I don't let go of things easily. In a positive light, I'm tenacious. Seen negatively, I'm pigheaded. There are always alternatives.

I attended a great stress management class in the spring. There are times when one has to examine one's beliefs, and if they're not working any more, one has to change them.

[Brief overview of one of the models taught in the class:

• Beliefs -> Rules -> Behavior -> Results ->(feedback)-> Beliefs
  • Belief = the 'why' behind what we do.
     observation: much of our stress comes from treating beliefs as facts.
  • Rules = guidelines for what to do; the mental response to the belief.
  • Behavior, actions, and in time, behavior patterns, derive from the rules.
     They = the physical and emotional responses to the belief.
  • Results = what actually happens when one does the behavior.
     Feedback from results goes into shaping/reinforcing the belief.
• Question: "Do the results of my behavior meet my needs? Over time?"]

When I hear answers like "It won't work," that in my mind means that the person would like to do something, but there are obstacles. And I've always learned that obstacles can be overcome and will therefore try to find workarounds.

This comes partly from my family background. As one example, when I was 8, my parents got a courtesy invitation to a relative's wedding in Israel. The wedding was only 4 weeks away, and my brother (3) and I didn't have passports or even Social Security numbers yet. But, because my parents got the crazy notion in their heads, we all attended. As another example, Ian's and my ideas of what we wanted for our wedding were radically different -- a formal affair vs. something inexpensive and informal so it could host hordes of people. We both got exactly the wedding we wanted.

It also comes partly from my professional training in design and QE. For the last five years, my job has involved an iterative process of finding flaws, redesigning or finding workarounds, and repeating the cycle until something finally works well enough. I've found that this skill goes beyond software, and have used it everywhere from political debates to informal career counseling.

So, I'm used to the idea of wanting the impossible and being able to acheive it. Practicalities don't have to get in the way if you don't let them. No problem is insurmountable, especially for intelligent people.

It often takes me a while to realize when people are saying "I can't" to mean "I don't want to." "Can't," to me, is a challenge. [Speaking as someone who can't get away from work at this time who is about to spend a week in New Orleans with a husband who can't travel.]

When I'm presented with obstacle after obstacle, with every proposed solution rejected or topped with yet more obstacles, it just gets me frustrated. It feels defeatist or fatalistic, as if the person would prefer to complain about what can't be done than actually do it.

In my mind, "I don't want to" means I'll drop the idea. "I can't" means "I want to, but..." so it's up to me to figure out how to make it work.

I won't be offended by someone rejecting one of my suggestions as contrary to their wants or desires. But please don't make excuses by trying to present obstacles. I realize that the latter may be the more socially polite way of speaking, but the former will get through to me much more quickly, easily and certainly.

People may not be able to change feelings "on a whim" but feelings DO change. Even deeply-held beliefs. Speaking politically, I once strongly believed in gun control almost to the point of abolition; now I lean the other way.

Or, maybe this example will seem more relevant. Growing up, and through college, I never had a dish in an Indian restaurant that I liked. I could eat the breads and drink lassi, but I couldn't stand any of the other dishes served. After putting up with many, many unsatisfactory meals, I finally decided that I had enough evidence to say that "I don't like Indian food" and "I refuse to eat in Indian restaurants." It did occasionally crimp my friends' styles, because they couldn't go out for Indian when we were together, but I felt justified in my feelings.

One night, many years ago, Ian really wanted Indian food, and because he's my husband and has put up with accompanying me on things he didn't like more than a few times, I agreed to go with him to an Indian restaurant. That night, after we got home, I got sick (to give you some idea; Ian had to clean the floor afterwards). Then, a few years later, Ian got Indian food cravings again, and again I accompanied him. And I managed to find one dish that I liked. So we went to Indian restaurants a few more times (maybe once every several months) and I discovered a few more items I enjoyed.

Nowadays, I'm just as likely to suggest going out to an Indian restaurant as Ian is. And, although I did feel fully justified in my earlier feelings (I had at least made valiant efforts to try it before saying I didn't like it), I was stil flexible enough to be open to new experiences. And that was to my benefit, because I LOVE the coconut soup at New Mother India.

What's more, I attended a marvelous stress management class in the spring. One of the main points involved learning how to examine one's personal beliefs, determine whether those beliefs meet one's needs, and if they're not working any more, how to change them so one's needs are met.

For example, when Ian is late picking me up at various times, I've mostly stopped feeling angry about it. I know that he's aware of the time and is probably already upset with himself. Worrying is counter-productive and won't make him arrive any faster. Instead, I've learned to channel my feelings into concern about him and thinking up alternative ways to deal with the delay (call the destination to inform them we're late, considering alternate routes, etcetera).