The "But" Trap

In grammar land, we use "but" as a coordinating conjunction to connect contrasting ideas ("The movie was long but enjoyable"). It sounds so innocuous. BUT, functionally, "but" is a negator - it undoes everything that came before it. And emotionally, "but" pulls all of our focus to the second part of the sentence - that which became before the "but" doesn't matter; the emphasis is on everything after the "but."

• "She seems nice, but I can't really see it working out."
• "Good job on that presentation, but I wish you had pushed harder on point 2."
  
• "You did good work, but there's no money for bonuses."
• "I'm proud of getting the award, but it was really no big deal."

BUT is so insidiously powerful for such a small word! It automatically undoes all of the nice things that came before it. And that's a crime, because whatever came before the "but" was probably true, but once the "but" happens, it's stripped of any positive power.

Here's a challenge for you:

1. Notice your "buts." Pay special attention to the way everything after the "but" is radically diminished by everything that comes after.
2. Ask yourself - "Should that but have been an and?" If both parts of the sentence are true, then why negate the first part with a "but?"
3. If both parts of the sentence were true, then rephrase the sentence, right then and there, with an "and" instead of a "but". 

Check out the difference in emotional impact between: "Good job on that presentation, but I wish you had pushed harder on point 2" and "Good job on that presentation, and I wish you had pushed harder on point 2." In the first sentence, the "good job" is totally negated. In the second sentence, both parts are true - it's a compliment and a request. It's just swapping one three-letter conjunction with another, and it makes a world of difference in how the sentence is received.

What "buts" can you replace with "ands" today?

Shoulding All Over Yourself

Here's your awareness challenge for the week: notice when you use "should," especially in relation to yourself (e.g., "I really should get up off of this couch.").

Why are therapists always ragging on "should"? Well, the definition of should, per the first Google result I saw, is: "used to indicate obligation, duty, or correctness, typically when criticizing someone's actions". Should is always someone else's voice in your ear - maybe a parent or teacher, a spiritual authority, or even societal expectation. But should is never our own voice, and it doesn't represent our desire for ourselves. 

Here are two great questions to ask yourself whenever you catch yourself in a should:

1. Whose voice is that?
2. Do I want to want that "should"?

The path from externalization is should → want → am. So it looks like this:

"I should be healthier" (externalization)

"I want to be healthy" (desire)

"I am a healthy person" (identity)

Be choosy about the shoulds that you let in. When you notice a should, ask yourself those two essential questions. If you decide that you want to let the should in, then ask yourself what it would take to transform the should into the want. If you decide that you don't want to let the should in, ask yourself what's true and what it would take to defuse the should. 

Shoulds are shame magnets. Exchange them for wants or set them (and yourself) free!

A Goodbye Letter

We experience grief in most of life's transitions. Even "good" changes (a better job, our kids moving into a new phase of life, a promotion) mean saying goodbye to something that is now in the past. Those things that we leave behind deserve to be acknowledged - and we deserve to feel their loss. 

There are whole bodies of research into grief, and here's one small exercise that I like to use and recommend when moving into a new chapter. The idea is that you write a letter to the person, organization, or situation you are saying goodbye to. It could even be a goodbye letter to a past version of yourself, another person, or even a person who has passed on from your life. You won't send this letter, so it doesn't have to be realistic; it just needs to make sense to you. 

In your letter, make sure to:

• Say goodbye
• Identify the wrongs done to you - identify what was taken from you and the pain of the loss
• Identify the things you did wrong and acknowledge those wrongs and the pain they caused
• Rant about the people or situations that hurt you
• Apologize to/about people or situations you may have wronged
• Say anything you need to say in order to close this chapter
• Feel free to add as many postscripts (PSs and PPSs) as you need to get your feelings out onto the paper.

In this process, you could identify some people you want to have a closure conversation with, to apologize to, or to share some of the pain you experienced in the chapter you're closing. That's not a requirement at all, but notice if there is someone you want to reach out to. 

The last step is to let a trusted human bear witness to your grief. Ask someone to listen as you read your letter. They don't need to do anything; if they want, they can reflect back to you what they heard. Their job is simply to hold space for your loss. It is a powerful, affirming thing to see yourself and be met by another in your grief.

Pause to enjoy being seen.

You don't have to do anything in particular with your letter. You could tuck it away in your journal, or maybe it's done its job and you can throw it away. If it would feel good to close this chapter in a more ceremonial way, you could do something symbolic with your letter, such as burn it or bury it with a flower bulb. 

Whatever you choose to do with your letter, pause for a moment to feel the freedom of releasing this chapter. Pause to feel a little space in your grief. This freedom is available to you whenever you need it, and you can take this space into your new chapter.