I am very sorry. That is a bummer—especially in sales. I have definitely been there myself. I usually let myself wallow for a set period of time to get it all out and then get back to business:) I am cheering you on! 💪
The image of a smoke detector chirping in an empty room describes something a lot of women will recognize immediately: the gap between naming the loop and actually exiting it. Awareness gets treated as the whole solution when it is really only the first third of one.
I love the way you articulated this. "Awareness gets treated as the whole solution when it is really only the first third of one" is such a thoughtful observation. I think that's exactly the trap so many of us fall into—we assume that once we can name the pattern, we should be able to change it. But recognition and release are very different skills.
Meggen, this post left me with a lot of thinking—not so much about the loops, but about why I don’t spend much time rummaging around in regret.
After several days of sitting with that question, I think I found at least part of the answer.
My mother used to tell me a story about buying the bedroom set for her married life. For years, before she even met my father, she had visited it at Lord & Taylor in Manhattan. Maple. Natural finish. She loved it. She thought someday it would be hers.
When she finally brought my father to make the purchase, he pushed his hat back, scratched his head, and said, “That much? For a place to sleep?”
Then again, his hat now in his hand, his eyes wide: “That much???”
And, as my mother told me, “I said, ‘Oh. All right.’”
So they bought the oak bedroom set that is still in my guest room.
She told me that story sometime during my childhood. And she told it to me again when she was 95 and my father was just gone.
Thank you for sharing this, Helaine. I actually found it incredibly moving. You're right—it was never really about the bedroom set. It became a story about having a voice, and what it can cost us when we don't use it. The fact that your mother's story became a compass for your own life says so much. I really appreciate you taking the time to share something so personal with me.
What you’re pointing to about recognition and release being two entirely different skills is something I think about a lot, because so many people believe that once they can name what’s happening, they should be able to stop it. When they can’t, the loop adds a second layer; now they’re also frustrated at themselves for still being in it, and the glitch doesn’t need more awareness; it needs a different kind of relationship to the awareness that’s already there.
Bingo. You captured the heart of what I was trying to explore. Recognition and release really are two very different skills. We often assume that once we become aware of a pattern, change should naturally follow, but as you point out, that's rarely how it works. Awareness is an important first step, but learning how to relate to that awareness—and ultimately change our behavior—is an entirely different practice. Thanks for such a thoughtful addition to the conversation, Marc:)
Sort of like a noose around my neck. Then I ask myself, "Are these little things or big things?" Too often, I let the little things squeeze out the big things that really matter. And I ask my self, "Does Simple Matter?"
I know exactly what you mean, Bob. It's amazing how often it's the accumulation of little things—not the big ones—that creates that feeling of pressure. I think that's part of what I was trying to explore in this essay: when we finally pause long enough to notice those small glitches, we can start asking better questions about what actually deserves our attention. I love your question, "Does simple matter?" I think it often matters more than we realize.
Yes, Meggen, where you said "...when we finally pause long enough to notice those small glitches, we can start asking better questions about what actually deserves our attention. I love your question, "Does simple matter?" fits so well with an essay, believe it or not, that I wrote a while back called "Does Simple Matter?" Your response suggested to me that you might enjoy reading it.
I do know this feeling some days.
The loop is real:)
Ugh. 😑
Yep… I needed a reboot. 😅
Actually, I have been tied up by the loop for 2 days now. 😢Not kidding, I haven't even been able to eat today.
Oh no. I am sorry to hear that Selene. I hope it isn’t anything too serious. 🤗❤️🩹
I lost a big deal (I can’t get over it☹️😣😖😫).
I am very sorry. That is a bummer—especially in sales. I have definitely been there myself. I usually let myself wallow for a set period of time to get it all out and then get back to business:) I am cheering you on! 💪
The image of a smoke detector chirping in an empty room describes something a lot of women will recognize immediately: the gap between naming the loop and actually exiting it. Awareness gets treated as the whole solution when it is really only the first third of one.
I love the way you articulated this. "Awareness gets treated as the whole solution when it is really only the first third of one" is such a thoughtful observation. I think that's exactly the trap so many of us fall into—we assume that once we can name the pattern, we should be able to change it. But recognition and release are very different skills.
Meggen, this post left me with a lot of thinking—not so much about the loops, but about why I don’t spend much time rummaging around in regret.
After several days of sitting with that question, I think I found at least part of the answer.
My mother used to tell me a story about buying the bedroom set for her married life. For years, before she even met my father, she had visited it at Lord & Taylor in Manhattan. Maple. Natural finish. She loved it. She thought someday it would be hers.
When she finally brought my father to make the purchase, he pushed his hat back, scratched his head, and said, “That much? For a place to sleep?”
Then again, his hat now in his hand, his eyes wide: “That much???”
And, as my mother told me, “I said, ‘Oh. All right.’”
So they bought the oak bedroom set that is still in my guest room.
She told me that story sometime during my childhood. And she told it to me again when she was 95 and my father was just gone.
The same catch in her voice both times.
Whenever I waver, I hear this:
You have a voice.
You are worth it.
Thank you for sharing this, Helaine. I actually found it incredibly moving. You're right—it was never really about the bedroom set. It became a story about having a voice, and what it can cost us when we don't use it. The fact that your mother's story became a compass for your own life says so much. I really appreciate you taking the time to share something so personal with me.
And of course, there’s a Quiet Roars by Helaine essay in this, too. (I can’t help myself!)
Stay tuned!
I love it—I can’t wait!
Yep
Oh , I have felt that loop. Love your take on it 🧡
I am so happy to hear you liked my take on the loop on repeat:) 💛
🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶
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love this! especially the ending! 💞
Thanks Venus—I love to hear that! 💞
What you’re pointing to about recognition and release being two entirely different skills is something I think about a lot, because so many people believe that once they can name what’s happening, they should be able to stop it. When they can’t, the loop adds a second layer; now they’re also frustrated at themselves for still being in it, and the glitch doesn’t need more awareness; it needs a different kind of relationship to the awareness that’s already there.
Bingo. You captured the heart of what I was trying to explore. Recognition and release really are two very different skills. We often assume that once we become aware of a pattern, change should naturally follow, but as you point out, that's rarely how it works. Awareness is an important first step, but learning how to relate to that awareness—and ultimately change our behavior—is an entirely different practice. Thanks for such a thoughtful addition to the conversation, Marc:)
Thank you Meggen, your piece gave me a lot to think about, and I appreciate you exploring it so honestly.
I am so happy to hear that Marc:)
Thank you for writing about this so beautifully and relatably ❤️
I am so glad you liked this Meg:) Thanks for reading it ❤️
I've been noticing my loops...they are so vivid lately. Like they are yelling at me.
I know the feeling:) At least you are aware of them.
Sort of like a noose around my neck. Then I ask myself, "Are these little things or big things?" Too often, I let the little things squeeze out the big things that really matter. And I ask my self, "Does Simple Matter?"
I know exactly what you mean, Bob. It's amazing how often it's the accumulation of little things—not the big ones—that creates that feeling of pressure. I think that's part of what I was trying to explore in this essay: when we finally pause long enough to notice those small glitches, we can start asking better questions about what actually deserves our attention. I love your question, "Does simple matter?" I think it often matters more than we realize.
Yes, Meggen, where you said "...when we finally pause long enough to notice those small glitches, we can start asking better questions about what actually deserves our attention. I love your question, "Does simple matter?" fits so well with an essay, believe it or not, that I wrote a while back called "Does Simple Matter?" Your response suggested to me that you might enjoy reading it.
https://authorbobwilliams.substack.com/p/does-simple-matter?r=74kd4j
Thanks for sending me your essay Bob--I loved it!
You're not alone on this, MDB. This "glitching" seems very related to hypervigilance (or at least what I constantly experience on my end). - Seth ✦
Well at least we can glitch together:) And yes, it is hyper-vigilance.. which has its pluses and minuses.
Know the feeling. We all run that loop.
I am so glad to hear I am not alone in the glitching :) I rebooted and am back to my regularly scheduled programming. 😅