It's this or something better
Ted Lasso reminding his colleague Nate to BELIEVE.
I texted a friend from England recently, and when I asked how she was, her response was classic British: “I’m muddling through.” I chuckled at the familiarity from my 8 years living in London. It’s common there that bad means good.
And then I paused. Something hit me in a way it hadn’t before.
When I finally moved back to the US, after over a decade in Britain and its former colonies (Australia and Singapore), I remember how jarring it was to speak “American” again.
I recall bristling at how ubiquitously we used the word “perfect”: for the big things (“Your presentation was perfect!”) and for the little things: (“I can swing by to pick you up at 10.” “Perfect!”) What was this obsession with perfection? I chalked it up to over-enthusiasm.
But years later, as I read my friend’s note, it hit me: there’s actually something profound about our language.
We are a country in which dreams come true: people come here to make it in all kinds of fields. Of course, you can be successful elsewhere, but there’s absolutely something in the water here. We believe anything is possible. Your beliefs are a huge part of your ability to achieve (just ask Ted Lasso, or if you prefer, the National Institutes of Health). And what you say (to yourself and to others) reinforces your beliefs.
What does this have to do with the liminal zone and getting unstuck?
Everything.
Loyal readers will know that I’m in my own liminal zone right now, having lost my housing in the recent hurricanes. I won’t lie; it’s a special kind of challenge to live in a town recovering after a natural disaster. Every conversation comes back to loss; getting basic things done (like collecting mail or grocery shopping) takes extra time; finding a place to live is much harder than normal.
It can be really easy to fall into a scarcity mindset in this environment. Take housing. There are tons of people displaced and less housing stock than ever (rumors are that 90% of the homes in my town were impacted by the storms). Floodwaters sitting stagnant for days in homes mean there’s a risk of black mold hiding in every wall, meaning you actually hope to see drywall ripped out as you tour, as a sign of progress and remediation.
It’s hard to get yourself beyond the thought of “I’ll take whatever I can get.”
But here’s the thing: One of my core beliefs is that when something ends, something better is on the way. Laid off? A job that you love more awaits. Lost your sweet beach cottage? A home you like better will appear.
So how do you get there when surrounded by signs of loss?
What you focus on grows. Hone in on the negativity, you’ll see more of it. Turn your attention instead to signs of hope, you’ll see more of that.
When I focused on hope, here’s what I saw: landlords were generously waiving deposits and negotiating rents. Neighbors were offering their homes and spare bedrooms. The post office staff was kindly and patiently helping everyone redirect and recover their lost mail.
As I toured apartment after apartment that didn’t feel like home, I kept my attention focused on those signals of generosity and support.
And as much as I could remember to, I kept my language optimistic. In fact, there’s a mantra I often say to myself when I’m feeling loss (or lost!): “It’s this or something better.” I credit Gabby Bernstein for putting these words in my head, as they always help me see the possibilities. For instance, my temporary Airbnb home is super sweet, so every time I’d get discouraged, I’d look around and think: Wow, I wonder what will be better than this?
I’m in the middle of bingeing Ted Lasso right now. It’s the story of an American football coach who moves to England to take on a middling football (soccer) team. If you’ve yet to meet Ted, imagine a combination of Mr. Rogers and Mary Poppins.
As I float along looking for my next landing place, it’s particularly poignant to watch a team of scruffy footballers slowly realize they had it in them all along. In last night’s episode, Ted flipped the common British phrase “it’s the hope that kills you” on its head. No, he says, it’s the hope that keeps you alive. Before they go out on the pitch for an all-or-nothing game, he asks the team: “Do you believe in miracles?” Ted is a 3D (er, 2D?) reminder that miracles don’t appear, they come straight from belief.
As I searched, I kept believing.
Eventually, I found a home. And it is better than what came before: like my lost cottage, it is steps from the beach. But like my Airbnb, it has large windows facing the water. So my new place is a combination of my favorite things from each of those previous homes. Almost, I dunno, like a miracle.
Pretty darn perfect, if you ask me. ;)