Tag: relationships

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Finding fulfillment in the life you’ve been given, not the life you dreamed of…

I always thought I’d be a mother….

I figured I’d be married by now….

I thought he was the man of my dreams….

I never thought I’d end up a single parent….

I wish I had gone to medical school….

I should have followed my dreams, not the money….

My relationship with my parent(s) is toxic….

I’m the only one left in my family….

I’ve never owned my own home….

It was the house of our dreams, and then we lost it….

The diagnosis changed everything….

I don’t like my kid….

When I held my little baby, I never thought she would end up like this….

The stories of regret and broken hearts and a life that is very much not what you dreamed it would be, are as rampant as the perfectly projected ones that wallpaper social media. Scrolling down the endless pages of people’s lifetime posts, we allow ourselves to believe that everyone else’s life is just how they dreamed it would be. Chubby happy faces, world travels, solid marriages, beautiful homes, work and life accomplishments abound…and while we stand there and hold our bag of regrets and disappointments, we fool ourselves into thinking that everyone else has gotten everything that they ever dreamed of. And no matter how many gratitude lists we make, when someone else is living a reality that we wish we had, we carry some level of grief or jealousy or longing.

I know, because I carry quite a heavy bag myself.

I wrote a post two nurses’ weeks ago called the Blessing of Nursing:

The Blessing of Nursing

And in that post, I talked about taking the opportunity to hear people’s stories. I’ve made a habit of this. And I’ve also tried to develop a relationship of trust amongst other humans and to allow myself to be a safe place for people to come to, without fear of judgment or betrayal. Through them, I’ve heard even more stories. And what I have learned in all of these stories, is that despite what we all seem to believe, hardly anyone is living the life they dreamed of and no one is immune to struggle. There is always some sort of caveat, something that didn’t go the way they planned; and no matter how grateful you are for what you have, those losses are still a thorn in our side. And when we see them in others, we are reminded of what we don’t have.

You’re 40 and still single. You thought for sure you’d be married by now. And you don’t know where you went wrong or why you haven’t found your mate. She has a husband she adores and just the cutest kids. It’s the life you always dreamed of. But behind closed doors, finances are so tight, their debt is only rising. Your apartment if perfectly adorned with treasures you’ve collected from around the globe and she wishes she could just take a summer vacation. She’s never even been outside the country and the stress of their finances is a constant strain on their marriage. While she wouldn’t trade her family for the world, the pictures of everyone else’s travels make her itch for adventure and  wonder what would have happened if she had waited a little bit to settle down.

Your grays are coming in heavy and you’re not even sure you own a single piece of clothing that doesn’t have a stain or a hole. Sometimes taking a shower and getting dressed is your greatest accomplishment. Sticky hand prints and spilled drinks surround you and its a daily prayer for just 5 minutes of quiet from the chaos that constantly surrounds you. Being a Mom is sooo much harder than you thought it would be! Her hair is always perfectly colored and her nails are always done. Her house is always clean and the décor is impeccable. And when people ask her if she’s going to have kids, she gives a smile that fools them all into thinking that she’s perfectly content in her quiet and organized life. But silently, she’s been living a 5 year nightmare with infertility. And she’d give it all away … the highlights, the manicures and the cookie-cutter cottage just to hold a child of her own.

Your marriage is constant work and whether its because your husband is tired or works a lot or simply isn’t interested in taking walks, you see the movie-star couple who always do everything together and you wish that just one afternoon, he’d get off the couch or come home early and sit on the porch or take a stroll with you. But that confident and forever hand-holding couple have a secret. Despite her rockstar figure, she struggles with a poor self-image and he’s already strayed from the marriage. Their apparent closeness is really insecurity, fear and an attempt to control, all put under a public guise for perfection.

You’re 35 and wonder if you and your Mom will ever be close. Whether it was because of addiction, abuse, her controlling and difficult personality, or your own feeling that you could never measure up, when you hear other women say, “I don’t know what I’d do without my Mom”, you can’t relate. “There’s nothing like Momma’s cooking!” has never applied to your life and you have always had to hire a babysitter. But other women have come into your life to at least give you some motherly advice and support. And maybe, your girlfriend’s mother who is so wonderfully supportive and takes the kids and cooks, does so because her son or daughter-in-law is unreliable. And her apparent doting is compensation for fear of neglect of her grandchildren.

You were the basketball star growing up and the day your son/daughter was born, you dreamed of teaching him to shoot hoops. And then he stopped meeting his milestones and a lifelong disability presented itself that would inhibit him from ever walking much less running the court. And when your friend comes bitching about running the kids around to practice 3 days a week, your heart aches for the opportunity. But their kid has a paralyzing mental illness that they hide from the world because it doesn’t look good when a jockey has a therapist. And 20 years from now, when all of that comes crashing to an end, you’re wheelchair bound rockstar is gonna be changing the world with his inspirational speeches or formulas for NASA.

Maybe their perfect house, isn’t a happy home….

Maybe one’s world travels are a distraction from the pain….

Maybe that new car was bought with a loved one’s life insurance…

Maybe her perfect kid is fighting a battle even you’d run away from….

Maybe their money came with a price you’re not willing to pay….

Maybe she smiles so that she doesn’t cry.

Sitting on the beds of drug addicts and prisoners has allowed me a gained perspective and empathy and an ability to shed the judgment that I once carried. But learning the struggles of the everyday people I know, who seem to have the most perfectly put-together lives has allowed me to realize that I’m not the only one living with disappointment. And oftentimes, those who have what I am mourning the most, are themselves, lacking the thing I hold dearest. And watching the ebbs and flows of other people’s lives has reminded me that like the tides of the ocean, nothing is promised for forever, and I must hold tight to the things I cherish and be willing to let go of the dreams that were never mine to hold.

I’m sure you’ve all seen the inspirational quote: “Be kind, everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.” But what if we took that a step further and in addition to being kind to others, we develop an introspective view and be kind to ourselves.

We all make choices. And with every choice, there are consequences. But sometimes in life, things happen that are completely out of our control. And when those things rip our dreams out of our arms, after we grieve their loss, we must pick our heads back up and regain control of our life, however that life is going to be. A life that is void of the things we once dreamed of, can still be fulfilling. But we must find a way to make it so. If we never take our blinders off, we’ll never see all the other paths around us and the wonders that they can lead us to. If we never let go of the loss, we can never learn to love again. And if we never accept alterations in our plans, we will never relish the new opportunities of our current life.

So the next time you get frustrated that things haven’t quite worked out of the way you would’ve liked, wipe your tears and tell yourself that there is a wonderful life ahead of you, full of surprises and hope and laughter. And after you’ve stroked your grief for a bit, take it out back, put it in the ground and plant it. Let it grow into what it will. And then lift your head and look out to what lies ahead and accept that while this may not exactly be the life you wrote, you were never the author to start out with. Turn the page, there’s another adventure waiting for you. And it will be wonderful, I’m sure of it!

If you like this you might also like:

Giving a voice to disappointment … “Would you do it again?”

The Warrior

“I didn’t want it to be me.”

Cold Soup

Remembering Tiny Feet

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Learning your “gut feeling” and teaching your teenager to do the same

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As the mother of a teen, I’m sure I’m not alone when I tell my teen “No” and she doesn’t understand “Why?”. “I’m just not okay with it,” “I don’t have a good feeling about it,” and “I need you to trust my judgment,” are all statements that have been made by me and met with resistance by my teen. I’m frequently deemed “ridiculous” or “over-protective.” And my Mommy-spidey senses are rarely appreciated.

It’s hard to explain to an inexperienced, hormonal and often impulsive and illogical being that something gave me pause -that an inner nagging or a bad feeling is yielding a judgment call on my part. She is hardly able to grasp the tangible world and her own body seems foreign most days. How in the world can I get her to understand the whisperings of the spirit and the soft nudges of her conscience?!

Well, recently we had a wonderful teaching moment and I wonder if other parents might benefit from the same. And it wasn’t an “I told you so moment.” It was more personal and more impactful than that.

Fortunately for me, sassy and rebellious as my child may be, she does still talk to me. And recently she confided in me that a friend of hers had been making some uncomfortable suggestions to her. It was nothing really over the top and one could easily dismiss them as innocent inquiry; but it stuck with my daughter and it bothered her. Later, that same friend asked to have a sleepover. And my daughter came to me about the predicament.

The conversation went something like this: “I really like her as a friend. And I’m not really sure what she meant by those questions. But the idea of her sleeping over makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t feel good about it.”

I told her that that was reasonable and helped her think of a non-threatening way of handling the situation. The next day I was driving and lost in my own thoughts when BAM! It hit me! Teaching moment!

The next time we had a chance to talk, I brought up the situation again.

“Remember how you felt uncomfortable with your friend sleeping over? You didn’t really have a solid reason to deny her. You really didn’t even have any facts to go by. She really didn’t do anything wrong. But she said a few things. And those things gave you a feeling. That feeling was something you couldn’t shake. You had the feeling that as much as you liked her as a friend, you didn’t want her to sleep over. And you couldn’t feel okay with it. Baby, that’s your gut. And you must always listen to it! I’m proud of you that you listened to it. And I want you to notice that I didn’t try to talk you out of that feeling. Because a gut feeling is an important feeling to listen to.”

“Now, I know that as a mother, sometimes the decisions I make don’t always make sense to you. Sometimes I say ‘No’ to stuff with no hard facts to back me up. You know those times that the argument that you’re making to me makes perfect, logical sense; but I still end up saying, ‘I’m just not okay with it’? That’s because I’m having the same feeling that you had when you felt uncomfortable about your friend sleeping over. Those are the times that my gut is talking. And just like you couldn’t ignore it, I can’t ignore it either.”

“You may never know what would have happened if you had had that sleepover. And many times, I don’t know what would happen if I said “Ok” to you, when I otherwise feel like I shouldn’t. But I have to trust that our guts talk for a reason. And the worst feeling is when we don’t listen to it and we end up getting hurt.”

“You are my most precious gift. You are more important to me than my own self. If you can’t ignore that feeling about yourself, then I certainly can’t ignore it when it’s about you. I know it’s oftentimes hard to understand. I know I seems ridiculous and over-protective at times. But please know that I don’t ever say “No” without a reason. It’s just that sometimes, that reason is my gut.”

I’m sure most parents have a similar experience with their child. A time where they saw them squirm because someone or something made them uncomfortable. And I know every parent of a teenager deals with the teenage lack of perspective. Next time you see your kids struggle with that feeling, in addition to honoring that feeling, perhaps you too, could use it as a teachable moment. I prefer moments like these much more than the regretful, “I tried to tell you…” and the “You didn’t listen to me…” moments. Those, while at times inevitable, are much more painful for both parties involved. But a real-life, relatable, crisis-averted, “you felt it too” moment is the best in my book.

Best of luck to all you parents out there, who like me, are searching for direction and begging the universe to cut them a break – or at least allow them to survive. We’re doing it, one lesson, one glass at a time!

 

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The Captain and the Navigator

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I make it a habit to take as many adventures as I can. My family’s current goal is to visit all 50 states. In order to make this happen before my children leave the house and without breaking the bank, much of this goal is accomplished by road-tripping. We are currently finishing up our latest journey that will check state #30 off the list. See my article on why I think road-tripping is the way to go: https://lifelibertyandlibations.com/2017/09/07/looking-for-adventure-10-reasons-to-take-a-road-trip/

We have road-tripping down to a science. We pack the car the night before and leave the house on our first day at 3 am to beat the traffic. The kids have a loaded cooler between their seats, their own “carry-on” bag filled with activities and a new movie to watch. My husband drives and I navigate. We have a complete itinerary with all the destination addresses, confirmation numbers and times ready to go. Aside from the occasional back-seat squabble, we work like a well-oiled machine.

And my time on the road has me reflecting on our system and on life.

Life is a journey.

On every great journey, there is a Captain and at his right hand, is his Navigator.

The Captain, the driver, stands at the helm. He holds the wheel, accepting the weight of his cargo as his responsibility, owning the turns of the wheel that he makes, controlling, directing the vessel safely to its destination. And upon arriving at his destination, the credit of the embarkment sits on his crown. For he is the Captain.

The Captain is strong. He is resilient and responsible and quick both in his wit and his reflexes. He guides his vessel tirelessly and doesn’t truly rest unless his vessel is at rest.

The Navigator holds the map. He reads and interprets the signs. He doesn’t instruct, he guides. Looking ahead for impending hazards, he is the Captain’s eyes and ears. The Navigator is patient. The Navigator is astute. He holds a watchful eye, warns and informs the Captain and reads his coordinates with careful diligence. Not a side-kick or arm candy but a necessary counselor who carries the blueprints.

But ultimately at the end of the journey, everyone will ask, “Where’s the Captain?” “Who drove on this great journey ?”

And the Navigator will quietly step aside.

Like the old-fashioned mother who washes and cooks while the father earns a living, like the team who carries the prized medalist across the finish line, the Navigator receives his glory in the shadows of the Captain.

A Captain without his Navigator, is like an explorer without his compass – a dizzy fool, often making wrong turns, stopping frequently to reorient himself. A wanderer with little direction.

And a Navigator without his Captain is ready intelligence that is standing on the dock, bottled potential stuck holding his map, an eager adventurer with no vessel to carry him.

Often in life, we try to be both the Captain and the Navigator. In our hurried lives, we try to both hold the map and navigate the vessel on our own. And we fumble and stop and make countless wrong turns. But if we are careful, we realize the times we accomplish our greatest feats, are the times we are either the Captain OR the Navigator. But never both. Either we take the reins with a great advisor and guide directing us. Or we provide wisdom and support while the strength of another makes the hard calls and carries us through. The Captain will never succeed if he does not heed to his Navigator. And a Navigator who tries to take the wheel will merely sabotage the journey.

Rather than to harbor jealousy, the Navigator must learn humility.

And instead of becoming pompous, the Captain himself, should carry humble gratitude for the navigational guidance he was given.

Ask my children “Who’s the Captain?” of our ship and they’ll say, “Mom, but Dad drives.” The truth is, we take turns. Knowing our strengths and weaknesses, in any given journey, we decide who is best to take the wheel and who does best with the map.

We are a team.

Sometimes we are called to drive, to control, to carry the weight. In the end, we earn the medal. And other times, we are called to navigate, to carefully guide and quietly mentor, to step aside and allow the captain to gain the glory.

But the fruit of the journey belongs to us both. That’s winning at life. For without the other, we are lost.

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Strawberry Wine

“I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child   

When one restless summer, we found love growing wild   

On the banks of the river on a well beaten path  

It’s funny how those memories they last 

Like strawberry wine and seventeen …

I still remember when thirty was old … “

Deana Carter’s “Strawberry Wine,” was a country favorite of mine when I was a teenager. Back then, it was the love story attached to it that I enjoyed. I remember belting out the lyrics in my room, in my mother’s home. I remember wondering if Boone’s Farm counted as strawberry wine. And I remember thinking “Well, thirty IS old.”

And then I got caught up in college. My musical tastes changed a bit. I no longer lived with my mother. And my free time for singing in my room, was taken up with four jobs and 18 credits/semester and boyfriends who distracted me. Love was less of ‘a fantasy’ and more ‘real life’ than it had ever been before. And strawberry wine wasn’t even a thought. Beer pong, shots and rum and coke were the tastes of my college days.

But before I could graduate, before I could even make-up my mind about life and love, I found myself, quite surprisingly, a “Momma” at twenty-one. Love was complicated and so was life. Walking the stage with a one-year-old, working nights, I was too exhausted to drink or sing or even think about how old I was or what music I liked, or what anything I liked. I liked sleep-something I never got enough of.

By my mid-twenties, life and love were starting to make a little more sense and we added number two to the brood. Within two months of becoming a family of four, we bought a house and got married. And then we got a puppy. I was chasing two tots now, plus a pup and still working nights. I was painting the new house and signing up for preschool. The only music that played back then was nursery rhymes and Nickelodeon tunes and the screams of my two small children. Every night I flopped into bed, again exhausted. And wine and age still didn’t matter.

At twenty nine, I started to find myself again. My husband and I had our first getaway, eight years after becoming parents, to Chile, to meet his family. Everyone told me how “young” I was, surprised I guess, at how settled I was for my age. And in the country where wine is cheaper than water, I fell in love with the fermented fruit beverage. We even found a winery in our home state that made wonderfully sweet fruit wine. Our favorite, was of course, Strawberry.

And now, in the later half of my thirties, somewhere amongst the busyness of career and family building, I passed that mile marker that I so often sang about. I passed thirty. And I know I’m not old. Yet, somehow I’m the mother of a high-schooler and a middle-schooler. And gray hair is beginning to replace my mousey brown. I’m back to four jobs again; but this time, each one addresses a talent or identifies a component of myself, instead of just serving monetary means-though that certainly matters as well! My body is slightly less tired than when my children were tots but my mind is overwhelmingly so. I like many genres of music. I have a few close friends. My family means the world to me. I don’t have time for bull shit and I don’t apologize for who I am. Fighting for the greater good is always important to me. And my vacations are just as fulfilling as my careers.

Love and life, I’ve learned is never mastered, ’cause it changes as we age; but I’m thankful that I have both lived and loved well.

I love wine, but I’m more of a Cabernet girl now-dark and bold and just dry enough to make you smack your mouth without tasting oaky. But sometimes my husband sweetens it up by adding diced strawberries and a sprinkle of sugar and turning it into Chilean Borgoñia (recipe post below).

A lot has changed in the last 20+ years, since I first sang those words. Life, love and motherhood have taken many twists and turns. Most of which, I could have never predicted. No longer a child in my mother’s home, but a mother myself in a home that is my own, with a husband that sustains me, the meaning of the words hold a different weight now. And the love story is less significant than the theme of loss and remembrance.

My husband will hear the tune come on and say “Go ahead babe, take it away….” He’ll turn up the volume and the kids will roll their eyes. And I will once again belt out the lyrics of “Strawberry Wine.” For those few minutes, I’ll remember what it was like when I was seventeen, “caught between a woman and a child.” I’ll remember those “restless summers” and the ‘bittersweet taste’ of life and love and the ‘loss of innocence’. And I can never decide if I feel closer to seventeen or thirty or eighty.

Whatever your stage of life, love, or motherhood, I hope you find yourself on your journey. I hope you take time to belt out lyrics. And I hope, just once, you taste the sweetness of Strawberry Wine.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Strawberry Wine Fizz

  • 2 cups strawberries
  • 2 cups lemonade
  • 1 TBS sugar
  • white wine, chilled
  • sprite, seltzer or tonic water for fizz

Blend strawberries, lemonade and sugar in a blender and pour the mixture into ice-cube trays. Freeze. Once frozen add a few ice cubes to a glass, top with wine and a splash of your choice of sprite/seltzer/tonic for fizz. Drink as is, or blend. I used tonic and I blended it.

This is light and easy for anyone to drink. What’s even better, is that ice cubes are non-alcoholic, so kids and non-drinkers can easily make the virgin version by simply leaving out the wine.

And as referenced above, a Chilean version of borgoñia using fresh strawberries and wine:

It’s Strawberry Season! Let’s drink!

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Happy Wife … Happy Life

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It's an age-old saying amongst satisfied, wise-old, married men, the advise my husband gives at every wedding he attends (when requested) and it's inscribed on a wooden plaque that sits in my living room. "Happy Wife, Happy life" aka "When Momma ain't happy, ain't no body happy!"

We are the matriarchs. We run the household, ensuring the family is well fed, well dressed and safe. And given the standards of today's living, we also work outside the home. I don't know if it's because we're biologically better at multi-tasking or because culture takes a long time to change or if it simply has to do with our propensity to control the environment around us; but most women I know carry the majority of the load when it comes to the family’s needs. From signing permission slips to making costumes, knowing what days the kids need a clean P.E uniform to coordinating the baby shower at work. Few women I know come home and play video games or read the newspaper. We work and we care and we nuture, constantly! And while the income gap amongst men and women still exist, women are working just as many hours outside the home as men are, whilst still maintaining the majority of the household chores. Mothers and wives today are doing even more than we ever have. And we are tired and burnt out and many marriages are suffering.

We all say "It's the little things that matter." So, put your words into action! … Here's a whole list of little things that you can do if you want a happier wife.

If you want a happy wife …

Start with a kiss when you leave the house, whether she's sleeping or not.

Then, when you know the time in her day when she's up and at 'em and just getting going … or, if you both leave at the same time, maybe her lunch time … send her a text that says "I love you babe!" You will stop her in her busy tracks and enter her thoughts while you are away from one another. It's a way to let her know you think of her without taking her time and attention away from work.

Tell her she's beautiful – every day! EVERY DAY!

When you see her in the kitchen or cleaning the house, ask her if you can help. And even if she says no, find a way to help her anyway, even if it's pouring her a glass of wine.

Thank her for your meal every time she cooks, even when it's terrible.

And speaking of wine, don't get yourself a drink without asking what she'd like. Offering someone a drink is as chivalrous as holding the door. And stop with your "but feminists…" BS. We all like chivalry.

When she gets all quiet and tense – rub her shoulders, kiss her, let her fall into you if she wants or walk away if she needs. We can't always talk and don't often have the energy to handle another human when we are stressed, but we don't want to be alone either. Let her know that you see her and are there for her but you don't want to burden her. Don't taunt her with "Ohhh … somebody's icey/bitchy"… women often keep their worries to themselves and you don't always know what burden she's carrying.

If she's doing quiet work while you watch TV or play games, come to her and ask if she'd like a snack or a cup of tea … 2 min, and she'll know you notice her and think of her.

Find little ways to surprise her: Make the bed and turn her side down. Leave her flowers. Pack her lunch for her. Fill up the gas tank. Leave work early and offer to pick up the kids.

Ask her to sit next to you and snuggle when you sit to watch TV – even if you're uncomfortable, tolerate it once in a while.

Ask her how her day went.

Kiss her before bed.

When you make love, think only of her and how to rock her world.

Tell her that you love her.

 

Still worried about you? Do all these things in the absence of yelling, name calling and accusations. Do it without a time line or an expectation of getting anything in return … make it an indefinite change. You'll amazed at how she loves you back!

 

Want a happy husband?

Start with a kiss when you leave the house, whether he's sleeping or not.

Then, when you know the time in his day when he's up and at 'em and just getting going … or, if you both leave at the same time, maybe his lunch time … send him a text that says "I love you babe!" You will stop him in his busy tracks and enter his thoughts while you are away from one another. It's a way to let him know that you think of him without taking his time and attention away from work.

Tell him he's wonderful – every day! EVERY DAY!

When you see him working on something or outside doing yard work, ask him if you can help. And even if he says no, find a way to help him anyway, even if it's bringing him a beer.

Thank him for your meal every time he cooks, even when it's terrible.

Don't get yourself a drink or a snack without asking what he'd like, it's only considerate. And respect and mutual consideration is the key to a healthy relationship.

When he gets all quiet and tense – rub his shoulders, kiss him, let him rest on you if he wants or walk away if he needs. They can't always talk and don't often have the energy to handle another human when they are stressed, but they don't want to be alone either. Let him know that you see him and are there for him but you don't want to burden him.

If he's doing quiet work while you watch TV or play, come to him and ask if he'd like a snack or a cup of tea … 2 min, and he'll know you notice him and think of him.
Find little ways to surprise him: Make the bed and turn his side down. Leave him a special little treat. Pack his lunch for him. Fill up the gas tank. Leave work early and offer to pick up the kids.

Ask him to sit next to you and snuggle when you sit to watch TV – even if you're uncomfortable, tolerate it once in a while.

Ask him how his day went.

Kiss him before bed.

When you make love, think only of him and how to rock his world.

Tell him that you love him.

And do it all in the absence of yelling, or nagging, or expectations.

 

Sometimes, despite our very best efforts, we can't make someone happy. Maybe they've already checked out and maybe their unhappiness rests inside of them and is untreatable by others. But before you say "I've tried", "I've done what I can." "I can't make him/her happy." Start with this very simple little daily list and see where it takes you. Think this is too much work? Then you don't know the fulfillment of a happy marriage. Trust me, it's worth it!

 

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Kindness

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I don’t know if it was the last week, or the year, or the last 36 years … but I found myself, after recently being the subject of a lot of anger and verbal abuse … self reflecting. And in my reflection, I contemplated this last week, this last year, the last 36 years. And what I discovered was that amongst all the things I disdain, a lack perspective, a lack of empathy, a lack of effort, self-entitlement, self-absorption, complacency, selfishness … the thing that I dislike the most, is a lack of kindness. And if I could pick just one thing that I desire the most from humanity, Kindness would be it.

Nurses often times find themselves as subjects of unkindness. Our patients are ill. They are in pain. They have lost independence, control and the life they once knew. Their families too, have lost these things. Sometimes we have to stand alongside their doctor while they are given a devastating diagnosis, or told “I’m sorry, we did everything we could.” And sometimes we stand alone when we clean their wounds or bathe their dead loved one. My worst days at work, are the ones that despite my best efforts, to love, to heal, to minister, to analyze and to advocate, end in ridicule, accusations, and insults. They are the days that I have given of myself until I have nothing else left to give … and what I gave, still wasn’t enough.

Mothers often times find themselves the subjects of unkindness. Our children are learning. They are growing. They are seeking independence and experience and wisdom. Sometimes my advise and restrictions, my love and my best efforts are met with push-back, lack of appreciation, criticism, and disrespect. And when our children don’t perform at their best, the world too, loves to blame mothers. They love to give unsolicited advise and suggest inadequacy. They look past the individualism of the offspring and place all responsibility on their mother-as if the mother is the child themselves. If only we had been home more -or- worked harder, made stricter rules -or- hadn’t been so strict, loved them more -or- hadn’t coddled them so much. I always feel the worst for the mothers of children who hurt other people, like school shooters; because not only has that mother lost her child in a most horrific event, there is a whole army of people hating her and judging her because of her child’s very poor choice/illness. The guilt and the ostracization must be unbearable.

People in any role, find themselves the subjects of unkindness. Our beliefs, lifestyles, appearances and our mere existence, open us up for judgement, opinions, prejudices and contempt. Sometimes it is an intentional attack and other times we are merely the victim of an unwarranted unleashing because we were the one standing there when someone had a bad day, got bad news, objectified us as their momentary punching bag. Regardless of the who, what, where and why, it is enough to ruin our day, our week …

A careless act of cruelty is for some, enough to ruin a life.

And yet, a simple act of kindness, can be enough to save one.

What I realized in my self-reflection was that it’s not the hard tasks, it’s not being pushed to my physical limit, it’s not managing one’s anxieties or handling one’s fears. It’s not giving the bad news or wiping the tears, establishing restrictions or confronting death. It’s not moving past the judgement you want to make and choosing love instead – Those things are not what I find to be the hardest. I don’t seek the easiest patient, the easiest kid or the easiest life, but what I do seek, is for kindness to be met with kindness. And when it isn’t, it hurts.

Maybe I am more vulnerable than I once was. Maybe, living my life in a safe place with a family and a husband that love me, has made me weak. Maybe the hardships of my past have weathered me. Or maybe I’m finally past them and I’ve become accustomed to my security. Maybe I’ve reached exhaustion and I just don’t have the energy to fight anymore. I want to use to my energy to help instead. Truly, life is still hard but the army of people that I have built, help to carry me. In order to build that army, I had to open myself up to people and soften my edges. And the angst I now carry, seems to sit under a thinner skin than I once wore.

I try to remember that others just aren’t there yet. That others are still very angry and lack the support that I now have. Whether its politics, or waiting in line, a diagnosis or a lack of therapy, some people use other people to release their frustrations and to gain power. And the easiest way to process pain, is to blame and hurt others, so as not to allow the pain to penetrate one’s own heart.

Regardless of their reason or their story, it fucking hurts.

It hurts when people aren’t kind.

When I was a kid and other kids teased me because I was skinny or because I didn’t have the same name-brands they did, it hurt.

When I was a teenager and I didn’t have a car, or the same cute styles or perfect teeth and I didn’t live in the same affluent neighborhoods as the other kids, and that made me “not popular” … When people knew me as the “girl whose brother died” instead of as “Amanda”, it hurt.

When I was 21 and a new mother and people no longer wanted to hang out with me because my “baggage” no longer allowed me to go to the club, it hurt.

When someone makes negative assumptions based on my religious views, political persuasion, or my physical appearance … when they insult my children, talk about others in a derogatory fashion, mistreat the less fortunate, or tell insulting jokes, it still hurts.

And after 13 years of nursing, 14 years of motherhood and 36 years of living a life that has had more tragedy than I often care to divulge, I just don’t want anymore hurt.

The truth is, life works better when we are kind. People are more apt to meet our requests, to cooperate with one another and to consider another perspective. Kindness yields a cohesion that conflict and aggression simply cannot.

Some of the people who I love the most, have religious and political views that differ greatly from mine. I am a strong personality and a self-proclaimed free-thinker. You won’t find me bending to anyone’s will if it doesn’t sit well with me and I am no “ass-kisser”. I am known to say what I mean and mean what I say. And I am oftentimes abrupt in my delivery. But I hope my ways are never misconstrued as unkind. If we can be kind and respectful, we can express our views and explain our perspective without insults or scoffing. If we’re lucky, it’ll lead to compromise and if we’re less lucky, it might still yield a gained perspective by both parties. Kindness never leads to broken hearts, a loss of a relationship or hurt feelings. Kindness never destroys.

We are all on our own journeys. We all face challenges and adversaries, bad days and bad luck. We have all said things that we wish we hadn’t and we’ve all made choices that we wish we could undo. Each of us carry a cross – perhaps of different weights and of different woods, but it is heavy nonetheless and burdensome. And we just never know what someone else is carrying. Sometimes, those who appear the strongest, carry the heaviest crosses. And sometimes the weak, are weak from a long journey.

It might be harder some days, but it doesn’t use any more energy to be kind than it does to be angry. And it doesn’t have to be attained with some Noble Peace Prize sized effort.

It’s a smile. It’s a “thank you”. It’s an “I understand.” It’s not accepting an undo defeat or stooping to lower standards but respectfully pointing out that, “I appreciate your efforts, but this will have to change.” It’s not weakness, but strength. It’s maturity. It’s wishing someone well, whether you like them or not. It’s making eye contact and giving them just a minute of your attention instead of ignoring them. It’s stepping away for a moment so that you can gather yourself instead exploding insults all over everyone. It’s self-expressing that you yourself are frustrated, afraid, anxious, or overwhelmed and that your angst has nothing to do with the person you are interacting with. It’s saying, “I’m sorry.”

People need to hear that. People need to see that.

“There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and my hearts are my temples; my philosophy is kindness.” – Dalai Lama

In a world where you can be anything, Be Kind.

 

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Worth living for…. My gratitude list and a response to the play “Every Brilliant Thing,” an essential conversation on suicide awareness and mental health

writing-1317009-640x480I recently attended a performance of the play, “Every Brilliant Thing,” written by Duncan MacMillan and Johnny Donahoe and performed by Alexander Strain. The play is and further yields a worthy conversation on suicide awareness and the importance of an individual’s mental health. And in the play, the conversation is held in the form of a one man cast who begins as a 7-year-old boy who is trying to understand and navigate the suicide attempt of his mother. The primary way he does this and the ongoing theme of the play is a gratitude list, or as he so britishly calls it, a “A list of Every Brilliant Thing”. And he leaves it on the pillow of his mother when she returns home as a reminder of all the things worth living for.

The list grows and unfolds over a lifetime and using light-hearted humor and audience participation, it reminds us of the many good things in life. It also brings to light, the fact that when our lives are going well and we have much to live for, the list grows quickly and easily. But on our difficult days, on the days when life has handed you a royally shitty hand, it can be a painful and nearly impossible task to think of things to be grateful for … or even to look at the list at all, for that matter.

Through this presentation, as a model for life itself, we are given the therapeutic task of replacing sorrow with gratitude, a worthy and effective exercise. And yet the play makes it clear, that this isn’t a cure for mental illness. Gratitude lists help us to establish a more positive outlook on life. They create a healthier, more uplifting viewpoint on the everyday, which improves our quality of life and self-satisfaction; but they don’t usually save lives and they certainly don’t cure chemical imbalances. It explains how grief and our attempts to process it, change as we age. And it makes the feelings that suicide survivors have, relatable. The guilt, the frustration and the fear of inheriting the same illness are all very real feelings for those affected by suicide; and it is self-affirming when someone else echoes the things you speak of only in your mind.

But the most important aspect of the play entirely, in my opinion, is the conversation that the play both is and creates. The conversation that mental illness is real and serious and that it deserves immediate and respectful attention. And yet in order to be effective, we must create some sense of normalcy and a comfortable place for people to come. In order to treat the illness, we must first end the stigma. Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the U.S and 1:5 Americans and Canadians suffer from some form of mental illness. The majority, not the minority, of people have been affected by suicide and the cascade of mental illness. And yet, we sabotage our own needs by labeling people, distancing ourselves, avoiding the topic or becoming uncomfortably solemn and unrelatable when we talk to those who are experiencing symptoms. It’s almost like we’re afraid of getting their “cooties.” Or perhaps we’re afraid of getting hurt or feeling responsible if things go awry. And yet, the name calling, ostracization and lack of relatability is exactly what perpetuates bad outcomes.

While there is still much work to do, and my experience is biased by living in a progressive part of the country, I do believe that we have made great strides in ending the hurtful exclusion and name calling of homosexuals and mentally retarded individuals. My children have grown to accept these people as they are and are blessed to have never heard the word “Fag” or “Retard” from their peers. And yet they know very well the term “Psycho.” And even worse, they know that quiet and cold feeling that comes when someone “has problems.”

As a medical professional and an advocate for mental health services, I can assure you of the suffocating nature that that stigma carries. Rarely to my face … but most often in small conversation, when the people talking don’t know my story, that’s when I hear it. That’s when, like my children, I feel it. The tone gets quiet and serious and suddenly, everyone involved in the gossip is “better” than the subject they are referring to.

And I do believe that the root of this reaction is out of self-preservation and not of mal intent. It is however, just as damaging. When people don’t have full regulatory control over their emotions or psyche, it makes people feel uncomfortable and afraid. And those people usually respond in 1 of 3 ways.

  1. They isolate that person. They stop hanging out with them, stop answering their texts and avoid them. They might be afraid of being manipulated by them or maybe they are just uncomfortable around them now. Maybe they don’t know what to say. It’s an immature response, but a common one. When one is afraid, they often run away. Still the affected person is left alone and learns by default not to confide in others. And because of this rejection, by default, the isolated person is labeled as an “outsider” or “different”.
  2. An even more immature response to feeling uncomfortable is to laugh and poke fun. This is not rooted in self-preservation. It is simply mean-spirited. And it happens all the time. The homeless guy that’s mumbling nonsense, the kid that comes to school dressed bizarrely or the jokes about voices in your head … all seem like viable subjects of seemingly innocent banter and yet to the victim and their families, it’s another assault. And even more so, to the bystander, whom you think is perfectly “normal”, those jokes are another rejection, another statement that “if you tell your secret, we won’t accept you”.
  3. And lastly, when they don’t ostracize or bully and tease, they judge. They judge them for “not really having a chemical imbalance,” without having any knowledge of that person’s medical records. They accuse them of “doing it for attention,” without ever wondering why. They judge them for “putting chemicals into their bodies”, for not being strong enough to handle life, for being dramatic, for always being “so negative”, for being “too lazy to get out of bed” or “too ____” … whatever.

So this week’s post is both a hand extended and a plea to all of those who have ended relationships because of a diagnosis … Who have refused to acknowledge or talk about the mental health of a person to their face and instead gossiped behind their back … To those who have labeled someone as “crazy,” a “head-case”, or a “nut job,” knowing full-well there was an underlying condition responsible for that person’s actions … For those who believe that simply “picking yourself up by your bootstraps” is an effective treatment … and for those who publicly demean mental health services in the form of therapy or medication … You are killing us!

Please educated yourself. Please try to understand someone else’s perspective. Please be compassionate and kind and patient. Please be a safe place. And if you can’t, at least shut up and give them a number to call. The worst place to be, is alone. And people who suffer from mental illness or have loved ones who are suffering, always feel alone. Please help me to change that!

Mental illness is so frustrating. And those affected can be incredibly draining and manipulative. And confronting mental illness most certainly can induce a grief response. But just the way we have changed the way we talk about mental retardation and homosexuality, a change in the way we respond to mental illness is also greatly warranted. It is not a new problem. It’s not a rich or a poor problem. It’s not an educated versus non-educated problem. It’s not a race problem. It’s not a strong versus weak problem. It is everyone’s problem. And people’s lives literally depend on it.

I am the mother, sister, daughter, granddaughter and niece of those affected by mental illness and there is not a single documented diagnosis in my family. Stigma and self-righteousness prevented diagnosis and treatment in our past. It led to many tortured lives and two untimely deaths in my beautiful, “normal”, middle-class, white, educated, god-loving, family.

That shit is changing with me.

So in the spirit of the play, I’ll end with my own “Brilliant List” and I’ll encourage you all to do the same, to seek out goodness and positivity. The National Alliance for Mental Illness reports that when you actively seek out ‘reasons to be thankful’ for 21 days, you will start to involuntarily think more positively. We could all use that. And then I’ll remind you that sometimes that list won’t be enough. And there are people and services that can help. Please let them help.

My favorite line in the play is :

“Life may not ever become Brilliant but it does get better. It always gets better.”

Amanda’s Brilliant List

  1. Hearing my children say, “Good job Mommy”
  2. Letting my husband love me in all his glorious ways
  3. Dancing in the kitchen
  4. Belting out Disney tunes with my 2-year-old niece
  5. Dark chocolate and red wine paired together, in the evening, when the house is quiet
  6. Finishing a photo book and reminiscing on that trip
  7. Planning a new road trip and anticipating the discovery of a new place
  8. The first unseasonably warm day of the year
  9. Talk therapy with my best friend, just the two of us … and wine
  10. Being assigned the patient that no one else wanted, and then connecting with her
  11. Having an opportunity to sleep in and actually being able to sleep
  12. Cooking delicious food with my siblings – we are like top chefs…well one is anyway!
  13. Going to a rock concert with my Dad and never sitting down
  14. Getting rid of old things and making space in the house without feeling wasteful
  15. Using up all the odds and ends in the fridge and creating something delicious with them
  16. Pedicures, with a really good leg massage
  17. A blog post that blows up, in a good way 🙂
  18. The smell and feel of a fresh haircut and highlights, good-bye grays and split ends
  19. Long conversation with deep thinkers over good wine
  20. Knowing that I’ve helped someone
  21. People who understand
  22. Extra time when I need it
  23. Thematic parties
  24. Outdoor summer family parties that start with food, lead to dancing and end with quiet conversation and star-gazing late into the night
  25. Feeling like despite all my failures and heartache, somewhere, somehow, I’m doing something right and maybe I’ll leave this world just a little better than I found it.

 

For those who need a phone number for help: 1-800-273-TALK, 1-800-SUICIDE, or text NAMI or TALK to 741-741

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Steel and snow…the angst of adolescence

snow heartI still remember the night we lost her like it was yesterday.

It was always the four of us. Two boys. Two girls. Just friends and nothing more. Every weekend we knew the best clubs. We’d close the bars down. And we were always the ‘last man standing’…dancing actually, at a party.

I was away on vacation when she got in the accident. And I wasn’t home long before her fight was over. I never made it up to the hospital to see her. Though the boys told me it was better that way.

They got the phone call first and they came to the house to tell me. I thought we were going to hang out … to try to get our minds off the worry. But distraction turned to mourning when they told me “Our girl didn’t make it.” We left my house and went to a small shrine to pray. Something we didn’t do much of in those days.

And then we gathered to tell the rest and to wash our sorrows away with the bottle.

I came home late that night. Just as my Dad was getting in the door from his middle-of-the-night shift. He tells the story that I came in behind him and stopped short in the foyer. “Dad…” I was still standing there, just in front of the door, steel-framed and expressionless, when he turned around. I told him in a deadpan voice, “Jenny died tonight.” He crossed the living room in silence; and when he embraced me, my steel-framed stance broke and melting into my father’s arms, I wailed like a child.

Her funeral was only two days apart from an old classmate’s who had committed suicide. It was unseasonably cold and there was frost on the ground and in my heart. And my knees shook as I stood graveside in my thin dress and no proper coat. And I thought I was “grown.”

While my brother’s death rocked my world in a way from which I will never fully recover, I always knew, deep down, that my brother wasn’t well. And there was some small sense of expectancy amongst his terribly tragic death. But Jenny’s death, and the old classmate too for that matter … nobody saw those coming. I hate unpleasant surprises.

I was 18 and practically on my own and I didn’t even have something appropriate to wear to the funerals, much less coping skills or the ability to properly process. I was just a teenager, hanging on by a thread … a hardened ball of snow, constantly getting too close to the flames. A warrior in the making, but so unbelievably broken in the meantime.

Trying to navigate, trying to understand, trying to grow up, trying to live … I still remember it all, like it was yesterday…

And just like that…

I am the mother of a teenager. And the subtle signs of the recklessness of adolescence are beginning to surface. And it is a far scarier view from this seat than the seat I took twenty years ago.

Last week, my daughter received her letter of acceptance into her high school of choice. Along with that letter came a sigh of relief, a surge of pride, tears of happiness and legitimate excitement for the journey that she is about to embark on. There are so many “firsts” just around the corner for her. And she deserves all of the goodness that is to come. She has worked hard to get here.

That letter left me reflecting on my own teenage journey and the complexities that plagued it: Jenny’s death, several suicides, my car accident, reckless choices, stupid boyfriends, the partying and the pain. The peer pressure was suffocating and yet I yearned for adult independence. My support at home was minimal but what I had, I often pushed away in anger. Grappling to make adult decisions with a brain that still had one foot in childhood, I stumbled more than I walked. My friends held the highest significance in my life and consumed my time and yet somehow, I always felt alone. The empty promises, the wrong calls, the blatant mistakes, the imbalance of knowledge and ability …. the angst of adolescence, that sits like a thin line of snow on a steel rail. Precariously perched, under the warm rays of sun, it will melt. With the untimely swipe of a hand, it will crumble. And with colder conditions, it will harden and freeze. Rarely is it allowed to just be.

While our lives are very different and our struggles are not the same, it seems that whoever you are, adolescence always seems to come with hard lessons, high emotions and inevitably, some tragedy. While it was in my teens that I learned all too well, the smell of death; it was also where I learned the taste of love. While I took unwise risks and made some poor choices, I also came out of my shell and began to make a name for myself. While I rebelled and was unkind at times, it’s where I separated my self from the things and the people who were holding me back and began living my life as my own. While I suffered, I grew.

I am acutely aware of my insatiable desire to protect my children, both in the physical and emotional realm. And the journey that lies ahead of us, is a frightening one. I want so desperately to save her from heartache. And I want to keep her safe. I want her to have the strength that I have, without the pain. I want her to have the wisdom, without the consequences. I want her to soar without ever falling. I want her story to be a good one, with a happy ending, like mine, but without the tragedy.

But I also know that it isn’t my story to write … and that there’s no such thing as achievement without struggle. Nor are there ever any guarantees.

I hope that the ‘growing up fast’ that I had to do, pays off as I mother this teen. I’ll continue to teach her the lessons I learned hard and share with her my pearls of wisdom. I hope that the smiles are many and the tears are few. And when the day comes that I have to hold her like my father did me, I hope that I have the strength to be her steel when she isn’t. For her heartache will certainly shatter mine.

I hope that we survive adolescence.

And when we do, I hope that she looks back and through my strength, she sees my fragility and she thanks me for building another warrior – with a frame made of steel and a heart that melts like snow.

 

 

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“Judgment” …. a once Christian’s perspective

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According to Webster's dictionary, judgment is the "process of forming an opinion or evaluation by discerning and comparing” or “a proposition stating something believed or asserted”.

In my words, judgment is an analysis of a situation or the comparison of one thing to another which leads to the conclusion that one thing is preferable or superior to the other. We make judgments on the movies we watch, the places we go and the food we eat. We compare travel spots, restaurants and activities. We think about and then rethink the moves we’ve made and try to reach some kind of conclusion as to whether or not these moves were the best ones. When we judge a place or a material object, we create a sort of mental ranking for the future. We do this to ensure that the next time we are faced with a similar choice, we stand better odds at choosing the more favorable option.

People are not objects. Our nature is far more complex than taste and texture and visual appearance. And just as a person should not be defined by their outwardly appearance, they should not be defined by a single action or circumstance either. It is important that we understand favorable and unfavorable actions, lest we have a society of ambiguity and absolute relativism. One might also refer to this as, "right versus wrong." And unfavorable actions need not be condoned. But when we judge another person, when we categorize them based on an action or a thought, we are allowing our minds to formulate an opinion of another person’s worth.  The consequences of a lack of worth are far more devastating than identifying a dangerous habit or an undesirable characteristic. And that judgment is as toxic to the one who is placing it, as it is to the one being judged. The way I see it, judging another person is like watering a feeling that is planted in the innermost place of one’s core that tells one that they are better than someone else. People who continue to judge others are feeding the spoil within themselves and that spoil spreads to others.

While the act of casting judgment on others is toxic, in order to help identify and combat it, I find it helpful to understand why certain people have an affinity for it. And in my observation of people, I find that the practice of judging other people is often perpetuated by an inability to see another’s perspective or to understand another’s place or point of view. It is usually egotistical. And sometimes, it even lacks logic or reason. In other words, some people judge others because they simply don't understand them. Due to their life circumstance or position, they just don't have the experience or the context to begin to understand how someone could do something or end-up where they are. And so, having no understanding of what that person's life was like, they cast a judgment on that person for not being strong enough or smart enough to escape their fate. It's a sad situation that happens every day when certain people pass by the homeless or the prostitutes, the drunks or the drug addicts. Most people shake their head … few people wonder how they got there.

One of my favorite Bible stories is here in John 8:
1 but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. 2 At dawn he appeared again in the temple courts, where all the people gathered around him, and he sat down to teach them. 3 The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group 4 and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. 5 In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” 6 They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him. But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. 7 When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.

While some people find it impossible to understand certain circumstances or life choices; others, I've found, lean towards judgment because they're too close to those experiences and those experiences have led to hurt. Many times, when a person has had a negative experience with a certain individual, they will make a blanket statement or carry an exaggerated response to all persons who display the same character flaw or who fall within the category that this person has created . For instance, a child of an abusive alcoholic may develop a hatred for all alcoholics or a person who has been cheated on by a partner may refuse to have any dealings with other persons who too have committed infidelity, and thereby they judge them and cast them into a category of people who hold little worth. Sadly, when we are hurting, we are often so consumed in our grief that we fail to see our own faults much less the worth of the person who hurt us.

Mathew 7:1-5
1 “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. 2 For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. 3 “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 4 How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye

While PTSD is a real thing and psychological cause and effect are valid happenings, there are treatments for these things. Holding on to these biases based on trauma are not healthy coping mechanisms. Categorizing people is a basic behavior that has evolved as we have. The same way a gazelle has evolved to identify the slow movements of a lion in the high grasses of Africa, humans too have evolved to identify undesirable human characteristics and to remove ourselves from them; particularly, after the actions of those characteristics have hurt us. This is a life saving technique and I in no-way suggest that you should seek-out or a-line yourself with people who display dangerous behaviors and characteristics. But I caution you to place a sense of worth on them. Because when we do, the collective opinion of others in society leads to the ostracization of certain members. We are a high level species. The highest in fact, that we know of. We are no longer striving for basic animal instinct … instead we are seeking a higher level of human thought and interaction. No one benefits from out-casting and labeling. The world isn't black and white. People don't belong in this category or that. We are humans and we are fluid. There is goodness and there is darkness in all of us.

To be able to see both the darkness and the light, we must learn to separate a person's actions from their "self". We must learn to see past their blaringly obvious flaw and look for the quiet goodness that they too possess. You can protect yourself from the dangerous behaviors of a person and still acknowledge that person's goodness and worth. You can distance yourself from your abuser and still recall their redemptive qualities.

Real life example:

Using reason, logical cause and effect and personal observation, one could reasonably conclude that extra marital affairs are detrimental to monogamous relationships as well as to society as a whole. If we as a society, could not place trust in our promises to one another, the structure of our society would suffer. The family unit is a huge part of the foundation that builds our communities. Affairs hold the potential to cause emotional pain as well as hold physical, financial and psychological implications. We can all agree that infidelity is an unfavorable action.

But we can separate the action from the person and conclude that while the affair itself is a dangerous and unwise choice, the person who is having the affair still holds purpose and worth. In other words, instead of categorizing them as a “cheater” or a “whore” and dismissing them as no longer having worth, that person can still be your friend. Their actions need not be condoned. You should in no way "cover" for them or encourage their behavior. But friends who make risky and unwise choices need counseling and good examples set, they don't need to be ostracized. What does hatred and isolation teach anyone?

Another subject of judgment that I find particularly popular is drug abuse. There is a nation-wide epidemic happening right now and the use of Narcan to revive addicts who overdose is a controversal discussion. Drug abuse is habitual and carries known risks of damage to the body. It is statistically shown to be affiliated with behaviors that cause the breakdown of family units as well the breakdown of one’s body. You’d be hard pressed to find any evidence to suggest that anything other than marijuana (and possibly MDMA) for certain health conditions has any benefit to the average person. We can make a judgment that drug use and abuse without a medical indication, is a risky, unwise choice.

And yet, by understanding the power of addiction, sympathizing that most teenagers experiment and it's those who carry the gene for addiction that find it so hard to stop, and knowing that no one dreams of becoming the monster of addiction, we can still find love for the addict. That person is not their addiction. Their addiction might change the way they behave and those behaviors might affect our relationship with them; but we don’t have to make a judgment about who they are. And we don't get to determine their worth. Nor should we join them or enable them. Instead we should use that energy to try to understand their struggle, help them if we can, and then thank the universe that we didn't inherit those genes or that we didn't go to that party the night the experimentation began. We must look at the faces of addiction and see them as the babes they once were. We must remember to love like a mother.

 "If you judge people you have no time to love them."-Mother Theresa 

"Love is the absence of Judgment."-Dalai Lama

Some of the most wonderful people I know have stepped out of their marriages, have excessive spending habits, display hoarding behaviors, struggle to control their fears and anger and suffer from substance abuse. Most of the population doesn't even know that these people have made these errors or struggle with these tendencies. They are good parents. They are good employees. And they are good people. They are flawed and they have made mistakes. And they don't need to be crucified for them. Nor do they need excuses to be made for them. They need help. I won't allow these people to bring me down with them. I won't get caught up in their poor choices or enable their behavior. But I will be their friend.

"I only look to the good qualities of men. Not being faultless myself, I won't presume to probe into the faults of others."-Ghandi

I am mouthy and at times, obtrusive. I am a fervent defender of the under-dog and fight for causes sometimes to my own detriment. I struggle with anxiety and that often manifests in control issues. My experiences with poverty, dysfunction and abuse as a child have led to my ability to empathize with these conditions; but I battle my own biases against those who live privileged and entitled lives. Organized religion is a struggle for me. And some of the people who have hurt me are a real hurdle that I need to overcome. But I am working to amend those. I make it a daily effort not to place judgment on any individual; but if you ask anyone close to me who they dread bringing someone home to – I'm usually the hardest to sell. Sometimes I look to myself and wonder how I've been so lucky in my marriage and friends and family. Sure, I'm a hard worker and for the most part, kind and funny; but I am flawed. My friends and family love me anyway. So it is my pilgrimage to love others too, no matter how flawed they are. And I encourage you to do the same. The world is too crowded and complicated to spend our time walking around pointing our fingers. If we did that, we'd all end up with a broken digits and swollen eyes. With splinted hands and blurred vision, how could we possibly work to make the world a better place?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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An Unexpected Snow Day

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Productive non-productivity – it’s something that those of us who have a hard time sitting still need to learn. If you are the coach potato or the gamer, this isn’t for you. If you are the person who can get lost in a book for a whole day, take long walks just to clear your head and do well relaxing and getting lost in deep thought, you don’t need this. This is for the high energy, constant doers, who run themselves ragged and don’t know when to quit. It’s for people like me.

I don’t need someone to teach me how to be more productive. (I have 3 jobs for Christ’s sake). I make photo books, plan parties, decorate cakes, type itineraries for vacations, DYI my home improvement projects and create annual family Halloween costumes. And yet, I can’t sit still through a movie if there’s clutter on the floor, I never watch TV, I don’t sleep enough, I get a haircut once a year, quality time with friends is hard for me to maintain and even my playtime with my family feels like it’s scheduled. I need to learn how to be productively un-productive. I need to be reminded to sit back and take in the natural moments of life, beyond those that I find on a beach vacation.

… And an unexpected snow day gave me the inspiration to do just that …

It was 4 am and I was working my usual night shift at the hospital. Due to low patient census, I was given the opportunity to go home early. On any other day, with only three hours left in the shift, I’d probably decline the offer, as eliminating three hours in an effort to gain time/sleep seems futile at that hour. But on this night, we had an unexpected snow storm blow in. This short but fierce storm would likely delay school openings in the morning – and two-hour delays are a nightmare for working parents. Every time it happens, it’s a juggling act to make it work with my sleep needs and my husband’s obligations to an early morning job. I hated the idea of driving home in the height of the storm. But, when I did the “sleep math” I figured-out that if I left the hospital right then, I could get just enough sleep to get the kids to school and save my husband the shenanigans of trying to get himself to work at a decent hour.

Driving home in the pitch black of the wee morning hours, I began to dread my decision. The roads were freshly iced and the only traffic on them, Mack trucks and snow plows, zoomed past me and pelted me with salt. It was a cautious drive home to say the least … but my husband was flooded by relief when he saw my face in the bed and I told him “I’ll take the kids this morning.”

An hour into my sleep I was gifted with a text from the school. The two-hour delay had been converted to a school closing. I’d be a fool to take a cancel from work and then not take advantage. So instead of my usual 4-5 hours, I greedily slept 8.

When I awoke, the magic of the day began to dawn on me – a cancel from work (even if it was only three hours) AND a surprise snow day?! This day couldn’t go to waste! Youthful energy came bubbling up inside of me and the first thing I decided was that it was the perfect day for a big, hot, afternoon breakfast- eggs and sausage and the whole gamut! While family dinner is a nightly occurrence at our house, we don’t often get the opportunity to enjoy breakfast together. I love breakfast! And so do the kids. So when I called them to the table, they came eagerly. And their enthusiasm for a big breakfast combined with a surprise snow day prompted me not to grab my phone with my plate and coffee and I instead left it in the kitchen. While I sipped my coffee, I  listened to the newest drama my teenager wanted to share and the silly stories that my younger one had to contribute, unplugged. They were quite the chatterboxes and it seemed the magic of the day hadn’t been lost to them either.

After we ate, I watched my daughter slink off to the basement (to turn on the TV for sure) and my son ran to put his snow suit on. The sink was full of dirty dishes. The Christmas decorations needed to be packed up and the newly purchased bins to pack them in were sitting in the middle of the living room. There was laundry to be washed and vacuuming to be had. You see, I’m not the kind of person that needs to be motivated. I’m the kind of person who has a running list of “To-do’s”. And logically, I knew that this time, with the kids occupied, after breakfast and before dinner, with an impending 7pm return to work, could be well spent doing those household chores. But the magic of this unplanned day inspired me and instead, for once, I decided to be un-productive … productively un-productive.

So with the dirty dishes piled even higher now, I called down to my daughter, “Hey, lets paint our nails!” I sensed an unexpected happiness in her voice. It’s not easy to excite or motivate a teenager and I think my enthusiastic suggestion instead of a half-hearted inquiry, excited her. Without complaint she turned off the TV and ran to get her new nail painting kit. While my son played outside, she and I experimented with new paint colors and stencils. While we painted, I realized that I no longer had to paint her nails for her or instruct her to keep still to avoid smudging them. She was old enough to do it on her own now and yet young enough to enjoy doing it with me. Side by side, we played and we enjoyed ourselves. She even let me put the stamp of my choice on her big toe nail. And while my nails looked slightly like an elementary school child with snowflakes on every nail, the fact that I used her kit and kept it on when I went to work that night, made her feel like I valued our time, I think.

We finished up our nails just as my little snow monster came barreling through the back door. And instead of hollering for him to take his wet clothes down to the dryer and fussing about the wet floors, I simply told him “Get some warm clothes on and then we can play your Play Station”. “Huh?” he said. I repeated myself, ” I don’t know how to play. So you’re gonna have to teach me.” I hadn’t played video games since I was a teenager and certainly not since I became a mother. Never have I seen that little boy move so fast to change his clothes! By the time I got downstairs, he had the system on and the game ready to go, with two controllers. The three of us took turns with the two controllers and the kids were in absolute stitches – watching me try to hunt storm troopers with my light saber. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard my teenager laugh so hard at anything other than her friends and my little guy rarely gets the opportunity to teach anyone older than him anything. He’d only had the game system for a week, but I know he felt like a “pro” teaching his inadequate mom how to “jump”, “strike” and “run”.

And despite the fact that I had just started my New Years diet, I knew that I’d somehow be able to accommodate the calories in a cup of hot chocolate and a handful of marshmallows that day. So while we played Star Wars, we all indulged in a beverage that I rarely make for myself and it was delicious! The whole afternoon was delicious!

When my husband got home, the dishes were still piled up, Christmas still standing and the laundry was still dirty. But everyone was so happy that I don’t think he minded at all!

 

It was only a three-hour cancel. But that three hours made all the difference … because I decided to use that time to play with the people I love. I met them where they were at and played the things that they like to play. Rare are the days that they come to me with a request to play anymore. And the days that they will even be willing to comply with my requests are quickly coming to an end. I’m glad that I took this day to cash-in on that. I enjoyed their presence so much more than I would have had I decided to just be “productive”. For once, I was able to ignore the mess, to put down the phone, to stop adulting, and I just enjoyed my children for who they are, with no itinerary or checklist.

An early leave from work is a gift. A snow day is a gift. Time is a gift. Don’t waste it! If you’re like me and you have a hard time ignoring the “To do” list, if you tend to be a relentlessly productive person, I encourage you to try being un-productive for once. But not in the isolated sense of getting sucked into a TV show or playing on your phone. Try being unproductive in a productive way – the way that nurtures relationships and creates lasting memories. The way that shows that people and relationships and life is more important than a list of never-ending chores. The way that uses time the way it should be used, as fleeting and limited and precious.

When I’m old and gray, I assure you, I won’t remember the day I left the dishes in the sink or the Christmas decorations up an extra few, but maybe, if I’m lucky … I’ll remember my children’s laughter as I tried to navigate their newest technology, their marshmallow mustaches from hot chocolate on a snowy day, and their quiet diligence while they focused hard to paint their little nails. But more importantly I hope they remember that some days, despite her list of things to do, their mother took time to play. And she never took time or life for granted … especially on snow days.