Yesterday I was spinning plates. You know the feeling. Everything was going right. I was caught up on all my writing assignments, I had lost a few pounds, my hair actually did what it was supposed to and I was excited about some new projects.. I had every one of those plates up and spinning and was feeling pretty smug.

My self-talk was going something along these lines - you know, Carolyn, you're a pretty cool person. You have it together. The sky's the limit and you can do anything. You go, girl!

It seemed like they'd spin forever.

It always does.

Two hours later, they came crashing down. I had signed up for an important tele-class, even changing a doctor's appointment so I could participate. But right before the class started, I realized in panic that I'd never received the bridge number. With a sinking feeling, I tried calling the organization sponsoring the call. An answering machine clicked on. I emailed. No reply.

An hour later, with only 20 minutes left in the class, the registrar finally called with the phone number and an apology. I quickly dialed in, trying to ignore my dog who realized I was otherwise occupied and began gleefully shredding an empty soda carton he had found. Right about the time he had finished scattering the paper, my cell phone lost its charge and I was disconnected. There was 10 minutes left in the class.

The whole experience had been stressful, but now it got worse. I started thinking about it. You'll never amount to anything, you can't even succeed at making one call, the voices in my head screamed. You're a technological idiot. Where are your priorities, you should have stuck with your doctor's appointment. Plus, you look fat today!

Just as the voices were going full throttle, not only beating me up but dipping deeper into a well of all the unworthy feelings I'd ever had, I noticed the dog. He was contentedly lying amid his paper carnage. He wasn't telling himself how he was addicted to shredding things and would never break that habit. He sure didn't look like he was guiltily recollecting the time he'd peed in our upstairs den, or taken his toys outside only to forget them in the rain.

Yet that's exactly what we do, constantly. It takes only the slightest slip, the merest whisper, for us to find some way to judge ourselves. The scary thing is that most of the time we don't even notice it. We find ourselves feeling lousy, but unless we have the presence of mind to then stop, examining the thoughts going through our head like background muzak, we don't know why we feel bad. If we stop, we can then spot the negative intruder there to ruin our day. You forgot to send your child out with their lunch, it says. What kind of mother are you! You had a fender bender with another vehicle? You're getting old and should be taken off the road!

Once we catch the voice, we can see the silly over inflation for what it is. A missed class doesn't make me an idiot. It surely doesn't make me fat. In fact, I'm exactly the same person I was two hours earlier, when I was reveling in my wonderful-ness.

As our dog padded across the wood floor to settle into a session of bone chewing, I thought how matter-of-factly and good-naturedly he approached everything. There's no drama with him. No judgment. In fact, as little "thinking" as possible. He doesn't kick himself when he's down; nor does he over inflate himself to feel good.  Wow, I'm catching more flies than any dog on the block! This shaggy coat of mine would sure look good in the movies!
No, he just accepts himself - as is - and gets on with his life.

He's a good teacher.  I don't need to spin plates to consider myself worthy. A dropped plate is not a sign of unworthiness. It's just a dropped plate. Period. Or, like the dog, it's just another opportunity to lick up what spills and move on.