WORDS TO LIVE BY

Unless you’ve been living under a rock or on a deserted island, you know Sunday is Mother’s Day. For some, it is a day to honor and lavish our mothers. For others, it is one of the most dreaded days of the year.

Motherless Daughters is a book by Hope Edelman. It’s a book I frequently recommend to grieving daughters of all ages. I like the content, but I am not a fan of the title.

Can you ever really be a motherless daughter? Maybe your mom was more Moira Rose than Rebecca Pearson. Maybe your mom has dementia and you lost her while she’s still here. Maybe a grandmother, special aunt, or friend stepped in as a surrogate mother. Even if your mom has died, you are still a daughter.

I’ve learned mothers come in all shapes and sizes. Some mothers are ‘family by chance’ and some are ‘family by choice.’ Some make us better and some make us bitter, it’s really kind of a crap shoot. I’ve also learned there are myriad ways to find the love and support we all need, regardless of who bestows it.

Hallmark wants us to think we have one day a year to honor our mothers. I call b.s. on that. Being the best you, every day, honors your mother. Mentoring young men and women honors your mother. Dressing your littles in gingham dresses honors her too. Checking in once a week by phone or in person is an honor many covet. No one knows a mother like her children, so maybe spend some time thinking about how to best honor her while you have the chance.

And for those whose child has died, or mothers estranged from their children, you are still their mother. For those of you missing your mother, or those who can’t or don’t have children, be kind to yourself this weekend…Monday is right around the corner.

As I gently dip my toe into retirement, I’m making time to stop and smell the proverbial roses. As I’ve shared in the past, I’m not one for regret, but my new-found flexible schedule has me wondering what took me so long. It certainly isn’t like someone must be retired to appreciate their favorite things; I think it’s more about the luxury of time.

I’ve always loved trees – their character and their stature. That said, I rarely stopped and reveled in their magnificence. I was busy, I needed to be somewhere, and time was of the essence. I noticed trees, but I didn’t really see them. These days, I am mesmerized by trees. I stop, and stare, and look upon them with awe. I take pictures of trees. I look up the names of trees. I no longer worry about wasting time; I take the time. I have a friend who wrote Letter Trees, a collection of pictures depicting trees that form each letter of the alphabet. What a wonderful way to instill a love of trees in the younger generation!

I’m also finding great joy in looking at the sky. Colorado skies are something to see. I’ve learned that a bluebird sky is one that is crystal clear with not a cloud in sight; if you’ve seen one, you never forget it. And when there is a new moon, or a pink moon, or a full moon, rather than worrying about getting enough sleep, I go outside and marvel at the beauty.

Today, I spoke with a total stranger (about the beautiful tree in her yard). That’s a new development. I’m not one to strike up a conversation with people I don’t know. Heck, I don’t even like to talk to most of the people I do know! She told me about her tree, and the history of Elm trees in Colorado brought here from the 1904 World’s Fair. I shared that I grew up in St. Louis (home of the 1904 World’s Fair). Her name is Debbie and her sister’s name is Denise. Small world!

During my years working in hospice, patients often shared the same two pearls of wisdom:

1. When you care about people, tell them you love them.
2. Make the most of every day.

It’s taken me longer than I would like to admit but I’m getting better at both. Some would say, “It’s about time.”

Years ago, I attended a conference that featured Brene Brown as the keynote speaker. If you’re not familiar with Brene Brown, just Google her name. In short, she is a gifted researcher, professor, author, and all-around bada$$ Social Worker.

During Brene’s presentation, she encouraged the audience to “Choose a moment of discomfort over hours of resentment.” The premise being, our typical knee-jerk reaction to any request (PTA refreshments, fieldtrip chaperone, dunking booth volunteer, etc.) is to say Yes when we really want to say No.

Why is saying No so hard? It is, after all, a complete sentence. Acceptable options may also be, ‘Not this time, but please ask again’ or maybe, ‘I don’t have time to bake cookies, are Oreos okay?’ I don’t know if it’s guilt, a desire to please, insanity, or all of the above, but women seem to have a really hard time saying No. That nonsense needs to stop.

I’ve shared Brene’s pearls of wisdom with many women. Each time, the response is as if they just struck gold. There’s usually a little giggle followed by a mischievous grin, and a “Gosh, I would love to be able to do that.” What’s stopping you?

I’m happy to say there’s a trend I’m noticing among the young, professional women of the Gen X,  Millennial, and Gen Z generations that’s encouraging. Rather than settle or struggle, many women are choosing to shift gears, enhance their careers, and prioritize what they want in life. Young women are unapologetically redefining their professional roles to fit their needs and those of their family. I recently met a 40-something businesswoman who reduced her day-to-day workload so she could serve on a Board that sets the standards for her industry. Rather than trying to juggle both positions, she wisely elected to make adjustments to her schedule for her well-being and that of her family. A friend’s 20-something daughter left her job in nursing to return to college to further her career. My nieces designed their jobs to work from home to accommodate the needs of their littles.

I am proud of these women. I’m not sure how or when they realized putting themselves first was not a luxury but a healthy way to balance life and work. Maybe they watched the older generation crash and burn and vowed to do better. Whatever motivated them, it’s a good thing to witness and admire.

And lest you think I’m tone-deaf to the insurmountable plight of many single parents who work 2 or 3 jobs to make ends meet, I see you. Organizations, institutions, and the government MUST do better – a livable wage, health insurance, tuition reimbursement, childcare – all the things that contribute to someone’s success. I often encourage young people to think outside the box. Have you considered a paid apprenticeship at a trade school? The construction industry is desperate for trained professionals. Can you barter or job share? Now that higher education is readily accessible online, can you apply for Financial Aid and take 1 class a semester? The time will pass whether you are taking classes or not, but eventually, if you keep at it, you will graduate. Been there, done that (for 17 years).

Several of my friends are getting divorced. Been there, done that, twice.

My first divorce was ages ago; it was an epic battle. We made 11 Court appearances in 18 months, followed by annual Court appearances for the next 10 years. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say it was a “NASTY” divorce.

Fast forward thirty years later, and I found myself in that situation again. After my first divorce, I was fond of saying, “I may end up a widow in prison, but I’m never getting another divorce.” Turns out that was an idle threat. Although I had jokingly suggested prison was preferable to divorce, there came a time when my well-being meant more than the stigma of being twice divorced. The good news is, I was older and wiser the second time around. From the very beginning, I set an intention to be kind and gracious. No matter what was said or done, I was determined to walk away with my head held high and my dignity intact. Kindness and graciousness became my mantra. I can’t say I was 100% successful but it was a far cry from my previous experience.

I don’t wish divorce on anyone. It is often a gut-wrenching experience. The children suffer, both wife and husband suffer, extended family suffers, friends suffer, and the only winners are the attorneys. I’m glad mediation is now part of the process, especially when children are involved. If there is any way to part amicably, that’s a win for everyone. When asked, and only when asked, I often suggest setting an intention, even if you must tattoo it on your hand as a reminder.

Kindness & Graciousness

I don’t have a husband, but I have a dog, and they’re kinda the same:

• My dog hogs the covers and snores.
• My dog doesn’t always respond when I call.
• My dog gives me “the look” when he wants something.
• My dog needs a lot of attention and positive reinforcement.
• My dog likes to pee outside.
• My dog is a finicky eater.
• My dog barks a lot.
• My dog is a creature of habit.
• My dog leaves his things scattered all over the house.
• My dog has smelly farts.
• My dog likes watching me clean, wash the dishes, fold the laundry, and cook.
• My dog falls asleep when I’m watching my favorite movie.
  

Whether you have a husband, or a dog, or both, I hope they are your best friend.
Happy Dogentine’s Day!

Have you ever had a day when you weren’t your best self? A day when you said things that should not have been thought, much less said out loud? Yesterday was my day.

I would like to blame it on Covid isolation, no exercise, and/or symptoms of SAD, but the truth is, I truly do not know what came over me. It was as if I was possessed by a demon that was spewing ugliness rivalling the Exorcist. Worse yet, I was sharing my venomous thoughts with a friend through texts. Thank God she’s a trusted confidante who will forgive me (and delete the texts) without asking for ransom.

I’ve decided to put myself in time out for a hot second to reconsider this colossal melt down. Was I dehydrated? Did I need sleep? Do I have Tourette’s? I can say, with all honesty, I don’t even recognize the person I became last night. (I’m finding hope in that realization.) Yes, I can be funny, and No, that is not my usual MO, but the fact that I tumbled down that rabbit hole with lightening speed scares me. Truth be told, it wasn’t really a tumble, it was more like being shot out of a cannon.

And so, first and foremost, I beg forgiveness from those poor souls I was maligning. Thankfully, they will never know, but I owe them my sincere apology. (I am, after all, Catholic, so imagine the guilt!) My second mea culpa goes to my friend on the receiving end of those texts. Ain’t nobody got time for that (even if it did make you laugh). Lastly, I beg forgiveness of myself. It may take me a minute to get over this nightmare, but I think that’s a good thing. I don’t ever want to wake up and feel this way again.

The recent fires in Colorado destroyed innumerable homes and businesses and left thousands homeless. This event reminded me of another catastrophe I lived through, the Great Flood of 1993. In both instances, people lost everything. Watching these events unfold on television was surreal. When you are from a particular area, and familiar with the homes and businesses destroyed, the pain is palpable. One of the television reporters began to cry as he described the devastation he was witnessing.

In 1993, I was working in human resources. I remember interviewing a young woman for a position and asking her to provide her driver’s license. She replied, “I lost that in the flood.” I then asked for a copy of her social security card or passport. Again, she replied, “I lost those in the flood, too. I lost everything in the flood. These aren’t even my own clothes.” It wasn’t just that she didn’t have a few documents, she lost everything…her purse, her personal effects, her house, her car, and every little and big precious thing. Watching the tragedy unfold in Boulder, I was reminded of that woman’s story. I cannot imagine losing everything.

Witnessing these events caused me to consider what I would save:
My dog, Maggie
A file that includes my birth certificate, passport, SSN card, a copy of my insurance cards, and a copy of my driver’s license. Today, I made duplicates of those documents to give my children for safekeeping.

I probably forgot something but, for now, that’s all I can think of that would be invaluable in starting the onerous process of re-creating a life. I’m good about backing up my phone on the Cloud which secures phone numbers and pictures. I also went through the house videotaping each room for insurance purposes and saved that on the Cloud, too – a minor inconvenience compared to those who lost everything.

Although the start of 2022 feels eerily similar to the start of 2021, it’s time for a new word to serve as my touchstone for the coming year. This decision was not easy. I was tempted to choose words like redundant, fatigued, bullcrap, despondent, apathetic, wretched, dismal, jaded, discontented, annoyed, disgruntled …words that reflect being so, so over the latest virus, vaccine debacle, masks, stock market fluctuations, and political tomfooleries…but enough about me!

After much deliberation and reflection, I’ve decided on embrace. Given life as we know it today, the idea of embracing the unknown feels hopeful. I’ve made enough trips around the sun to know there’s no predicting the future; to worry and fret about what might happen seems futile and a colossal waste of time. Besides, there’s so much to embrace. I want to embrace the future with open arms. I want to “embrace each moment as if I had invited it”… Pema Chodron’s words, not mine. I want to embrace uncertainty and welcome new ideas and adventures. I want to embrace the possibility of new career opportunities. I even want to embrace the suck (disappointments, set-backs, missteps, and mistakes).

Embrace is my guiding light for 2022 and you are welcome to remind me of that when I falter. And trust me, I will falter.

What’s your word?

It’s time for the dreaded New Year’s resolutions. I don’t know why we do that to ourselves. Those that study this kind of thing tell us most resolutions last for 36 days. To be more specific, an article in Smarter Living states the “second Friday in January is the fateful day when our annual commitments start to crumble.” That’s January 14, 2022 for those counting!

So often, we set unrealistic, unattainable goals and then succumb to defeat no sooner than we begin. I think part of the problem is the language we use when we’re talking to ourselves.

Words like:
I have to lose weight.
I need to exercise.
I must quit smoking.
I should eat healthier.

Need to, have to, must and should are heavy, overwhelming words. You can feel the stress and pressure before you even get started. Would you say those words to your best friend? Probably not. Then why do you say that to yourself?

I propose a kinder, gentler approach. Spend some time in quiet reflection asking yourself what or where you would like to be this time next year…not tomorrow or next month…a year from now.

Try using words like:
I would like to lose weight (and be realistic about how much each week/month for the next 365 days).
I get to exercise (whether it’s walking, yoga, going to a gym…think of it as a privilege).
I want to adopt healthy habits (start by setting incremental goals, be patient, expect setbacks but don’t let them totally derail you…start over as many times as you need to).

Remember, a goal without a plan is just a daydream.

Happy New Year!