Liberty Coaching - Tiffani Clingin - Life Coach

I’m a big fan of high voltage displays of emotion, passionate discourse and taking a stand for yourself and others. I also admire people adept at mobilising the energy crucial for accomplishing something new. Our expression and engagement frequently draws us forward, cajoling us to live fully and reach for more. 

But from time to time our bold, stormy and powerful energy can twist and sour and morph in to aggression.  In these moments we are self righteous, withdrawn or sulky, defaming or derisive.  We might even cross the line to abuse and violence.

As grown ups we need to know the difference between intensity and rage. 

With respect and love,

If I was the director of life I’d manifest unicorns, rainbows and pots of gold for all people. I’d eliminate depression, con artists, SIDS and ugly shoes. I’d make sure that all sport vanished from the telly and was replaced with brand new episodes of Embarrassing Bodies. I’d command all dogs to scoop their own waste. Every teen would put their washing in the laundry basket and say brightly, “It gladdens my heart to do this.” 

But someone else is moving the chess pieces.

And because I am not in charge and cannot foresee every twist and turn in the road of life there are times when I am perplexed, heavy hearted and rattled by my lot; and I know this is true for you too.

My buddy, Delores felt like this last week.  She was sideswiped by a friend’s double dealing and thoughtlessness and sat in my kitchen trembling and pessimistic, lamenting about her upended life. It tuns out that Delores’ friend had sent provocative photographs to Delores’ startled husband, Collin. The friend had also tried to fondle Collin’s willy at the breakfast buffet during a recent cruise to Vanuatu. 

She moaned, “What should I do; throw a brick through her window?”  

I know from my training that knotty problems can send our blood pressure sky high, swishing blood away from the gut and engaging our fight-flight response. This impairs our intellect and erases restraint. So when Delores declared that she wanted to damage her former friend’s windows I suspected that her stress hormones were determining the nature and intensity of her ideas. 

“Delores you’re far too loopy and overwhelmed to be of any sensible use right now; decisions made in the peak of despair are often ghastly.” I patted her hand and told about my client who paid a small fortune to have the acronym, M.I.A.A (Melissa is an arsehole) tattooed across his lower back on the day they broke up. He even instructed the artist to draw an arrow pointing directly towards his anus to eliminate any doubt about his message.  Yes, this is a true story. 

So I advised her, “Delores, instead of thundering forward, how about we pause instead, take some time for comfort?” She looked doubtful but I pressed on,”It might be better to slip on a pair of bed socks, rub hand cream about, knock back a schooner of peppermint tea, eat soup and watch a comedy. We could lay low until the crisis settles and the future is clearer. Brick tossing might be the best way to proceed but it’ll be far more fun if we do it when you’re sane.”

In times of turmoil we produce a cascade of hormones that invite us to underestimate perceived control, leading to anxiety and aggression. Soothing, consoling and restorative choices help us to settle down and avoid social catastrophe.  So if you’re planning to fling a house brick at someone it might be best to knit yourself a scarf beforehand or trot off to nearby floatation tank. 

With respect and love,

I’m sorry to be a party pooper and bring up such a heavy hearted topic in my plain little blog but I’m not sorry enough to completely skirt around the issue. It’s important that we engage in a conversation about suicide, even if it leaves us feeling temporarily wintry.

Research says that 5.5% of us have thoughts of suicide and one Australian citizen dies by their own hand every four hours.  

Isn’t that utterly terrible?

And when people die this way they hand their family and friends a grief like no other.  It is an experience of agony that is immeasurable. 

But we can, as a community, act in ways that make a difference.  Our personal conduct can provide a pathway for enhancing life. Together, we can promote healing and make a positive difference to vulnerable people. 

Firstly, we must be dauntless when we suspect that someone is at risk of suicide and have the guts to ask, “Are you ok?”  If they answer, “No I’m not,” invite them to say more and listen acutely to their story.  

If listening is hard for you, sticky tape your lips together because this part is very important. Suicide is usually an unsound solution for a very knotty problem and we need to know what it is that they can’t face. 

I’ve known people to consider suicide so they don’t have to see their mother-in-law on Christmas Day, to end physical pain, to prevent folks discovering they have an STD, to stop a gambling addiction or to avoid being beaten up in the schoolyard. By listening carefully when someone talks about suicide we can uncover their stuck point.  I sometimes ask clients, “What problems would be solved if you were no longer here?”

Next, we need to tell them their perspective makes sense and avoid placating them with expressions like:

This problem will pass. 

I’m sure your mother-in-law can't be that bad! Let me tell you about my Aunty June, she pole danced at my cousin Benny’s funeral!

Gambling is really in fashion now; haven’t you heard the ads on the radio?

Every kid cops a bit of bullying, if we all died of bullying there’d be no one left! 

At least you’ve got an STD; I haven’t had sex since Star Wars was newly released at the cinema. 

Instead, it is helpful for people to hear us say, “That sounds bloody hard and I’m really glad you’ve told me.” The relief that arises when someone makes sense of us is immensely curative.

Christmas time can be difficult to navigate when you have a lousy relative to deal with. I’m mighty glad you’ve said something.

You’ve got yourself in a tight corner by betting on the horses; It’s not as glamorous as the TV ads promise, is it?

Bullying can leave people feeling very lost and alone. Is that what it is like for you?

Visiting a doctor with a swollen scrotum can be demoralising. Thank you for trusting me to know this about you. 

Lastly we can nudge/invite folks to take a safe action to resolve what is arising and follow up to check on their progress. 

Conversations about suicidal ideation are daunting, mainly because the stakes are so darn high.  My stomach does a back flip whenever someone says, “I have a plan to die” or some ghastly variation on this.  But our willingness to set aside our fear and step towards their pain might just provide a bridge to mending their minds and hearts. Even if we fumble our way, rootless and hesitant, our goodwill is often sufficient.

With respect and love,

Martha Beck is one of my all-time favourite writers.  In her book, The Joy Diet Martha has an exercise that goes like this:

Finish each sentence by listing five things that give you sensory pleasure (I’ve filled it in to provide samples).

I love the taste of:

1. Cake

2. Water from a spring

3. Warm tea

4. Home-made pesto

5. The sea (when it splashes up in to my face)

I love the sight of:

1. Faces (especially my family; I love our crazy circus)

2. A new book

3. Flowers in a field

4. Bouncing lambs

5. Majestic views

I love the feel of:

1. Clean sheets on a squishy mattress

2. Holding hands

3. Being there for others and others there for me

4. Curiosity

5. An ocean breeze

I love the smell of:

1. Freshly washed hair

2. Puppy breath

3. Libraries

4. Dinner simmering

5. Grass after rain

I love the sound of:

1. Bagpipes

2. Hearty laughter

2. David Attenborough

3. Nature

4. Tact and tolerance

5. Sports crowds

Of course, it’s not sufficient to just jot them down. Once you have your inventory, set about doing three things per day. And if the idea of small pleasures stimulates a lot of mental chatter, shake it off and do it anyway. 

I’d better go, I’m off to smell my son’s hair when he’s not looking.

With respect and love,

In 1987 American Airlines saved $40,000 by eliminating one olive from every salad served in first class.  

Like the airline, you and I have teeny-tiny opportunities for change that can unshackle us too. Now and again it’s worth fooling around with the old order of things and checking the results.

I had a client who was wishy washy about her commitment to regular sleeping and it was having a mighty impact on her nerves; she was drowsy, ashen and troubled. But she was also utterly convinced that her schedule had very little room for revision (and I suspected that this was a fib). 

When we studied her lineup we noticed that she was spending a 3-4 hours each evening doing chores: after dinner cleanup, school lunch preparation, ironing uniforms, mopping floors, reading stories, emptying bins, patting the pets and finishing her kids’ homework. When I asked, “Where are the family members while you’re on the jobs?” She told me, “They are pursuing their creative interests.” And she cried like an Italian soccer fan whose team just lost the World Cup.

I told her about the olives and she decided to jiggle things up; she made a checklist of the tasks that were important for the beginning and end of each day and she strongly suggested the family chip in.  

They were used to sitting around like kings and queens and initially felt a bit miffed about the change, but as she morphed in to a funnier, wittier, sexier version of her previous self they didn’t care so much. The kids told her that they actually liked helping and her husband appreciated her extra energy immensely.

But what about you? Where are the costly olives in your life?  What could you tweak to access more energy, time or money?  

With respect and love,

*Please be aware that this article contains details of a sexual crime and this might be unsettling for some of you. Respect your needs and give it a miss if you’re likely to be thrown by it.

Most Social Work and Psychology students have heard of crime victim, Kitty Genovese.  

Kitty was stabbed in front of her apartment building in 1964 by an unsound whacko, Winston Moseley. Reports say that he followed Kitty from her car and knifed her in the back. Kitty called out for help and a nearby neighbour opened her window and shouted,“Let that girl be.” Moseley was put off and hurried away.  

Kitty crawled toward her apartment, close to losing consciousness and collapsed on the grass, not far from the entrance to her building. Ten minutes later, Moseley circled back to the crime scene and saw that Kitty was pretty much where he’d left her. Moseley stole Kitty’s money, stabbed her again and sexually assaulted her too. 

Thirty-eight of Kitty’s neighbours knew that something ugly was going down and nobody helped her. 

Kitty’s bleak case and the lacklustre response from the people nearby is used to teach mental health workers about bystander apathy. Anytime something lousy is unfolding but we do diddly-squat about it, bystander apathy is in play.

Sometimes we turn away from ghastly things because we are shy about our capacity to handle it or we assume someone else will take action. But I’d like us to agree to put those thoughts aside. 

Years ago some local teens walked in to the mens’ bathroom at a shopping centre.  There was a small lad at the urinal and a man was standing behind him, rubbing his back.  One of the teens noticed that the boy looked fragile and hesitant so he unflinchingly asked, “Are you ok, do you know this man?” The boy shook his head and started to weep while the creepy toilet guy darted away.  

If we notice smoke in bushland, let’s all phone the fire brigade.  If our friends have unexplained bruises, let’s ask about them.  If someone speeds by, let’s take their number plate and call the fuzz.

With respect and love,

When a challenging situation is vague and uncertain it is important to give others the benefit of the doubt. We can end up with egg on our face if we jump to conclusions and act too strongly on our hunches.  

A couple of years ago a man was photographing his children on a carnival ride at a shopping centre.  A nearby lady assumed that he was preying on the youngsters, capturing their images for his deviant pleasure.  She chose to safeguard the community from the “weirdo” and wrote a blog about him and published his picture on the interweb. By the time the truth was made plain his image had been shared thousands of times and people were out for his perverted blood.

Sometimes I’ve made foolish assumptions too and I’ve had them made about me.

When I was a teenager my Mum died.  She relinquished her life in the wee hours of the morning and in the afternoon I rambled to the shops to choose a dress for her funeral.  I was browsing earnestly, wanting the frock to be ‘just so.’ A shop assistant approached and I was fuzzy and imprecise about what I wanted. She chastised me, “It wouldn’t hurt you to try smiling.” I told her, “I need a dress to bury my mother and I am lost about how to choose. I really don’t know what people wear to this kind of special gathering?  My Mum liked animals and was funny and kind.  Could we find something that matches a lady like that?” 

And the wind was taken out of her.

When I studied Transactional Analysis my teachers used to say that good decision makers stay aware of “self, context and other.”  In a nutshell, they were telling me to harness my curiosity and investigate all of the moments of life from a thousand and one perspectives. This is a little nudge for you to remember that too. 

With respect and love,

If we are in a relationship of any kind we need to master the art of accepting feedback. This is my very firm opinion. 

It’s not an easy task, especially when someone is telling us how we irritate them but we need to be ‘man enough’ to take it. We need to morph in to a psychological badass even if we don’t want to.  Lasting love depends on it.

Last week my son and I were in a whirlpool/spa. Monte was reflective and said, “Can I please give you some feedback?” I answered, “Here we are in the whirlpool of sacred trust, there’s really no greater time to say whatever you need.” He disclosed, “When you tell people that I ________, I don’t like it.” 

I immediately scanned my memory-locker for all of the times I’ve shared that story and it was at least a dozen.  I told him, “Oh dear, I’ve mentioned it many times, haven’t I?  How do you feel about it?” He said he is “humiliated and bored.” I carefully continued, “I’m so glad you brought that up, I had no idea of the impact I’ve had and I’m darn confident that I would have kept sharing that moment over and over, probably until I died. But I’ll stop immediately.”  Next, he squeezed my hand and regarded me sweetly (like people look at each other in the arrival doors at International airports) and said, “I can always trust you to hear what I have to say.”

When folks are laying out the things that bother them it is too easy for us to get ruffled and edgy and defend ourselves.  I’ve done it thousands of times, baulking at the simplest things, unwilling to set aside my pridefulness.  But my self importance has come at a huge cost: diminished trust, connection and love. 

Time and time again I sit with people in my workroom as they refuse to accept the messages their people desperately want to share:

Beth, you are always on your phone. Mostly I don’t mind but when we are making love it troubles me.

Gavin, when you drink you’re mean and you smell like the liquid at the bottom of a wheelie bin.

Son, when you’re late I worry a lot and imagine that you’ve met with foul play. 

At these moments it is ideal for the receiver to say something like, “You’re upset, tell me more...” But often we’ll come back with:

Geez, I’m not ‘always’ on my phone!

Here we go again; constant nagging!  And just so you know, Brian actually asked me what aftershave I was wearing at the pub on Saturday night. He says I smell really nice.

Liam’s parents don’t make such a bloody fuss, why can’t you be more like them? They even got him a marijuana plant for his 13th birthday.

In the whirlpool I could have told Monte, “The _______ story is very funny. Don't you think you’re being a bit picky?” I could have minimised his disquiet and found a way to tell him he’s out of order.  But in all likelihood, he would have slid to the other side of the spa and looked at me like I’d just kicked a dog. 

With respect and love,

Last week I deposited my youngling at High School. I know that it’s wonderful to see our children achieve things in the proper order but I was still a bit jumpy and ruffled by it and the lad was too. Any shift in the family life cycle can be like this, marvellous and unnerving all at the same time.

On a whim I invited my dynamite friend to car pool, “Maybe we can deliver the boys together; sometimes its good to have company for moments that are a bit disarming?” So we did. And it was playful and easy and it stopped us getting emotionally flooded.

This got me thinking about the benefits of doing second-rate tasks with amiable people. 

Once upon a time my friend’s husband ran off with an online lass. As it turned out, he wanted way more than a new lady; he also hankered for the family home, business and sole access to my friend’s youngsters. He was like that bloke in the Monty Python movie that eats so much that he bursts, “I’ll ‘ave the lot, with an egg on top!” 

His win-at-all-costs mindset was crushing for my peace-loving, dignified friend. But a bunch of us gathered around her and promised she'd never be alone in divorce court. She still felt shredded and hurt but we were there to hold her hand and whisper, “His new person has surprisingly dry hair and very crappy shoes.” It seemed to help. 

I’ve accompanied folks to breast biopsies, births, pap smears, funeral planning meetings, school disciplinary slap downs, chemotherapy and all kinds of other taxing rendezvous. And everyone agrees that its better with a buddy.

So if it’s time to talk with the kids about sex, you’re heading on a long distance car ride with your boss or you’re due for colonic irrigation, see about taking a peachy mate. 

With respect and love,

In times of crisis I like to wear vast underpants.  I prefer them to be very high in the waist and cover all of my cheeks, with no spillage. I got the idea from spying on my elderly neighbour when I was little.  

She had the most sizeable undergarments I’d ever seen, tremendously spacious and roomy.  They looked like bed sheets when they dangled about on her clothes line and I imagined that they’d be strikingly cosy. 

I was right. 

When my mother died I bought my first pair of colossal knickers and I’ve never looked back. Any time the world goes completely mad I pop them on and they cuddle my arse, making everything seem far less lawless. When Clinique discontinued my favourite lipstick and Charles cheated on Diana, out came the big bloomers. 

Last week I flew interstate to spend time with my brothers.  I was adopted as a baby so the previously undiscovered siblings are new to me.  I met with a dose of stage fright prior to our get-together and confessed to my son, “I’m a little unglued, scared they won’t like me, I think this occasion calls for ample briefs” and we hoofed it to the shops, lugging home a burly pair of floral underthings.

Of course, there are other ways I could soothe myself; booze, online flirting or clubbing baby seals but massive undies don’t hurt me or anyone else and they’re surprisingly economical at the checkout. 

But what about you?

Are your sources of comfort low-risk? Can you change things up if the old way no longer serves you? 

For instance, one of my clients, Leonie recently learned that her hubby has been taking selfies of his penis and forwarding them to a mysterious online lady. Leonie’s primary source of comfort is screaming obscenities at their wedding video while she feasts on cooking chocolate, chugs goon and cleans her farming rifle. Outsiders know this could all end in tears so she’s agreed to temporarily store the gun at a shooting range.  She’s also using the wedding disc as a drink coaster and limits herself to one glass of fine red wine per day.

You get my drift right?  Comfort is important but keep it safe.

With respect and love,

Sometimes we can get snooty with people and tell ourselves, I’ll show them my concern and respect once they ‘deserve’ it!  But while we wait for them to ‘earn’ our generosity we allow them to call the shots about our own behaviour. 

We really don’t need to be ‘in the mood’ to show our love and dignity. It’s possible for us to give others the benefit of the doubt and practise charity even when folks are not ‘worthy’ of it. 

The other day I made a mistake crossing the road and I stepped in front of a moving car (if my brains were gun powder I wouldn’t have had enough to blow my hat off).  The driver was alert to my holiday-induced dreaminess and skirted around me.  She then waved from her window, grinned and said, “You look like someone that other people would like; step carefully.” I was dazzled by her tolerance and sweetness. 

But then this morning I saw my son’s sock-littered bedroom and I wanted to call, “You’re so lazy, if you were a dog you’d probably lay down to bark!” But then I remembered the Mother Teresa impersonator from the road and I ran with, “Would you mind collecting those, please buddy?”

There’s a lot to be said for setting the tone of our encounters with others.

With respect and love,

Some problems are arduous and herculean. They require time and patience and endurance.  Personally, I don’t like those kinds of patches; I prefer to swan about gaily and live a life that’s breezy. I want to sit in a revolving hot tub, clutching a glass of champagne and a romance novel. You probably do too. 

People in my private practice are facing all kinds of immeasurable messes. They are recovering from sexual assaults, they are wounded by domestic violence, leading businesses teetering on the brink of disaster, caring for mentally ill parents, or raising unsettled teens that steal their money and serenity. 

But no matter the complication, here are my two-bobs worth about facing adversity:

Identify an area of life that you have some say over and invest time here. One of my young clients, Dita is caring for her schizophrenic father and his communication is chaotic, terrifying and lawless.  But Dita likes dancing and making brooches and she feels soothed after a dance class or time in her studio. There’ll be environments that help you too.  Find them. 

Share your lot with someone you can trust. Recently I was perplexed by a knotty problem.  I told my older son, “I look calm on the outside but underneath I feel very confused and bleak.” He contemplated me kindly and patted my hand and it helped a lot. Talk to people like him.  

Watch some comedy.  Last year someone we love was dealing with a pressing issue and it was a matter of life and death. There was a cloud of fear over him (and us) but it helped a lot to go to the comedy.  I recently told my husband, “I don’t think I could have faced that dark time without Nick Cody and Kitty Flanagan.”  So if there’s a chance to laugh, take it. 

If these fail, climb in to bed, lay on your side and rest.  Let all of the worry and sadness have it’s way with you for ten minutes or so.  Then, when you’re ready, brush yourself off and get back out there. 

With respect and love,

Most of us have had the experience of expansiveness that arises when we help someone else. Benevolence, sweetness and respect strengthens our connections and cements our place in the hearts of other people.  

On the other hand when we're bitter, cross and catty our body is rigid with tension and our ideas and relationships shrivel.

Let’s make a pact to practise kindness, even when we come face to face with someone we don’t look up to.   

With respect and love,