3 Words That Changed My Life

Thoughts are Optional. I will say it AGAIN.

THOUGHTS ARE OPTIONAL.

These 3 simple words have the power to alter your life. How do I have the audacity to stand on my soap box, with my megaphone in hand and claim that these words will create profound change in your life? Because it will. Period.

By breaking down this relatively simple concept into small, bite size pieces it will make it easier to digest the over all profundity of the 3 words. By understanding that you have the innate choice of how you respond and process a situation can shift a bad day at the office to productive day learning how to nuance challenging conversations with colleagues. (LIFE SKILL--SCORE) With a snap of the fingers- you can go from having a bad day at work to a day of personal growth.

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EXAMPLE 1: UNDERSTANDING WHAT A NUETRAL EVENT IS AND HOW TO REFRAME THIS EVENT

* A neutral event is just that. Neutral. One with out meaning. We as humans attach our own meaning to these neutral events. What if we have the power to actually change the meaning of an event? Well We Do. Read on.

NEUTRAL EVENT EXAMPLE 1 = DIRTY DISHES

Let's pull the proverbial curtain of my life back and examine a neutral event.

Example 1. Let's call this MOM CRAZINESS. Or better yet, let's call this example:

"A day in the life of Julie Lokun"

I come home from a meeting and there is a stack of dishes in the sink. Before I left the house, I had scrubbed a stack of sticky, syrupy breakfast plates and tucked them away into their proper place in the cabinets. And after 8 hours of work, I arrive home to be greeted by those exact same dishes piled high in the sink-like they are waiting for another soapy bath from me. This time, however there is a thick residue of peanut butter coating each dish. I huff and clench my jaw. My mind goes directly too- "Those little, ungrateful, selfish boys". Cortisol is released ten-fold as I am on the verge of tears. "I do everything for those boys and this is what I get!" I stomp upstairs, lock the door and lament on the trials of motherhood. But what do my words and thoughts really mean? What does this intense,

body- convulsing anger really project? Anger, on it's face, is a secondary emotion. Meaning anger does not take grip of your soul by itself--it's origins stem from another feeling, like sadness. Typically, a mentally intact human does not just get angry for no reason.

"Anger as a secondary emotion arises from such feelings of unworthiness, sadness or frustration, just to name a few. "

The words that I profess in agitation towards the humans I birthed -relatively recently, (and I mean there was a lot of pain involved in their births) are stemming from the neutral event making me feel un loved.

"They don't care about me". Those children who sometimes are brimming with hugs and laughter and inquisitive ponderings-just don't give a crap about this woman who works her butt off, chauffeurs them to and fro, periodically cooks award-winning meals and loves them to death--AND they just don't care about me".

We have the ability to chose our thoughts. We, as humans have the POWER to look at any situation and attach thoughts to that event. Again THOUGHTS ARE OPTIONAL.

So let us revisit the experience I had with the dishes, I attached this event with my personal meaning that I am unloved. That I do not matter. What if I attached the following thoughts instead?

"Wow, I am so glad that they made themselves snacks. They are really becoming more independent and learning skills necessary to be self-sufficient. As I parent, I am doing a good job". If I had attached this meaning to the neutral event, I would probably not have wasted a good hour being very upset with the perpetrators. I probably would have spent 10 minutes washing the dishes and would have enjoyed a bit of quiet time before they all arrived back home.

The key to truly harnessing your ability to attach different thoughts to events is to recognize your thought process in real time. When you realize that you are going negative--pause and rethink your guttural reaction. Now this is easier said than done--because this is a muscle that needs to be flexed repetitively. And, as a forewarning-- it is a bit awkward at first.

Visual reminders are also a critical tool that may help reinforce negative thoughts attaching to ordinary events:

I cannot conclude this diatribe without quoting Viktor Frankl. Frankl was a psychiatrist and prolific author who has inspired millions of readers over generations. In his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, he depicts his personal experiences in the Nazi death camps. Frankl argues that it is impossible to avoid suffering, but it is up to us in how we cope with it. He believes that by adding meaning to our suffering we can move forward and overcome any hardship. And this, my dear, is what Frankl espoused ......after watching his pregnant wife and entire family slaughtered at Auschwitz. #viktorfrankl #mindset #Thoughtsareoptional #empowerment

"The one thing you can’t take away from me is the way I choose to respond to what you do to me. The last of one’s freedoms is to choose one’s attitude in any given circumstance.”

― Viktor E. Frankl

STOP JUDGING ME GIRL

It is judgment day.

Stop it. Stop it right now. Stop the judgment. Stop the addictive comparisons to the six-pack -abbed, Martha -Stewart-like, rocket scientist who is sitting next to you. I know, right at this very moment you are inspecting the failures of my day. My hair is a mess, the bags under my eyes are wretched and I just don't care about my raggidy maxi dress I wore twice this week. Franky-I am not surprised by your judgy-infused observations-- because I have heard them before. I internalize what you say. For example, I heard when you said, why can't she get a pair of jeans that don't accentuate her muffin top? And I know you have asked --why do her kids run around like crazy animals? You have judged by thinking, why does she wear that bright, bright pink lipstick--to carpool? #urbandecay. Girlfriend, you observe, you digest, you manipulate and you make satirical comments to those who will listen. It is likely your mother would be nodding her head in disapproval-citing the Golden Rule. And, girls (and guys) let me tell you now- the fundamental goodness of me is erased by this practice of judging.

However, the most destructive element of my makeshift scenario is that I am the one judging me. I am repulsed by the reflection in the mirror.

Sometimes I feel that I am drowning. I am drowning in what other people think. And it has changed me at a cellular level. Believe it on not, I can pinpoint exactly where this self-inflicted torture began. It began in 1984. Yep. The realest year in this gals existence. Prior to '84 I was pretty much a blissful girl, rocking out to Michael Jackson's Thriller, bopping around the playground, loving mom's after school Nestle Tollhouse cookies (which reminds me I need to apologize to my kids as their after school memories revolve around half cooked, pre-made Kroger's cookie dough cookies). I digress, let us get back to 1984. Prior to this year I enjoyed a time that was acne free, brace face free and baby- fat -free. And when 1984 hit- I became acutely aware of that I was not good enough. Not only was I reminded of this by classmates, my brain connected and accepted these adolescent proclamations.

1984 was the year my self -esteem was under attack from goofy, adolescent boys telling me I am fat, I am ugly, I am a loser. Girls wouldn't sit next to me at the lunch table. Girls laughed at me because I was just not that the cute, pixie perfect, Ked's wearing, bow on top of my head cheerleader. And to be fair--they were right. Looking back and looking at this tattered 6th grade picture , I see a girl with self-styled, uneven bangs and a funky Ogilve home perm. The outfit combo speaks for itself. However, I also see a little girl that is trying so hard to smile. She is a freckle faced, innocent girl struggling to find out who she wants to be. And really, this little 11 year old, just wants to be liked.

The Message is CLEAR? (I know you can relate. Statiscally 95% ((I think 100%)) of women have repetitive negative thoughts about their bodies daily.)

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At the time when your self esteem and hormones collided- you also received external messages that grew into self-disgust. And for some, this self hate led to battles with anorexia, drug use or the welcoming of bad partners into your lives. I as lucky enough to have a good support system that embedded a moral compass into my DNA. And I am grateful that my flirtation with esteem numbing antics were kept to a minimum. The Miriam -Webster dictionary defines judgment as "the process of forming an opinion or evaluation by discerning and comparing". Mr. Miriam and Mr. Webster make the definition seems so rational and ordinary. However, the definition becomes extraordinary when it is applied to self judgment. This self inflicted judgment is constant audio loop in our heads that can create an internal upheaval. This upheaval can destroy date-nights, demolish irreplaceable moments with your children and crush your soul. I am begging you to end this misery as of today. I am hereby sending you a cease and desist letter.

At this very second you should know that we all do this to ourselves at one time or another. Our magnificent brains filter this human experience in so many ways-adjusting to our individualistic awesomeness. So embrace your quirkiness! Learn from your failed attempt to assemble a cherry, butter cream trifle. And please girlfriend- cherish your uniquely formed, hard working, life supporting body. I want you to take pen to paper and write down every time you think a bad thought about yourself. Look at it when the paper is full of scribbled, bad commentaries and rip it to shreds. HEY YOU--yes you. Life is too short. Let's not lose sight of what is truly important. Cellulite should not be at the top of your list when you have bigger, BADASS things to do. #realmecampaign #comparisonisthethiefofjoy #lifecoaching #selfcare #selflove #rise #empower

Love Shouldn't Hurt Girl

Jen's Story

I am going to call her "Jen". In a valiant plea, Jen wanted to lend her name, her voice and her soul to my rinky dink idea. After dusting off my legal 'hat' I concluded it is Jen's best interest is to remain anonymous. I know her perpetrator is angry and I did not want to provoke further altercations. However, the following snapshots are all genuine . They are hers. This is what happened behind closed doors. #wingsprogram

1:3 women are victims of domestic abuse. (I am not excluding the guys-statistics point out about 15% of men are victims of domestic abuse). This means that 5 million innocent children, see with their very own innocent eyes-the people they love and trust most in their world beating the crap out of each other. And the cycle continues.

The last time Jen got the crap beaten out of her was around the holidays of 2018. I answered the phone to guttural cries. It was the first time I knew of the abuse. I always knew Jen as a positive girl, a fantastic mom and a loyal wife. For the past decade, I always sensed there was a cloud of dissolution hovering around her marital union. I rationalized it as typical struggles. After years of marriage, there are the peaks and valleys. I know this from first hand experience. It takes a lot of effort to keep the sparkle in a marriage.

My brain reaches into it's farthest depths, trying to recall any signs that my friend was in distress. I never saw bruises, blood or evidence of confrontation. Her husband was a known entity in my life for years. Yes, he was insecure and lacked immaculate hygiene-but a wife beater he was not.

Jen, too, didn't even recognize the severity of the abuse and likened it a dark part of her marriage. This is a fantastic tool we as women have mastered--the ability to justify and compartmentalize. ( Compartmentalize the abuse--it is not all the time-he said he was sorry--flowers, dinner....)

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Jen lived in suburbia. Jen had friends. Jen socialized. Jen parented. Everything seemed normal. Was it normal for Jen to be called a "piece of sh*t"? Was it normal to be told that if she ever left no one would ever want to f*ck her?". Was it normal for her spouse to keep her up at night with P.O.W. type tactics?

This is how her husband did it (Vietnam Style)-- deprive her of sleep. He would stare at her all night and threaten to kill her. Again, she compartmentalized (her kids deserve a family). Don't we all dream of a happily ever after? So she was beaten again. Mocked another time. She was denied funds -- by controlling her finances-this limited her ability to navigate a daily routine.

SO WHY DID I NOT KNOW? WHY DID HER PARENTS NOT KNOW? WHY? WHY?WHY?

I kick myself. I feel, at my true essence, I am a decent friend. I remember birthdays, I engage in mindful conversations. I try to feed my friendships. And still I did not know. I did notice, however, that I heard less and less from Jen over the years. We had a typical routine of chatting about once a week--and then the pattern changed. Jen had become peculiarly unavailable. Her husband began isolating her. Her husband's vengeful rants began to seep into her pores. She actually started to believe that no one liked her and that she would be nothing without him. So she was silent. Victims often become eerily silent. This is because shame is a good motivator to keep secrets like this hidden and locked behind closed doors.

FACTS:*

81% of women and 35% of men who experienced rape, stalking, or physical violence by an intimate partner reported significant short- or long-term impact such as post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms and injury.

4% of high school students report being hit, slapped, or physically hurt on purpose by their boyfriend or girlfriend in the last 12 months.

Only 1 out of 3 people who are injured during a domestic violence incident will ever receive medical care for their injuries.

Most cases of domestic violence are never reported to police.

Men who are victimized are substantially less likely than women to report their situation to police.

SHE FINALLY LEFT- Jen was coming home from work one afternoon and there was a pit in her stomach. Things have not been good and her husband. He was more pissed off today than he usually was. He was waiting for her outside when she pulled her car into the driveway. Jen was met with vulgarity and a fist. He wrapped his hands around her neck and she couldn't breathe. She felt that she was going to pass out. However, she mustered a scream that her neighbors responded. And the police were called. Husband thought he was smart and quickly ran inside the home and scratched his face. The police arrived to a chaotic scene. Nothing was done. The police told Jen that if she pressed charges, Child Protective Services would be called and the kids would be taken away. So today, the perpetrator, the man she once loved, remains free of any consequences. I am calling, no begging you, my dearest readers, friends and community to help make a small difference. The week of Mother's Day, if you post a picture on your Facebook page (or any social media page) and use the hashtag #realmecampaign, and tag Wings Program, Julie Drost Lokun or AH Laser Aesthetics., you can join me in my efforts to stop the shame.

Together, we are numbers. As numbers we can blitz the net with our pictures, our testimony, our brotherhood. I hope we can shelter these victims and revitalize their spirit.

I am working with WINGS PROGRAM -www.wingsprogram.com , a not-for profit group that helps assists domestic abuse victims. They provide safe homes and services for the Chicago land area and beyond. If a woman or man is beaten, they open their doors to the broken families. They provide a sense of normality for the children. They provide shelter, food and support for a human who is at the lowest point in their life.

I promise you "Jen"--these bruises will not be in vain. xo-Jules

Need Help? Or do you know someone who does?

https://www.wingsprogram.com/