Archive for the 'Creative Parenting' Category

Missing Mom on Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day is a great thing if you are a mom or if you have a mom. But if your mom is not in your life for any reason, Mother’s Day can be…tough. As Mother’s Day approaches, I think of my adoptive mother, who raised me until she died from pancreatic cancer when I was 24 and she was only 62. I’ve officially witnessed 20 Mother’s Days without her. I don’t remember the sound of her voice anymore. I don’t remember what perfume she wore or what she wanted to be when she grew up.

But I remember that she made me baths when I was sick or felt sad. I remember she never owned a pair of jeans and wore a size 8 wide shoe. I remember that she always told me I could go to college – when no one else in our family, including her, ever did. I remember that she made maroon and white pom-poms for my cheerleading team to put on our shoes for competitions in grade school. I remember that she was the kind of person who lit candles for special events and believed that homemade chicken noodle soup could cure anything. I remember that she wanted me to be a flight attendant and get married and have ‘something to fall back on’ in case the whole marriage thing (which I couldn’t do soon enough) didn’t work out. I remember that she was sad a lot. And I wanted so badly to make her happy. I tried all the time. And then she died.

my babies

my babies

She never got to live the life she really wanted – I’m not sure she really knew what that was until it was too late. She never met my children. She never saw me finish graduate school. She never got to know me when I got my head out of my butt and stopped being a stupid teenager. But I think of her every day and try to make my life count twice – once for me, and once for her. I owe her that.

I also think of my birth mom, who I was lucky enough to meet and get to know for two years. I wish her life had been easier. I wish her life had been better because she gave me up for adoption, which was a great choice since I am here to write this blog. :) But she struggled, too. I think of both of my mothers’ struggles,their lives, their hopes and dreams – and I feel very lucky to be here. My birth mom shared with me that she considered aborting me, among other options. But here I am today – a mom myself to a 13-year-old boy and a 11-year-old girl. I feel grateful to be here every day. I can’t tell you enough what a gift it is to be alive. But you’re here – you’re reading this. You know. Right?!

And I will tell you a secret, too: I was terrified to be a mother. I never thought about kids or getting married when I was growing up. I never thought I would be a ‘good mom.’ I’m still not sure that I am. :) None of us has a roadmap; kids don’t come with instructions. All we can do is what the poet Maya Angelou said: “When you know better, you do better.” She also said this:

“I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” 

I will tell you this: I make my husband do the Christmas lights. I cried the first time United lost my luggage (after I’d gotten stuck in Germany on a work trip and missed my 18th wedding anniversary last year); but lord knows I absolutely love a rainy day. I even have a rainy day playlist! I hope my mom understands that I never wanted to make a living and have something to fall back on – I wanted to make a life. I knew it when I was 5 years old and I know it now. I feel it in my bones. I hope I can give that to my children too and help them make a life. It’s what I live for.

I really try every day to do better. Some days I do better than others. I am trying to show my children what it means to be strong. To live. To be grateful. I am trying. The greatest gift I have received from being a mother? Understanding the gift of forgiveness and patience. We are all doing the best we can with what we have at any given moment. I always tell my kids – you never know what someone is dealing with ‘behind the scenes.’ We are all human. We are all good people who sometimes do bad things. This is life. And we are all in it together.

This is what I tell my children because it is what I know, what I believe in my heart to be true. I am a mother. This is what we do. We try. We love, despite. We never give up. We are tough. We believe in our children and want them to have better than we did. But mostly, we never, ever, ever give up.

To all your moms out there – xoxo. Be good to yourself, ladies. You deserve it.

 

the power of doing nothing

As a creative professional, I’m constantly faced with new challenges and decisions: what’s the best way to tell this brand story? What will resonate most with the audience? What will make them laugh, cry, comment on Facebook or order the product I am helping to market? What’s the best way to get all the different people on the project engaged and aligned? But the toughest challenge by far for any project I work on is this: where do I start?

This is where the power of doing nothing is absolutely critical. Everyone has a process that they use to get things done. I’m no exception. Doing nothing is a big part of my process, especially when I am faced with what seems to be an overwhelming task. I find that this has been helpful in even in my regular life. When I am most overwhelmed and uncertain where to begin, I start by doing…nothing.

I sit in my screened-in porch. I take in the swaying oak trees taller and older than I will ever be. I let the whoosh of the wind in the leaves wash over me. I watch the flash of the red cardinal darting in and out of the bushes. I listen for squirrels’ feet padding along the top of my neighbor’s falling-down wooden fence in desperate need of paint, then watch them chase each other in circles around my yard and up a tree. I watch my dopey 110-pound dog try to catch them, climbing damn near two feet up the tree with her huge claws dug into the bark as she strains every muscle in her neck to reach the squirrel chattering, taunting her from a branch one dog nostril out of her reach. I listen to music that moves me and baptizes my brain of everything but the rhythm and the pattern of the harmonies. As the lyrics wash over me, I feel the worry and the fear – Will I be able to do this? Will I find the right words? Will I ever find my way in to this story? Maybe I don’t have it anymore. Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe this is too much. Maybe I should give up. – all of that recedes as my brain powers down, forgets, feels, senses its way to…

…the answer I have been toiling to reach for hours or days to reach. It is murky and mysterious at first, I can’t make out what it is. So I make a grilled cheese sandwich, go sit down in the family room and stare out the bay window at the trees trying to see it until I smell something burning and remember I was making a grilled cheese sandwich. I toss it in the trash and walk the dopey dog around the pond. As I watch the ducks take flight from the water, tiny droplets falling from their webbed feet as they rise into the air in perfect unison, I feel the idea growing in me as sure as I felt my first-born flutter in my belly for the first time as I sat in a poetry reading 12 years ago. (He was stirred by the words, of this I am certain.) The idea is there. But it’s not ready yet. I’m not ready yet.

At six o’clock I make dinner and as I stir a pot of rice, my idea simmers as I wait for the water to boil. I sit at the dinner table and listen to tales of best friend sacrileges, Minecraft dramas, and remind everyone to keep their elbows off the table and put their napkins in their laps. I make sure homework is done, permission slips are signed, teeth are brushed, allergy medicine is consumed, and everyone is tucked in happy with all technology devices powered off and out of reach.

At midnight when the house is quiet and dark and no one needs me anymore, I drive to the grocery store and buy a case of Stella for me and a carton of Oreo Cookie Ice Cream for the kids and as I’m paying, the old, bored cashier with her spiky hairdo and bubblegum-pink lipstick and more gold bracelets than any human should be allowed to wear at one time surveys me in my sweats, t-shirt and converse sneakers with my beer and ice cream purchase and I know what she is thinking. This girl has just been dumped by the love of her life and is now off to drown and eat her sorrows away. I grin and shrug my shoulders in a sheepish “sorry no, these are my writing clothes” kind of way that writers learn to master over the years. And as I swipe my credit card – then dutifully swipe it again because I did it upside down the first time, the flicker of the idea flaps its tiny wings, becoming more clear, more recognizable as it slowly takes shape and floats to the surface, creating ripples of recognition.

I am ready to start. Ready to write. Ready to tackle that overwhelming challenge. I have found my way in.

I once attended a reading by David Sedaris, humorist, essayist, NPR speaker and one of my favorite authors (“Me Talk Pretty One Day,” among others). Afterwards, my friend and I waited in line for him to sign our books. After he scribbled a lewd drawing on my friend’s book for her twelve-year-old son and made a wisecrack I can’t repeat, I handed him my book and asked him what the toughest part was about writing funny. He told me about having to write a Thanksgiving dinner story for the New Yorker and how many times and ways he tried to start it. People behind me were impatient and muttering, but he took his time telling his story. I hung on every word. Finally he said, “The hardest part? Finding my way in.”

Next time you are feeling overwhelmed, unsure of where to start, try doing nothing. I hope you find your way in. Let me know how it goes.

Is technology driving us apart – or closer together?

I recently attended The Art of Marketing conference in Chicago featuring Seth Godin and the question was posed to the audience: how many of you feel like technology is isolating us as a society? I did not raise my hand. I looked around and was shocked to see the majority of hands up. Now, I’ve seen this question posed in forums like TED, NPR and other thoughtful, intellectual places. But I hadn’t really formed an opinion. Until now.

I think technology is driving the need for people to come together more urgently than ever before. Children are on Facebook and Twitter doing what one expert described as “self revealing before self reflecting.” Technology changes are eliminating some jobs yet creating new ones. Our economy has been turned inside out and upside down. The business climate changes faster than Chicago weather in two hours. The changes driven by technology are happening so fast, we don’t have time to process it, let alone buy the next generation device.

As a marketing professional, I’m excited. So many new opportunities! So many new ways to communicate and share! So many new things to learn and master! As a wife, mother and regular person who regularly forgets to water her plants, yells at my kids when they get on my last remaining nerve, and can never seem to remember where I last placed my coffee or my glasses, it terrifies me.

That’s why I feel the basics of connection are more important than ever before. Saying good morning, please and thank you. Taking time before a meeting for personal chat before diving into the project at hand. Making time to meet for coffee. Asking someone, “How are you?” and meaning it – then listening thoughtfully to the answer. Picking up the phone and calling instead of emailing or texting (once in a while, anyway – I’m not really a phone talker). Sitting down for dinner with the kids with the TV off, cell phones/iPads/iPods/laptops put away, and taking turns asking how everyone’s day was. We ask questions and listen to the answers: what’s something good that happened? Bad? Sad? What is something new you learned today? What surprised you?

One of my proudest moments as a parent was when my then 11-year-old son came home from school and said he had good news to share. “What is it?” I asked excitedly. He smiled secretively and said, “I’ll save it to share at dinner.” This from a kid who believes MineCraft is a metaphor for life. :)

I think that technology is a reminder that as much as things change – or no matter how fast – we can get through it if we stick together. And remember that no technology can ever replace the basic need we all have: to connect. To share. To belong. To know our place in the big, bad, technologically savvy world. And to know that at the end of any day, someone will be sitting at the table waiting to hear about your day.

Back to the Art of Marketing conference, the first speaker: Keith Ferrazzi, best-selling author and thought leader, who spoke about relationship marketing. Technology might enable relationships. But people sustain them.

What do you think? Is technology driving us apart or driving us closer together?

Drinking and decorating: The anti-Martha-Stewart-Pottery-Barn Christmas tree

Two years ago, I turned over the job of decorating my Christmas tree to my kids, then ages 7 and 9. We had just moved into our “new” 54-year-old house that needed a lot of TLC and was sucking the life out of us. After months of looking for new places for our furniture, artwork, books, games, dishes, and walking into walls in unfamiliar rooms in the middle of the night and grasping for unfamiliar light switches, the thought of having to find a good place for the Christmas tree was the last straw. I sat on the floor of the house that still felt like someone else’s and cried.

This was not Christmas as I’d known it growing up. Holidays were BIG at my house and consisted of cleaning, cooking, shopping, baking, more cleaning, coordinating outfits, practicing Christmas songs on the organ (I know, right???), wrapping, more cleaning, making cookies, making pierogis, and more cleaning. My mother spent days arranging decorations in the house; she was Martha Stewart before anyone had heard of Martha Stewart.

I was never permitted to touch the “good” tree upstairs, but I was allowed to decorate the “other” tree in the basement. I call it the consolation tree. (Usually my mother would come down later and rearrange all the ornaments again anyway.) Secretly I fear I’ll never be good enough to put together the good tree.

See, that’s why the holidays are tricky. There’s all this pressure to be merry and buy stuff but it’s also fraught with memories, good and bad. Sometime after Halloween, I remember all the old family holiday parties and every year, there are a few less faces around the table. Some years are harder than others. That year in our new old house was a hard one.

So I let my kids decorate the good–the only–tree all by themselves that year, and it was so much fun we decided to make it a new Miles family tradition. We play holiday music. I make hot chocolate.  The kids dance around all hopped up on sugar cookies. They make me wear the Santa hat with the reindeer antlers. But they take their job very seriously. Each ornament is placed with great care and consideration, although I have the most random, crazy mix of ornaments you could possibly imagine. It’s enough to make Martha’s toes curl.

The reactions to their decorating efforts are usually…not good. People walk in, look at the tree and say things like, “Oh my!” or “Were you drinking and decorating again?” It makes me wonder sometimes how my mom felt when she stood back, alone, to survey her tree and the trimmings and the perfection. I would ask, but her last Christmas was 16 years ago. If she could see my tree now, she would immediately shoo me out of the room so she could fix it. I would let her do it, but only if she wore the Santa hat with the reindeer antlers, which she’d hate because it would mess up her hair.

So yeah, my tree looks disheveled and a little tipsy, kind of like me after the neighborhood holiday party–OK, all of the neighborhood parties–and the complete opposite of any tree ever featured in Pottery Barn.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

10 rules of brainstorming: How to make it work for you

Whether you are trying to solve a problem, generate new ideas or clarify your thoughts, nothing works better than a good old-fashioned brainstorm session. Creative professionals use brainstorming to generate innovative ideas and creative approaches to market our clients’ products and solutions, as well as to solve problems they may have such as lack of brand awareness (“Company A? Never heard of ‘em.”) or damage control (“The last version of Widget A caught on fire. Widget B won’t.”)

But anyone can use brainstorming to develop strong creative ideas faster and more efficiently. Heck, I brainstorm at home with my kids! But it’s important to set some ground rules to make your brainstorming session productive:

1. Understand your team. See each person in the brainstorm as a unique, creative individual. A junior-level staff member may not have found his or her voice yet or feel comfortable expressing it–or expresses it too much. Another executive may not be comfortable in the nebulous land of ideas. When you understand where they are in the process, you can tailor the brainstorm session to better fit your team.

2. Have a plan. Brainstorming without a plan is like trying to build a skyscraper without a blueprint. It can be a detailed creative brief, a memo or an email articulating your objectives. Distribute the plan at least 24 hours prior to your brainstorming session so everyone has a chance to read it, digest it and start simmering on it. They’ll come to the brainstorming session prepared and hopefully ready to start bouncing ideas around.

3. Meet in a dedicated space. I’ve brainstormed in airports, pubs, on the phone, in my basement, in coffee shops–but not everyone is comfortable throwing out ideas at all, let alone in public spaces. A room with a door can lessen distractions and make your team feel safer to go out on the creative ledge.  

4. Set a time limit. An hour is plenty of time in my book, but a deadline adds necessary pressure to keep things moving. (Creative people, for example, can chat forever about ideas. At some point, we have to shut up and actually do the work instead of just talking about the work.) When the time is up, review the results and your objectives, give people time to regroup, then set up another brainstorm if necessary. 

5. Moderate. Designate a moderator who will keep the discussion on track. The moderator should also make sure everyone has a chance to participate, inviting quiet members to speak and asking chatty folks to hold up and let someone else talk for a while.

6. Keep it positive. Establish up front that there will be no criticism of ideas. Ban the words “no” and ”can’t.” Brainstorming is about generating ideas. The second you start ripping those ideas apart or saying no, people shut down. You will become the teacher in high school who shot down their dreams of being a creative in the first place. You don’t want to be the dream killer. You want to be the dream builder. Saying no kills the spirit of the brainstorm. 

Remember, you are working in the land of ideas and creativity where everything is subjective and there is no clear right or wrong way to go. Even if you know an idea is not quite right, find some aspect of it that is working–is it different from what competitors are doing? Does it explore an issue in a new way? This can lead the whole group down a new path of thinking.

7. Get silly, get inspired.  Brainstorming is about generating new ideas and ways of looking at things, so don’t be afraid to add some silliness or props that help get your creative juices flowing. That’s why a lot of creative folks keep interesting, fun things around their creative spaces. One art director I know keeps a collection of robots in his cubicle. A writer friend has puppets on her desk while another artist friends displays found objects from nature in her office.

I’ve sat in on very corporate brainstorm sessions that were like going to church–hushed tones, only senior level people get to speak and everyone else just sings their praises. This is not brainstorming, this is corporate bullshit. Remember: brainstorming = fun.

8. Write it all down. White board, chalk board, poster board, whatever you’ve got, write it all down. If things get off track or you get stuck, you can retrace the evolution of your ideas and regain your focus or see if anything fresh pops up.

9. The first idea is not always the best idea. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in 20 years of being in the creative business, it’s that the first idea is often the one that just barely scratches the surface. You have to dig deeper and give people time to unearth what’s below the surface. Often the first few ideas act as stepping stones to the idea that ends up being “The One.” It’s a team effort. It’s an evolution. Wait for it.

10. Be a kind voice of creative reason. I once had a very wise boss who always said, “Sometimes, we have to save them [clients, managers, fill in the blank] from themselves.” I agree–as long as you do it in a way that leaves everyone’s dignity intact and keeps the pipeline of ideas open so everyone feel like they are creative and actively contributing. That is the true spirit of brainstorming.

Please don’t feed the demons

Confession: I have a demon. I was reminded of it as I watched a new E! series, “What’s Eating You: True stories about food, fear and obsession.”  The first episode features two 20-something girls suffering from anorexia. The cameras followed them through their lives, therapy sessions, as well as  interactions at home and work.

Warning: Watching a show like this is not like watching the old “After School Specials“ some may remember from the 70′s and 80′s. It’s less scripted, more raw and real. Viewer discretion is advised.

It was devastating to watch one girl being told she “didn’t have to come to work anymore” as a dancer because she had failed to get the help she needed–the breaking point was when a customer complained that she was “disturbing” to look at. Her body fat was a mere 8%–normal for her age is 18-25%.

As the second girl sat stone-faced in a therapy session, refusing to come out from behind her Hoover dam holding back gallons of raw emotion, my throat closed up and I thought, I know exactly what that feels like. I flashed back to adolescence and the late teens/early 20′s, that time when everyone says you have your whole life ahead of you, only it didn’t feel like it. Not one little bit.

We all have our personal demons.
In 1983, when I first faced mine, there were no words for my demon, let alone reality TV shows about it. Only a handful of people outside of my family knew. People didn’t speak openly about their demons then. At least, not at my house. Even now, I can’t bring myself to tell you specifics.

While my demon was not anorexia, it was a coping mechanism that I used to relieve emotional pain, to escape from an overwhelming sense of powerlessness and deep sadness that made my bones ache. It was not acceptable to be anything less than happy or perfect growing up and I was really, really good at pretending for a very long time.

My family didn’t know what to do, so they did nothing. Therapy was not as common then as it is now, at least not in my Midwestern community. Our family prided ourselves on being stoic and self-reliant. No better “therapy” than pulling yourself up by your  bootstraps. Except…I’d lost my boots. 

When I saw my own pain from years ago reflected in the eyes and faces of these girls as they struggled with their “affliction,” I wondered how seeing a show like this could have helped me back then. How it could have helped a lot of people. While some may argue that programs like this could influence, say, a young girl to consider anorexia. I say the seeds of that demon were already there.

Demons thrive in darkness, pain and secrecy. Programs like this turn the lights on so demons can’t hide anymore. Watching others struggle, we understand more and judge less. We see their pain. Hopefully, we learn to spot the first signs of demons in our loved ones and in ourselves so we can fight them sooner, harder. Demons can’t thrive  in truth and light and love. Wish the same were true of cockroaches and mold.

Are you feeding the demon?
But it’s never too late. One therapist on the show pointed out to a mother how she had inadvertently passed down a pattern of self-criticism to her daughters. She was feeding the demon and she didn’t even know it. It reminded me that I too must be vigilant. I must pay attention and listen closely to protect my children from…me. They will have demons of their own to contend with in life.

As for me, life did get better. It took time. I got help. I learned about boundaries and what I could control and what I couldn’t. Every challenge I survived taught me that there is light at the end of every tunnel. I grew up, I moved out. I remember my first night alone in my very own apartment. In the quiet, I could hear my heart healing.

If you’ve fought a demon and lived to tell about it, then you know what it’s like to claw your way back to the surface after being buried alive by raw emotion, dysfunction and fear, and to emerge–victorious, grateful–like the rescued miners in Chile, and say, I survived. It’s never easy, but demons can be tamed. They can be overcome.

Update (Oct. 18, 2010): Dan Savage’s It Gets Better Project popped up on my radar as a relevant link for those who are interested. While the videos are primarily to give hope to gay and lesbian youth that life does get better after adolescence, when bullying is often at is peak, it’s inspirational to hear the stories of others who have been through it and emerged on the other side, strong and happy.

Grateful: Living each day as a thank you

I’ve been reading a new book that I wanted to tell you about. It’s called “Living life as a thank you: The transformative power of daily gratitude.” It’s about embracing gratitude in life wherever you can get it. With the economy still seemingly in free fall and bad news all around, I can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by it all. So when I saw this little book on the store shelf, it struck me as something I needed to read. Now.

It’s a quick read, and it inspired me to try to think of 10 things I’m grateful for every night. I’ve added this as a new question for my kids at the dinner table, too, to share one thing they are grateful for. Why wait for Thanksgiving, right?

Honestly, it’s harder than I thought it would be. I’ve been focusing so much on the negative things going on that I’ve overlooked so much of the good things right in front of my face. My biggest takeaway is that it’s easier to be whiny than grateful, and I have a lot to be grateful for, which I seem to take for granted when I don’t make an effort to consciously think about it.

After trying this for two weeks, I can honestly say that I feel happier than I have in awhile, even after I read yet another dire news report on the state of the economy or world affairs. So here are 10 things that I’m grateful for today:

  • My relative’s cancer is in remission.
  • My children are relatively healthy, happy kids.
  • Being married to my best friend.
  • A roof over my head and food on the table.
  • Knowing that I am loved and accepted for who I am by the people who matter.
  • My friendships.
  • My dogs.
  • Laughter.
  • Books. I am so very grateful for books.
  • My recent ladies-only trip to Vegas. Wish I could say more on that one, but, you know, what happens in Vegas…

How about you? What are you grateful for? Is it hard to remember to be grateful?

How are your words disabling you?

The other day I was feeling blue and typed these words into Google: “feel like you’ve lost your way.” Curiously, one of the first search results was  the Happiness Project; the author wrote a book and blog about a year she spent testing all the advice, theories and conventional wisdom about how to be happy.

I skimmed the article–it was a little too happy for me–and scrolled down to the comments to see how people reacted. One commenter posted a link to Aimee Mullins’ speech, ”The opportunity of adversity“ on TED. (If you aren’t familiar with TED, you might find this article from FastCompany interesting.)

Curious, I clicked. Ms. Mullins, who had to have both legs amputated below the knees when she was an infant, discusses the dictionary definition of  “disabled.” The writer in me immediately recoiled–starting with a dictionary definition is a standard way to begin a term paper, but writers are encouraged to think more creatively.

But when the screen goes black and the defining words for “disabled” pop up one at a time in white type, it’s quickly forgotten. She reads each word aloud–every sad, miserable word. I feel the weight of each word bearing down on me even though I am not physically “disabled.”

Mullins says that when she repeated this definition to a friend, her voice cracked in the middle and she had to stop. Despite all of her tremendous accomplishments–model, actress, paralympic athlete, truly inspiring human being–the negative definition of “disabled” broke her.

This is the power of words.

This is why I take my job as a writer seriously. Words can change the way people think. Words can persuade, inform, enlighten, but they can also hurt, destroy, maim, define…disable. They are more powerful than weapons. That old saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is wrong. Words can and do hurt.

But wait, there’s more. Mullins redefines “disabled” as a crushed spirit. She literally rewrites the definition of “disabled.” When I hear this, I begin to cry. And I am not a crier. When I repeat this story to Hubby, I tear up again. He looks at me strangely–are you…crying???

This is the power of words.

Words can crush your spirit. And there is nothing more sorrowful in my mind. OK, sure, death sucks. But as a friend of mine once said in her sage way, “We all have to die someday. Can’t hang around forever.” With death, life is over. But how long can you live with a crushed spirit? How long would you want to? What kind of life is that? I imagine it’s like living with Alzheimer’s. You are a shadow of the person you used to be or could be. You are never whole again. You are never the same. You are damaged. Hurt. Disabled.

Mullins also posits that adversity gives us a sense of ourselves, that it’s a part of life rather than something that we need to just get through, emerging unscathed on the other side. She suggests that adversity is “change you haven’t gotten used to yet.”  Hence, “the opportunity of adversity.”

This is the power of words. A shift in thinking. A different way of looking at the world, at change. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this yet. But it has made me rethink how I “disable” myself and those around me, often unintentionally. I resolved to work on three things:

Use less “disabling” words. I’ve tried to remember to say thank-you more and share positive feedback. It’s easy and tempting to harp on what’s wrong rather than focus on what’s right. For example, I sent Hubby an email that just said “have a nice day” instead of the usual to-do list. I told a friend who always shows grace under pressure how much I admired her strength and courage. I am trying to remember to say something nice to myself, too, but that one is harder. :)

Examine unintentional “disabling” actions. School starts this week and I remembered how crushed my son was last year when one of his B grades slipped back to a C in a class he had worked very hard to improve. Hubby and I always told both kids that letter grades don’t matter; it’s the effort and learning that count. But our reward system–$5 for A’s, $3 for B’s, nothing for C’s–was negating our words.

I told my kids that effective immediately, we would reward them for effort, not specific letter grades. My daughter shrugged, but my son visibly relaxed;  a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. I am on the lookout for other ways I may be disabling someone, unintentional as it may be.

Stop disabling myself. I am my own worst enemy. I take on too much work. I multi-task to the nth degree. I burn myself out. So this week I cut myself some slack. I asked for help at work. I came home one night exhausted and burnt out and put myself to bed instead of forcing myself to continue working on a project that I was stuck on.

Another night, I gave myself permission to snuggle with my kids instead of going to the gym because “I should.”  On a Saturday, which I might normally spend cleaning, I stocked up on healthy food and went to the gym to reward myself instead of eating chocolate. (Huge for me, by the way. I should own stock in Hershey’s.)

I feel better today than I did when I first Googled “feel like you’ve lost your way.” Maybe I didn’t lose it so much as disable myself from seeing it. I think I’m on the right path again.

How do you unintentionally “disable” yourself or someone else? What can you do to embrace adversity and see it as opportunity or “the change you haven’t gotten used to yet?”

Share

Acting your age on Facebook: When a status update crosses the line

When I saw the Facebook post in my stream, I was shocked, surprised and disappointed. It was from a distant relative’s son. I won’t spread the negativity by repeating it. Suffice to say that it was the violent rant of a white teenage boy trapped in suburbia trying to sound inner city gangsta tough.

*sigh*

I understand that teens change personas the way others change outfits. They are trying out who they are, testing the limits, blah blah blah. We’ve all been there, right? (I think I’m still there!) But now it’s acted out on Facebook for all to see, where among the 500+ million users are bound to be some relatives and friends who don’t really want to see. But now it’s right there, smacking you in the face in your morning update stream as you sip your coffee. Now you feel compelled to DO something.

But what, exactly, should you do? Do you Continue reading ‘Acting your age on Facebook: When a status update crosses the line’

The most powerful word in the world

I love words. I tried to read the dictionary when I was 9 (yes, I was a big geek then too. I made it through the B’s.). My favorite board game, the only board game I will ever play, is Scrabble. I love how the right words strung together sounds like shimmering, cascading rhythms. And when those words move people to think or act? As MasterCard would say, Priceless!

So you can imagine that choosing the one, most powerful word was a challenging task indeed. It’s not “no.” It’s not “think,” or “me,” or “butt” as my kids had hoped. The most powerful word in the world is… Continue reading ‘The most powerful word in the world’


 

Archives


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 39 other followers