Trusting Yourself. M. J. Ryan

and F. David Peat in Seven Life Lessons of Chaos, “Chaos theory demonstrates why such a dream [of control] is an illusion. Chaotic systems lie beyond all our attempts to predict, manipulate, and control them.” And the more we accept that, the more we will stop fighting the way things are.

      Most likely we will never get to the end of our to-do lists. The more we give up our illusion that “someday” we will have it all together, the more we can relax into the reality of our lives as they are—with all their chipped teeth, blown schedules, and jam on the walls. Trusting ourselves helps us do that.

      Trust in ourselves is not about feeling invincible, infallible, or in complete control of our lives. Rather, it's knowing that the messiness of life is not our fault. It's just the nature of life itself—unpredictable and uncontrollable. With self-trust, we understand that power and peace is found in “response-ability,” our capacity to meet life as it comes at us. When we believe in our ability to respond, we don't fight against the wildness of life because we know we'll handle what comes our way when it arrives.

      It also helps to remember that life's unpredictability brings us joy, too—the fact that things happen out of the blue: a call from a friend you haven't heard from in twenty years; a job opportunity that falls out of the sky; a great conversation with your child because your oven broke and you had to go out to dinner. I know someone whose sister canceled her wedding at the last minute because she met the love of her life. Messy? You bet, but what happiness she found.

      When I trust myself, I can see what happens as a dance between me and life. Sometimes I'm leading, sometimes I'm following, but the beauty and grace comes from responding to my partner rather than insisting that it must be my way. I'm constantly being asked to learn new steps, and somehow I figure out how to do them. And if that means the twenty-two-inch-high pile of files has to stay on top of my filing cabinet for another three years, so be it.

      We Can Say No When We Want To

       You probably don't remember it, but “no” was one of the most fabulous discoveries of your childhood.

      —Martha Beck

      It was Friday evening. Teresa was on the phone with me, lamenting that she had to spend Saturday baking a dozen cookies for her daughter's dance recital, chauffeuring her son's soccer team to the game even though it was not her turn, and hosting a friend's birthday party that evening. In each circumstance, she had been asked to do these things and felt compelled to say yes. “I just have such a hard time saying no. And I hate baking,” she wailed.

      Boy, do I know a lot of people who struggle with this issue. Folks enduring this affliction are perpetually overwhelmed and overtired and often end up either not able to fulfill all the obligations they've committed to, which leaves others angry and them feeling guilty and inadequate, or so exhausted that they can find no joy in what they do.

      This inability, I've come to see, really springs from a lack of self-trust. If you feel you are fundamentally unworthy and have constantly to prove yourself, if you don't feel it is acceptable to have limits and boundaries, if you believe you can't survive the disapproval of others, then you will have trouble saying, “I'm sorry, I can't do that. Try me again another time.”

      When we trust ourselves, we know our limits, express them to others, and survive disapproval if it should occur. We know deep in our bones that we can't possibly please “all of the people all of the time,” as Abraham Lincoln so wisely counseled, so we understand that occasionally we will disappoint others. And we are secure enough in ourselves to court that disapproval if what is being asked goes beyond our capacity or desire.

      When we believe in ourselves, we don't have to prove anything to anyone about our worthiness of love or attention or time off. We rely on ourselves to be the arbiter of what we're willing to do at any given moment and how much is too much. We're not interested in competing with Mrs. Jacobs, who not only baked six dozen cookies, but personalized them with each child's name. We know what our needs and priorities are and make sure we're included on our to-do lists.