CourtSchurmanGO.com 2025-03-09

Surviving a Broken Wrist in Arches’ Fiery Furnace

Blog 32 has been by far the most difficult post for me to complete. Not for lack of ideas — I came back from vacation bursting with them — but because I’ve had to dictate or hunt-and-peck it. On February 22, 2022, I broke my right wrist in Arches National Park’s famous maze hike, the Fiery Furnace, and have been managing everything left-handed (I am a righty).

Sandy washes, delicate growths, and stunning vertical rocks make the maze of the Fiery Furnace well worth exploring.

Fiery Furnace: Arrows Mark the Path

My husband, daughter, and I picked up self-guided day permits to visit the Fiery Furnace on 2-22-22. It is our favorite hike in Arches National Park (Moab, Utah). I hadn’t hiked since December 10, so I felt compelled to make up for lost time. By completing the orientation video on Monday, we could start hiking before the rest of the 60-some permitted hikers arrived.

Around 9:30 a.m. we began our counter-clockwise trip, searching for 27 miniature arrows that mark the way through the maze. Some arrows are posted at eye level, others on thin brown posts. A few have gone missing and have chalk-drawn scratches. Several are tricky to find. Part of the fun of the maze is exploring features in dead-ends, including five arches, squeezes, bowls and spires. Four years ago, we “got lost” until another party located the arrow we had missed. Can you spot the one in the picture below?

Red rock sandstone of the Fiery Furnace. The author's husband and daughter before towering spires. — Red rock sandstone of the Fiery Furnace. The author’s husband and daughter before towering spires.

Photographer’s Paradise

Of the five hundred photos I shot while on vacation, more than half were from our hike. Even during an overcast, somewhat chilly (below 40 F) day when the lighting is not optimal, I still found plenty to catch my eye. The unique rock features and delicate cacti and plants are a photographer’s dream. It’s no surprise that I was lagging behind, capturing as many of the features as I could.

In Arches National Park there is a saying, "Don't bust the crust." One look at the delicate succulents and brush trying to eke out a living here and you know not to get off the rocks or sandy washes. — In Arches National Park there is a saying, “Don’t bust the crust.” One look at the delicate succulents and brush trying to eke out a living in the desert and you know not to get off the rocks or sandy washes.

What’s more, the ranger had told us he’d only ever found fifteen arrows, so just as we like to track state license plates when we travel (i.e. the License Plate game), we tracked the arrows in the maze by taking photos of each. Knowing we would be doing it in the opposite direction in the afternoon, they provided us with a sort of reverse map.

A hard-to-spot arrow steering us through a squeeze.

Clockwise through the Fiery Furnace

In the afternoon, wanting to experience the maze in the reverse direction, we went against the directional arrows. I hoped to find all five of the maze’s hidden arches during our leisurely exploration. The trickiest part was finding our way back to the manmade stairs.

It took us more than 20 minutes to find the "entry" up to the stairs. Next time we'll trust our daughter's instincts. — It took us more than 20 minutes to find the “entry” up to the stairs. Next time we’ll trust our daughter’s navigational instincts.

Manmade stairs crafted into the rock to provide entry/exit. — Manmade stairs crafted from the rock to provide entry/exit.

My daughter took off ahead of us as though wanting to see how quickly we could do it the second time. I was still enjoying shooting photos with my DSLR camera. About a mile in we stopped at an open area for a snack and I explored an arch high up on a rock. Then wanting to do some more scrambling with hand free, I tucked my camera into my pack, leaving my cell phone in my pocket for snapshots.

Slickrock sandstone showing rounding from erosion. Rangers close the maze if there is any snowfall as the moisture makes footing treacherous and hides the washes and rocks where visitors must step. This was the last two-handed photo I took.

Karate Chop Mistake in the Fiery Furnace

Halfway through the maze, I got off-balance on a bit of steep rock. Thoughts raced through my head: “Protect the back, head, legs, hip, camera.” Somehow, I spun around, landing catlike in a sandy wash on both legs. I could tell both my husband and daughter were relieved it turned out so well. Unfortunately, I smashed my right wrist into a rock as I landed. I took one look at my throbbing hand, swelling and bent at an awkward angle. Had I just dislocated it?

It was more shocking than painful. Instinctively my Mountaineering-Oriented First Aid training kicked in. No tigers — the scene was safe. No bleeding or broken skin — nothing life-threatening. But I definitely needed a splint. I handed my pack to my daughter and asked for help getting out of my T-shirt to use as padding. I used my buff to keep my wrist supported and neutral, and my husband helped get the camera strap around my forearm as a sling. Later the doctors at the hospital were impressed with our in-the-field get-up.

Aftermath

I knew that above all else, I had to remain calm. I forced myself to take deep breaths and a few sips of water. We declined the assistance of another couple heading in the opposite direction, one of whom said she was a nurse. I suggested we go back the way we came, thinking it was shorter, but Doug reminded me that the first half of the route in front of us required less climbing.

With him ahead offering me a supporting hand if I needed it, I walked unaided to the car, breaking down in tears a few minutes after we resumed hiking, thinking of how I’d just screwed up our last family vacation. We drove directly to Moab’s Urgent Care where an on-call orthopedist reduced the break twice (far more painful than the fall itself) and set it, enabling me to walk out before sunset and before a snowstorm arrived.

Spires abound in the Fiery Furnace. Every few steps I wanted to stop and drink it all in. My happy place. And despite the accident I still want to go back some day. — Spires abound in the Fiery Furnace. Every few steps I wanted to stop and drink it all in. My happy place. And despite the accident I still want to go back someday.

What’s Next?

I have learned so many lessons in the past two weeks that I have decided to write another blog post about it. A few, briefly:

1. It will be a while before I can use my 100-400 mm lens or my DSLR camera, but it IS still possible to take one-handed lefty photos with my cell phone. Proof below, the night of my fall.

My newest accessory, a sling, following a broken wrist in Arches National Park's Fiery Furnace. — My newest accessory, a sling, followed a broken wrist in Arches National Park’s Fiery Furnace on 2-22-22.

2. Dictation, Hunt-and-peck, Notes on my phone can substitute for my journal habit. I am incredibly slow but as this Blog shows, dedication pays off.
3. Bones heal. The orthopedist got my wrist reduced and set well enough that I do NOT need surgery and that is a huge blessing. I am grateful it was not my head, back, legs, hip, or gear. Sure, it would be easier if it were my left, but I would still be hunting and pecking. The silver lining is I am becoming ambidextrous!
4. Remember Joyful from my last post? Even injured, I came away with many fond memories of our trip, despite the obstacles we faced from store closures to botched reservations, inclement weather to a trip to the hospital.

If you visit Arches National Park, stay on rock and sandy washes. Don’t “bust the crust.”

Reader Challenge

If you are up for an exercise in empathy, try two experiments:

1. With your non-dominant hand, grab a pen and write: I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR WHO I AM AND WHAT I CAN DO. I WILL NEVER TAKE MY LIFE FOR GRANTED AGAIN.
2. For an hour, be mindful of those many things you do with your dominant hand or with two hands. If you are feeling brave, try it with only one hand or with your opposite hand exclusively.

Hardest? Doing my hair. Zipping. Tying knots. Buttoning. Fastening my dog’s harness. Writing. I thought it would be driving, but that is pretty straightforward. And washing dishes or hair and vacuuming just take practice. Haven’t tried mowing yet. I’d love to see your comments about your experiment.

A Hunt for Joy Inspired by Lee’s Book Joyful

This week I began listening to Ingrid Fetell Lee’s Joyful: The Surprising Power of Ordinary Things to Create Extraordinary Happiness. In it, she introduces ten aesthetics of joy. Yesterday I listened to her describe the first aesthetic, energy, which we get from vibrant color and light. Intrigued, I recalled my own post about joy back in December. And I decided I’d use Joyful as my guide on my hunt for joy.

A sign from the universe that has inspired my own hunt for joy.

Aesthetic 1: Color and Light

In the first section on color, Lee admits that as a former chromophobe, she once preferred whites or neutrals to bold colors. But when she moved into a living space with bright yellow walls, she kept them as they were. She became sold on the power of color to liven our moods.

I’ve intuitively added colorful stickers and inks to my journaling repertoire in recent years. Our gym pops with bold, energetic yellow, blue, and red. Could adding color to my wardrobe, my food, our garden bring more joy? I thought about my preference for outer layers that blend in with the environment rather than stick out.

Then I remembered the bright teal coat I received for Christmas. I smile every time I put it on. And the soft maroon Turtle Fur neck cover I wear on frosty mornings is as comforting as it is colorful. She may be onto something. The next time I shop for clothes, I promise to find one cheerful, bright item instead of another black, blue, dark green, or muted top. Just thinking about the possibilities gives me energy.

The first smiling daffodils of spring bring me joy. Is it from abundance or color -- or both? — The first smiling daffodils of spring bring me joy. Is it from abundance or color — or both?

Hunt for Joy 2: Abundance

In her section about abundance, which I listened to this morning, she describes how excited a “kid in the candy store” is as he “forages” for his next sugar high. I feel that way when I find a bush laden with ripe berries, a little free library or bookstore stocked with favorites, or a garden bursting with colorful blossoms and chirping birds.

Her discussion of over-abundance fascinated me. Overflowing landfills, an obesity epidemic, and hoarding are examples of how abundance can become maladaptive. I look forward to seeing if and how she addresses these in future chapters.

A chestnut-backed chickadee tending to its young.

Finding Freedom

This morning while walking my dog, I experienced several moments of joy that encapsulated energy, abundance, and the third aesthetic, freedom. While Ajax sniffed with renewed frenzy on a street we don’t often visit, I enjoyed the sights and sounds. Steller’s jays flew overhead. A dozen robins foraged for worms on an empty school playground. A trio of varied thrushes called to each other. Black-capped chickadees sang to attract a mate. And the sun poked through the clouds, sending happy beams down to cheer me. This is joy, I thought to myself.

While I haven’t listened to her section on freedom yet, I look forward to hearing what she says about open space, wildness, and nature. Every time I visit the mountains or a forest, I experience this joy aesthetic. And when I return with next week’s blog, I hope to share even more about my adventures in the hunt for joy.

Hunt for joy: finding baby animals in nature always makes me smile. — A perpetual hunt for joy: finding baby animals in nature always makes me smile.

Cognitive Distortions and How to Overcome Them

This week I pondered a recent Precision Nutrition lesson about common cognitive distortions. These are inaccurate, negatively biased, habitual ways of thinking. On a birding trip to Monroe this morning, I reflected on three I used today. Herein I describe my efforts to overcome four cognitive distortions against the backdrop of the rare, beautiful Whooper Swan.

A rare look at the Whooper swan, the Eurasian counterpart to the North American trumpeter swan, spotted in Monroe, WA on 2.10.22. — A rare look at the yellow-billed Whooper swan, the Eurasian counterpart to the North American trumpeter swan we spotted in Monroe, WA on 2.10.22.

A Birding Outing to Monroe, WA

My husband, a friend, and I drove to Monroe early this morning. Our mission was to locate and photograph the rare Whooper Swan, the Eurasian counterpart to the North American trumpeter swan. We pulled up at the edge of one of the fields it had visited the day before. There, on the edge of a large flock of white fowl, stood the yellow-beaked Whooper Swan, feasting on grass. Chasing rarities doesn’t get any easier.

Both my husband and friend completed the Seattle Audubon Master Birder program several years ago. I joke that I’ve developed my birding knowledge “via osmosis.” While I appreciate birds, my first love remains mammals, evident from my volunteer time at the Woodland Park Zoo.

When our friend asked me if I’d ever seen a Townsend’s solitaire on any of my hikes, I told her, “I’d have to check my ebird list.” The Whooper Swan makes world bird species number 543 since I started keeping track twelve years ago. But I have a sucky birding memory. Enter Cognitive Distortions.

A pair of trumpeter swans coming in for a landing on a foggy Monroe morning. Note the massive wingspan, black bills, and webbed feet. — A pair of black-billed trumpeter swans coming in for a landing on a foggy Monroe morning. Note the massive wingspan and webbed feet.

Common Cognitive Distortions

I joined them on this outing partly to expand my mental and cognitive resilience. (What, wasn’t it for fun? Partly.) Aware that my list of to-do’s back home was getting long, I wanted to address several cognitive distortions:

Binary Thinking — either/or, all/nothing, black/white. I could either go birding or stay home and tackle my to-do list. Birding was a way for me to remind my brain about that nifty little word, and. Perhaps I could bird AND get my workout in, write my blog, finish eight pages of fiction…
Negative Mental Filter — seeing a rare bird would be a huge unexpected, unplanned-for experience, and would give me social time with my husband and friend. I’d be out in fresh air, taking cool photographs, and doing something new. I wanted to enjoy the positives and try to ignore that one nasty negative (not getting everything done on my list)…
Labeling — as in, “I have a sucky birding memory.” No, I’m an advanced beginner birder. Which is perfectly fine. Or better, I remember whatever I pay attention to. Perhaps I just need more time birding.
Shoulding All Over Yourself — ignoring the “You should do your strength workout; you should stay and write your blog post; you should get that piece to your readers so they have enough time.” What I wanted was to see swans. I love swans, geese, and ducks.

Photo from 12/19/10 showing the extreme size difference between swans and mallards. — Photo from 12/19/10 shows the extreme size difference between swans and mallards.

Overcoming Cognitive Distortions Takes Vigilance

As we took our last photos and returned to the car, I congratulated myself for getting out of the house and going on an adventure. I’d embraced the beginner’s mind (see January’s post) knowing that both my birding partners have far more knowledge and experience than I do.

Everything was great… until my friend offered to take me birding sometime. Before I could think, I heard the automatic words come out of my mouth. “Oh no, I’m not very good at it.” Aack! And I had been trying so hard! Will I be a WIP (Work In Progress) for the rest of my life?

Instead of saying “I failed!” I had to laugh. How much vigilance do I need to change them? Especially when I’ve been using them for decades. Tapping into my infantile growth mindset (and my friend’s kind words) I realized SHE offered to take ME. She wanted to pay it forward by teaching what she knows. I could accept her generous offer and have fun birding with someone new. Get a different perspective. She’d have company, I’d get more adventure. Win-win.

Juvenile Trumpeters, left, with the solitary mature Whooper Swan.

Overcoming Cognitive Distortions Takes Planning

I plan to move forward by taking the following steps:

Sharing my intentions with family members who can help me spot the cognitive distortions I’m using;
Noticing and Naming whenever I’m using one, so I bring increased awareness to my brain;
Writing them down, crossing out the distorted “untruth” and writing a “better truth” or “true truth”;
Celebrating whenever I stop mid-stream to check what’s coming out of my mouth. Becoming conscious.

Perhaps in doing so, not only can I change my brain’s programming, but I can also model how to overcome cognitive distortions for my colleagues, writing partners, clients, and daughter. In this way, I’m moving from “consciously incompetent” toward “consciously competent.” How about you?

Beautiful delicate dew-covered feather. Can we be as gentle with our cognitive distortions and change them into things of beauty that support us?

How to Understand, Manage, and Overcome Fear

Recently a client asked me to discuss fear in a future blog post. I can only share from a coach’s perspective since I am not a psychotherapist. I approach such a complicated topic by focusing on a coping mechanism we all have access to. Preparation. Fear is our ally. It tries to protect us from something. If we can identify exactly what we are afraid of, we can figure out how to overcome fear.

Grizzly! On June 23, 2013, we were hiking in Yellowstone National Park. I wore a walking boot at the time with a horrible case of plantar fasciitis. We stepped off the trail, uphill, and let the grizzly have the path toward the lake. He sauntered by only rearing up once to see if we were a threat, and we lived to tell the tale.

Common Types of Fear

To overcome fear, first identify what you’re afraid of. For purpose of discussion, I only focus on three:

Fear of tangible, real, scary things — natural disasters, fires, war, getting lost, wild animal attacks, disease, injury, or illness. We may be afraid of something because of a traumatic event in the past, or we may have heard stories or seen images of scary events that we hope we never experience ourselves.
Fear of the unknown — this may be one of the biggest causes of anxiety, worry, and chronic stress — one look around you during a pandemic and you understand how potent and far-reaching such fear can be. Below, I share getting lost as a wilderness example.
Fear of failure — with its cousin, fear of success. Nearly everyone has felt one or the other at some point, especially when trying to make it in an area where it’s common to fail many times before finally succeeding.

Some things are worth being afraid of (i.e. category one), but often we’re afraid of things that haven’t happened — and may never happen — as in the other two categories. If we worry incessantly, we can make ourselves sick.

Overcome our fear: Knowing what weather you'll encounter, how your gear handles, and what to do if you have mechanical failure is part of being prepared. — Overcome our fear: Knowing what weather you’ll encounter, how your gear handles, and what to do if you have mechanical failure is part of being prepared.

The Fear Response

In simplest terms, when we fear something, we first turn toward the fear to identify what acute stress response we should have: whether we need to stick up for ourselves (Fight), run away (Flight), become legitimately scared (Fright), react like a deer-in-the-headlights (Freeze), or shut down completely (Faint).

Since prehistoric times, our bodies enter these stages to protect ourselves. In a frightening moment, our reptilian brains simply react. But what if we were proactive instead of reactive, and rehearsed ahead of time what we might do? By anticipating what could go wrong, we can plan responses and better manage our fear. At the moment, if we can take deep soothing breaths, we can access that thinking part of our brains to help us make solid choices.

We're going up THAT? If you notice a bodily sensation indicating fear, such as "sewing machine leg" on a rock climb, STOP, tell yourself there is no tiger nearby, take three deep breaths, and try again. You got this. — We’re going up THAT? If you notice a bodily sensation indicating fear, such as “sewing machine leg” on a rock climb, STOP, tell yourself there is no tiger nearby, take three deep breaths, and try again. You got this.

Overcome Fear of Scary Things: Bears

Take the example of fear of wild animals. From my first blog post in August, I shared an encounter with a black bear on a hike. Your natural instinct may be to freak out. Stop. Is the bear noshing on berries? Does she have cubs with her? Is she far enough away that giving her notice of your presence will make her move away?

Pair why you’re afraid (i.e. I don’t want the bear to maul me!) with knowledge of black bear behavior. They lack keen eyesight; they’re fiercely protective of their cubs; mostly, they’re just hungry and they don’t want to mess with people. Stay calm, so that your thinking brain remains in control. Make yourself appear larger by clicking your trekking poles together overhead, all the while calling, “Hey bear, bear, bear,” so you both keep your distance.

Black bear noshing on dandelions in Yellowstone National Park, June 27, 2015. Yes, we love bears.

First, we identified what we’re afraid of (the bear) and why (it could seriously hurt me). Our fear then tries to protect us. Within milliseconds, we identify the appropriate response. Flight (running) might cause the bear to give chase as though we’re prey. Freezing could surprise it if it continues toward us. Fainting? It could become curious about the peculiar smells and come closer. Fight? Uh, no. What’s left? Fright. Yes, of course, we’re scared. Normal. But by remaining calm, we keep our thinking brain in the game. A decision based on knowledge, and not raw emotion, gives us the very best option for safety.

Overcome Fear of the Unknown: Getting Lost

Getting lost is another common fear for people traveling alone in the wilderness. Easily preventable. We can learn and practice navigation skills. Have a map, compass, geolocator, and GPS whenever we hike. Tell people where we’ll be and when we expect to return. Travel with others with a stronger skill set so we can keep learning. And we can study the route we’re going to be traveling to increase our confidence.

While it’s unlikely you’ll get lost, that fear will actually spurn you on to get the knowledge, experience, and resourcefulness you need to prevent it. You will be hypervigilant on the trail so that you avoid it. And if you still get lost? You’ll figure out the best way forward, knowing that you did everything possible to prepare yourself.

A Few Good Survival Stories

But nothing guarantees success. What’s the worst that can happen if you do get lost? You’ll want to be self-sufficient for several days until someone can help you. That means having extra food, water, and clothing. Gary Paulsen wrote a Newbery award-winning book, Hatchet, about a boy surviving in the Canadian wilderness with a hatchet. Another fabulous Young Adult survival story with a female protagonist is I Am Still Alive by Kate Alice Marsall.

Overcome our fear of the unknown -- such as when we'll be able to stock up on key supplies. Remember the run on toilet paper in March, 2020? — Overcome our fear of the unknown — such as when we’ll be able to stock up on key supplies. Remember the run on toilet paper in March, 2020?

Overcome Fear of Failure

Perhaps the best way to manage a fear of failure is to get clear about what failure means to you. If you are on day four of a six-day climb and you abort, have you failed? You succeeded for four days. If you submit a manuscript to forty agents and never get a request for a full, have you failed? You put yourself out there forty times. If you have a health setback that shocks you to your core, have you failed? You’ve identified a new direction for yourself.

Never Quit

Dear readers, failure is never trying. As a coach, parent, athlete, and writer, I cannot stress this point enough. If your definition of failure includes quitting, and you keep trying new strategies to move forward, you cannot possibly fail. You may not reach the desired outcome the way you expected to, but that does not mean you have failed or you are a failure. As long as you are trying, learning, growing, and putting yourself out there, you can reach your objective. Keep trying.

Fear is a beautiful teacher. It shows us what is most important to us. Ask yourself why you are scared, whether there is any reason for it, and what you can do to help prepare yourself to succeed. In a scary moment, remember to take three long, deep breaths in through the nose, and twice as long exhaling through the mouth. Give your thinking, logical brain the space it needs to help you solve your problem. Go forth with courage and confidence.

Fear of wild animal attacks is a common one to have when hiking solo. But knowing about the animals you might encounter and what to do if you do can go a long way toward boosting your confidence and success on the trail. Cheetah at San Diego Wildlife Safari Park April 2014.

How To Turn Harmful Labels Into Helpful Ones

I’ve spent weeks mulling over the idea of how labels identify us, categorize us, divide us, and in many cases, harm us. I don’t have any answers, just lots of questions. How can we turn harmful labels into helpful ones?

Democrats, Republicans. Independents. Rich. Poor. Middle class. Healthy. Sick. Victim. Patient. Selfish. Generous. Stingy. Ugly. Beautiful. Homeless. Jobless. Disabled. Ace. Gay. Pro-life. Pro-choice. Pro-guns.

We label everything. If it’s not “Me”, it’s apparently “Not-Me.” The Other. At times I wish “Comedian” fit me so I could turn a complicated, divisive subject into a humorous one.

Can't we all just get along? If we can learn how to turn harmful labels into helpful ones, will that help us live in peace and harmony? — Can’t we all just get along? If we can learn how to turn harmful labels into helpful ones, will that help us live in peace and harmony?

We Are Not Our Labels

Quick, think of the term “pink elephant” without picturing one. Impossible, right? Likewise, banana. Of course, your brain conjures up the item. What happens with the other labels, or professions? “Doctor,” “Nurse,” “Police,” and “Fireman” could bring to mind people in jobs we typically see as helpful. But even those labels carry negative connotations, for some, in certain areas of the country. The word “Teacher” may remind you of someone who positively impacted you. But what if the teacher you thought of scolded you? Punished you? Failed you? Or worse?

What do you picture when you hear “Homeless?” A beggar in rags? A starving young child in the back of a car? Or a struggling family losing everything to medical bankruptcy? “Disability” might make you think of someone with a visible physical limitation. Perhaps someone in a wheelchair or on crutches, rather than someone with an invisible hearing aid. “Heart attack?” Maybe a heavyset, sedentary older adult rather than a younger athlete. If there’s a point here, it’s that we are not our labels.

"Dog" can conjure up sweet images of puppies or horrific nightmares of attacking machines, depending on our unique experiences. — “Dog” can conjure up sweet images of puppies or horrific nightmares of attacking machines, depending on our unique experiences.

Do Harmful Labels Matter?

We’ve been socially trained to use labels as a way to categorize our multi-billion-member society and understand our place within it. Labels pigeonhole people and limit how others see them. People are not just their age, their biological sex, their skin color, their profession. They are not their ability or their religion.

Having so many “us/them” labels causes heightened anxiety not just for those being labeled, but also for those wanting to understand labels. My teen is still trying to help me figure out how the pronouns and letters work within the gender identity and LGBTQIA2s+ communities. But I’m starting to think, are we going too far? Are all these labels helpful? or harmful? Is there another way? What’s too much?

May we each have space to be our unique selves, wherever we are.

Focus on the Individual

A wise writer friend of mine shares the idea of forgetting labels entirely and seeing the UNIQUE INDIVIDUAL who may be suffering, angry, or happy. How can we get to know single people on their own merits without labels? Must we always take sides? What happens if we overlook or ignore the labels?

In a conversation with my critique partners this week, nearly everyone shared stories about their own harmful labels. I’m reminded of the children’s saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Hogwash. Sometimes words – labels – hurt far worse than physical objects.

I was recently handed labels that I refused to accept. Still, it’s caused plenty of anxiety. How can we stay true to ourselves in the face of dissension and strong opinion, especially when we dislike conflict? Do we accept those labels and knit them into our being, or can we deflect them?

One of my aspirations is to be the person my dog thinks I am.

Refuse Harmful Labels

What would happen if we refuse those harmful labels? Better yet, what if we created our own story with helpful labels? Eleanor Roosevelt’s wise words hang in my gym: “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

Instead of building a wall to shield ourselves from others, what if we surround ourselves with people who see us as unique, valuable individuals, who support our opinions and beliefs regardless of the labels we’ve been given?

If only we could let harmful labels cascade off our backs like a waterfall.

If we’ve been labeled “highly anxious,” “quitter,” or “liar,” for example, can we cultivate in ourselves the “opposite” of those labels? Can we mimic the courage of a firefighter, the persistence of someone learning to walk again after a stroke, or the resilience of the cheerful street performer living in a park? Ah, now those labels — positive words, values anyone can have — help.

We must stand up for what we believe in: our values and principles. Even if it makes us unpopular, and even if it’s hard. If we continue to do what we believe is right, we can live our most authentic lives and treat others the way we want to be treated, as individuals. Labels can simply fall by the wayside.