piecesofpeace1

aging without botox

02 Jan 2014

January 2nd. . .

“Hope and fear come from feeling that we lack something; they come from a sense of poverty. We can’t simply relax with ourselves. We hold on to hope, and hope robs us of the present moment. We feel that someone else knows what is going on, but that there is something missing in us, and therefore something is lacking in our world.”
― Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times

I sit with patients in my office who often think there is a rule book to life and they don’t have access to it like everyone else does.  It seems natural to walk around comparing our insides with everyone else’s outside. “They have it all together! Why can’t I get it together!?” Freedom from suffering like this comes from simply sitting with what you do or don’t have. Mostly we are taken care of – it’s just our mind that causes the discomfort. Sitting with the feelings,  accepting what is right in front of you, and creating space from the feelings in order to get perspective will bring you some freedom from the fear and anxiety of not being/having enough.

When faced with this suggestion, patients will almost always go to the default of, “What will so and so think if I do this or don’t do that?” And there lies problem.  Why live your life based on what others think of you? Sit with yourself. Lean into your own heart. Do or don’t do according to what your heart needs. Let go.

Peace.

Posted in Attaining peace, Being still, Don't compare yourself to others, Uncategorized and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
01 Jan 2014

Beginnings

Beginnings don’t just come on January 1st or the first day of school, or your first day married, etc.  Beginnings can happen with each new breathe. If we allow it.  I am old enough to know that resolutions come and go, and if I truly want to change, it takes work, commitment, support, self-love, and lots of leaning into the pain that comes with change. I don’t need a special date for this, I can start anytime, and I often do,

I began writing everyday last year around this time.  Unfortunately it wasn’t on a blog; it was text messages sent to about 25 friends.  I get up in the morning, sit quietly, and try to have a conscious contact with God (Higher Power, Inner Peace, Universe, Spirit – insert whatever word you need here to get the point). This act has helped me be kinder on some days. It has helped me create space between my feelings and those of others, it has helped me get perspective on baffling situations and circumstances.  An added bonus is that a few of the receivers let me know it helps them some days too.

Because most daily prayer/reflection type of books begin on January 1st, I am choosing today to do something new.  This is also very scary, because I may not finish.  I may just complete today’s entry and no more.  But then again – maybe – just maybe – I’ll lean into the  pain that is commitment and discipline and actually start a new habit that is life-giving. Maybe I’ll simply do something everyday instead of thinking about the doing and getting side-tracked in the pain and judgment of not being enough.  I’m just jumping in . . .1. . . .2. . . 3:

January 1st:

Begin. . .

Begin doing nothing.  I dare you.  Take the challenge – do it today.  Just sit.  Set a timer for 5 minutes and watch what happens.  Don’t judge, don’t move – just sit.  When thoughts come – watch them – are they thoughts about the past? Are they thoughts about the future? Just watch them and come right back to now.

This may sound easy or it may sound excruciating.  I promise you – if you do this long enough or for many days in row – it will be both easy and excruciating. So often we get so attached to doing and doing and doing. Sometimes we are afraid to do nothing because we are then left with our human beingness – with our thoughts and feelings. We judge ourselves and we wonder how others will judge us if we just sit and feel.

Just for today – be a human being – not a human doing.

Peace.

Posted in Attaining peace, Being still, Embrace Change, feeling uncomfortable, Human being - not human doing | Leave a comment
13 Oct 2013
4 Comments

Peace returns to those who wait. . . and work for it.

I haven’t written on here since August 13th.  When I logged on tonight (at the subtle request of my husband), I was surprised  to see that I wrote on that date – it was my 50th birthday, and things have been looking up ever since!  After several years of emotional suffering, I had resigned myself to a life of darkness.  I wasn’t going to jump off a bridge, but I was certain that for me life was to be lived in fog – moving from extremes of deathly tired to super anxious.  I had accepted this. And then I turned 50.

August was tough – even worse than the usual darkness I had come to welcome since 2010. I was looking forward to turning 50 until I woke up in August realizing my mom wasn’t around to make me feel special on my birthday – I was a child without parents. A sister without my sister. Like most things – August 13th came and went – and I was reminded that it is usually the thinking about things that is much more difficult than actually living through them.

August came and went as well, and without any warning, like the suddenness of a thunder clap, I had the strangest sensation.  It was as if I was stuck with a hypodermic needle, I could literally feel the warmth enter into my body, mind, and soul.  I was at peace.  And since that day, I have felt peace in my body, mind, and soul each day.  Not every minute of everyday, but everyday at some point in the day.

As I was drowning in the darkness, I kept swimming for land, seeking a life preserver. I felt the need to connect even though I didn’t have the energy for meaningful human interaction most days. I began sending morning texts to a group of spiritual friends. This forced me to get up each morning with a purpose.  I had to send a text.  When I began this in January, I would usually read spiritual literature and send a quote from it.   Something shifted this summer – after I turned 50.

I wasn’t writing on here, but I was writing. In the mornings, I began creating more and more space for myself: space to read, space to meditate, space to pray, space to reflect, space to text. My texts began turning into thoughts of gratitude, stories of journey. Here are some snippets:

September 11th: Today is my 20th wedding anniversary It is miraculous that I have been loved so dearly after such a rocky start to my life. Relationships are difficult – not only marriages – but friendships, work relationships, families, etc. I’ve been blessed to have many spiritual tools to use in nurturing these relationships. It hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been worth it. My relationship with Jeff continues growing and changing. It is truly sacred and something I’ve grown to treasure each day. What are you thankful for today?

September 12th: As busy as I am this time of year – working many 12-hour days each week – I’m managing to crawl into bed each night grateful, at peace, and thanking God. I’m amazed that the darkness of the last few years is dissipating. I thank those who have simply loved me even when they didn’t know what to do or say. Like the moon reflecting the sun’s light – you all were reflecting God to me when I was too blinded by grief and anxiety to see.  The sun was too bright – I had to look to the moon, and there I found you reflecting God’s love. 

September 13th: As tired as I am, I am grateful to be tired from living and contributing to society instead of tired from killing myself with a destructive lifestyle. 

September 14th: Did you step outside yet today? Summer is begiining to give up her fight. I was amazed at the change from just one week ago. The sun – that massive ball of heat – seems so much lower in the sky. Everything looks and feels different in just one week. Whether or not you are happy about the changing seasons, can you be moved by these miraculous cycles? For me – it’s like looking at the majesty of the waves or the mountain – God is all over this stuff. It is hope and promise that all things must pass; that this moment is turly all we have. I can let change make me blue, or be filled with wonder. 

Oftentimes the pain of changing keeps us from even knowing we are transforming. Does a caterpillar know it is becoming a butterfly? Change often hurts, but if we hang in there and continue getting out of bed, continuing to be real with those we trust, we have a chance at transformation.  That is what happened to me when the grief loosened its grip on my throat. I was transformed, but hadn’t noticed what was happening – I was blinded by the pain.

I say this all came about without warning, but it didn’t come without work. I fought for it.  I didn’t simply try to get over the grief and darkness.  There is no getting over it.  I went through it, I hated it, I embraced it, I respected it, I fought it, I surrendered to it, I created space for it, and I let go of it. This isn’t to say that I don’t get sad, or mad, or anxious ever, but something has shifted. I created space, and I finally got a hold of some perspective. I used many tools – spiritual tools, professional therapists, and many friends.

Peace. Much peace.

Posted in Attaining peace, Dying and rising, Embrace Change, Seeking, Uncategorized, Working through grief and tagged , , , , , , ,
14 Jul 2013
2 Comments

Lost in Transition

I’ve been a bit out of sorts lately.  Everything seems to have shifted.  For so much of my adult life, I’ve been very busy.  I moved across country and back, got married, purchased homes, had children, raised families, got degrees, got jobs, quit jobs, got other jobs, got other degrees, took care of dying people, buried people, birthed friendships, buried friendships. You get the point.

At 35, I was living in Utah in a recently purchased home with my soulmate husband, my 2 and a half year old, and the baby in my womb. The baby was due on October 31st, and I was nearing the due date. I got a call from Maryland that my mom’s husband went to work and had a massive heart attack.  I think my mom must have called me, but I remember talking to my sister-in-law and my sister too. It was devastating for all.

I called my husband at work and could barely speak – the receptionist thought for sure I was in labor when she gave Jeff the call. The call was about death – not life.  I couldn’t go the 2000 miles for the funeral being 9 months pregnant so I went through the process at a distance. It was difficult not being there; not being closer, and I think that is when I was pulled back home.

My mom and her husband were lovely folks; they lived in the moment and showered their grand-children with tons of gifts. However, when Frank died, there was no insurance, and my mom had no Plan B. My family and I moved in with her about 8 months after his death, and a year later we all purchased a home together.

Life really took off once we all settled into it.  Mom lived with us and shared much of the load. She was able to help with the kids, the cleaning, the laundry, and the gardens. The kids grew, she aged, people began dying, and eventually mom left us last October.  I’ve been out of sorts lately.

I have two jobs.  My day job is in a school and follows the school calendar; the other is a small private practice that keeps me busy in the evenings.  But it’s summer, so I’ve got some time on my hands from the day job.  I’m usually productive – cleaning, working, socializing.  But I feel kind of lost this summer.  I don’t want to clean or work. I want to sit on a beach, I want to watch baseball.  I want to move. For so long it seemed life was pulling me along. I didn’t really have to make choices – things just happened. I was living with and for others – taking care of parents and kids and not thinking much about it. Now this transition.

Everyday – it just seems like the rug has been pulled out from under me – like everything is shifting – like I just don’t know my place in the world. The worst part of all this is I do!  I do know my place, I am on solid ground – the place just changes and that is okay – normal even  – but the feelings – they hold me captive. Running helps – a lot – just getting out of my head and into my body.

I realized the other day – I have some freedom right now.  I don’t really want to clean or take care of this home anymore – I really want to move.  I could never have  moved as long as mom was here – I didn’t want to, and it wasn’t an option.  But suddenly this house feels strange to me.  Too big, too much work.

I turn 50 in a month. My kids are looking at colleges. My mom died. Yesterday was my dad’s birthday. The economy stinks. I want to move. I don’t want to take care of the house. Running helps.  I’m not needed in the same ways I have been for so very long. No one is dying (actually everyone is dying).  I’m being held captive.  What to do?

I will sit still.  I will wait.  I will breathe, and write, and ask for help when needed. I will try so very hard not to judge myself for not wanting to clean this house.  I will not judge myself for feeling so uncomfortable in my own skin after so much work to feel comfortable in my own skin. I will have faith.  I will have faith that it is possible – no – probable – that in an hour I won’t feel like this at all – that I will be hiking in the woods with a friend wondering what the big deal was.  I will feel comfortable in my own skin. There are no big deals.

I will tell myself the things I would tell others.  I am in a new place. I have never been in this place before.  It is okay to feel uncomfortable.  Most people feel uncomfortable. I will wait.  I will wait.  I will wait. I am so very happy I have learned to wait.  I am blessed to know how to wait. I won’t numb (except with my passion/obsession with the Orioles), I won’t run from this by giving into it and buying a house in this mess.  I will go hiking. I will have dinner. Heck – I might even clean the house.

Peace.

 

Posted in Being still, feeling uncomfortable, mid life, Uncategorized, waiting
05 Jul 2013
2 Comments

News Flash: Woman held captive by feeling!

Feelings – we all have them. Feelings are not facts; they rarely make sense.  Why then do they so often hold me hostage? I can be at peace – driving – relaxing – working – eating, and suddenly my world is shaken – heck sometimes even my faith is shaken.  Why?  I didn’t get news of death or getting fired, or divorced, or anything.  It was just a feeling.  A feeling of. . .un-named fear, anxiety, a wave of intense sadness, and then I am trapped.  I can’t escape the feeling, and I begin to ruminate and obsess.

The other day a friend gave me a typical example of this: she bought her first new/used car in about 20 years.  She is intelligent and savvy. She knew the brand she wanted, she knew approximately how much mileage she wanted, she knew what she could afford, and she bought the car.  On her drive home she heard a strange noise.  She called the dealership, and scheduled to bring the car back for service.  While she was driving back to the dealership, a feeling took her captive. If feelings have voices, hers sounded something like this, “You made a big mistake. This car is bad; it may be a lemon. What are you going to do? You don’t have time to deal with this.  This was a huge waste of money. How could you be so stupid? You are so stupid; what a mistake you’ve made!”  All the while her gut is wrenching, her throat is tightening, and she feels as though she must cry or scream or spit. She’d been captured, and couldn’t escape!

I picked my friend up while the car was getting repaired and we spent some quality time together.  We talked about feelings, and we laughed about them too.  We shook our heads thinking how strong feelings are, and how even after much practice, we still can’t completely elude them. They still capture us.

It’s summer. My schedule gets less rigid during the summer.  This flexibility must alert my feelings, because they really come rushing in with swords and ropes to immobilize me. I awake to no alarm and the voice begins: “Wow it is 8:30 – you are so lazy to have slept this late.” Or: “Wow it is 6:00, what is your problem? Why can’t you relax and sleep in?”

Often I awake with sadness or anxiety.  My new practice is to get up anyway. I don’t try to figure it out. I don’t give in to the thoughts and feelings, I just try to move ahead.  Sometimes it stays with me all day; sometimes only for a few minutes. This isn’t to say I simply ignore them – although I guess sometimes I do.  I notice the feeling. I greet it. I sometimes learn something from it. I pray. I meditate, but I don’t delve into trying to figure it out completely. . .anymore. . . I’ve realized that often feelings just don’t make sense.

A friend of mine asked me to run with her the other day.  First the thought comes -“I can’t run with you – you are faster, stronger, better.”  Then right on cue, the feeling comes to bind me. My stomach begins to rumble, my breathe quickens, and I feel shaky.  Then I think – maybe I’m sick – I shouldn’t run. It’s hot – I can’t handle this heat. Usually, I put my running clothes on and get out the door.

One thing that always helps free me from captivity is my voice.  Although often my mouth feels bound shut, and my throat feels it is closing, and I have to force with all of my might to speak.  When I do, when I tell someone what I’m feeling (okay – not just anyone – woah – I’ve learned from my mistakes here). When I tell someone I trust – what I am feeling, I can then think it through. I can process these feelings for what they are – just feelings.  Nothing to be afraid of – nothing that makes sense. It usually ends in laughter and peace.  I’ll take these feelings any day. . . although I know these won’t last either.  None do; they come, they rise, and then they leave.

Peace.

Posted in Human being - not human doing, Suffocating Cultural Norms, Uncategorized and tagged
27 Jun 2013
2 Comments

Long, lazy, summer days

Last June, my husband, two teen girls, and I discovered a small, sleepy beach town on Florida’s Atlantic coast.  Last week we visited there again. I usually plan an adventure over the winter and we go somewhere different each year, but this winter I didn’t have the energy, so we went with the sure bet.

We drive from Maryland.  How does that sound? Most people gasp when I say this.  I love it.  I love being enclosed in a minivan with my family; moving speedily down the highway while at the same time weighed down by the space in the vehicle. This is where the groundedness of vacation begins for me.  The slowing down.

I often have a difficult time going on vacation.  Throwing off the structure and routine scares me.  It helped knowing what I was getting into this year – knowing where we were heading. It is beautiful; the condo is right on the beach.  The first full day, I was on the balcony with my husband and feeling as if it were just too much trouble going down to the beach.  I was grounded to the point of being heavy, slow moving, like a sloth. So I sat on the balcony searching for the dolphins in the ocean before me.

Without the distractions of work and house – I am forced (or I chose) to see.  I see that for the first time, I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to perform. I am that person who was always running, working, cleaning, planning, talking, partying. Even on vacation – I had to keep busy.  But now – I’m ready – I’m ready to just be.  (See what I did there? I have to get ready to simply be!) And yet I can’t throw off the pangs of guilt that creep in – the guilt that is always about comparing my insides to others’ outsides.

Even the waiter at our favorite restaurant at the beach asked what we had done – water taxi, para sailing, National Seashore? “Uh, no, no, and no.”  We didn’t do anything.  We went to this awesome used book store and bought 10 pounds of books.  We read, we sat on the beach, we swam, we played Scrabble and Phase 10, and we slept.  And I watched baseball.

It was Tuesday before I became grateful for the heaviness, the sloth like body that I took on.  It was Wednesday before I  stopped comparing. It was Thursday when I realized that if I had written a story about my future – what kind of family I thought I wanted – it would not have been the one I have.  I would have written all kinds of things about money, and success, and the Caribbean, and parasailing. It would not have included used book stores and teens that sleep until 1:30.  I would have been selling myself short. I have the most incredible family; the perfect family . . . for me.  Especially now – in this moment – in this year of my turning 50 and the girls being 14 and 17 and Jeff loving and accepting us with his whole heart and soul.

Especially now – as I let go of past and future expectations. Especially now that I begin not caring what others want and expect from me. Especially now that I have lived long enough and been brave enough to look beyond the surface into the darkness to see what was driving me and and pushing me to do, do, do instead of be, be, be. Especially now as I am in that uncertain time of life where we stand on the bridge between having children and launching young adults.  Especially now as I experience both the  sadness of knowing this moment is fleeting and the excitement of knowing this moment is fleeting. Soon – it will be Jeff and I in the car alone traveling – how wonderful . . .and how sad.

Next year – we may stay for two weeks. Peace.

Rainbow without rain

Posted in Being still, Human being - not human doing and tagged , , , , , , ,
08 Jun 2013
3 Comments

Love Songs. . .Part I

My husband and I recently went to see Josh Ritter in concert.  He is a poet; an incredible singer/song writer who sings with a beautiful smile on his face the entire concert. On the way there my husband turned to me and sang a line from one of Josh’s songs, “All the other girls here are stars – you are the Northern Lights.”  I love it when my husband sings to me – actually I just love to hear him sing. He is a talented musician with a unique voice who lets his head get in the way of letting others enjoy what he does.  Several years ago he dedicated most of his time to playing guitar and singing at local coffee houses.  Our home was filled with his voice and guitar chords.

I would come home and he would be jamming; I’d walk into the other room to change clothes or put things away and I’d hear his voice and would become paralyzed. I would stand as still as stone, and a warmth would encompass me as if I was enveloped in a loving hug while simultaneously tingling from the goose bumps spreading over my skin.  Unfortunately, because of my own inadequacies, I couldn’t share this intimate feeling with him.

One day – years after he stopped playing, we were in the car and he was singing to a song on the radio.  I said (with a lump in my throat), “I love it when you sing.”  He stopped singing.  Not just then, but for a long time after.  I got so hurt and angry and would bring it up every now and again to let him know how happy it made me when he sang.

My husband is a keeper.  Whenever my faith falters in a God or some type of Universal Goo that pulls the strings for us mere mortals, I think of my partner, and my faith is restored.  Although this may sound harsh – true love, and a strong, committed (perfect in all its imperfections) marriage was not in my cards.  I had a tough beginning, a rough adolescent, and a flat out terrifying early adult life. I met Jeff shortly after I stepped from darkness into light (although the step took hundreds of days). It was love at first sight – on his part.  He says the first time he saw me he knew he wanted to marry me – he was 20 – I was 26, and I was still seeking tall, dark, handsome, and mean.  Jeff was a tad shorter than me with red hair and a permanent smile (at least when I was around).

Shortly after the Josh Ritter concert, I was alone in the car listening to one of Josh’s songs and crying.  I wondered why these intense love songs bring up these strong, dark, old emotions.  Is it because they aren’t true? It will never happen to me?  And then voila’ – it hit me.  It is because it has happened to me.  I am in that relationship – the one where i am the “Northern Lights.” And still – I cry – out of a sense of unworthiness. I compare our relationship to others as if ours isn’t good enough.  What a a waste of time!  Today – I am starting over, and once again stepping from darkness into light, embracing the love that is right in front of me, so close that I miss it nearly everyday. I am living the sappiest of love songs – I just have to get out of the way and listen so I don’t mess it up.

The funny thing is that  beautiful line comes from a song that is mostly about a one night stand, but the feeling in that line is what stands out and describes the tension between the lovers [contact-form][contact-field label="Name" type="name" required="1"/][contact-field label="Email" type="email" required="1"/][contact-field label="Website" type="url"/][contact-field label="Comment" type="textarea" required="1"/][/contact-form] in the song – a tension that can make one blush.  That is what I experience in many moments of this 20 year marriage – that is miraculous – and all mine.

Check out Josh here: http://www.npr.org/event/music/176171890/josh-ritter-coming-out-of-the-dark-clouds

Peace.

Posted in Josh RItter, Love Songs, Marriage, True Love, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , ,
21 May 2013
1 Comment

Running Away – Want to go?

I am a runner – although I rarely call myself one – I make excuses why I’m not really a runner.  I’m wimpy, I don’t LOVE it (except when I do), I have only ever run 6 miles, sometimes I walk.  But one thing I am usually pretty good at is running away from my feelings.  But they catch up to me and I am one big ball of snot and tears, and I can’t figure out why I’m crying.

Today is that day. It’s Tuesday at noon and I am in bed.  My head is killing me and I spent 2 unproductive hours running around work trying not to cry.  I eventually came home. I work in a school, and I really don’t like the students or other visitors to see me crying so I usually stay in my office.  My colleagues there – I’m not so worried about, because I’m certain they have felt like crying before.  Adults get it – – – except some of them don’t!

Once  a few years ago I was crying in my office (away from students) about 3 days after my brother (who was only in his 50’s) died suddenly.  A colleague/friend was with me, and an adult walked in the room and said, “What’s the matter!?!?”  I said, “My brother died.”  She said, “Oh my God, your other brother?” As if, after 3 days, I shouldn’t be crying over this loss.

This sadness today has been brewing. But I have been too stubborn to simply sit and let it steep.  Nooooo, I had to keep running.  Sunday I was headed to a spiritual gathering.  I was so heavy with sadness, and I started thinking how peaceful and joyous I felt just a week ago. So I start with the bad talk, “What is your problem? Look around at the beautiful tress, and feel the breeze.  There is nothing wrong – stop feeling like this!”  It’s been brewing.

I started leaking yesterday, but today was full force!  The worse thing is – I tried to work. Things got complicated. I began crying, and the person I was with said, “Are you still in therapy?”  I really just wanted to scream!  There is so much to be sad about that I think people who don’t cry are the ones who are unstable! Granted – if we all went around crying all the time – that wouldn’t be good, but most folks know I’ve had multiple losses in the past year or two, so crying is the norm – – -sometimes.

I did receive a blessing. My boss needed something from me as I was leaking. She came in my office and asked if I was okay.  I shook my head.  She asked, “Is there anything I can do?” Again, I shook my head, but this time I said, “I just wish I could keep it together!”  She gave me a hug and said, “You keep it together 99% of the time. Why don’t you just go home and fall apart.  I’ll see you tomorrow” I didn’t even have to make up some problem or explain – she didn’t judge me on my falling apart – she actually judged me on the whole shebang! The whole kit and caboodle (is any of that spelled right?). Falling apart is simply a moment – it does not define me.

I’m not good at this coming home to fall apart.  I am actually all cried out, and my head hurts so I will try to sleep.  But writing helps.  It gets it out, and I am hoping that someone reading this someday will simply let themselves fall apart.  Fall apart – for God sakes.  Just do it.  If you are too afraid to fall apart – borrow my faith! You must have the faith to know you will be back together again soon – laughing, enjoying the sunshine, and feeling the breeze.  So go fall apart, and I’ll see you tomorrow!

And – if you aren’t the one who needs to fall apart, but you are in the presence of someone who does – PLEASE, PLEASE just let them! It is a gift that cannot be repaid. It is God working through you.

Peace.

Posted in Crying at Work, Fall apart, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , ,
11 May 2013
7 Comments

Mother’s Day

Simply reading the title of this blog may elicit a plethora of emotions and expectations. Reading it knowing that this will be the first Mother’s Day I celebrate without my mom, may make some cringe and think, “Oh boy, another post about death and darkness.”  I’m not feeling one way or the other about Mother’s Day this year, and maybe it’s because I’ve never been one to fully engage in what I once heard described as “Hallmark Holidays.”

A few years ago, I read an excellent blog post by Anne Lamott about Mother’s Day (Salon, 2010) and I revisited it again yesterday on the advice of a friend.  Anne Lamott did not raise her son to celebrate Mother’s Day.  I wish I had that insight when my kids were young, but I was too hung up on cultural norms and guilt and control. I expected my husband to perform, when the kids were too small, and make sure the kids got me a present, blah, blah blah.

I am a mother of two incredible children, but what does that mean – being a mother? Does that mean I should never leave them alone with any one that isn’t related until they are old enough to tell me if anything bad happened? Does that mean I should sacrifice things I may enjoy to be a stay at home mom? Does it mean I should put all my needs on hold while parenting my children? Does it mean I should attend every game, recital, parent visiting day at school, etc.? Well yes and no.  It depends.

What if staying home with my kids makes me angry and resentful? What if finding a balance between work and home brings me peace? What if I find safe, nurturing people who enjoy being with kids 8 hours a day while I do things that make me feel confident and darn good about myself? Does this make me unworthy of Mother’s Day cards? Am I the reason the current generation is so self-centered and out of control? (As most generations feel about the younger one).  Or am I simply  a human being who doesn’t meet the expectations of those sickening verses on Mother’s Day cards?

My sister and I used to hate picking out Mother’s Day cards – okay maybe we didn’t hate it because we used our humor to help us through. We made fun of them and made up what a true verse would sound like coming from our family.  It was difficult to find a card that was true; our childhood was not rainbows and cupcakes, but we loved and admired our mom for many things.  However we didn’t love and admire her for any of the things that are written about in those verses.  I don’t remember my mom being around much when I was younger. My mom struggled with many issues – and I bet a big one was trying to live up to the societal norms of motherhood – and boy oh boy – I think that one can really mess with you.

My mom and I lived together as adults; she lived with me and my family.  Ninety percent of those 13 years were just fine.  The last few were very, very, very difficult.  I went to therapy during those years, and I remember one of my first sessions complaining about the stress in the home and saying, “I would never ask my mom to leave!” My therapist responded with something like, “That sounds like a really dangerous and unhealthy statement.”  I had this Mother’s Day verse mentality.  She did not tell me to kick my mom out, but she pointed out to me that in some homes, it just doesn’t work. If my mom got too sick or mentally ill, or if the tension just got to be too much, I would of course need to look at other options.  Once I created some space away from the Mother’s Day verse, I was able to exhale and see how difficult and tense this Mother/Daughter Dance had become.  I was then able to be kind (most of the time), lower my expectations, ask others for help, and most importantly: not feel guilty about it being so damn difficult sometimes.

It feels good to throw off the old ideas I carried for so long. Not just about Mother’s Day, but Valentine’s Day, our Wedding Anniversary, even big ones like Christmas or birthdays.  I am turning 50 in a few months, and I am throwing my own party!  It won’t make me feel any more or less loved or valued if you do it for me!  Just like tomorrow – Mother’s Day – doesn’t mean I need to sit in a chair with my feet up – that would just feel stupid to me.  Being a Mother means I birthed a child – if you didn’t – it shouldn’t make you any more or less valuable than me.  In fact – having a special day just comes with baggage about how I’m supposed to act, and it gets in the way of the true me, and for me, it gets in the way of true joy.

One disclaimer: if you are a mom and feel good about being with your kids 24/7 – that is awesome for you, but not for everyone.  Maybe this is just my issue, but I feel a lot of times we moms are posturing to be close to others that are just like us so that we can judge the ones that are different.  Not all families need the same things emotionally. Not all kids need to be parented the same way. Not all couples need the same things for their relationships to be successful.  It’s okay.  It’s okay. (I say this twice as a mantra for myself). There isn’t a template for human relationships – it always all depends.

One of the best things about being a mom – is finally letting my mom off the hook.  Finally realizing that those silly storybook or Hollywood or Leave It to Beaver moms where not REAL.  I am not a perfect mom – nor do I want my kids to see me as perfect for that may set up some sickness in them to go out and be perfect.  We are all raised by human beings and I have yet to meet one that is perfect. Real moms come with baggage . . . and personalty.  The  personality is what brings me joy.  I laughed so hard with my mom at times that I cried.  She was a goof, and I loved her. I can’t fit her into a verse on a Mother’s Day card.  I certainly will take some time tomorrow to remember her, and miss her, but guess what, I kind of do that everyday.

Peace.

Posted in Mother's Day, Suffocating Cultural Norms, Uncategorized, What is a Mother and tagged , , , , , ,
05 May 2013
6 Comments

On the Fence?

We are all living on the fence.  Think about it – we all want it to be this or that, but it is often (I’d say always) this and that. I was in my therapist’s office the other day asking what she thinks of procrastination   “Do you think it is laziness or fear?” She has this way of never giving me an answer because she too believes it is always both this and that. She says, “Why can’t it be many things that cause one to procrastinate?” Well – because you are the doctor and I want answers!

I then go on to talk about the anxiety.  How for many years I never felt my skin crawl with pins and needles, or the lump in my throat that blocks the air to my brain, or the racing thoughts at 4 a.m. I ask her, “is it all the grief, is it the fear of raising teen girls after experiencing a horrendous teen girl adolescence myself, or is it menopause that heightens anxiety.”  Again she responds, “It seems like you have many things to explain the anxiety.”

We seem to come to the same conclusion in each session – life is living on the fence.  It is being the mom of a newborn and being brought to tears by so much love and gratitude, while at the same time needing sleep or a shower so badly that you feel intense anger and resentment against that same precious newborn.

And what a set up that is!  How many women instead of allowing themselves to feel this anger and resentment (because what would people think!?), instead screams at her partner or blames hormones, or in-laws for the anger?  What would happen if we just started saying, “Yes, I love my kids, but some days I really want to run away from home.”

Why do I get such weird looks when I talk about how difficult it is living with teens, and that I am looking forward to them finding their way in the world.  This doesn’t mean my kids are bad, or mean, or even obnoxious for that matter.  It doesn’t even mean I won’t feel blue when they actually do leave home. Mostly it means I have learned that at this point, I can’t do much to control, soothe or help them, and that is an incredibly uncomfortable fence on which to sit.  I need to hang here until they pass through this phase.  I heard a great analogy for parenting teens: “You want to stand far enough away so that when they crash you don’t get hit by the shrapnel, and just close enough so that when they crash (not if), you can go in to help them.”

Isn’t that why new love is so grand, because we lean into the euphoria that clouds any humanness and we get hooked into only goodness? Then once our relationship transitions from the new, euphoric stage into the adolescent stage, we realize our beloved is actually human. . .well divorce seems the cultural answer.  When really our partners are both lovely and hideous. Most people who leave a relationship because they get uncomfortable about not being loved or appreciated enough – or sometimes being loved too much – being smothered. Our partner doesn’t act the way he or she should, we can’t get what we want when we want it so we leave for a new relationship.  Then, voila within a few months or a few years there we are struggling in a different relationship with the same stuff trying to find comfort in our own skin – on the fence – sitting with the good and the bad.

The beauty of being on the fence is that it is very uncomfortable.  However,  the more we can simply live with the uncomfortableness until it passes, because it ALWAYS passes, then we don’t have to react.  We wait on the fence until we reach a place that doesn’t feel so desperate, and then we make a decision.  Sometimes the decision is to remain on the fence.

Peace.

Posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , ,

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