Barbie Dallmann

Somewhere toward the end of January, I asked myself, “What would happen if I just dropped the last part of that phrase … ‘because my mother just died’? What then?” I wondered what my life would be like if I only did what I wanted to do, if I truly gave myself permission to drop the “have to’s” in favor of the “want to’s.”

And so I have begun an explorer’s journey into the world of “Free Will.” My parents are both gone; I have no brothers or sisters. I’m truly the boss of me now (not that I haven’t been acting like it since I was 2). But I’m turning a deaf ear to the Voice that Shouts SHOULD and exploring a whole new way of being in the world.

I hope you’ll join me in exploring what it is you really want in your life. Imagine what might happen if you routinely honored your heart’s deepest desires. Just imagine…..

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I’ve never been a big fan of doing the dishes. Just ask my son. My favorite punishment: “You’re grounded . . . and go do the dishes!”For two days this week I watched the piles of dishes growing in the sink and on the kitchen counter.I don’t want to do the dishes.It’s okay … you don’t have to do the dishes.

This morning, there was a shift. Instead of focusing on what I didn’t want, I became aware of what I DID want. And it was more than just “want,” it was desire. I felt it growing from deep inside me, from my heart. It was my heart’s desire. My heart was longing for organization, for cleanliness, for an outward sign of self-love. My heart was aching for a clean kitchen.

Part of me watched in astonishment as I eagerly stepped up to honor myself with this most amazing gift. I happily donned my rubber gloves and lovingly filled the sink with soapy water. I was laughing and singing and having a great time doing the dishes.

Connected to my heart’s desire, I was simply filled with love and gratitude. The joy that spilled out of me was “birthday party joy,” complete with cake and candles and lots of gifts to unwrap. Doing the dishes was my choice. And I clearly saw it as a celebration of life, of love, of my ability to fulfill my heart’s desires.

There’s no way I could have arrived at this joyous discovery without my new mantra: “If I don’t want to, I don’t have to.” But the mantra is clearly just the beginning. I am seeing a far more important question emerging, one straight from the pages of Eat Pray Love: “What do you really, really, REALLY want?”

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In March 1993 two bad things happened: (1) My kindergarten age son’s favorite riverside play area, “Magic Island,” was flooded, and when the waters receded, the area was covered in garbage. (2) Someone shot the windows out of my car, which was parked right in front of my house.

I was so angry about my car. I didn’t even bother with feeling worried or scared. Natural fighter that I am, I went directly into rage. Adrenaline was pumping through my body, and my heart was beating through my chest. I was shaking all over, ready to find the culprit and pound the crap out of him! That was my first reaction.

Through the inner roar that demanded revenge, I managed to hear a small, quiet voice: “You have a choice. You don’t have to respond with violence. You can choose peace instead of this.” I listened, but I didn’t know what to do with all that “violent energy” surging through my body. I NEEDED to hit somebody!

Then I remembered the playground, and it occurred to me that I could use my surplus energy to pick up garbage. I thought, “I’ll just pick up as much as it takes to get rid of this emotional super charge.” And so I grabbed a box of garbage bags and loaded my son and his friend into our truck, and we headed for Magic Island.

All I can say is that it took a long, LONG time to dissipate the energy. In fact, I filled over 20 giant garbage bags as full as I could get them. Add to that the work the boys did, and we pretty much cleaned up the flood’s footprint from Magic Island. When it was over, I was so tired and so happy. I had turned my violent rage into something useful and helpful and hopeful.

But that wasn’t the end of the story. The next morning while driving to work, the Mayor noticed the change on Magic Island and called the Parks Director to thank him. Of course, the Parks Director knew nothing about it. Enter the local press with the front-page newspaper headline: “Mayor wants do-gooders to come clean.” My best friend in Illinois turned us in. I had shared the story with her, and she’s the one who ended up calling the Mayor’s office to tell the tale. A couple of weeks later, the three of us received a Mayor’s Award for Community Spirit.

The best part, though, was the follow-up newspaper article in which I told my story about turning something negative into something positive in order to stop the cycle of violence. For many weeks thereafter, local pastors used the story in Sunday sermons, and something amazing happened as people began spontaneously getting together to pick up garbage all over the city. I’m still amazed by it all!

And so, next time you hear a quiet voice from inside telling you that you have a choice, believe it. We always have choices. We can choose to react out of fear, revenge, or self-righteous anger . . . or we can make choices and take actions that will lift us into a higher place, into a new, more peaceful way of being.

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Last Saturday I ran my first 5K race (3.1 miles). At nearly 56, it’s pretty exciting to take on a challenge like that. It required more than physical training. It took an extraordinary measure of mental conditioning. For the last 38 years–since I broke my knee in high school–I have held the belief that I cannot run. I’ve reinforced that belief by “trying” and failing many times. I managed to get up to a mile a few times in my life, but the intense pain in my knee would eventually force me to quit.So, what happened this time? What did I do differently?I started from a different place. It was a place of possibility. Instead of “I can’t run,” I began thinking, “there must be a way; I just haven’t found it yet.” That’s when I started looking in new places. I observed my past thoughts and actions that hadn’t worked and decided to toss those out. Eventually, a magazine article came to my attention. It talked about the benefits of barefoot running for people who had chronic knee problems. Barefoot running? Me? No way!But that is exactly what turned out to be the solution to my 38-year-long problem. In addition to training my legs, lungs, and heart, I trained my feet to hit the ground in a totally new way. And now I am a runner. A barefoot runner.

Part of me can’t believe I did it. I’ve held that limiting belief for so long that it felt like the truth. I’m reminded of what Henry Ford said, “If you think you can or if you think you can’t, you’re right.”

So what are you thinking your way into or out of today? Is there a habitual, limiting way of thinking you’re ready to set aside for something more powerful? Are you ready to trade in your old, uninspiring “truth” for something that makes you feel magnificent?

As a former non-runner, I can tell you this, there’s nothing quite like the exhilaration of crossing the finish line of a self-limiting belief.

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I moved into my first apartment when I was 19. I remember clearly the day I dropped the grape jelly and watched the jar shatter at my feet. My first inclination was to simply walk away. After all, Mom would eventually come into the room, think the cat had knocked it off the counter, and clean it up.

Then it hit me: I didn’t live at home anymore. For the first time in my life, it was all up to me. But I wasn’t ready. Surely someone would do it. I couldn’t be expected to clean up that awful, sticky mess! There’s glass … I could cut myself! It’s all so icky! I don’t want to!

But no amount of cursing, screaming, crying, or jumping up and down was going to change the fact that It was my mess. Eventually I realized that no one was coming to rescue me, and so I took a deep breath and set to the task of cleaning up the mess I had made.

By mid-life, my messes had become much more complicated. Looking back, I could see mountains of neglected issues: broken friendships, bad financial decisions, over commitment of my time, unwanted weight gain, and people-pleasing behaviors where somehow no one ended up being pleased, especially me. So many adult-grade messes! I wondered how I could possibly get past it all, how it would all get cleaned up.

The voice of Debbie Ford at the Shadow Process Workshop still rings in my ears and drums in my heart: “No one is coming to rescue you!” she intoned sternly. “No one is coming!”

I had felt the same way about my mess of a life as I had about the grape jelly on the kitchen floor. I had hoped someone else would clean it up for me. Maybe if I married a prince, or won the lottery. Maybe if I screamed and cried someone would feel sorry for me. But Debbie was right. No one was coming. If it was going to get cleaned up, I was the one who would have to do it.

So, with a deep breath for courage, I began the process of cleaning up my messy life, piece by sticky piece, one neglected issue at a time. As I step up, take responsibility, and deal with my stuff head-on, a sense of ownership washes over me. Like the moment I realized: “This is my apartment, and I’m going to take good care of it,” I have a sense of totally owning my life.

After all, this is my life; I’m the one who’s responsible for how it looks and how it feels to live inside it. I’m not waiting any longer: I am rescuing myself.

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August 13, 2010

A Special Birthday

My birthday is coming soon. I love birthdays, but this one had me concerned. A milestone year? Well, yes, but not in the traditional sense. This is my first birthday without my mother.

It’s been a year of roller coaster emotions. Lots of grief, but lots of joy, too. Early in my grieving process, I gave myself the gift of a CD by Karen Drucker. It had the song “Gentle With Myself.” The lyrics have supported me and comforted me through countless difficult days, reminding me “to be gentle with myself,” “to hold my heart like a newborn baby child,” and “to only go as fast as the slowest part of me feels safe to go.” It was this song that quieted that persistent, judgmental voice that wanted me to “hurry up and get over it!”

And so I listened again this morning and thought about my birthday. I asked my higher self, “What could I do to gently move myself through this difficult week?” And the voice replied, “Clean out a file drawer.”

I’ll admit, that wasn’t the answer I was looking for. It made me chuckle. How many times have I urged my coaching clients to “Listen to your inner wisdom, even when it doesn’t seem to make sense.”

So, like a good coach, I took my own advice and began relocating some outdated files. Guess what? There, in the bottom of the filing cabinet was an old, long-forgotten birthday card from Mom. When opened, it greeted me with a squeaky electronic version of the Happy Birthday song and this hand-written message:

“Just because I can’t be with you today doesn’t mean I can’t still sing Happy Birthday to you. You are a Daughter like no other. The Best there is, and I’m so glad to have you in my life. God Bless you, Sweetie. I love you, and I wish you the Happiest Birthday Ever. Love, Mom”

There’s no telling just where you’ll end up when you take the journey inward, with patience, kindness, and a willingness to listen to your inner wisdom. I think this birthday is going to be just fine, after all.

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September 19, 2010

For the last 10 months, many of my decisions have been influenced by a new motto: “If I don’t want to, I don’t have to.” It’s helped me rid my life of a lot of psychological and physical clutter, not to mention giving me permission to indulge in some much-needed rest and relaxation. My creativity has soared as I remind myself: “If I don’t want to worry what people will say about my choice of paint colors, I don’t have to.” And many a trip to Goodwill has started with the thought, “If I don’t want to hold on to things I’ll probably never use again, I don’t have to.”

Last week I started a class with Debbie Ford called Designed by the Light, and I can feel my motto shifting. I was challenged by new questions:

These are BIG questions!

For the last few days, I’ve noticed how many of my choices seem pre-determined as they are filtered through my past. “I could never carry a purse like that! It just isn’t me.” So, I don’t even consider buying it, let alone think about who I could be with a purse like that. I realized how well I know myself: My likes, my dislikes, my preferences. All based on the past. All creating more of what I already have. For some things, it’s okay … I want more of THAT! But what about the things I don’t want more of? Fear. Insecurity. Disappointment. Confusion. Resentment. Hopelessness. What about all of THAT?

And so I committed to wearing a memory aid: a tiny silver and black pinky ring that keeps me present to a new way of thinking. I don’t have to choose from my past. I can listen to my inner wisdom, my intuition, my Divine impulses. And if I really want to do something or even think something, I can … whether I’ve ever chosen that way before or not.

Who would carry a purse like that? A self-confident, unpredictable, fun-loving person. Wow … what would THAT be like????

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October 12, 2010

What comes out under pressure?

I remember the first night he didn’t come home. He was 15; it was still early summer, but the night air was warm and sticky. I couldn’t sleep. I sat in a chair on the deck in my pajamas. I called his cell phone once again. And once again, it went to voice mail. His boy-changing-into-a-man voice: “Hey, this is Britain. Leave a message.”

I had left many messages. At 11:15, he was simply late. “Where are you? You were supposed to be home 15 minutes ago.” As the minutes counted higher, so did the hours: 11 changed to 12, to 1, to 2. My messages became angry and demanding. Then I went from angry to concerned to scared. Finally, I cried and pleaded: “Please call me. Please! Let me know you’re okay. Where are you?”

Then I just dialed and listened … and dialed and listened … and dialed and listened. To his voice. I needed to hear his voice. Tears splashed down my face as my heart beat like that of a frightened rabbit. Where is my baby? Who is he with? Is he okay? Why won’t he answer? What if I never see him again?

More tears. What if I never hear his voice ever again?

It’s so late. It’s 3 AM!

The tears won’t stop. Now I’m sobbing. I can’t move. I’m so scared. So panicked. I’m paralyzed with fear.

This is all my fault. I’m such a horrible mother. I work too hard. I don’t talk to him enough. I’ve always been too hard on him. He’s right. I’m just a cold-hearted bitch who never should have had children. I hate myself. I hate my life. I can’t stand this!

What am I going to do? How can I find him? What will I do when I find him? I wish I were never born. I don’t know how to do THIS!

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That was then:Eight years ago, when the pressure was on, what came out? Fear, anger, self recrimination, desperation, self destruction. It took me another 18 months to hit bottom, to surrender to a higher power, to realize I needed help, and to finally ask for help.This is now:When the pressure is on, do I experience fear and anger? Of course I do. But now my initial reactions lead me into a place of compassion, understanding, and self nurturing. A place where it’s safe to ask for grace, to accept and allow, to learn and grow. It is a place of forgiveness, faith, and divine love.

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December 22, 2010

Remembering the love ….

A long time ago, in a very different reality, I was preparing for my journey to Earth, planning for my life as a human being. I worked with my teachers and guides, carefully choosing a curriculum of Life Lessons. So many choices! We meticulously debated the settings of my life, my parents, and my life purpose, until at last each detail was settled. I pondered my gender, my body type, my gifts, and my challenges. As I settled on my choices, I become acquainted with the future me, and the more I worked at it, the more excited I became to become that particular human!

I knew not everyone had the opportunity to experience life on Earth. It was a privilege, an undertaking requiring great courage, determination, and faith. I felt ready.

As my departure time grew near, my friends gathered for a party. As everyone expressed support and good wishes, my mentor handed me an eloquently wrapped gift. Eager anticipation shone from the eyes of my friends as I carefully unwrapped it.

Inside the box was the most amazing doll I had ever seen. It was the exact image of my future Earth Self. It was me!!

My eyes filled with tears as I took the baby doll in my arms and held her close. I looked around at the smiling faces, speechless with gratitude for their most thoughtful gift. “Oh, thank you,” I said at last. “I love her so much! So much!” And I felt the love, not for the doll, but for the me I was about to become. I was so very eager for my journey and so very eager to become THIS human. This amazing, perfect little girl.

My mentor gently took me by the hand and led me outdoors to where I could see the magnificence of the night sky.

“Remember the love,” she whispered. “Hold tightly to the love. She will need that love more than anything else you can give her.”

Then it was time. I watched skyward as a spark of light fell from the brightest star. It found its way to me, to my heart. We merged and together we journeyed to Earth.

And in the millisecond before my conception, I felt the message resonate throughout my essence: “Remember the love.”