Is Providing Honest Opinions the Same as Having a Big Mouth?

I love October, and not just because I was born in this month. 

I love the feeling of change in the air. There is a freshness and crispness like no other season. It makes me think of chili and chocolate (though chocolate is always on my mind) and pumpkins. The sun glows differently too. Lower, and it feels softer on my face somehow.

The leaves are slow to change this year, it seems. Maybe because we’ve enjoyed some Indian Summer days these last few weeks. Hands down, watching the trees burn bright is one of my very favorite things.

Most of all, October signifies change to me. Do you feel it too?

I have noticed a change in myself recently. I am doing something, on occasion, that I never used to do. When asked for it, I am giving my (honest) opinion. And I am not doing it all the time. Baby steps.

In times past, my response to a question like “How did you like it?” might result in an enthusiastic gushing if I liked/loved whatever it was. If I had a negative opinion, I would respond, “It was good.” or “Fine.” Something extremely simple.

[If you are sick of hearing me talk about yoga, bear with me for a minute because I am baring my feelings here, and it is part of my change, I promise.]

After every class I take, which is usually 5 a week, the instructor asks for feedback. I sure hope they are asking because they really want to know because I have started to provide an honest assessment of how I felt about the class. After all, didn’t we just spent 60 minutes listening to him/her instructing us?

I am diplomatic. I choose words carefully. I believe in “it’s not what you say (usually), but how you say it (my kids are still tired of me relying on this phrase, though it is so very true)”. Plus, I am not a mean spirited person.

My problem is…

I think I got someone fired for giving my opinion. Well not fired fired, but removed as an instructor of the more advanced level Monday morning class. I confidentially provided honest and constructive feedback to the studio manager when she specifically asked what I thought of the class I’d just finished. Very nicely, but firmly I gave my honest opinion, which was the teacher in question did not instruct the class to the level expected. Not even close.

The instructor has never been on the studio schedule again. I feel more than a little crappy about it. My hope is she is at another studio teaching the level with which she is more suited. Still, I feel crummy.

I am going to continue taking baby steps toward speaking up when asked for my opinion when it’s negative, and I haven’t figured out a really good way to apply this change outside of Core Power Yoga in my “real” life, in particular, because I never want to hurt the feeling of those I care about. And forget about giving unsolicited advice. I will just keep quiet.

Would/do people ask for feedback if they really don’t want it? I am afraid of this…

Trifecta: Dark Shadows

I had no idea before today what I was (am?).

I was (am?) most probably a scelerophobic (a bad guy fear).

Living on a quiet, tree-lined street in a suburb with little crime, no one locked doors. Windows had screens to allow the breeze.

Dark Shadows haunted me at 4:00 (I hid) after Gilligan’s Island. 

Dragnet, at night, always began “the story you are about to hear is true…” inevitably including legit “America’s Most Wanted”s. It didn’t matter, to me, where they were last seen. I was FREAKED!

Convinced sinister men from posters, armed and dangerous of course, or whatever, would find me in a sleepy suburb and…

My mind never went further. Imagining them in my room was enough.

So it began in a bedroom with too many hiding spots. Full sweeps every night; under the bed, swiping a foot over the closet floor; arms swinging through clothing. Even on sweltering nights, window latches were triple checked. Shades drawn at sunset.

Door locked; the trashcan against it to warn me in case I didn’t hear the lock picked. I thought about booby-traps while praying.

For Everything.

For Safety.

For a Storm.

Bad guys didn't visit during storms.

Against better judgment I saw movies like “Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, “Amityville Horror” and “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” with my boyfriend so we could snuggle. I paid dearly for years.

Hardly sleeping...

Was it because Dad traveled incessantly leaving only mom home with us? What could she really do?

College provided respite with ROOMMATES and…

SLEEP!

On my own, it sort of started again (okay, it did). My first studio-apartment proved easy to sweep (closet and shower) before turning triple deadbolts Dad installed. Place two, a one-bedroom, took more time.

Thereafter, I had roommates.

Now, if I’m sleeping completely alone?

Bedroom locked, pepper spray handy and 80 lbs. of fierceness between me, Barnabas Collins and “poster” guy, even though there’s absolutely no crime on this tree-lined street.

Old habits die hard…

For chicken shits!

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33-333 words for the third definition of sinister:

3. singularly evil or productive of evil