If Marriage Was More Like Playing a Video Game...

...my husband would face one specific problem which required his expertise to solve. (No video game requires men to "just listen without trying to fix anything"!)

...my husband would see clear goals which, with effort, he could attain. (No video game expects men to "just know without being told"!)

...my husband would receive copious ongoing feedback regarding his progress. (No video game gives a man the silent treatment for months and then explodes out of the blue!)

...my husband would be part of a mentoring community, giving and receiving tips and hints, such as special "hack" codes. (No video game expects a man to figure everything out all out on his own!)

...my husband would find the cost of failure low and the rewards of exploration high. (No video game nags a man until he feels like he'll never get it right.)

If marriage produced the same "hits" of dopamine as playing a video game, my husband could consistently feel like a success, a winner, a champion!

So...how could marriage become even a bit more like playing a video game?


(For more thoughts on marriage, check out Chrysalis: A weblog for thinking Christian Moms.)

Two Weeks of, "Who me? Sarcasm free?"

Sheesh! Has it really been only two weeks?

I feel like I've been hearing dozens of "helpful" voices reminding me, "Mrs. G, was that sarcasm?...Mom, do you need to change your bracelet?...Mrs. G, can I add another $1.00 to the board?...Sweetheart, are you wearing your bracelet right now?...Man, Mrs. G, you're having a B.A.D. day!" for a couple of consecutive eternities!

Oh, the pain of having my favorite literary devices–euphemism, litotes, hyperbole, irony, and my beloved pun!–called on the carpet as sarcasm! (But, of course, I am not bitter...sullen, sardonic, and acrimonious, perhaps...but not merely bitter!)

However, in the spirit of reflective practice, here are the Top 10 Things I've learned in the last two weeks:

1) I'm lazy when it comes to interpersonal communication. Sarcasm is my one-trick pony. Without it, I babble or become stymied. All of this is humbling for someone who considers herself an extrovert with a high EQ!

2) I measure communication success by the amount of laughter (or groans–I'm not picky!) evoked. Laughter from an audience–whether it be 17 AP English Lit & Comp students during second period or dozens of women at a retreat or several hundred teachers at a convention–is my #1 drug of choice. I'll trade horses and chocolate and oxygen in exchange for laughter, any day!

3) I lack conversational skills. When it quickly becomes clear that a companion doesn't find me amusing (i.e. my one-trick pony has failed to impress!) I back-up plans are (a) hasty retreat or (b) painful silence. I've always envied those who can skillfully draw others out with open-ended questions. But clearly, I've taken no steps to learn or practice their skills!

4) I work hard to maintain a negative attitude. This is especially hard to admit, as I consider myself an eternal optimist! But listening to myself defend the value of my caustic comments has made me aware of how quickly I descend into negativity and how adamantly I defend my right to go there.

5) I'm fabulous at focusing on problems but fail at finding solutions. My favorite genre of literature is, not surprisingly, satire. All the fun of holding others up to ridicule without a stitch of responsibility for initiating change!

6)

7)

8)

9)

10)

Okay, so much for my Top 10 list: the first five are so depressing, I wanna crawl back in bed. Actually, that's a poor cliche for me, since as a Choleric, I deem sleep a complete waste of time. I'm more of a hit-the-mall kinda gal than a pull-the-covers-over-my-head kinda gal.

Fortunately, neither heading back to bed nor to the mall are available options. Instead, after five days of missing my students (oh, the urge to add "but my aim is improving!"...) they're back on campus, and in 45 minutes, I'll be back with all 116 of my accountability partners (give or take 20, if you include the various staff members who've volunteered to "support" me by declining the bracelet but listening for any hint of criticism, complaining, gossip, or sarcasm!)

So, tune in tomorrow for the final five of my Top 10...

(...or come join me in the mall!)

Just Ask: So Long, Status Quo "No"

Back in my Discovery Toys days, my team read The Aladdin Factor together. Our motto quickly became, "Just Ask!"

Failure to ask guarantees a status quo "no."

If I ask, I may actually hear "no"; but nothing has actually changed. I gain nothing but I lose nothing. I have what I had before asking. "No" big deal.

But sometimes when I ask, I get a "yes"! Then I suddenly have more than I had before.

I became an avid "no" collector as I learned that the more I asked, the more I heard "no"...and the more I heard "yes"!

Once I got out of the team-oriented, goal-setting world of sales, however, I forgot the "The Aladdin Factor".

Somewhere along the way, I traded it for the "Bother No One" principle, the motto of which is "Don't Ask."

So...

* I've not asked a neighbor for a cup of flour. I've bothered no one and made the 40-minute round trip to Safeway instead.

* I've not asked a colleague how (s)he gets such a lively discussion going in class. I've bothered no one and allowed my classroom to become ignorantly silent, instead.

* I've not asked church members for help after surgery. I've bothered no one and ended up with complications and delayed recovery, instead.

The rewards of living by the "Bother No One" principle and according to its accompanying "Don't Ask" motto are scant. I became independent (...or isolated?) I was self-sufficient (...or disconnected?) No one could call me a nuisance...or a friend.

Last Christmas vacation, as I was rearranging my living room decor (8 huge shelving units full of books!) I pulled out The Aladdin Factor and decided to revive the "Just Ask!" motto.

* Annemarie's laptop hard drive failed while she was home from college. She'd backed up just before leaving, but her backup drive was at school. Would the girls' dean go into Annemarie's room, grab the external drive, and ship it to us? Five days before Christmas, she generously took the time to do so.

* Several days after Christmas, when the backup drive still had not arrived as expected (by December 23), I called the UPS office only to learn that all "school deliveries" had been put into storage until January 3. (We live on a boarding school campus.) I explained to the UPS representative how important it was to get the external drive so we could restore Annemarie's computer before she headed back to her winter quarter of college. Could they dig through the 5000+ packages and find her box? The next day, Tracy called me back with jubilation in her voice,"I hugged the guy who found it!"

* A few weeks ago, I had a doctor's appointment in an unfamiliar part of town about 20 minutes away. I also had dry cleaning that needed to get done, and the only dry cleaner I know of is 20 minutes in the opposite direction. I hesitated e-mailing my doctor – she's a busy lady, after all! – but decided to "Just Ask!" Could she recommend a near-by dry cleaning service? Within an hour, she'd responded, thrilled to recommend an excellent dry cleaner half-way between her office and my home...and it even has drive-up service and delivery!

* Just this morning, I had to muster up the nerve to write an e-mail about a 3-day conference I really want to attend, but I have non-negotiable obligations during the 2nd and 3rd days. I've registered for a pre-conference workshop and would love to stay for only the 1st day of the official conference; would this be possible for a reduced fee? Within twenty minutes, I had a "yes"!

The rewards of living by the "Just Ask!" principle?

Well, thanks to the dean and the UPS representative, Daniel was able to get Annemarie's computer back up and running. It took three full days, making us more grateful than ever for these two women who went out of their way to say "yes." Without them, Annemarie would have had no computer–and no data–for third quarter.

Thanks to my doctor, I have a new dry convenient cleaner that gives great service and charges reasonable rates.

And thanks to a conference planner who was willing to think outside-of-the-box, I'm going to be eagerly taking notes in sessions such as "Rewired: Understanding the iGeneration and the Way They Learn," "iBrain: The Technological Alteration of the Student Mind," "Language and Learning: From the Age of Literacy to the Digital Age," "Memory, Learning, and Multitasking," "Stressed-Out Overflowing Student Brains," and "Digital Games, Digital Learning" a week from tomorrow!

The greatest reward of living by the "Just Ask!" principle is that I have so much to be grateful for.

No, not everyone says "yes."

But as long as I remind myself that "no" is status quo, I'm free to celebrate each and every "yes!"

Inconvenience...or Serendipity?

Such the inconvenience!

Yesterday, I got up early to pick up a prescription at Walgreens. I arrived to learn that they were out of the medication but would transfer the prescription to another local pharmacy. I chose Target, since I needed to do some shopping there.

I arrived at Target, did my shopping, and then stalled for an hour waiting for Target's pharmacy to open. When it did, I was told that no, Walgreens did not transfer the prescription. In fact, they could not "transfer" it because the Target pharmacist had to personally call to receive the prescription. And the wait time would be at least an hour.

In the midst of this, Annemarie texted me, "Mom, where are you? I'm leaving soon!" So, I headed home to say goodbye.

An hour later, I drove back to Target to get what I'd left home four hours earlier to get, fuming the whole way about the inconvenience, the wasted time, the stupidity of it all.

But later in the day, as I helped Jonathon dress up as a Beatnik for the Junior/Senior 50's bash (the James Dean look is hard to pull off with a beard!) I realized that from a slightly different perspective, the morning's events were nothing short of fortuitous.

While waiting for Target to open, I spent time in Ross. That's where I found a pair of inexpensive black pants, dress shoes (which Jonathon can also wear with his Oceanaires tuxedo!), and the one thing I was afraid I'd never find spur-of-the-moment: a black beret.

And because I returned to Target, I found the two finishing-touch items we were missing: a skin-tight black turtleneck and a funky scarf (both deeply discounted!)

Without the beret, the turtleneck, and the scarf...well, we wouldn't have had a beatnik outfit!

How often do I complain about inconvenience...and miss the chance to celebrate serendipity?

Living in His Delight

It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis, and this month we're sharing our Christian testimonies.

Here's what I wrote six or seven years ago, during a CLASSeminars training. This was the first time I ever publicly shared my story (which is, of course, really His story!)


Once upon a time, there was a little girl who tried to be good. I grew up knowing all the rules, and wanting to follow them. I was a “good girl.”

By my freshman year of high school, everyone expected me to be good, so I decided to aim for perfect scores on every single Geometry test the entire year. With enormous effort, I pulled this off for two full quarters...until, in disbelief, I watched Mr. Vickers red pen mark “minus 1” on my “perfect” test. I ran from the room, hid behind the gym, and cried for 2 hours.

Well, that minus 1 may have knocked me down, but I was no quitter. I decided what I really needed was a 4.0 GPA for all four years of high school. Wouldn’t THAT be the ultimate in being a GOOD GIRL?

In my journal, that October, I wrote:

I’m expected to bring home good grades -- nobody seems to realize that I DO have to work for them! They don’t just happen! I’ve learned not to expect praise for anything I do, but somewhere inside me the little girl still drops a tear or two when it doesn’t come. I could let it get me down and just stop trying, but I still have to do my best for me -- a hard taskmaster. But, even though I’ve written all this, it doesn’t bother me a lot. In fact, I didn’t realize half of it before it came out of my pen! I live with it, though at times, I am just a bit wistful.

What started out as a personal challenge became a drive to “succeed” at all cost. And I defined “succeed” as doing LOTS of GOOD things and being VERY GOOD at them: 4.0 GPA, yearbook editor, Student Body Religious Vice President, plus community volunteer work.

What I didn’t know at the time is that my family NEEDED me to succeed -- needed me to be a VERY GOOD GIRL. All I knew was that I had a secret, and it was driving me crazy.

Day after day for a long year, I struggled. Should I keep the secret? Should I tell someone? I didn’t know what to do, and I had nobody to turn to for help. I felt utterly alone.

Finally, one sleepless night, the truth came out. Everyone was SO ANGRY with me. Some were angry with me because I wasn't supposed to tell. Others were angry with me because I hadn’t told sooner.

In my journal that day, I wrote:

I really don’t know how to feel or what to do -- I’m sort of dead to it all, now. Somehow it doesn’t effect me, yet it must; I guess I’m shying away from the pain as long as I can.

And then, on a seemingly unrelated subject:

I’m starting a diet today.

And did I ever get “GOOD” at that diet. Over the next year, as the turmoil of our family's issues raged loudly in the house, I quietly lost pound after pound after pound...and proudly became thinner and thinner and thinner. My periods stopped. My hipbones stuck out. My entire focus in life narrowed down to being GOOD at this one thing: losing weight.

Well, I was so “good,” I was admitted to an inpatient Eating Disorder Hospital program with the diagnosis of Anorexia. Six weeks of therapy, assertiveness training, and nutritional counseling had minimal effect. All I’d ever wanted was to be a “good girl,” and I was REALLY good at this weight loss thing. And I was no quitter! I was NOT ready to give it up, yet -- maybe once lost a little more and hit my goal of 85 pounds, but not before.

One night, after a particularly rough family counseling session -- “rough” because my counselor was once again pushing me to share my feelings with my parents, something this GOOD GIRL was NOT going to do -- I opened my Bible, hoping to read myself to sleep. In Psalm 18, I read:

The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me.

This jarred me awake. I realized this was me! I was dying. Anorexia was not just a diet. Anorexia was committing suicide . . . slowly.

In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help!

Really?!? There was someone I could go to for help? I was NOT alone? I was in “distress” and I could call to God for help?!

The earth trembled and quaked, and the foundations of the mountains shook; they trembled because he was angry.

God’s response was DRAMATIC -- he was ANGRY, but not at me -- he was angry FOR me! I read on and found that His version of “help” included lightning bolts, thunder, and earthquakes. I was WOWed! Here was someone I could trust to REALLY take control of my out-of-control life!

And on that day, 20 years ago, this last line read as a personal note from God to this wistful little girl who just wanted to be good enough to be loved:

He rescued me because he DELIGHTED in me.

Not because of my perfect performances, not because of my 4.0, not because I was Religious Vice Anything.

God DELIGHTED in me?!?

GOD delighted in me?!

God delighted in ME!!!

The details of your life story no doubt differ from mine. Perhaps, in your own way, you’ve tried to be a “good girl” -- good enough to be loved.

But whatever your “once upon a time” has included thus far, I assure you today that God can write your story a happy ending like mine: And she lived In His DELIGHT forever after.

Somebody Always Pays

Misery loves company.

So I've been having a great time reading my students' blog journals as they report their personal experiences with the Complaint-Free Challenge.

As I switched my band more frequently on Day #5 than I had on Days 4, 3, 2, and 1, I was comforted to know that quite a few of my students at least understood my struggle, even if they weren't "paying up" each time they switched.

Here's how one senior girl expressed herself on Day #2:

I thought that after the first day everything would become much easier. I was wrong. It did in fact make me more aware of myself but i still had trouble with my challenge.

I noticed that the people around me really influence what comes out of my mouth. Especially girls; I didn't realize how much I gossip. I never thought I really criticized either but I guess gossiping can be criticizing someone. I also complain about people which leads to gossip.

I thought that these three different categories were just that, different. I never noticed that when I do one, it often leads to the other. If I complain about someone it could lead to gossiping about them to criticizing them. I never noticed all this was so connected. It made me realize my challenge is going to be harder than i thought.

It also didn't help my friends were complaining, because I wanted to give some input. I wanted to be heard and I wanted my friends to know I agreed so bad that I just said, "Guys, I really want to complain but I can't so I just wanted to let you guys know that I agree and would complain if I could." Hahaha. (I don't know if that considered cheating. I hope not.)

It really made me wonder why I wanted to be heard so bad. Why would I want people to hear my opinion when it's only a complaint?

What a great question! Now, I'm not convinced she or I need to totally stop our complaining, criticizing, gossiping and/or sarcasm. But the Complaint-Free Challenge is causing many of us to stop and ask some really good questions.

The all-important question for me, right now: How much is this going to cost?

As each group of students came to class on Friday, the first thing they did was check the tally marks on the white board. They had to perform complex multiplication/addition before exclaiming, "Dude--Mrs. G!"

One offered to erase all the messy marks and simply write my total at the top. But I told her to leave everything just the way it was. A two-digit number is so much neater, I'll be tempted forget the 72 individual episodes that occurred one at a time...one person at a time.

On Friday, I "just couldn't resist" and pulled a student's leg (to use my dad's term!) He trustingly believed me and then blushed as the entire class laughed at his naivety.

I need that crooked tick mark–which he added himself–on the board to remind me that the question "How much is this going to cost?" is one I must continue asking myself before opening my mouth, long after this challenge is over.

Having never before tried this challenge with the extra incentive of paying a literal $1.00 for each switch of the band, I've always gotten away "scott free" with complaining, criticizing, gossiping, and sarcasm.

So I'm just now facing a vital truth: They're never free.

There's always a cost.

Somebody always pays.

Consider It

Yesterday, my son sneezed and said, "Pardon me."

I responded, and he asked, "Was that sarcasm?"

No matter how hard I tried to rewind my brain, I could not conjure up what I'd just said.

He finally had to tell me that after he'd said a polite, "Pardon me," I'd automatically responded with, "I'll consider it."

I'll consider it?

On what snarky auto-pilot setting is my brain stuck, anyhow?

No, I shall not condescend to immediately give you the all-important pardon which I, alone, can grant. Such a request requires rigorous thought and prolonged pondering during which you must wait with properly baited breath until my final decision has been rendered.

I switched my bracelet, added $1 to my total owed (up to $47 as of 4th period today--ouch!) and told my students about the episode.

They all laughed in disbelief, partly that I couldn't remember my own words two seconds after saying them and partly that I can be so flippant even in such "small" situations.

This morning, in every class, my students were vigilant, pouncing on me for just the start of a critical comment or the first hint of a sarcastic tone.

I insisted that eliminating old bad habits and learning new better ones takes time. I'm under re-construction. They need to "pardon me" while my renovations are in progress.

Their response? "We'll consider it."

"I Absolutely Hate It!"

Day #4: I already owe $25.

Yesterday seemed better, until a 9th period English II student cheerfully calculated, "No, Mrs. G, you are doing just as bad as yesterday and the day before!"

I corrected her grammar (badly, not bad!) and was unjustly accused of criticism.

I hate this challenge, I thought!

(But not aloud...that would have cost me another dollar!)

But I can't feel persecuted for long, as dozens of students are taking the Complaint-Free challenge alongside me. Even students who aren't in my English classes have stopped by my classroom, "Hey, Mrs. G, can I get one of those purple bracelet thingies?"

One senior shared some great insights after Day 1:

I didn't think [this challenge] would be hard. I figured I don't really complain, criticize, or gossip. But after just one day, I've already learned a lot about myself.

I complain a lot. I never even realized that one way I start conversations is by complaining about something. I found myself switching the wrist band so many times!

I absolutely hate it when people complain. I find it absolutely obnoxious. And as a Choleric, I am a do-er. Something I say is, "Don't complain. Do something about it." So I find it comical that the one thing that I absolutely hate, I do. I complain so much.

But I also realized that in order for me to do something about my issue, I need to complain about it first. That way, I make it known to myself and others that it's a big issue, and it makes me want to fix it. I need to find a better way to motivate myself to fixing things.

I also never noticed that when I am around certain friends, I gossip, which is another thing I hate. By the end of the day, I found myself just staying quiet because I was afraid I'd say something that would make me fail my challenge. This has made me more aware and self-conscious about what I say.

I love this challenge because I've been wanting to change what comes out of my mind because I know my words reflect my thoughts. And I really want to have better thoughts because my thoughts reflect what is in my heart. And if negative things are being reflected, than that is not healthy. I'm looking forward to this challenge helping change my ways. I wonder how I'll do.

Isn't her honesty refreshing?

I've had some students and adults insist that this challenge is unhealthy, that complaining, criticizing, and even gossiping are normal behaviors and trying to suppress them will cause untold psychological damage. (Okay, so I'm up to $26 for a bit of hyperbole, yet again!)

The point of the Complaint-Free challenge, at least to me, is to do what the young lady quoted above is doing: become more aware, notice unhealthy habits, make purposeful changes.

I totally identify with what my student is saying, as I'm a Choleric, too. And it's worth the money, the public accountability, and the over-stretched purple bracelet to work to eliminate -- rather than become -- what I hate.

"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." Romans 7:15

Sarcasm as a Warning Sign

"Ah-HA!" moment of today:

I reach for sarcasm when my pain level moves from 5 to a 6.*

By the time I reach for my Theraband or Advil bottle, I'm moving into the 7/8 range.

I know that sarcasm can serve as a cover for emotional pain, feelings such as anger, grief, loss.

But today, as I was getting dressed and I snapped out a particularly caustic comment to the cat, I had to stop and ask myself, "What was that about?"

I paused long enough to check in with myself and realized that I was hurting. Physically in far more pain than normal for 7:45 AM. Glad I'd caught the pain before it was out of control for the entire day, I switched into self-care mode.

Sarcasm as a warning sign: You're in pain. Do something about it.



(* For those who aren't familiar with my story, I fractured a vertebra and herniated the discs above and below in 2001. I've learned to live with chronic muscle and nerve pain over the last decade.)

Without Sarcasm, Will I Go Broke...and Dumb?

As I noted the last time I put on the purple bracelet, if you're serious about changing a habit, there's nothing quite like having a class full of teenagers to hold you accountable.

Within 90 seconds of explaining the "Complaint-Free" challenge to my morning English II students, I heard an all-too-eager voice gleefully asking, "Mrs. G? Is that sarcasm I hear?"

(Sarcasm isn't officially part of the "Complaint-Free" system. The class of '09 voted it a special requirement for Mrs. G because they thought I was getting away with waaaaay too much complaining and criticism wittily (my term) / craftily (their word) disguised as sarcasm.)

The English II students left and English IV entered, so I had a few minutes of safety. I was enjoying the exchange of "lively banter" (my term) with one of my more argumentative seniors when I heard a voice behind me, "Mrs. G? Is that sarcasm again?" Drat. One of my English II students had lingered, just in case I slipped.

I got "caught" twice after explaining the challenge to English IV: Once when I opened my mouth and an oh-so-typically flippant remark flew out (I simply promised that students who fail to complete a major assignment are going to find me their "new best friend" -- that's hyperbole, a sophisticated use of literary devices in conversation!) And immediately after that, when I "complained" (their word) about how difficult these 30 days are going to be.

By the end of the day, my bracelet had switched arms 7 times. Which means that I owe $7.00 to Emily Burriss's fundraiser for St. Jude's. When she hits $1,000 she's going to have her gorgeous brunette hair shaved off and donated to Locks for Love. One of my seniors (the argumentative one) cheerfully asked if he should personally warn Pastor G that "You guys are gonna be broke before the end of the month!"

But I'm actually not nearly as worried about the money as I am about...well...my identity. Who am I without sarcasm? I "only" lost $7.00 yesterday because I pretty much quit talking. 30 days of Silent Cheri, and Daniel's going to feel like he's won the lottery regardless of our bank balance! (Okay, I'm up to $8.00...yes, Emily, I'm writing it down so I don't "forget" it...oops...$9.00...)

One reason I enjoy sarcasm is because I love playing with words and seeing what can be done with them. I feel positively brilliant when I come up with a good turn of the phrase. To some degree, sarcasm is my way of "showing off" to my students, "Yes, I am qualified to teach English; after all, see how masterfully I manipulate words?"

Take away my sarcasm? I have no way to play with words. And I have no way to prove my worth.

Or perhaps I have 30 days to learn new ways to do one...and to realize that I don't need to do the other.