Everyone has a story to tell. And I believe everyone has a story worth sharing. I shared mine on my When I Grow Up Blog. If you have time, hop on over to check it out.I would love to hear yours.
Wouldn't it be great if all children grew up believing in themselves and could confidently say:
I am special. I am a promise. I am a possibility. I have a future. I have the power to change my future. I can be anything I want to be. I have hope, always hope. I am believed in. I have expectations. I have love. I am loved. I am made up of all parts of me, the good and the bad. I am important. I am necessary. I am strong. I am unique. I will fail, but I am not a failure. I make a difference. I matter. I would be missed. I have the power to inspire.
Unfortunately many won't be given that opportunity. I'd like to help change that. In fact, I am determined we need to change it. How, is the question.
I'd love to hear your ideas. Care to share any?
I am not your friend.Don't misunderstand me, I'd love nothing more than to just be your friend, but it is not my job.
I'm your parent.
And with that goes the biggest responsibility I've ever been entrusted with.
So as to not mess up this assignment...I am going to follow the rules of what it means to be a parent, even when it sucks to be me. Which honestly, is often.
Wouldn't I rather just agree with you, exchange a few surface niceties and go about my merry way, instead of endlessly dragging out of you whatever your latest problem is? Oh heck yes.
But that isn't the job I took on. And I'm not one to brush things aside, let half truths lie, or hold feelings inside, for long.
So I will scold, prod, encourage, advise, push, pull, question and challenge my way through your week. Every week.
I will even say "no" to you, and I will say it often, without reason, with reason and every place in between.
Because I love you. Because I care. Because I can. Because I am your parent.
I won't attempt to buy your love with special treats, or adventures. I'll instead buy you "real" food, boots, underwear, deodorant, glasses, shampoo and all the other necessities required. I won't help you buy a car you can't afford, instead I will take you to the doctor when you are sick, navigate through your medical bills, bank statements and job applications when they don't make sense, stay up half the night when you have had too much to drink, all in hopes that someday you will learn to be independent. That you will make better choices.
I'd really rather go with you to the flea market, or bowling, out for Chinese or shopping...but instead I will work, so I can pay the bills. I'll do the laundry, clean the house, do the grocery shopping and make sure everyone has a safe, clean and healthy place to live and thrive. A place where friends are welcome and wanted. Where birthdays are celebrated. Where accomplishments are celebrated. And failures are discussed. I'll go to the boring school meetings, the conferences, and attend any baseball games I can fit into my work day.
And when things go wrong in your life, or you face disappointment or failure, I'll still be here---living my boring, predictable existence. Ready to lift you up or bring you back down to reality. All the while doing my best at the hardest job I will ever take on, being your parent. So you can have a chance at a life beyond what you were born into. A life with choices. A life where you can live to be anything you want to be.
I'm your parent, I'm not your friend. And I will always be here.
It actually hurts to say that I am not your friend, because someday I sure would like to be.
In the meantime I'm right here. I haven't changed, even though you have.
I am still the reality check. The thorn in your side. The fun sucker.
The one who loves you more than you can ever imagine.
And I will remain that person, no matter how far you push me away.
Because it is my job as your parent. And I intend to be the best parent I can.
Where do you find strength when life gets hard?
I’ve got wrinkles, laugh lines, crow's feet and apparently I’ve started a collection of age spots. This year I turn one of those really big numbers you cannot forsee yourself getting to when you are a kid. The Big 5-0.
50.
Wow, what did I think life would be like at this age? Honestly, when I was a kid I thought I would be winding down at 50. After all, that is o-l-d, right? Wrong.
I really feel like I am just getting started. I may have lived more than half my life, but now it is time to make it count.
I'll start by sharing something I wish someone would have told me years ago. The importance of taking care of your skin. I learned only last year. What??? It's true. For years I struggled with breakouts and blemishes, and I never really knew why they happened, or what to do with them when they did. In fact, I am fairly certain I actually did everything wrong.
A good skin care system, like the one I use now, Theraderm Skin Renewal System, is what I was missing. I so wish I'd have known.
A little box of awesomeness.
From the first time I used it, my face has felt firmer. Softer. Prettier. So the crow's feet and the laugh lines and the worry wrinkles might still be there, but now they feel so much better. And that makes me comfortable in my own skin.
Each time I have given into worry, another crease has taken up residence on my face. Each time I have laughed until I cried, I have given the laugh lines the two thumbs up to settle in. And those crow’s feet, well when my brain gets curious, or works hard to figure something out, I squint. I realize now that I must do that a lot.
But instead of wishing them away, I am choosing to embrace them. I am not a PYT anymore. I am almost-50 year old me.
My face is scarred, weathered, lived in.
But it feels better than ever.
I wish that I had learned the benefits of the 4-Step Theraderm System before last year. I might have avoided years of blemishes and breakouts, I might have come to love this face of mine, long before now.
I am not a product reviewer, I am a simply a Theraderm believer. Each spring I head north to my cottage, my happy place, and find myself in need of another complete Theraderm Skin Renewal System to leave up there. Christina, from Therapon, made this happen for me and in exchange, asked me to share my story with you. Here is the link to their website, if you do not love the way your face currently feels, I encourage you to check it out. Believe me, the 4-step process is easy, and the results are immediate.
Turning 50 with a face I now love, makes this milestone just a little sweeter.
Care to share anything you wish you’d learned long ago?
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...I'd be a perfect mom.
But, there is no such thing as a perfect mom.
We make mistakes, we often say and do the wrong things. We worry. We embarrass. We celebrate. We support. We expect too much. We are often disappointed. We demand the truth. We do not accept excuses. We yell. We cry. We laugh. We sigh. We get angry. We talk too much. We talk too loud. We make sense. We exert control.
And yet underneath it all, our goal is to protect.
Mothers often find themselves overwhelmed, a little stressed and a lot behind the eight ball. As a result, some days we forget to show how much we care. How much we love. How proud we are. And we fail to communicate how much we just want the best for our children.
We are after all, just human. We are not perfect.
When my children fail, I take it personally. As if it is somehow a result of something I did (or did not do) as a mother. As if it is a reflection of my parenting skills. Was it something I never taught my children? Or something I failed to show them by example? Or something I didn’t explain correctly?
I find myself wondering if things would have turned out differently if I had been more patient, or kinder, or stronger, or if I had been a stay at home mom, like my mom was?
Don’t think you are alone if you second guess yourself and the way you have raised your kids, because I do. A lot of people do. Especially when it seems that our children have not heard us. Or when we think they should know better.
I think that between us, Mike and I have gone through every … what happens when/if, scenario we could think of. Hoping that it could prevent our kids from making mistakes we had already made, or prevent the regrets we’ve come to know.
But in the end, it isn’t about us. It’s about letting our kids make their own choices and their own mistakes. The consequences are theirs to own. It isn’t a reflection of how I have parented. It isn't about me at all. And if at the end of the day we have given it our best effort and offered our most honest attempt to show them the way, and yet they still choose a path different from what we would have chosen for them; it is not our fault.
There I said it. It is not my fault.
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In my heart I know I have done my best and parented as I have, for all the right reasons; and with love in my heart. In my head, I still have a hard time not taking it personally.
We help our children grow wings, and when it is time, they either fly away or fall.
If they choose not to listen, there is little we can do, except be there to help them get back on their feet.
As I learn to accept my children and the choices they make, I sometimes think to myself, it’d be so much easier if they’d just listen to me. (Maybe I even voice thatthought aloud to those who I know will understand.) It’d be a heck of a lot easier for me anyway, if my kids would just do it my way....
But it is not up to me, and parenting is not meant to be easy. Think: hardest job ever.
What’s been the hardest thing for you in your life so far?
I like to share. Okay, "over" share even, just ask my family. Lately I feel the need to pass along what I have learned. To anyone. People I meet at events, those in line behind me at the grocery store, my kids, their friends, you name it, I share.
I'm sorry. I can't seem to stop myself.
Last night I dreamed all night, and it was a recurring dream of sorts. I was attempting to accomplish something and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't quite get there. Every time I woke up and fell back asleep (which seemed like several dozen times) the dream would continue, but not in the same setting. It ended with the same results though, frustration, exhaustion, and impatience that I couldn't quite make whatever "it" was, happen.
In the various scenarios, I attempted to gain control over the speed and precision at which things in my dreams happened. I remember being on some kind of water ride, and if it went too fast around the corners, I saw that I might go over the edge and fall into the unknown. That fear, made me attempt to slow things down and to proceed with caution. But you can't really slow down a water ride, so when my attempts failed, and was I heading toward the edge, I'd wake up.
My subconscious has a funny way of getting back to its point though. I'd fall back asleep, and the dream would pick up at another place. I remember trekking across a college campus, rushing through crowds of people to get to the community shower, frustrated that people kept stopping me. I knew it was crucial to get in line quickly for my turn, or else I'd have to face what came next looking a mess. Once I arrived, I discovered that I had not only forgotten all my clothes, but the line for the shower wound halfway back across campus.
It makes me think now that I am on the verge of figuring out my next step, but can't quite see it yet. That frustrates me, as I have always been a planner. I like to see the future, the end goal. I like to know where I am going. Realistically I know that it is not always possible to see where your path leads.
I awoke this morning with a clear thought.
I am ready to start a new blog. The name of this one, no longer feels like a good fit.
Maybe, just maybe, Terri has finally grown up. So begins my new attempt to venture out with no plan, to navigate by gut instinct and stop trying to control my speed. I'm going to listen to my dreams, and let myself fall over the edge to see where life takes me.
Stay tuned....
What are your dreams telling you?
Life can change on a dime, especially living with kids ages 16 - 22, but I'm happy to say it feels at this moment that life has turned an optimistic corner, in one area at least.
My son Jeffrey really feels like a son now. Our life together is dotted with arguments, misunderstandings, laughter, love, and private jokes, just as it should be. And he calls me mom. Yesterday on the ride up north, Mike and I were giving Jeffrey some life advice (aka part of "the talk" and our expectations), and embarrassed, he tried to shush us by saying "I know, I know ... you raised me right."
Well that did shush me, but not in the way he expected. How could he think that we have raised him right, already. It's only been a few months and I have so much more wisdom yet to impart...c'mon I'm so not done!
Then I see it through his eyes. Yeah, maybe we have raised him right in a few months. He had already done a great job all on his own. If we have managed to communicate with our actions and words (sometimes too many of them) what it means to be part of a family, then we must be doing something right. Showing Jeffrey that parents are supposed to challenge, question, celebrate, love unconditionally, and share life's little and big moments, is humbling.
And it makes me immediately sad that he had to survive so long thinking he was in it all alone, or at the very least in it with only Sadie to care about him. How great that he was led to our door, via Sadie, to be shown love and to experience hope for the first time.
I am one lucky chick to have been given this opportunity. We are one lucky family to share this experience together. I am so thankful that both Mike and I were raised "right" as well, so that we can try to pass it on. Thank you Mom and Dad S & Z for showing us unconditional love, and for parenting with insight and expectations.
Are you taking time to celebrate the successes in your life? No matter how long they last?
It's hard not to be angry.
I sat and listened to them tell me that my son Jeffrey likely suffers from PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Something usually associated with war veterans, rape survivors, and kidnap and accident victims after their traumatic experiences.
How would you feel if the cause of your PTSD was your own mother? What if the depression, hopelessness and anxiety you face every day, was caused by the person who was supposed to love you the most, your mother.
How would you take that news? My reaction upon learning this, is disgust. As I sat there and listened to the results of the tests Jeffrey had taken, I alternately wanted to scream and/or cry. How can this be?
Admittedly I want to punch his mother in the face. I know, that is not the proper reaction, but it is an honest one. I cannot understand how it must be to be him, and know that life could be so different, if only. I realize now that this effort to raise Jeffrey is far more complicated that I originally thought.
And yet I am humbled that this adorable child has been led to our door, and that we are charged with the responsibility of helping him learn to deal with this, maybe even to learn to overcome it. If our guidance and love can better equip him to navigate through life with confidence, to see an end to the dark days, then I am up for the challenge.
Am I worthy of such a charge? Probably not. I have never been a patient, accepting, non judgemental person. Ever. I always aspired to get the kind of personality test results that my sister and husband have always gotten. The kind that said you were sympathetic and kind, accepting and altruistic. Unfortunately, I have never been that person, well, maybe not until I met Sadie. She has changed me. Heck, she changed all of us. Helping her prepared us to raise Jeffrey, to accept him and to love him wholeheartedly: it was all part of a master plan.
I am thankful every day that I have a chance, actually that we have a chance, to make a difference in Jeffrey's life. He is an awesome kid with so much resilience and so much potential. It is hard to see him as a PTSD survivor, and yet he is.
My hope is that in time, Jeffrey will feel the love that we have to give, and know that it is unconditional. That we are here to help and support him, and not make life more challenging. I want to be able to lead by example, and impress upon him the importance of reaching out to help others in need. I want my biological children to learn the same thing.
I know already I am a better human being, because of meeting Sadie & Jeffrey. They are helping me become the person I have always aspired to be.
When you hear a story like Jeffrey's, what is your reaction?
Last week Sadie and I took advantage of a great opportunity. I was asked to attend a conference in Washington, D.C. If Sadie paid for her own flight and other travel expenses, she could tag along and share my hotel room for free. While I knew that I would be busy during the day, I figured she could sight see around D.C. and when my work day was done, we would meet up and hang out.
We had one huge hurdle to get over first, her fear of flying. I am not the world's most comfortable flyer myself, but I figured if I remained calm she would be fine. And for the most part she was, well, despite writing her will before we left, hyperventilating and (her almost use of the barf bag). Besides that, all was good. She is actually a great person to travel with, surviving both a 2 hour fog delay, eventual flight cancellation, and a wrong gate announcement which sent us to the completely opposite end of the Detroit airport, and all this occurred before 10 am and with no sleep for her the night before.
Fear begins to set in once we arrive at Gerald R. Ford Airport
While I wasn't worried about her fitting in with people from the conference if we met up with them later in the evenings, she was. She seems to think she is shy and says she has a hard time meeting new people. I call that complete baloney.
You be the judge...
At our first social gathering with people I barely knew, I turned around to find her playing the bongos in the hallway, then singing, then riding a cooler scooter (yes, that is what I meant), then she played bongos on the banks of the Potomac River and sang the next night, then....well you get the idea, right? Not the actions of a shy person.
What impressed me the most, was her complete ability to make a great impression in a crowd of business folks. She was awesome. I did my thing, and never had to worry about her feeling awkward or needing my help to fit in.
The lesson in this: Hiding behind statements like "I'm shy," only gives a person an excuse to be an observer of life and not a participant in life.
Yay, to Sadie for finally stepping out to live her life. I have proud heart for how much she has matured over the last three years. It is so cool to have experienced that growth firsthand, and to see that growth so unquestionably demonstrated.
She is so "not" shy (and so not using that excuse ever again with me).
P.S. Next girls weekend someone is going to have to remind me that I am old, and old people need sleep. This pic above was taken around 3:30 am. I might actually still be feeling the effects.
Until recently I would have said, sure I am. Because I was happy in most areas of my life. My husband is rockin' cute, I have more material things than I really need (including a cottage and a boat) my kids are healthy and mostly happy, I have fantastic friends and a super cool extended family. But something still was not quite right. When I said I was happy, something was missing.
For one thing, I had lost the passion I had once had for my job. Now some people say you don't have to have passion for your job, it is after all just a job, a way to pay the bills. And maybe for a while I even convinced myself that this was true and I could handle that. I reasoned that I needed to make money, and could not afford to make a job change and take less than the level I had already achieved, even if it meant I'd be happier.
Luckily for me I came to my senses. I made a change because I realized that being unhappy at work was slowly killing me. It was sapping my energy and attracting negativity back to me. So, I made a switch.
Since the day I quit, I have never looked back. (Okay there was that one day when I was sure I could not handle the pace, but besides that, I have been super sure of my decision!)
Ask me now if I am living a happy life and I will answer with a huge "YES, I am Happy!" because I am now operating on all cylinders.
Passion, purpose + happiness.
I have a job that I love, reasonable goals to achieve to satisfy those I work for, and better yet, a sense that I belong with, and am welcomed by my colleagues. My opinions are considered, my ideas are at the very least given an audience, and best case scenario will someday be utilized. That is a dream come true for me! Combine that with digging the people I work with and for, and you have a recipe for happiness. For me anyway.
Having that happiness makes a huge difference in how I face each day. Postitive attracts positive, and I not only say this, I totally believe this. Because it has happened to me.
Reconsider my question... are you living a happy life?
And then, if need be, don't be afraid to make some changes in your life.
No, I’m not talking about your belly button. I am talking about your benevolence. Does your disposition to do good, your generosity and acts of kindness towards others generate from an inward need or an (outward need) to make a difference in the world around you?
be·nev·o·lence
[buh-nev-uh-luhns] noun
1.
desire to do good to others; goodwill; charitableness: to befilled with benevolence toward
one's fellow creatures.
2.
an act of kindness; a charitable gift.
I used to think that I was outwardly focused because most of my life has been spent filling a hostess role, making people feel comfortable and at ease. Since I was a little girl, I have always loved bringing people together, usually centered on food or games. I can remember bugging my mom to invite her friends over for dinner and cards, because I wanted to be where the party was and knowing if it was at our house, I could be part of it.
When I grew up, opening my home and heart to others via eating, drinking and being merry was always a goal. It has forever been within my comfort zone to entertain and something I thoroughly enjoy doing. The time I spent organizing for the event, cleaning the house and preparing the food has always been a labor of love for me.
But I have come to realize that all this entertaining was still very much inwardly focused. It was still about me, and what I needed. I got just as much enjoyment out of hostessing and entertaining as my guests did in being taken care of. Which means I wasn’t being benevolent, as much as I was fulfilling my inner desire to feel needed.
My focus began to shift when I met Sadie, when I opened myself up to a person I barely knew, and literally shared my home and my heart. I have grown in ways I never expected, which explains why we now have a third son, Jeffrey. My focus, which had always been inward, shifted to consider the needs first of someone else, someone outside of my “zone”, and eventually grew to include others.
For years, the well being of my family was of utmost importance to me. I grew up believing that my mission was to take care of not only myself, but also those I love. To me that meant I would do my best to ensure I was never a burden, that I never needed a handout, that my family’s well being was my responsibility. I was so focused on that goal; I missed many opportunities along the way to give back, to enrich my life by reaching out to others. I finally listened to my inner voice when I met Sadie, and took a chance on reaching out. First, I realized I could make a difference in her life by giving her a safe place to live, undoubtedly the easiest part, and by helping her to get out of the immediate trouble she was in. What ultimately happened is something I didn’t forsee, I realized that it wasn’t enough just to share my material riches. To truly give back with an outward focus, I needed to share something even more precious: my heart.
Helping Sadie to recognize and believe in her own potential is definitely the hard part. My focus began to turn outward when I starting leading by example, imparting wisdom I didn’t know I had through my actions and words. And here's the difference, without expecting anything in return. If I was simply being an innie and doing it for me, I would have stopped at sharing my home. Learning to share my heart, has taken more patience, faith and strength than I ever knew I had. Making me realize that true benevolence isn’t just about sharing money, or material things; it’s giving of yourself because it is the right thing to do, without expecting anything in return.
The good news for innies who wish to be outies, is that it is never too late. Listen to that voice inside and don’t be afraid to begin a practice of generosity, even if it starts with baby steps. The great thing is, my growing “outie” focus has changed not only me, but also those in my immediate and extended family, and my hope is that it will continue to move me (and them) in positive and useful ways.
So I ask you, are you an innie or an outie?
Sadie & Jeffrey
My friend Kimberly's arm and recent FB status: If you know anyone who has self mutilated (ie cutting, erasing on their arm), completed suicide, or other forms of self harm due to depression, please show your love for them on your arm. Heal by wrapping arms of love around them and their souls. Do it for yourself, your mother, your daughters, your sisters, classmates. whomever... show the love.
Yesterday was To Write Love On Her Arms Day in support of national self harm awareness day. I wrote Love on my arm to support someone I love, who once felt the need to harm herself.
Growing up I was the kind of kid who followed the rules, and put a lot of pressure on myself gradewise, goalwise, and every which way I could. Yet, even if things didn't go exactly the way I had hoped or planned, I never once thought of hurting myself.
Having lived my life in my safe little bubble, only to have it burst three years ago, I now understand that very few people have the same experience I had, growing up. And because of this, I have realized many kids turn to self harm when they lack proper love and support. It is their way of getting through the tough times. It is their way of feeling a sense of control.
Sadie was one of those people not as lucky as I was. She was taken from her birth mother when she was 2, and going to live with her uncle and aunt, whom she calls mom and dad, shaped the person she is today. Her experience has given me perspective on why a child may choose self harm or suicide as an option to deal with the pain. I may never completely understand the reasons "why" people choose this, but I do know it isn't something you can easily shake.
Recently Sadie had to fill out a form which asked if she had ever hurt herself or attempted suicide. As she filled out the form she hesitated about what to say. She could actually say yes to both. Yet the stigma of admitting that on the form, made her question whether she should tell the truth or lie.
I told her that who she is now is a a direct result of who she was. The whole of her is made up of all her parts, the good, the not so good, and the bad. I told her to tell the truth and to be proud of how far she has come (and grown). I am not sure if that was the right advice, seeing as how I was never in a position like she was/is. I never faced the hopelessness she felt in life. And, I don't have to check a spot on a form and admit to self harm or to a suicide attempt.
But I believe that the truth always wins. And that there are a lot of people out there who need to know that you can get through a bad situation, that things can get better and you can heal. And that it's not where you come from, it's where you're going.
And she is going somewhere. I know that much for sure. With or without getting the opportunity she was filling out the form for, Sadie is on her way to bigger and better things. Stronger for having gotten through those tough times. Moving forward with love surrounding her.
She is an inspiration to me.
When you think back to life when you were a kid, what is the first memory that pops into your head?
Is it a specific event? A photograph? A feeling?
For me, it is one particular day. Nothing special happened on that day, it was just a regular August day; hot sunny, and endless. I remember it like it was yesterday, even though I have no idea what year it even was. It is a memory that flashes into my mind often, especially when I need to go to a "happy place".
I clearly remember my run through the sprinkler with my sister and best friend. I can see my small self on a towel on the driveway, the hazy sky above me, the hard cement under me. I can feel the warm sun on my face. I remember how the day lasted forever.
Once I naively thought life would last as long as that summer day felt.
Unfortunately I have learned that life goes by faster every day, week, month and year. So fast, that as I looked through old photo albums today on my first baby's 20th birthday, I experienced a sense of panic.
I am no longer the kid in the pictures. I am grown. I am old. And yet, I have so much that I would still like to accomplish. So much life that I want to enjoy.
One of the things my grown up self now hopes for, is to be able to enjoy another day like the one from my memory. A day that goes on and on, and is not marked by what I did or didn't accomplish, but instead by how happy and content I feel. Will life ever be that uncomplicated again?
I have only to think of the responsibilities I have now, and realize why I want to go back. I long for the nothingness of that day. No plans. No worries. No stress. No expectations. No urgency. Just contentment. Peace. Calm. Happiness. A time when there was nothing on my to do list, when I didn't second guess myself, and I had not a care in the world.
So fleeting was that precious feeling of just being.
My life lesson to those of you who have a lot of life ahead... is simple: slow it down; savor the day. Remember to be happy with what you have in your life, in every moment, and not wish forward to the days to come. Otherwise, you may find yourself there all too fast, and wish instead that you could go back.
Remember my friends, to just be.
I am often amazed at how lucky I am.
My husband, whom I married when I was a mere 22 years old, still makes me happy. In fact, at times, he is the only thing that makes me happy.
We met in college and when we got married I had never lived on my own, well unless you count living in the dorm on my own, and had absolutely no idea how to cook, anything. I actually messed up jello and many other things that came in a box. Soon after we were married, I recall successfully mastering the making of macaroni in a box, and celebrating. Don't tell anyone, but early on Velveeta Shells n Cheese may have been our only dinner for months on end.
So when life, with all its twists and turns, leaves you feeling stressed and scared, and your husband hugs you and tells you that if the world would just go away and leave you with him, he'd be truly happy; it makes your day. And melts your heart.
Well, it did mine anyway.
It's nice that after all these years, we at least agree on one thing ... how smart we were to have chosen each other.
How about you, if you had a do-over option, would you marry your husband again?
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This is so "not me". But it kinda was me today.
Today was another super busy day in a string of really busy days. I had a plant tour, and several important meetings scheduled after the tour, all over GR. I had dressed accordingly, or so I thought. A short and sassy skirt, black tights and high"er" heeled shoes than I normally sport. I was ready for my big day.
Until I started walking the halls of my work to prepare for that tour I had scheduled. And something became very clear, I was in the middle of a wardrobe malfunction. Of a serious kind. The tights I had chosen for today, clearly had given up the ghost. With each step, they lost a tiny bit more elasticity, making walking the halls a much more difficult task than it should be. Did I have a back up pair in my desk, or car, you ask?
Heck no. That thought had never crossed my mind. I barely ever wear skirts and tights, and have NEVER experienced them falling off me. So why would I?
So, I did what any good sales girl would do, I sucked it up and hiked them up....ALL day long. Every chance I got. When no one was looking, and sometimes even when someone was looking (sorry to the girls in my office).
It was so annoying that at times I lost my concentration on the conversation at hand, I just wanted to rip off those tights and go ghost legs, instead I moved from one meeting to the next, until I had gotten through the day. Eventually I stopped at the grocery store to run in and grab a couple of things...
Instead I found myself grabbing for my tights, and the underwear that was slowly being sucked downward with those tights, as I walked through the front doors of the store. What the ****??? All I wanted was to get in and get out, instead I found myself trapped in an aisle at the farthest possible end of the store from the bathroom. And my tights were at mid thigh. And every step forward moved them closer to the ground. What to do?
Some nice lady in the pop aisle expressed an interest in assisting me as I apologized for my inappropriate hiking in front of her and the diet coke. She empathized with my situation, as she had once had a pair of underwear lose all elasticity on her. But there was nothing either of us could do.
So I waddled, and semi-hiked, and attempted to hold those tights in place until I finally made it to the bathroom. I lifted up my skirt to see just how far those tights had traveled in the wrong direction, and wish I could have taken a picture of it for you. I was "this close" to showing my white cotton crotch to the world. Closer than I have ever been.
As soon as I got home I threw those things in the trash and heaved a huge sigh of relief. I'm thinking I will wait until summer (and tan legs) before I pull out the skirt again (or the tights).
Tights on the ground, is not a good feeling!
Borrowed from the Truths & Love Blog. You should check it out!
So, I have a new philosophy to live by. Just go with the flow. My new mantra is to enjoy each day, and try not to worry about planning my every move. To instead, learn to embrace whatever comes next. If you know me, you know that is not only weird, but way out of character. And a little freaky, too.
But then again, I'm a different person these days.
I have a new job, which doesn't make me "different" exactly, but it does make me look at things differently. I never realized how slow the paper world moves. Being several steps removed from a sale and the finished job never bothered me before, but it did totally isolate me from knowing what it feels like to be busy.
I used to be able to plan, and organize, and even sometimes accomplish everything on my priority "to do" list. (It would be ridiculous to assume everything would ever be crossed off on all my to do lists, I make way to many of them).
But I realized after two weeks in digital print sales, that sometimes what you think you are going to do that day is rarely what actually happens on that day. In my previous life, I always wondered why people were late, or forgot to do things, or got derailed by a crisis or customer. I didn't understand, and now I completely get why/how that happens.
This job has already illustrated that I will have to hone my patience, adaptability and acceptance skills. And the self monitoring I do naturally, may have to take a chill pill.
The best part in my opinion? is that it is totally okay with me. I am not stressed, surprisingly I am energized. It makes every day a true adventure. An unknown. And that makes life fun.
I now appreciate what is given to me each day. Good, bad, awkward, whatever it is, I say, bring it on!
"Yesterday is gone.
Tomorrow has not yet come.
We have only today.
Let us begin." ---Mother Teresa
We have all experienced joy, and we have all had our joy stolen, or squashed at one time or another. When we notice that someone (or something) is stealing our joy, we need to examine what is making us unhappy, and take away its power.
Last year when I noticed that my joyful moments were being replaced by worry, stress and unease, I took a good look at my life to figure out what was wrong. I found that it was my job.
My job was no longer giving me satisfaction. And that was a hard thing to come to terms with, since I loved what I did. Things had changed in my industry, and the value of my position was in question. At first I resisted coming to the inevitable conclusion that I needed to move on, because I really wanted to make it work. Yet ultimately I figured out that no amount of readjusting was going to bring it back to the way it was. And once I recognized (and admitted) it was stealing my joy, I instantly felt better. I faced it, and was able to take some positive steps.
If you find yourself unhappy, you need to figure out what is stealing your joy and put a stop to it. Maybe these steps will help you through that process.
1. Determine and recognize the source of the problem. Start by examining all areas of your life to figure out what part is not making you happy.
2. Take steps to make a change. Attempt a fix; depending on the source of your stress, it could mean going to counseling by yourself (or with someone), or it could mean figuring out a way to have your voice be heard at work.
3. Don't be afraid to readjust. Sometimes shaking things up is enough to give you a fresh perspective and create more joy. But if after doing that, you realize you still aren't truly happy, don't be afraid to make a shift in another direction. It is rare that we set off on the perfect path to a solution, so be willing to change your course, several times if necessary, as you work toward a resolution.
4. Be open to possibilities, sometimes we forget to look at possibilities that are right in front of us, because we are too focused on fixing what we think our right path is, or too afraid of change.
5. Make a change. Not simply an adjustment. Make a full scale change. Ultimately this is sometimes the best solution. It might not be the easiest, or the most comfortable, but often a big change is what is needed.
From experience I have learned that I am not always the first person to step up for change, yet it is always ready for me. I will say that when you do get brave and change your life, you might find that Joy was right there waiting for you all along.
Have you thought about what would bring you more joy?
I was lucky to be brought up loved. Not that everything I did was liked, but I knew that I was loved--and knowing this gave me the ability and freedom to be who I wanted to be. ---Bernie Siegel, M.D.
Photo Credit: Mercedes DeJesus
I was one of the lucky ones, I wasn't a perfect kid, but I knew that my parents were there for me when I messed up, to show me the way and help me learn from my mistakes.
I have seen what happens when a child grows up without loving, unselfish parents, and it breaks my heart. When there is no one there to give them the unconditional love and support they deserve, a key part of their development is left unfulfilled. They never get the chance to be led by example, to truly learn to believe in themselves, to know what it is like to have someone expect things from them. Many of the skills I take for granted; self confidence, goal setting, and planning were instilled in me when I was very young, in children without good parents, these things are missing.
And so is something I consider super important, the ability to trust your gut.
It breaks my heart to see kids with great potential, who cannot see any potential in themselves. They don't even know to look for it, let alone to recognize it. I am amazed every day at the strength of my newest children, and in their ability to have survived growing up without anyone to advocate for them, without help in navigating the world. It humbles me. It makes me thankful for what I have been given.
Teaching a child to believe in themselves and show them they have the power to be anyone they want to be, takes patience. And forgiveness. And great strength of will to not punch those awful parents in the face. It makes me appreciate my parents even more than I already did.
Our family has made one small step in reaching out to help break the chain of less than perfect parenting. But our efforts alone are not enough. We need more people to step up to help kids who haven't been given the privileges we were given: love, safety, discipline, forgiveness, and someone to expect you to become someone someday.
To help break the chain of bad parenting and change the future, we all need to lead by example and show children that there is another way. That they have the ability to change their lives and the lives of future generations, by learning to love themselves.
Have you ever considered mentoring? If you need any help with local mentoring opportunities, please let me know. I am happy to share. And I know a lot of kids would be happy to receive.
You must be the change you wish to see in the world --
Mahatma Gandhi
Related Posts:
The Truth Hurts
It's Never Too Late
We all have our bubbles, not to be confused with clouds, around us. How many of us are in our own little bubble (aka our comfort zone) and don’t even realize it?
That was me. Until I had an experience that changed my life. I was minding my own business, following the rules, living life as I had been taught, when my bubble was burst. It was backstage at a high school production of Annie, in 2009. That experience not only changed my life, but moved me from seeing things in black and white, to living in the gray.
I think everyone is shaped by their parents and the way they grow up. Sometimes this is good, sometimes not so much. In my case, I was taught to not only take care of myself, and my own, but to follow the rules, and to prepare for a successful future.
What I missed out growing up middle class and republican, was learning to accept diversity. Instead of being open to all different types of people, I was instead scared of them. I thought since they were different, that meant to approach them with caution.
Wow, was I wrong.
Being open to the gray has changed my life completely. And it was something I needed. You can only live in your bubble for so long until it starts to get stale. You need fresh air, a new perspective. You need to be challenged by someone or something different.
So if you think you are living in a safe little bubble, try shaking things up. Need some help? Ask yourself this question: what was the last thing that you did that made you feel really alive? It can be something that made you happy, something that challenged you, even something that scared you. Got that something in mind?
Now, go right back out and do it again.
The most advanced student in yoga class is often the one listening to their body and taking child's pose. While it's easy to spot the new students by their ego driven practice of "going for it" in every pose, honoring your body and your own rhythm is a sign of an advanced yogi. Same goes off the mat and into your life. Honor your own rhythm in everything you do. ---FB Status from my friend (and first yoga instructor), Kimberly
Warrior 2 in the sun.
She is so right. I have been that student who completely went for it. In fact when I started almost 6 years ago, I too treated yoga like a work out class. I wanted to do it all, and do it great. Only I found out quite quickly my body wasn't wired for practicing yoga that way. Going for it was not my answer, slowing it down and honoring my own body's limitations was. I'm not flexible. I am one tight muscled chick. I am my father's daughter.
So I was completely surprised when last Christmas my dad pulled me aside to show me a book he had recently purchased at the library's used book sale. It was called Real Men Do Yoga. I laughed at first, because my dad is a true work out kind of guy. Exactly like I used to be. He never slows down enough to stretch, let alone to contemplate a yoga class or the slowness of a yoga pose. But there he was giddy with excitement about a book with a section showing yoga poses that would help improve his golf game. Well, really it showed poses that would help him improve his flexibility, but what pulled him in was the idea that he might be able to do something about his golf game. Despite having retired several years ago, with more free time to work on his golf game, his game has actually gotten worse.
Triangle on a picnic table.
He is tight muscled, goal oriented, and in phenomenal shape for his age, but he's not very flexible. He has a body like mine, long legged, long armed, and complete with a very short torso. That may not sound like a detriment, but at times it is. For example, in a golf swing you need to be loose and free flowing. Us tight muscled peeps with short torsos have a hard time loosening up through our middle sections. It has taken me years to even begin to do a cobra properly. There is no flex in my middle.
So as he excitedly showed me the pages of his new book, it dawned on me that yoga really can be for everyone, even if you discover it late in life. Even though I am often saying it at the beginning of my yoga classes, I realized that I truly believe it. Young, old, weak, strong, flexible, tight muscled, whatever your body type, Yoga really is for everyone. And good instructors should not tell you that you should be able to go further, or kick your prop away and tell you that you don't need it, or put their hands on you to push you further into a pose. It just isn't right.
Plank on the beach.
Listen to what your body tells you. Yoga should not hurt. If something does, stop doing it and be sure to ask questions of your instructor later. Maybe they can help identify a slight modification that will help the pose feel better, or suggest an alternative. I'm certain that if they don't know the answer off the top of their head, they will get you an answer. Because good yoga instructors care about their students. And if any of them are like me, really curious by nature, we enjoy investigating and will use every question as an opportunity to learn something new to help the next student.
While the physical characteristics I inherited from my father may limit my ability to demonstrate a pose to its fullest extent, I can always make sure to demonstrate my fullest ability to do a pose (and talk my students through what it should really look like with my words.) Do what I say, not what I do. Take my very wise friend Kimberly's advice and be one of those advanced yogis in class, the one's who listen to, and heed, their own bodies.
I believe it will take you far in life, on the mat and off.
Namaste.