Do You Feel Constantly Interrupted or Distracted? You Aren't Alone, but There is Hope

Two days ago, I listened to an episode of The One You Feed, a podcast that explores various topics on spirituality and philosophy. On the show was author Johann Hari, who was discussing his new book called Stolen Focus: Why You Can't Pay Attention & How to Think Deeply Again. I highly recommend listening to the entire episode, which you can find here.  

Hari shares about his experience living without the Internet for 3 months (yes, friends, apparently this can be done) and the evidence revealing our attention crisis. While you may be thinking Hari is anti-technology, he isn't.  Instead, he raises awareness of how harmful the current business model of social media is to us and our attention. He advocates for a shift in technology use that could heal and aid our attention instead. 

As I listened, I thought about how often my phone makes demands on my attention. Ding! an email. Ding! a Snap. Ding! a Facebook alert. I thought about how often I open my phone with the intent of looking something up and end up scrolling mindlessly and forgetting why I even reached for my phone in the first place. I thought about my students who experience real anxiety when they don't have the pacifier of their phone in their hands. 

Who benefits from interrupting me all the time? The social media apps and Amazon, of course. And while I agree with Hari that we need larger, systemic changes to the current, largely unregulated business model of social media, I know there are some steps that individuals can take to reclaim their attention. I had already taken some smaller steps, like assigning specific ring/text tones to the contacts I don't want to ignore (parents, husband, kids), but I needed to make some adjustments. 

Here's what I started with -- 

1. Each morning at school, I set up my phone to play relaxing music in my office (affectionately dubbed "Denise's Spa Room" by the guidance team). Then, I put my phone in a drawer for the day. I stole this idea from James Clear (if you haven't read Atomic Habits, what are you waiting for?). Simply placing a barrier between me and my phone has led to fewer pick-ups. 

A caveat -- I do wear an Apple Watch, and I set it up so that I receive text notifications. If a text comes in from Gene or the kids, I get my phone out of the drawer to respond and then put it back. 

2. I turned off notifications for Instagram, Facebook, & Snapchat. Yep, OFF. I did this two days ago, and I can already see the difference. I don't think social media is entirely from the devil. (I mean, my doctoral research is on the marketing of public education....) But, those constant notifications, birthed from the algorithms intent on increasing our time wasted online (and our money wasted online) don't deserve the amount of attention I was giving them. 

Instead of those apps telling me to open them, I decide when I want to open them. Not surprisingly, I've discovered I'm not missing much at all. What I do like about social media -- connecting with friends and family -- is still there, when I want to use it. 

The impact so far is that I feel less distracted, less interrupted, and more fully present in whatever moment I am in. I'm not ready to smash the cotton gin or abandon the Internet entirely for three months by any means, but 19th century Transcendental philosopher Henry David Thoreau was right: "We do not ride upon the railroad; it rides upon us." Our railroad is the technology we use, and it's time we stop allowing it to use us. 

Stop Hiding the Hard: Shielding Kids isn't Helping Them Cope

In a recent episode of This is Us, Jack's mother passed away, after 13 strained and awkward years between mother and son. At the end of the show, Jack sets his wife and kids up at the dinner table with a meal his mother used to make and steps away because he was about to cry. When his wife goes to his side, he breaks down and sobs, "I don't have a mother anymore." He pulls himself together before returning to the kids with a brave smile plastered on his face. 

As usual, This is Us captures the truest and hardest parts of family life. Jack is trying to shield his children from seeing their dad cry, from seeing him filled with grief and regret. So many parents react the same way when faced with adversity. We don't want to upset our kids, so we hide what we are going through. It's well-intentioned, but as my own kids age, I realize that hiding the ugly parts of life from our kids is doing much more harm than good. 

When we struggle privately and put on an act to show our kids that everything is great and that we have it all under control because we are Adults and Adults Don't Struggle -- the result is that when our kids experience entirely normal hard times, they think there is something wrong with them . .. because they should be able to handle it all the way their parents do. This is especially true of teenagers who are in dress rehearsal for adulthood. 

Just the other day, I had a conversation with one of our teenagers about how hard life can be at times.  As I tried to assure them that all they were experiencing was entirely normal and human, I realized that my "I've got it all under control" and "Everything is figure-out-able" confidence was only telling part of my story. Like Jack, I'd been walking away from the table to cry. I decided to tell a more accurate story, and shared how stressed and overwhelmed I have felt recently.  And how, as a matter of fact, I don't know any capital-A Adults who aren't feeling the exact same way right now.  

I shared with my teenager a meditation podcast I use, I talked about different coping strategies. Not everything will be solved in one conversation, of course. But it's a start. 

After all, contrary to what our beloved, naive Olaf believes, it doesn't always make more sense when you are older. Honestly, the older I get, the less sense it all makes. 

We need to stop hiding the hard and ugly parts of our lives from our kids. There are ways to model grit and resiliency to children at every stage of their lives. We need to remove the stigma of talking about our emotions and fears and challenges. Our kids don't need half the story; they don't need adult role models who prop up a facade of having it all together at all times. 

They need the truth: Life is the hardest thing we'll ever do, but we can do hard things. And they aren't alone in how they are feeling.  Spoiler Alert: Being vulnerable like this isn't easy for parents. It's actually ridiculously hard. But anytime we step more fully into our authentic selves and tell our true stories, it's worth it. After all, the stakes are too high to continue the charade we've been calling Adulthood. It's time to stop hiding the hard. 

The Gift of Disney's Encanto

Over the holiday break, my family watched Disney's new movie Encanto. The Madrigals are Walt Disney Animation Studio's first Latino family to be featured as main characters in a film. The movie has been largely celebrated as a triumph of representation, with music by Lin Manuel Miranda and a roughly $150M budget. Some of my friends on Facebook have remarked that they didn't think the film was all that great, while others have utterly raved about it. To be sure, we all look for different things when we judge a film, so in reality, all the opinions are right . . . since you know, they are opinions. 

That being said -- and having watched the film only once so far -- here are my humble, initial thoughts on Encanto.

While the music was fun and the animation was beautiful, I -- as per usual -- felt drawn into the storyline. It all begins with a couple running for their lives with triplets in tow. The father sacrifices himself for his family's safety, and the mother is given a magical candle as a consolation prize as she raises the triplets, sort of This Is Us style. The movie tells the story of Abuela, her children, and their children. In the family Madrigal, every child receives a gift at a certain age, a gift that comes complete with its own magical room in their magical house. Pretty amazing, right? 

But as the family members and their gifts are introduced, I started wondering how much of a "gift" they really receive. For example, one character, Dolores, has super-sensitive hearing. Let's be real: wouldn't that get annoying? It's the burden of the empath -- to notice (hear) everyone's suffering .  .  . and to carry the feeling of obligation to help everyone at the same time. 

Speaking of carrying, another character, Luisa, has super-human strength. Disney did the PC thing and made this character a female, in an attempt to make us forget about allll those years of sexism and racism in their old movies. But, just like the super-sensitive hearing, this gift comes with some heavy baggage -- literally. Luisa is constantly called upon to use her strength for various tasks for everyone in the family, and in the village surrounding the magical house. 

In fact, Luisa shares the burden (pun intended) of her immense strength in a song with these lyrics:

Pressure like a grip, grip, grip and it won't let go, whoa

Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it's ready to blow, whoa

Give it to your sister, your sister's stronger

See if she can hang on a little longer 

Who am I if I can't carry it all?

Phew! As a recovering perfectionist who struggles to ask anyone for help, I felt CALLED OUT by this song. I know I'm not alone, so don't even play. 

Even Isabela, the oldest grandchild ,whose gift is to grow flowers and plants, is more complex than she seems on the surface. Throughout the majority of the film, Isabela is the stereotypical beauty, surrounded by fragrant flowers and a doting suitor. But, even Isabela has her limits and in a soul-bearing moment with her sister Mirabel (we'll get to her in a minute), sings: 

I make perfect, practiced poses

So much hides behind my smile [. . .]

What could I do if I just knew it didn't need to be perfect? 

It just needed to be? And they let me be?

Though we aren't supposed to "talk about Bruno," I have to mention the older brother/uncle of the family who has the gift of seeing into the future -- and actually hides in the walls of the enormous mansion so that he can keep an eye on his loved ones, despite being ostracized for telling his family what they don't want to hear about their potential downfall. 

Now, to Mirabel. She's optimistic, enthusiastic, kind, compassionate, selfless -- and yet, she is the only member of the Madrigal family to NOT receive a gift or a magical room of her own in the house. (I mean, we could argue that all those previous qualities listed are in fact gifts, right?) She is, perhaps not surprisingly, the one who is clear-eyed enough to see the cracks starting to show in this pressure-cooker of a family. 

Of course Mirabel's huge heart and passionate impetuousness lead her to make unorthodox decisions (like not only talking ABOUT Bruno, but also talking TO him! gasp!) which wreak all sorts of havoc. As the dust settles (again, literally...spoiler alert, but the house crumbles to ground), Mirabel and her abuela finally have the heart-to-heart talk the family needed years ago. Abuela admits to her part in the family stress -- her seemingly antiquated traditions come from a place of love and a desire to protect her family. She knows what loss feels like and has wanted nothing but the best for her family ever since. Losing the magic of the candle would mean finally losing her husband after all these years. Mirabel and the younger members of the family are removed from that initial loss, and they've grown up with the magic, so they naturally take it for granted (which is why everyone was shocked when Mirabel didn't get a gift). They want to use their gifts for the greater good, but they need healthy boundaries. 

Sound familiar? 

OK, so maybe you don't live in a magical house and have magical gifts, but the cyclical nature of misunderstood good intentions is well-known to us all. Every generation of parents wants better for their children . . . and then becomes frustrated when those children don't realize how good they have it. And the younger generation striving to make the world a better place don't get why their parents and grandparents resist change. The grandparents and parents hide their personal struggles, as they were taught to do, and end up coming off as distant and unapproachable. The kids wear their hearts on their sleeves, and end up being judged as weak and impressionable. 

Some good old-fashioned authentic talks would go a long way toward understanding, but unfortunately, for a lot of families, healthy discussions and open-door policies are rare. Instead, we tend to sweep the unpleasant business under the rug (or deep into the bowels of the house like Bruno) and put on a facade until we reach a breaking point and the house falls down around us. 

For the Madrigals, it's a happy ending -- it's Disney, and they need to sell tickets, soundtracks, merchandise, and theme park rides, after all. 

For everyone else? Maybe, just maybe, movies like Encanto will help to normalize imperfect families who forgive and heal together. What a gift. 

 

Running into the New Year

You guys, I am such a sucker for fresh starts. I love the new school year, I love the new calendar year -- heck, I love the first day of a new month, that fresh desk calendar looking up at me with expectancy. I could not be more ready for 2022. 

Now, don't get me wrong. I loved the holiday season, despite the challenge of facing it without my mom. We had a relaxing time as a family, we charged our collective batteries, and we spent some time reflecting on the year.  

Perhaps it's a contradiction, but I am not a New Year's resolution kind of person. Honestly, I believe it's because I love new beginnings. I set goals each new month, each new week -- actually, now that I think about it, each new day. I've been reading James Clear's book Atomic Habits, and I'm planning on making huge poster of this quote of his  for my classroom:

When you really stop to think about it, wow. This is totally true. We think that life is accomplished in the big moments, but in reality, the big moments are the culmination of many, many small decisions we make. Clear recommends an emphasis on identity, rather than the significant milestones. For example, instead of saying, "I want to lose 50 pounds," you would say, "I am the kind of person who makes healthy choices." Instead of fixating on the end goal, decide who you want to be. The rest will follow. 

Over the past 2 years, I have struggled with some lower back and hip issues. I'll spare you the details (because let's be honest, they aren't that interesting to anyone else), and simply say these issues have significantly impacted my ability to exercise. I was once a runner. In 2013, I even ran a half marathon. I love long distance running, or at least, I used to. I came to the tough realization that my running days were coming to an end, as I went through physical therapy appointments, chiropractic adjustments, MRIs, and finally, steroid injections. 

Over our holiday break, though, something exciting (to me) happened. I felt pretty good while out for a walk and decided to try .25 mi running intervals. After about a week, those turned into .5 mile running intervals. Yesterday, I ran one mile without stopping. I have not overdone it, because I know what that will mean. I don't try to run every day. But, I am starting to feel like my identity as a runner is coming back to me. 

I don't have a goal in mind at the moment, though it would be fun to be able to run a 5K or two this year. Instead, I have an identity in mind. Will my body have another idea? Not sure. But for now, I'm running into the new year, one step at time. 

How will you cast your vote for the type of person you want to be today?