Fall is my favorite season. Just to prove my point and also be cliche, I’m sipping a pumpkin latte as I write this (in case you’re curious: my winning combo is the pumpkin coffee beans from TJ’s + frothed soy milk, because I’m old school and soy milk is the best … sorry, oat).
When I lived in California (Santa Cruz and then Los Angeles) for four years, the one thing I missed the most was the clear pivot of seasons. Now that I’m back on the east coast (in Rochester, no less, where the season shifts are extreme)—and spied my first fallen leaves this past weekend—I have come to realize (and appreciate) that part of the reason I thrive off seasonal queues is that I deeply value explicit signs, tangible reminders, and obvious prompts that things are changing … so I might as well, too.
Despite the Marie Kondo-inspired mindset of becoming (at least more of) a minimalist (no, Marie, that item does not spark joy for me because sometimes I just am incapable of sparking goddamn joy at all), I find value in actual objects and weather patterns helping to determine—or at least inspire—my next moves.
These tangible things give me permission to shift my mindset, let go of negative emotions or thoughts I’m holding onto, and practice radical acceptance (which, no, does not equal complacency).
And so here we are. The leaves falling, the sweater weather adding a new layer (so to speak) to our wardrobe, and a welcoming melancholy in the air. I find the autumnal chill deeply reviving, as if I’ve been stuck inside of some claustrophobic hamster wheel full of oppressive humidity, and only now am I able to breathe. In, and out. Do you want to do it with me? In, and out.
I wanted to put these thoughts here as an invitation for you to join me in figuring out what you want to change in your life and to use the changing season as permission to do so.
I also wanted to remind both of us that changing our behaviors (or mindsets) will not just happen; we have to consciously choose to do so and then work (sometimes relentlessly) on it. That might mean doing a thousand interventions a day with your thoughts, reminding yourself to let go.
What might you be letting go of? Perhaps that conversation with your colleague that didn’t go the way you wanted it to and it’s bringing up fear for you (of losing your job, of being disliked in your workplace, of awkwardness during already-awkward Zoom meetings).
Or maybe you’re letting go of pervasive, negative self-talk. Whispering “I hate you” to yourself in the mirror almost under your breath; seeing yourself as ugly when you briefly catch your glimpse in the mirror at the public restroom; convincing yourself that because your partner is having a bad day and taking it out on you, it means you did something wrong and they are going to leave you.
These are all examples of opportunities to change your script. But please don’t simply read these words and nod because you know you need to change that inner-talk, but then not actually do the work. That was a double-negative; I’m trying to say that we must commit to doing the work because it won’t just change organically. And in case you’re wondering, no, I don’t have this down either—but I work on it every day.
And I am walking proof that reframing our script can indeed work. When I was much younger, I hated myself. I hated my body, I felt I was worthless, and I endlessly looked for confirmation from the world that I was less than. I interpreted every single look by a stranger as proof that I was hideous, even though I realize now that it’s possible a stranger was just smiling at me in a friendly way.
I was living in NYC at the time, where it’s hard to go out and about in your day without accidentally locking eyes with a stranger—the person across from you on the subway, the person you’re walking past on the sidewalk. I was in such hate with myself that I projected that Jasmin-directed venom on everyone else around me, making most my twenties absolutely miserable.
So how did I go from that sad girl to the me-now? While it’s true that I still must manage my anxiety and my blues—and I definitely have a healthy share of issues that I actively work on—co-existing with that malaise is the knowledge that I genuinely love and appreciate myself, on the outside and in.
That evolution was not overnight and it involved years of reframing my mindset about my body and the way I took in information from the world. The idea that something could take years to change feels basically impossible when you’re at the beginning of it, but I can tell you (and remind myself) that years break down to months and months break down to days and days break down to one reframing thought at a time.
That is how we change ourselves and rid ourselves of toxic thoughts, behaviors, and people. Or, if you don’t like the word “toxic,” how about “thoughts/people/behaviors that no longer serve me?”
Back to fall. With this shifting season comes an opportunity to shed those old habits and, dare I say, free our minds.
And since I try my best to bring you my full transparency in all its messy glory, here are the things I’d like to work on, now that fall is here:
Let go of judging the speed of my success. For example, I’ve been trying to move an idea for a creative project from just an idea to, well, a contracted gig. Even though it’s in motion (and out of my hands currently), at the end of the day, it’s still nothing more than an idea (that I’ve invested a lot of time and energy into). It can be easy for me to tell myself that I’ll never publish a book again, or even judge my successes from the vantage point of my-former-teenage-self (somehow I feel that passionate, driven child is relying on adult-me to be extremely successful, and as weird as it sounds, I don’t want to let her down). But the truth is, getting caught up in where this project is or isn’t is silly. It’s a way to totally lose perspective of all I have accomplished, as well as lose faith in the fullness of time. So I need to intervene with my thoughts, each time, and tell myself a different story.
Let go of trying to change others’ perceptions of me. This is so much easier said than done, and I venture to guess will be my lifelong inner-work. What people think of me is none of my business, and I know that. But it’s still so deeply hurtful to me when a colleague, friend, or partner thinks negatively about me—especially when their thoughts feel, to me, to be unwarranted or based in falsehoods. It’s none of my business though. And even if I think their opinion is based on something bullshitty, for whatever reason, it’s true for them. The trick is to openly and humbly look at what their criticisms are and see if any of them resonate enough to make me want to look at my behavior, and possibly change it … while also not letting their opinions dictate my self-worth or my day. Sometimes, others’ opinions of me open the door to grow and evolve, and sometimes I welcome that. Other times, I think they are just plain wrong, and I need to let go of trying to prove that to them—either in conversation or even in my own inner monologue. Do you know what I mean? Does your inner monologue ever get stuck on a track—obsessing about what someone said implied about your behavior? So you keep replaying that conversation over and over in your head to make your point, even though nobody is listening besides … you? Intervening with your thoughts here might mean saying something like, “Jasmin, stop thinking about this. Think about something else, like the lyrics of the song you’re listening to or the way your dog is breathing or your very own breath.” Yeah, like I said: this is hard shit. But it’s kind of … everything. Though difficult, it can be very liberating to let go of expecting others to side with you. If this is tough to wrap your head around, think of it the opposite way: What you think of your co-worker, and the way you have framed those thoughts, is also none of their business. In twelve steps, this is also known as “keeping our side of the street clean.” The other side of the street is theirs.
Let go of my need to do things immediately. My wife will tell you this takes the form of obsessing about unwashed dishes, on most days. And though that might actually seem petty and almost funny, I have come to realize that my pull to tidy things (including the dishes … I hate having dirty dishes) is a manifestation of my anxiety and a reaction to trauma. That type of hypervigilance frequently comes from a lack of emotional (or physical) safety as a child, or maybe a reaction to one or a series of traumatic events. In other words, my need for controlling my surroundings was indeed a survival instinct back when I had no other control. It is therefore kind of embedded in my muscle memory: must. clean. dishes. Or chaos will ensue. I don’t actually think I will ever completely rid myself of this, but I do think I can manage it successfully as long as I work on letting go of my thoughts that surround my desire to tidy. I can have a deep compassion for the little girl I was who sought control in self-harming ways because she lacked the ability to safely express her emotions, even despite the rapidly changing environment (parental structure, etc). Managing these types of things as adults require gentleness, and I need to remember to be gentle with myself even when the world (and my closest relations) are, for whatever reason that is entirely their business, not gentle with me.
What about you? What scripts do you want to rewrite?
If you’re like me, you can use this changing season as inspiration to let go of those things that are holding you back. Usually, I find that it boils down to radical acceptance, radical compassion, and radical gentleness.
(My best friend Erica and I have an ongoing joke about using the word “radical” to qualify things, as if it changes the fundamental meaning of it; it doesn’t. So “radical compassion” is basically just compassion. “Radical gentleness” means, just, gentleness. And on and on. And yet I keep feeling the urge to use the word “radical” as a qualifier—maybe because I grew up in the 1980s when everything cool was “rad,” or maybe because, like the change of seasons, a tangible reminder—whether falling leaves or placing “radical” in front of a word—is a cue for me to look within and change my inner dialogue. Or should I say, “radically” change it?)
Here’s to the falling leaves!
xo,
jazz
P.S. I’m currently listening to two audiobooks and I recommend both of them to anyone who is looking for additional resources around becoming more positive in your thinking and concurrently healing your deep wounds. One book is Positive Intelligence: Why Only 20% of Teams and Individuals Achieve Their True Potential and How You Can Achieve Yours by Shirzad Chamine, and the other is Internal Family Systems Therapy: Second Edition by Richard C. Schwartz and Martha Sweezy. Though I might talk more about this in the future on my Substack, here is the bottom line: Positive Intelligence helps you identify your inner saboteurs and reframe their actions so that you can succeed. It’s bringing up a lot for me around how negative I can be when I talk to myself, and I’m intrigued by the idea that I can course-correct. And Internal Family Systems is basically changing everything I thought I knew about psychology. It dives into our inner-world and basically divides up our different parts into different personalities (no, not like Cybill … well actually, yes, kind of like Cybill) in order to deeply heal past trauma and current anxiety. Though my listening to these two books at the same time was a total coincidence, I find they complement one another and are new resources in my self-growth toolkit.