxiety. Would I have the time? I had no idea where to begin potty training, socializing, diet... But I KNEW I wanted pups. So I adopted two 5 week old Pekingese. It was journey of what the internet (and friends) said would be up to 6 months of hourly interrupted sleep to potty train them. When this journey started in the middle of winter, I had massive regret.  It was hell. They peed in the house every day for the first few weeks and I have wooden floors. Determined not a have a stinky space, I persevered with the potty training, but I gave up many times. Fear that I'd made a massive mistake committing to these animals set in. Worse, a sense of failure which is often what those pre-new things butterflies are about.

What surprised me was how my quickly after getting them, my eyes opened and I discovered many people around me that had dogs. Two colleagues threw me a puppy shower and helped me pup proof my house. My crisis helped me find common ground with people I hadn't previously spent much time with because I needed them. The need turned to shared experiences, play dates and now friendship. Two months later the bubbas go outside to pee on the grass, ALL BY THEMSELVES. It drives me nuts that they  eat their poop when I'm too far to say "NO!" (I tried the hot chilies thing, but those dogs are gangsta). Now I call them my little joy bringers.

So at this side of the initial want I absolutely have a lot more responsibility to feed, wash, play with them, but I have gotten so much in return.  I have joy, everything I wanted when the desire first came and more. Those butterflies in my tummy did warn me that I would feel great discomfort but butterflies are just that, butterflies. Over the years, I'm learning to observe them, breathe through them and that they are not to be feared but often point to:

• New adventures that could lead me to something better.
• Butterflies can lead us to new connections and wisdom that can last a moment or a lifetime.
• Butterflies can point to something we desire that feels enormous and overwhelming. But enormous is manageable if you chip away at it consistently.
• Butterflies can cause discomfort that will more likely grow and make you better than kill you if you press through it.  
• Emotions are not reliable and just as fast as they come, can be changed to something neutral.
• What matters isn't always what you feel, but what you do and often what you do can lead to some pretty good feels.

So fear or no fear, butterflies or not,  my hope is to keep it moving (forward) and not let a little discomfort keep me from the more I desire.