Oops I did it again. I blew up my carefully curated life. I thought I had finally done it. Achieved all the “things” I thought I was supposed to achieve. But when I took a moment to truly examine all the baubles and trinkets I had placed on the alter of my life, I saw it clear as day. It was all a fraud. A façade of fantastic lies and meticulously placed piles of manure covered in gold.
To be fair, not all of it. Just how I perceived the outward trappings of my existence. I felt encased in a prison on anger, resentment, doubt, and fear – that is what I needed to blow up.
One night in a moment when I felt all was lost and I would never escape, I remembered this practice I had once used for myself and shared in my book Tipping Sacred Cows.
I’m on the other side of my latest blow up, dancing through the embers of what remains of my old existence. What stays, having survived the scorching heat, must still be important for me. I don’t know what is next, yet the pain, rage and fear that ignited the blaze has gone up in smoke.
And so I offer this seemingly silly practice to you. Have fun with it.
An excerpt from Tipping Sacred Cows:
(or Some Shit You Can Learn from Me)
There I am sitting at a dinner party having that wonderful existential conversation with friends over smoked salmon and wine. I’m wearing my I’m-so-wonderfully-spiritual mask, and so is everybody else (in immediate retrospect, it’s kind of like a club, like the Elks Club people when they wear their nifty hats, except our club is a spirituality one and our hats are metaphoric masks on our faces). Someone has just finished a beautiful story about how they saved a dying bird from the jaws of their cat, giving it Reiki and sending blue light and love to heal it. The bird flits away, but not before stopping for a moment to look lovingly back at its savior.
As everyone oohs and ahs, I think to myself, Okay, yeah I’ve saved a few birds in my life. But let’s get real for a moment, Betsy (yes, I am speaking about myself in the third person while writing in the first. I do this first because I can, and second because it’s three something in the morning, and third—wheeeee). Admit it. You’ve stomped giddily on a spider, lifting your foot to make sure it’s squished into oblivion with a satisfied smirk on your face.
I decide, with the same smirk I had when I smeared that spi- der into oblivion, that it’s time to take off my enlightened-master costume and get real. It’s fun to watch the horrified look on their faces when I reveal that underneath that mask I’m more like Darth Vader than Mother Teresa—I’m conflicted. I’m part human, part master, part little shit, and I’m okay with that.
I launch in on the story of my recent encounter with a dying possum, the possum who attacked my cat and left it for dead, the possum who has been snacking on my garden, the possum who creeps me out by lurking about at night while I sit in my yard. The ultimate asshole possum.
As it lay there bleeding on my concrete, I only thought about how I was going to need to get out bleach to clean up the mess the next day. I did not rush over to it, sending it healing what- ever. I did not give it Reiki as it passed over to the next realm. I just waited for that sucker to die so I could get rid of it before my kids woke up.
Apparently, that was not very spiritual.
But you know what, it was real. And real is where I am at. As I have said, being spiritual isn’t wearing bunny bliss slippers and rose-colored glasses. We are humans and humans are flawed and when you’re hiding your flaws, when you’re hiding your true feelings, you’re not being—you’re bullshitting. Bullshitting everyone around you and, more important, yourself. And if you truly want to be free from all the old paradigms, beliefs, and baggage and move forward in your life in a way that allows you to experience the happiness that’s inside you, the happiness and peace you deserve, then it’s time, as Dr. Phil would say, to get real (see, you can learn something from Dr. Phil. In between the fake tears and the slugfest there are some gems).
I like to play a game with myself, especially when my bullshit meter is screaming Code 3! Code 3! You’re lying to yourself!
It’s called “My Life Sucks,” and it’s designed as a way for me to get real about my feelings, about what I really believe under- neath all the pithy quotes and “right” ways of being and doing.
There is a freedom in allowing yourself to be angry, to be disappointed, to be hurt, and to not judge yourself. To take some time in that space without analyzing the whys. I believe sometimes when we think we’re “aware,” we think we’re sup- posed to pull some piece of spiritual wisdom out about a situation. We forget to allow ourselves a moment to just be what we are. It’s tricky not to get stuck there—but I know I won’t, I can trust myself to not do that—but the release of allowing myself to just be brings more clarity and acceptance than when I stuff it away. When I start to “work” on the feeling without giving myself time to experience it, to understand it.
So I invite you to play along—to give yourself the freedom to take the actual time to figure shit out. This invite is open ended, to include right now.
Letting it all hang out is, for me, the first step in healing, the breaking down of old patterns and the discovery of what my true desires are. Play the victim for a while, because deep down inside we are victims; we’re just afraid to admit it. I have been a victim of my own creation. So I’m going to exercise my victim right now.
Note: I suggest, if you can, recording instead of writing out the games. When you’re speaking, you can’t judge yourself, edit yourself, or use an eraser. After you have recorded yourself playing the games, go back and transcribe what you said—and, oh yeah, don’t edit it.
I’m going to give you context to help with my example on how this works. I live in a full house with two kids, a grandmother, a dog, and, well, too many cats. So finding the time or the space to rant at the top of my lungs about my life sucking is not always easy.
I have found the best place to do this is in my car while driving, usually at night after my kids have gone to bed. With my mom home to watch them as they slumber, I jump in my car. I figure it’s the most private space I have, right?
Which means that I, er, sometimes let loose while motoring along. Because it’s private space (in my make-believe land, but whatever). So, this one time, when I was letting loose in my private space in a way that I suppose could be described as ranting. Okay, yes, I was ranting, ranting about an ex-boyfriend who was the cause of all my suffering. He was the reason I was insecure and unable to love fully and, on top of that, he had a really small penis! The fucking nerve.
As I screamed all of this at the top of my lungs, I got hung up on the word penis—it’s a great word to say when you’re mad. I repeated the words small penis over and over again, spitting and frothing (as one does when using the sm’s and p’s). What I had forgotten was that my window was down.
“Small penis, small penis, small penis!” That was me, all a-rant. Slow motion, my head turns. Smaalll peeenissss . . .” and there, next to me, was a really nice slice of manhood in a convertible. The detail about the convertible is only important because the top was down, which was like having his windows down to the power of four, plus a roof. So, there we were, eye contact being made as just as I finished the extended “s” sound of penis.
Spoiler alert. I did not get his phone number. I did get an awesome visual representation of the words gawked and in horror. I pretty sure I gave a great imitation of “insane lady” as visualized through the lens of “Holy shit—she’s going to cut off my penis!” Good times!
Disclaimer: when playing My Life Sucks, keep your hands in the ride, etc., and for the love of god, make sure you’re alone and no one can hear you.
Step 1: My life sucks: Say it loud and say it proud!
No really, it sucks. Don’t hold back, really lay it all out on the line here. What really sucks about your life? Your job, your boyfriend, your car, your house, your nails, your hair, your body . . . really, what sucks? Spend as long as you can listing everything that sucks about your life. But truly mean it and don’t judge. If it popped into your head, you absolutely hate it, so say it, or write it down.
Examples: My shoes suck because I can never find my size. My clothes suck because I’m short. My car sucks. My boyfriend sucks. My furniture sucks. My garden sucks. My hair sucks.
Step 2: Why does it suck?
Does it suck because of your parents, your husband? Who or what made it suck? Now is not the time to go all Deepak on yourself and pretend you think you have some wisdom, because if you did, your life wouldn’t suck. So be honest about why you think your life sucks.
Examples: My job sucks because the people in my office are Neanderthals and stupid and mean. My school sucks because no one likes my kind of music. My parents suck because they were broke and couldn’t buy me anything.
Note: Don’t judge! I know you . . . you’re judging. Stop it! Scream it, yell it, sing it, sign it—whatever, but say it.
Step 3: Blame it on everyone and everything else.
Here’s your chance. With no one listening, really let them have it. In this moment I give you permission to be the biggest victim you can be. Go back through as much of your life as you can remember and let those fuckers have it.
Examples: I’m short because of my damn parents. My body sucks because I’m short and I had kids and they ruined my body.
Step 4: Acknowledge you’re a failure. Yep, you failed.
Admit it—you have utterly failed at life. If you hadn’t failed, your life wouldn’t suck, right? So say it loud and say it proud. I am a complete failure!
What have you failed at? Go back through your life and list every failure, no matter how small it might be. Don’t let yourself off the hook, and don’t hide behind some excuse. You failed— list it.
Examples: I failed because I didn’t go to college, and that made it hard for me to get jobs, and I didn’t go because my parents didn’t save my money, and it’s all their fault. I failed my kids because I got divorced and now they will be losers. I failed at marriage not once but twice, so now I know that I will never find love.
Note: Now is not the time to give yourself a pep talk. These thoughts are hidden deep within you. You know it, and I know it, and they aren’t going anywhere unless you let them out, so
do it!
Don’t you feel better? Wasn’t that fun! You did it. You blamed everyone, and you admitted you were a failure. All those little thought monsters that have been partying it up in your head for years are finally out on the table or the bed or in my case, the windshield of my car.
Okay, now what? You are probably feeling a little cranky and mad at the world. After all, you did just blame them for all your life’s misery. Here’s what.
Step 5: The release: Is anything I just said true?
Many of us will say no, it’s not true. But if you don’t believe it’s true, why did you say it? There is a part of you that believes it is.
Why do you believe it’s true? And do you still want to?
See, now you know what’s really lurking in the deep recesses of your mind. And now, if you truly let it all hang out, you can pick up that sacred cow and examine it fully, from all angles, look at it all painted and sparkly. You can admire all the things you did to try to pretty it up, to make it spiritual, make it accepted, make it okay. And if you couldn’t make it okay, and you just shoved it in the back where no one could see it and cobwebs formed and bugs moved in and it created a whole little world inside of you. Well, now it’s out, front and center, and you can finally deal with it. Keep it if you want or let it go if you don’t. That’s the hard part: letting go of something that has become a part of you, ingrained in your skin.
Step 6: Awareness, acceptance, and forgiveness.
And this is the final step, one that you will repeat many times in your life. The first time I played this game, as I came to this step, I cried. Actually, I sobbed uncontrollably because I had never let myself feel any of this before and the relief, the release, was so profound that for days, even weeks after, I felt great. But the truth is, sometimes those fears, those beliefs try to sneak back onto my shelf. So I am aware, and I find the time to play My Life Sucks again, and I remind myself that I am human. My feet are planted on this earth, in this reality for a reason—to work this shit out. It’s all going be okay: just do the work.
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Strangely surreal, I have been examining my life, too. I was bought up as a Christian who believed in the belief that any sins or wrongs I committed, would be forgiven, somehow, this didn’t sit well ell with me, I had read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and years earlier had started on my philosophical journey, so I realised adopted a Buddhist philosophy, realised the buck stopped with me. Unfortunately, I regressed and blamed others for my failures, my parents because they had no parenting skills, my siblings who I never liked, which was reciprocated in droves. I thought about my life and realised that it was me be a real “shit”, I didn’t appreciate my parents telling me I was dumb, refused to study, refused to comply. It was only much later in my life life I met a University lecturer who believed in me that I really began to believe in me. Then I watched How far Down the Rabbit Hole, and realised that most of my beliefs were wrong, then I began to really examine my life and now hopefully, am slightly at peace with myself!