Author: Shannon Crane

I Worry I’ll Never Change – Here’s Why I Still Accept Myself

“Our journey is not about changing into the person we want to become. It’s about letting go of all we are not.” ~Nikki van Schyndel, Becoming Wild

I recently went on personal retreat to once again try to heal my wounds, see my patterns, and find my purpose. I loaded my car with journals from the last two decades and a book of poetry dating back to 1980. I packed my cooler full of nourishing food, but then added a six pack of beer and an expensive bottle of wine—completely unaware that I was about to sabotage my personal growth by continuing to numb my pain.

I had decided to use my retreat time to review my journal writings, pull out any wisdom I wanted to keep, and release the rest in a burning ceremony. On my first day, I labeled each journal with the year it was written and organized them all chronologically. This task felt arduous yet satisfying when I sat back and looked at the twenty-five volumes all laid out neatly in order.

I spent the next three days re-reading each and every one. Re-living the emotional angst of problems in this relationship, then the next … and the next. Teasing out the patterns of insecurity, sabotage, and grieving. Re-visiting the same themes and my same desire and commitment, after the ending of each relationship, to be this person who stopped drinking in excess, meditated daily, ate healthy foods, and took good care of her body.

Over and over, I had glimpses of this centered, calm, wise woman who I’d like to think is the real me. Yet over and over, I’d jumped into another relationship, lost myself, and repeated the pattern. Pages and pages full of the same story, only with different characters and at different times. As I read each journal, I tore out pages to burn, cut out sections to keep, and drank to numb the pain.

On the fourth day I finished organizing the scraps of paper I wanted to keep and sat back with immense satisfaction. By early afternoon I had my fire going and drank my first beer of the day as I burned … and burned … and burned. Words turning into ashes. I stayed emotionally distant, cut off from my feelings, not making much of a ceremony of it after all.

Feeling restless, I downed the last of my beer and pulled on my hiking boots. The trail outside my cabin began with a steep decline, winding along the side of the mountain and deep into the woods. As I walked, I kept thinking, “I haven’t changed. I’m still the same. What will it take to change? Why can’t I be that person I say I want to be? My life is one big loop.”

I thought maybe the answer was that I just needed to be more self-disciplined. However, I immediately noticed the word “discipline” repelled me. If there is one thing I know about myself, I am not one to obey rules or codes of behavior—and I already punish myself enough. So, no, self-discipline wasn’t the answer. It was clear that I had spent a lifetime trying that approach and beating myself up for not succeeding. I kept on walking.

At some point I questioned if maybe this was what life was really all about: the striving to be someone we are not. By that time, I was walking back uphill and had to stop frequently to catch my breath.

Standing alone in the woods with my heart beating hard, staring blankly at the trees, I wondered if maybe the answer was just to embrace who I am. It’s pretty clear, after reading over my life for twenty years, I haven’t been able to change.

My mind continued to whirl: But I’m not able to accept those parts of myself that drink too much or can’t stay focused. I don’t want to be that person who is overweight. I really do want to meditate. I stopped again, looking down the mountainside from which I had come. Apparently embracing myself wasn’t quite the answer either.

By the time I had returned to my cabin, I no longer wanted to drink. I reflected again on the common thread throughout the years and suddenly saw the essence of myself that is timeless.

It was there in my poetry from over forty years ago, in the heartbreak when I sabotaged yet another relationship, and in the yearning to be different.

In a flash of insight, I recognized—contrary to the self-criticism that had been running through my head—the unchanged me was not a bad self. She is someone who wants to do better, who wants to be better, who recognizes the impermanence of time and seeks to grow.

As I saw her, I knew this was the me I could totally embrace. I briefly thought about starting a new journal with this great insight, then laughed because I knew, if I did, I’d be reading it in twenty years, shaking my head, and saying “nothing has changed.” Then I would beat myself up for not being who I thought I wanted to be, and the cycle would just continue.

In this recognition, I knew that those parts of me I so strongly criticized weren’t going to go away. And while I couldn’t embrace them, I could accept them with greater compassion and love.

I saw the truth that even if I don’t meditate daily, exercise, eat healthy all the time, and have a full and balanced life, the part of me that strives to do those things is always there. She was in every page where I said I wanted to make those choices, and she’s been with me all along. She is the one I need to accept and embrace; it’s not who I want to be, it’s who I am.

The review of my life helped me understand it’s a process. That timeless part of me may come and go, just like I have my moments of awakening to my wisdom and then forgetting it all. Sometimes the me who struggles to make healthy choices is going to hijack my life. I can accept that is a part of being human. It’s not self-discipline I need, it’s self-acceptance of my duality. Both my wise woman and my saboteur.

I am a wise and powerful woman. I am a kind, sensitive, and caring soul. I love deeply. I care deeply. I feel deeply. I don’t need to escape from who I am; I simply need to remember. Ultimately, what really needs to change is that I need to nurture self-compassion and self-acceptance at the deepest level.

My last day at the cabin, I awoke to sunshine and blue skies. I felt good and strong. I spent part of the day shopping in the craft stores of the nearby village, and before I knew it, I was halfway to the liquor store. I kept trying to convince myself it was okay, but recognizing I wanted to make a different choice, I managed to turn around before it was too late.

I chose a waterfall hike and scrambled past the tourists, up to the top of the falls. The rocks were a slippery slope, but the irony of that and the potential of me drinking didn’t quite register until later. When I reached the top, I sat a moment to meditate. As I closed my eyes, I embraced this timeless essence and felt so much peace and gratitude for her presence.

My inner saboteur tried to take over again when I got back to my car. Sitting in the parking lot, I asked myself, “What do you hope to accomplish by getting a drink?” Then, I laughed at the quick and witty answer, “A hangover.” I drove back to my cabin, made myself a healthy meal, and drank a glass of water.

I understand now this journey is a day-by-day, moment-by-moment reclaiming of who I am. I also understand the part of me that has been in control when I’ve forgotten my essence isn’t going to disappear overnight.

However, I no longer fool myself into thinking anything is wrong with me. I recognize and embrace my commitment to growing in wisdom, strength, and joy. And I embrace all of who I am, while having compassion for the parts of me that struggle.

January 11, 2023
Stop Trying to Fix Yourself and Start Enjoying Your Life

“You think that the goal is to be over there, and we say the goal is the journey over there; the goal is the fun you have along the way on your way to over there.” ~Abraham

I have a clear memory of my mother looking at my bookshelves several years ago and commenting, “You’re always reading all these self-help books, and where has it gotten you?”

I responded with a quip about how I’ll always be working to align my personality with my soul, to which she scoffed and said, “When will you grow up and realize you have a great life, a great job, and great friends—and just enjoy it?!”

Of course, all I heard was “When are you going to grow up?” Her point, however, was a wise one: Just enjoy your life. She made a similar comment a couple of years later.

I had just been told the place I was living was going to be turned into an art studio for my landlady. Thankfully, she gave me two months notice to find a new place. But man, I loved my cinder block house on the river and was crushed by the news.

I called my mom in tears. I complained about how I’d never find someplace else so wonderful and how unhappy things were with my job. I talked about wanting to just sell everything I owned and take a walkabout.

Mom didn’t say a lot at the time. However, when I got up the next morning I had a long email from her. My favorite paragraph is this one:

Shannon, you should stop buying all that self-help crap and going off to retreats to find yourself. You are not perfect, never will be, and no one in the world is either. You make mistakes; we all do. Just live with it. You are a warm, intelligent woman—just live the best honest life you can.

All of my self-help books and years of spiritual study, and my mom nailed it in one simple paragraph. Granted, her delivery could use some work, but the essence of what she wrote was right on. Again.

I will, of course, continue to read personal development books and go on personal retreats. However, I no longer do those things because I think something was wrong with me. Now, I do them because I love myself.

However, I think the best message here is to just live the best honest life we can and let that be enough.

For the majority of my life, I’ve spent massive amounts of time beating up on myself. My inner critic is a loud and obnoxious voice that has seemed unstoppable. My biggest judgment of myself has been how I tend to “slumber” and “awaken” in my consciousness.

For example, when I was on a personal retreat in the mountains this summer, I was really feeling inspired, in the flow, and motivated to become a successful writer and speaker. I was excited about this new life I am creating and about feeling fully conscious again. I was sure I was going to maintain my awareness.

Then I came down off the mountain. Once back to the routine of my everyday life, I easily slipped back into distraction. I stopped meditating every day. I played computer games instead of writing. I vegged out to my favorite show on Netflix.

Once again, my inner critic rose up and I started to get really down on myself. It’s ironic that what inspired me to get out of my funk was my own voice recording from when I had been on retreat. Listening to it, I was reminded that slumbering and awakening are just a part of life.

I heard myself say, “When we do stumble, when we do fall, when we are capsized, we learn to have compassion and simply laugh at our humanness.”

I’ve realized it’s so easy for me to get caught up in this idea that I need to be perfect. If I only drink enough green smoothies, go to yoga class, and chant an hour each day, then I can be happy. However, the minute I skip some part of this self-imposed regimen, I beat myself up and feel like a total failure.

Life is about slumbering and awakening. It’s about falling off the wagon, the exercise routine, the diet, the spiritual practice. Anyone who appears to always be perfectly aligned is most likely not being fully authentic. We are human, and this is what being human means.

My dear mother, at age eighty-three, has got this message without having read or studied any of the numerous discourses on this subject. She just enjoys her life.

At the end of the day, what is most important is how we answer the question: Were we kind to one another? And, equally important, were we kind to ourselves?

People jumping image via Shutterstock

March 24, 2016
There’s More Right in the World Than You Might Think

“When you turn on the television … you run the risk of ingesting harmful things, such as violence, despair, or fear.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

I passed the rack of newspapers on my way into story time at the library, ignoring the latest headlines. Murder, mayhem, war, disaster—it all calls like a siren at sea. My pace picks up as I turn the other direction.

My two-year old charge, whom I affectionately call Little Man P, is captivated by the animated librarian. She impresses me with her liveliness and ease in handling a room full of kiddos. It is clear she loves her work and those that come to story time.

After everyone else left, she lingered to talk with me and Little Man P. He’s shy and bashful, but loves attention. Since he insists in going out in his superman outfit, he certainly gets noticed.

I’ve enjoyed caregiving most for Little Man P because he has reminded me how to have fun and use my imagination.

There’s hardly a moment he isn’t asking me to tell him a story. He’s more interested in elephants that can climb trees and fire hydrants that can talk than he is in anything else. I tell the librarian how my imagination has come alive since I’ve been babysitting him.

With this comment, she seizes the opportunity to plug a special kids program coming up that weekend at the library. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to be available to attend. I explained I would be spending a few nights staying with an elderly woman at risk of falling whose husband had to be out of town for a funeral.

I shared with her what I consider to be the greatest downside to working with the older end of the age spectrum. Many, if not all, of my clients are really into the news. I can pretty much count on a newspaper at the table and the television turned on.

Rather than participating in a fun and imaginative weekend program, I’d be stuck listening to CNN running 24/7 in the background. I complained about this with my new librarian friend, commenting how difficult it is to hear all the bad news in the world.

She shook her head sympathetically and muttered an agreement. I went on to express my frustration with the news media for mainly reporting what’s wrong in the world. I asked her, “Don’t you think there are just as many good things going on in the world?”

She agreed, but then said: “Yes, but it seems things are getting worse every day.”

I felt the familiar flare of passion rise up when a topic really pushes one of my buttons.

I passionately exclaimed, “People only think that because that’s all they hear about on the news! Isn’t it just as likely there are an equal amount of miracles happening every day, or good Samaritans doing heroic deeds that we don’t hear about?”

I think my enthusiasm must have turned her off, as she made a rapid exit after my outburst. Our conversation, however, reminded me of why I have such a ban against reading or watching the news. My desire to know what’s right in the world instead was ignited.

Although not everyone agrees with the belief that we focus on is what we create, chances are if you’ve ever thought about buying a certain kind of car, you’ve experienced suddenly seeing that kind of car everywhere.

This phenomena is referred to as frequency illusion. Our minds sift out all the other data we are receiving and starts to see more of something we have just noticed or learned. It is amazing how we will begin seeing things previously unnoticed based on where our thoughts and focus are directed.

I’ll concede, simply watching or hearing about murder, terrorism, or the bad economy isn’t necessarily going to mean we see more of those things as we go about our day to day lives. However, it does increase the likelihood we start living a more fearful life.

As such, we might notice the unusual looking man at the grocery store. Then, when he pulls out behind us in the parking lot, we worry he is following us. Or perhaps we become suspicious of the neighbors who just moved next door because of their race or religious orientation.

Similar to “frequency illusion” is the experience of “selective attention.”

Numerous studies demonstrate when our attention is occupied with one thing, we often fail to notice other things right before our eyes. In one study, few people noticed a woman with an umbrella cross the field while they were counting how many times a football got passed from one player to another.

Likewise, if we are preoccupied with the strange looking man in aisle two of the grocery store, we might not notice the cashier pull money out of her own pocket to help the customer in front of us who didn’t have enough to pay for their groceries. Or see the young man help the elderly woman carry her groceries to the car.

Constant bombardment of all the horrible things happening in our world can only lead to greater and greater distress and mistrust.

What we need instead is more hope, faith, and love. In an information age where what happens on the other side of the world is known immediately everywhere, why does the media report mostly on what’s going wrong?

Imagine a primary news channel devoted predominately to the announcement of miracles or to reporting various good deeds.

What if we were constantly seeing pictures of people helping each other, babies being saved by the latest in modern medicine, or politicians shaking hands in agreement over important issues?

What if we were to hear stories about the rising inner peace movement, or new and innovative programs to assist the elderly, sick or disabled?

Is it possible we would all smile a bit broader and greet strangers with a warm hello?

Perhaps we would feel encouraged to do our own generous act of kindness or join an existing worthy cause.

Would not knowing about some of the things we hear about on the daily news make a huge difference to us in our day-to-day lives?

How can we possibly know if things are getting better or worse when we aren’t given even a 50/50 accounting?

Steven Pinker, in his 2011 book, The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined, argues things actually are getting better. He asserts violence has been in decline, despite the ceaseless news about war, crime, and terrorism.

We just can’t see it because no one is focused on what’s right it the world.

Since I’ve stopped watching the news and reading the paper, my life is happier and more fulfilling.

If there is something really important happening in the world, I will hear about it elsewhere. If there is some action I can take to make things better, I will do it. But most the time, I’m quite content to live in my bubble, smiling at people and extending kindness to strangers.

Good news image via Shutterstock

September 8, 2015
We Are All the Same, So There’s No Reason to Hide

“One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it.” ~Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés

It’s taken a long time for me to be comfortable with being completely myself.

Most people who meet me now see a strong and confident woman. Yet, underneath that confidence there is still a little girl in me that is scared. I’ve accepted that she is always going to be a part of me; however, I have learned to take responsibility for her care instead of giving that to other people.

When I meet new people, I suspect either they are relieved to talk to someone who is transparent and real, or they are uncomfortable with my directness.

I imagine it’s not always a matter of instant like or dislike on their end, but sometimes it feels that way to me. Either way, I’ve had to learn to not let others’ reactions influence how I show up in the world.

I spent a good part of my life as a chameleon, changing myself to try to fit in and be accepted.

Being the youngest of four in my family meant I was left out, teased, picked on, and blamed by my older siblings. As a result, I turned out to be a geeky kid in junior high and high school, lacking any confidence or sense of self-worth.

I walked with a funny lurch, had a bit of a speech impediment, and tried so hard to be liked that I achieved the opposite. In high school the kids all called me a dog and barked when I walked down the hall. I was the brunt of the jokes for every classroom clown.

The late 1970’s in the heart of Southeast Texas was not a good time or place for a pre-teen to question her sexual orientation. My science teacher, who had become a friend, no longer wanted me in her class when she suspected I had a crush on her.

The vice-principal of the school said I was sicker than I thought I was and needed professional help.

My chemistry teacher told the group of popular girls if they didn’t stop talking he was going to make Shannon sit with them.

We all know kids are cruel, but in Bryan-College Station, meanness wasn’t limited to by age.

I’d make out with boys in the hallways or back of the school bus trying to prove I wasn’t gay. I started seeing a psychologist. I put up with the cruelty of my teachers and students because there was nowhere to escape.

If people look closely they can still see glimpses of the young girl who kept her head down and slumped her shoulders trying not to be seen. She is still with me today. Defeated without any outs, however, she had only one choice if she wanted to live. And that was to stand up for herself.

Because it’s difficult for me to do this, I can sometimes come across kind of loud, directive, or bossy. Early on I learned to put on a good show and convinced myself that self-confidence is the key to success. Years of trying so hard not to care whether people liked me eventually integrated into a strong persona.

Underneath it, however, still lived that little girl in me desperate for love and approval. For most my life she’s been in control. Like a puppet master, she’s pulled the strings behind my mask, seeking out someone or something to be her salvation. She was great at staying well hidden but in control.

All she ever wanted was an end to her suffering. All her searching and orchestrating was always been about finding a way to stop the pain. She didn’t know the strings she pulled were putting me right back into the frying pan. How could she know that by latching onto other people she’d end up more hurt?

It took a lot of personal development, self-help, spiritual woo woo reading, seminars, retreats, workshops, relationships, therapists, self-analysis, journaling, crying, screaming, pleading, praying, rationalizing, and running for me to finally understand: Latching onto anything will only bring more suffering.

When we keep parts of ourselves locked away and behind a mask, we only give them more power and control.

Finding my authentic voice has meant holding myself with compassion and learning to accept all of who I am.

Letting go of my need to be perfect and my self-judgment isn’t something I’ve been able to do once and be done with. It’s something I have to do over and over again.

I can let down my mask and be real because I believe at our core we are all the same.

I believe we all want love and approval. I also believe that it is only by giving that to ourselves that we can give it to each other.

Woman hiding behind mask image via Shutterstock

May 5, 2015