Tag: midlife women

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Discovering my favorite things

Know what you desireAs much as I’d like to break into a rendition of “These are of few of my favorite things…” from The Sound of Music, that’s not what’s on my mind today – although – maybe it is now because that tune has now firmly taken up residence via my inner voice (insert face palm here). Instead, the idea of favorite things has been rolling around in my head since I went to a friend’s birthday party the other night.

The party centered around all her favorite things – from food, to music, a raffle around her favorites – and she must have listed about 100 – and people, those she wanted to spend time with. I discovered that some of her favorite things are mine as well. But I couldn’t help wondering if I could name my favorites, and that’s stuck with me since.

I come from a family steeped in tradition and one of the phrases I hear nearly every time we’re planning a dinner is, “We’ll have [insert food item here], everyone loves it.” Sometimes I think to myself, “I don’t love it,” but at the same time, I don’t dislike it either. I go with the flow. If asked, I probably couldn’t name what I’d want instead anyways.

And there’s the rub. The fact that I know I have a tough time naming what I truly like is unsettling to me. At the same time, having an understanding of how I’m wired gives me a leg up on the ‘why’ behind it. I’m an Enneagram 9, which is likely not news to you if you’ve read my blog for any length of time. And as a 9, go with the flow is my middle name. I want peace, no conflict, to have harmony. Declaring what I actually want is honestly a bit terrifying. What if others don’t like it, or agree? What if I rock the

boat? I’m far more inclined to tell you what I don’t like than what I do.

But when you go along to get along, it doesn’t always work out that well. You could find yourself being resentful without being sure why. Resentment coming from not expressing your own desires, wants needs. I’ve come to the conclusion that knowing what you want and expressing it is not selfish, as some might suggest. Instead, it’s part of being an individual. Knowing what you want, what makes you come alive, brings you delight, makes your heart swell with joy. It’s not the same as someone else’s joy, or passion, and that’s ok.

And simply knowing and expressing what you’re passionate about, your favorite things, doesn’t necessarily mean you are surrounded by those things at the exclusion of what others desire. Instead, you can weave together…find a blending and harmony in sharing your favorite things with others.

You may already know your favorite things, but if you’re like me, let’s work on figuring it out. As you go through your week, notice what sparks joy in you. What activities, objects, people, experiences, feelings make you happy? Where do you find delight? Is it shopping at Whole Foods market because you like the environment – for me, yes it is. Being in nature, the sunrise or sunset? Bodies of water? Helping other people? Shoes? Painted toenails? Painting in general? While these would start a list, it would not fill up the board my friend had at her party. The challenge for me, and anyone else looking to get in touch with themselves, is to notice, name it, and write it down. Expressing what you love might feel awkward, or foreign to you, but practice it. In time, we’ll get there and have a greater ability to express our bold selves. I’m with you on the journey.

 

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Finding sun in the storm

Just show upIt’s normal for our lives to ebb and flow and you may have times where you feel you won’t survive. The pain, the struggle, is too hard. Take a breath, think of one of those times now.  Got it? I have mine. The feelings that come from merely thinking about those times make my blood pressure rise, my cheeks feel hot, my throat constricted.

Feelings that arise in times of struggle can feel crushing. Your brain becomes like mush, you might feel as though you can’t see a way through. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. If it is a season in your life, you might find yourself on auto drive. Going through the motions. Barely emerging from your self-created shell enough to engage with the world around you.

Sound familiar?

In those moments, the struggle, the pain we feel overshadows our ability to think our way through it. Yet, there is always another way. Without much effort, you can find an easy path. An escape. A distraction.

Television. That’s my go to. When I consciously or unconsciously want to escape, I’ll fall headlong into a binge-fest of mindless television. What’s funny to me about it is that I normally don’t particularly care about watching TV at all. Do I have shows I enjoy – yes – I mean, I’m a normal human person. But to sit in front of the TV for hours at a time? Nope, not my style. In times of struggle? Hours and hours on end. I have rules about it though, I won’t start watching until after noon, but then it’s game on. Some people have other escapes like drinking alcohol, shopping, perusing social media…you know your vice. But TV gives me an escape.

Yet, even during those times, I’m aware I’m falling down the wormhole. Aware that it’s a beautiful day outside, I sit in my comfy recliner watching the trials and tribulations on my show. It can feel like there’s no choice, like you’re unable to do anything else.

That’s not true. While the escape can prove helpful for a time, it’s not a long -solution. You always have a choice. I know it doesn’t feel that way, but it’s the truth. We all have a choice. It’s our life. We can choose to stay in struggle or we can do one thing. We can show up. We can stop phoning it in, stop faking it.

It may not feel like it, but simply taking one step when we’re in struggle is brave. Maybe you have coffee with a friend, go to yoga in the park, write in your journal…take a shower. It’s one step in the direction of engaging with your life. It’s a step that you can do without faking it. In my opinion, while there are times when ‘fake it till you make it’ comes in handy, it shouldn’t be a go to. Instead, choose the one thing that brings you joy and do it with all your heart.

Those hard times? The times when you can’t get off the couch? They’ll pass. One thing each day to engage with your life, that might be all you can do during those seasons. But one day, you’ll wake up and the sun will be shining outside…and in your heart. The storm has passed.

Just show up

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Pay attention – it’s your life

ER - InferiorIt kept coming up in my Instagram feed, Abby Wambach’s book Wolfpack, so I put it on my reading list and powered through this week. It’s an easy quick read, targeted to women, reminding us of what we know but forget. And then I ran across the quote from Eleanor Roosevelt a couple days later, “No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.” The combined wisdom triggered something inside me and has stuck around.

Abby’s book – cause yeah, I decided I’m on first name terms with her now – laid out 8 rules for women to follow. Only 8! Easy. What I noticed as I read through them is they challenge the traditional model of women relegated to the sidelines. The model that’s been propagated for centuries at this point. What I wonder is why we have a model to challenge at all? People, men and women are created differently, with different strengths, some of which are overlapping, some of which are complementary. What that doesn’t mean is that women are ‘less than.’ We’re not. In the Bible, women like Esther, Rahab, Hagar, Mary Magdeline. Brave, courageous roles. They navigated their circumstances with grace, in their unique way. Just like strong women throughout history. The created their own path – number one on Abby’s list. It’s easy to sit back and wait for someone else to tell us our path, to give us permission. But it’s our job to paint our own path.

I’ve noticed, though, that sometimes we don’t know what we want to do – or at least that’s what we think. We’ve spent so many years deferring that when it comes to making our own decisions, making up our own mind, it feels counter intuitive. We need to believe in ourselves (thanks for #6 – Abby). We are created uniquely and with God given talents. Imagine what it would be like for you to try and tell someone who desires to be a racecar driver what their life should be like, their path? How could you even? You don’t (or maybe you do) have that passion, those desires and needs. You’d send them down a side path, most likely. It’s not different when we relegate our lives decisions to another person. They’re not sitting in our shoes, don’t have our experiences or desires. They can consult with us, give advice or input, but ultimately, we need to believe in ourselves and get in the game. Take the ball, as Abby wrote, and run with it.

‘Failure means you’re finally IN the game,’ number 4. Boy howdy do I get this one. I’ve read before about the idea of failing forward. Learning from failure and using it to propel you forward. It’s virtually impossible to design a life with no failure. Believe me, I’ve tried. And I’ve failed, over and over again. Instead of being curious about failure, it has the tendency to break us down, to make us question ourselves. But we can use it. Abby talks about the shift from seeing failure as our destruction and instead start using it as fuel. Failure doesn’t mean we’re out of the game, it’s means try again, try something different. It’s inevitable that we’ll fail in life, what we do faced with those circumstances is what defines us.

As I reflected on the reminders in Wolfpack, the idea that took shape in my mind was that we’re not supposed to wait for someone else to tell us what we should be doing or who we are, we need to figure that out ourselves. But we don’t have to do it alone. We have our people. Our pack. End of the day though, there are decisions to make, paths to map out and that’s our job. If we fail, we fail…there’s virtually nothing that you can’t recover from. It might suck for a while, but you will recover. What you won’t recover from is giving away your passions and dreams hoping someone else will tell you what to do with them. It’s not going to happen. Don’t be afraid to try, to ‘get in the game.’

You’re supposed to be here, this moment, remember that truth. Your impact in your own life and on those around you is meaningful. You’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing and life like you believe it.

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Ordinary Courage

Ordinary CourageThe energy contained in tiny humans never ceases to amaze me. We recently spent 3 days playing at Universal Studios Hollywood with my husband’s son and his family. The 2 grand kids are 6 and 4 and the energy contained within those combined 10 years is beyond description. We played in the park all day and they swam like fish at the hotel pool in the evening. No naps. I wanted a nap just watching them!

They’d never experienced roller coasters before and we weren’t sure what they’d be up for, but they are daredevils. The older one rode everything – even the Mummy – which races you at 45 mph, in the dark, with skeletons. That’s where he found his limit. After riding, he admitted it was scary and it wasn’t on our repeat list. He tried even though he was nervous about it. That’s courage.

Last week at work, I managed through a challenging moment with one of our leaders. Partway through, when it hadn’t played out as anticipated, she told me she was disappointed I hadn’t addressed the situation differently in the moment. We talked about it, I could see her perspective and we reworked our direction together. I appreciated her perspective and that she shared with me so that we could find a solution together. She expressed her true feeling in the moment, allowed us the opportunity to get on the same page, leading to a needed outcome. That’s courage.

It’s easy to roll past the ordinary moments in life where we show courage. Whenever you are vulnerable, share your heart, ride a roller coaster, those are moments of courage. When you have a tough conversation, that’s courage. It’s easy to equate courage only with moments of heroism. Where you fight a lion, battle an adversary, jump off a cliff – actions that are clearly courageous.

The ordinary moments though, those are the real deal. Brene Brown shares that the original definition of courage is to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. In and of itself, that feels hard. Putting your heart out there, not knowing or being able to control the outcome, is terrifying. But once you’ve done it, even if it doesn’t turn out like you’d hoped, there’s a sense of peace because you’ve shared your heart. Being courageous doesn’t isolate you from hard feelings. But it leads to an authentic you. If you’re constantly being and doing what you think others expect, it’ll never lead to your authentic self. That only comes from courage.

If you pay attention, you’ll notice the ordinary moments where you are courageous. And once you do, build on them. Even if sharing your heart sucks and is hard (which it can be). Do it anyways. The discomfort you feel in the moment is preferable to not living authentically. You have it in you. We all do. Be brave, be bold and be yourself. You are courageous.

 

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The mother within us

MotheringToday is Mother’s Day and I’m thankful to have both of my children with me. Whenever my boys visit, they shower me with love and endless mocking. Yes, you read that right, mocking. We were alone during their adolescent years and developed a way of interacting all our own. A little poking here and there, but all in love, all in fun. That’s continued as they got older, and I actually enjoy watching them collaborate and laugh about the typically mom things I do.

I’ve noticed, as they’ve gotten older, gone from being children to grown adults, that the relationship changes. Awkwardly. Any mom’s out there feeling that? They’re biologically wired to start pushing away from their mom in the later teen’s, and by then we might be ready to be done anyways, at least some of the time. They want to be an adult, they’re not ready to be an adult. It’s a push pull that can be hard to navigate. But we do. Because we’re mom’s.

Parenting an adult child can be challenging because, as mom’s, I believe we’re always slightly tethered to them. The feeling fluctuates, but, let’s be real, we grew them in our bodies. There’s a bond there like no other. But as adults, we have to let them live their own lives. There are lessons we can’t learn for them, that they have to experience on their own. It’s from those pains, the successes, that they grow, and become resilient, responsible individuals. Separate and apart from us. It’s their path.

It’s the same thing our own mothers went through, God bless them. I don’t know about any of you, but me, in the teenage years… I would have wanted to be done with me. Cranky, hormonal, snippy, not kind to my mother for several years. But she stuck in there. When I became a mother, I gained a new appreciation for my own. I also had a bonus mom, my stepmother, who was like a mother to me in an infinite number of ways. For both her and my own mother, I am beyond grateful. They put up with me, know me so well they call me on my crap, and love me, unconditionally. That’s what mom’s do.

At the same time, I am mindful today that not everyone has that experience. Mother’s are people, and they have their own “junk,” (yes, me too), that can interfere with healthy parenting. In this phase of life, midlife, each of us has a choice, to hold on to that baggage from childhood, or to forgive. Let go of the ongoing impact. I believe that people, mothers included, do not show up each day wanting to suck. They want to do their best. But sometimes they don’t know how, or they’re managing pressures we have no clue about, that we can’t even imagine. Forgive.

My heart also breaks today for those who have lost their mother. The natural progress of life leads us to that point as we age, but others lose their mothers far too early. In cruel and unexpected twists, mothers are taken, forever impacting the lives of their children. I think of Rachel Held Evans who lost her life last week after what started as a simple infection. She leaves two small children and her husband. Forever impacted. Because of her presence in the progressive Christian “space” (for lack of a better name), people are coming alongside her family, supporting them, loving them. But the impact will be long lasting. Our job, those of us who are fortunate to continue on, is to come alongside families like hers, and those who no longer have their mother. Because we have abundant love to share.

I’m reminded of the idea “it takes a village.” We celebrate our own mothers today or because we’re mothers, but it took a village to get us here. And it will continue to take a village. Women supporting other women, because that’s what we do. The circumstances may be different, but we come alongside, and we support. In a way, Mother’s Day is for all of us. I’m thankful for my village, for each of you, and wish you a happy mother’s day.

 

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Lean in to glory

Who we areI was born with a known problem in the way blood flowed to my left foot. Basically, I had too much blood in my foot (fancy medical term… arterial venous fistula) and by the time I was three months old, the doctors had told my parents that I would have to have it amputated, which happened when I was four. I don’t spend a lot of time talking to my parents about it, but there have been moments. One aspect that has stuck with me is that my mother has told me that there were people in her life who told her that my birth defect was a result of some sin she must have committed.

At the time of the conversation, I remember thinking that was a bunch of baloney, and I haven’t spent time thinking about it. Until the other day when I read this passage in the book of John.

John 9: 1-3: As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

As I read it, I found myself connected to the words in a new way. I’m not of the mindset that people are sinning, doing wrong, constantly. I don’t believe my mother, or anyone, committed a sin and that God thought, “yeah, I’ll show them for that one.” I just don’t. I believe people want to do their best. Are we a hot mess on any given day, yes. Do we struggle with issues defined as sin, yes. But I simply believe the vast majority of people wake up each day, and strive to do good, not sin. So I connected to the shift. Did you catch it?

Instead of focusing on a sin, Jesus looked at the man and healed his blindness. He focused on the glory in the healing.

Here’s how the rabbit trail connected to me as I read those words. I was born with a condition which put me in a unique position to God’s unique works in me. Because, after my foot was amputation, it was essentially back to business as usual. Meaning, I grew up doing normal kid things. I learned how to ride a bike, ski, hike, ride a horse, dance (albeit poorly) … with my prosthetic leg. But as I got older, particularly when I was cycling avidly, I noticed that people would make comments to me. Encouragement. When I was racing triathlons, people would tell me I encouraged them being out there. It seemed so weird to me. Truly. I was just doing my thing. But I thought about it. And I began to see that maybe God was working through me, encouraging other people to try, because that’s what I was doing, trying.

Because I was simply born this way. It wasn’t the result of anything but the way I was formed in my mother’s womb. The same way my own children were formed in my womb. They were each born uniquely. Born the way they are, the way God made them, perfectly. And I believe there is glory being worked in and through each one of them.

Just as there is glory being worked through you. If we put limits on it, thinking there is some sin, or some barrier to the glory, we’re not living our full life. Lean in to the glory working in you, through you. Every single one of you, and know it’s all part of the plan.

 

 

 

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Feeling and Release

Know what you feelI often watch, with curiosity, scenes on TV or in the movies where the person is upset and lets it out by screaming in the car. Pounding on the steering wheel. Emitting a string of profanity that would curl paint at the top of their lungs and, at the end, peacefully returning to the day’s agenda. Even writing those words makes my stomach turn, just a little bit.

Don’t mistake me, I have no judgement about it, honestly. But the thought of engaging in that type of release (because I get that’s what it is), feels like a forbidden fruit. I’m intrigued by it. I can see the value but imagining myself doing it is uncomfortable.

I had this conversation with a friend of mine the other day. She and I are wired differently, and she didn’t even blink an eye before saying that she has used this technique before. Cathartically. She challenged me to try next time I was in my car.

I did.

And felt like an idiot.

The first words that came into my mind after my half-hearted yell were “hell no, that’s not happening again.” So far out of my comfort zone I nearly had to adjust to a new time zone. I relayed the experience back to my friend who laughed, and she said I’d probably write about it.

She was right.

Because the experience continued to roll around in my head as I thought about why I was so uncomfortable. First of all, yikes, that sure felt like a loss of control. It wasn’t, but that’s what I experienced. While I continue to work on loosening up, at the core, I’m wound tight. Yelling, screaming at the top of my lungs was, to me, anything but in control.

Second, I’m conflict adverse, I tend to ignore my own anger (a whole other story) and yelling felt like conflict. Yes, even alone in my car. I’ll be honest, I’ve tried it at home before and that didn’t work out so well either. I waited until I was alone in the house and then I tried, came out more like a whimper if I’m being honest.

Despite my own aversion to yelling it out, alone, I accepted that it’s simply not me. I think we often try to force ourselves into a strategy that works for others, but not for us. “Everybody’s doing it,” it not a reason to do something that doesn’t work for you. Culture can press up on us, working to convince us we should give it a try, but none of that matters if it doesn’t work for you.

That said, with respect to the release of negative feelings within yourself, within me, find a strategy.

The first strategy is to recognize the anger is there in the first place. Sitting with it, wresting and determining the source. I’ve learned that it’s often not what I think at a surface level. And then figure out what works for you. Negative feelings are akin to a cancer within our bodies. They take a serious toll on our health. This is not an alternative idea, it is fact. It is critical we find a way to process and release those feelings. Whether you scream in the car, or alone in your house, talk through it, burn sage, go to Taekwondo, or whatever it is that works for you, let it out.

I’ve had the Brene Brown The Call to Courage on Netflix on repeat. And while I am not a stranger to her work, I’m a devotee, I love listening to her talk about vulnerability. Vulnerability is courage. For me, at least, the release of anger is vulnerable. Vulnerable because it’s not an emotion I like or want to admit that I have. It feels “bad,” it’s not, but that’s been the story I tell myself. My life’s desire has been to keep ad promote the peace, so you can image my discomfort with anger.  But for mental, spiritual and physical health, when it’s there, I need to talk about it, let it out.

While I still don’t see myself leading a vocal yoga class, or taking up yelling in my car, I do see myself being vulnerable. And although anger isn’t at the top of most people’s minds, or maybe it is, it’s a valid emotion that each of us have to one degree or another. An emotion that needs a release valve, preferably not in the form of incinerating another person in the process. I challenge you to think about where the anger may be coming from and then find a way to let it go. A way that is authentic and boldly you.

 

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Resurrection Happened in the Dark

ResurrectionWhen I was a teenager, I can recall having an unspoken bedtime of 9 p.m. It’s when my Dad went to bed, and I never thought to stay up any later. As a result, I’ve never been (ok, there was a short stint in college and my early 20’s) a late sleeper. I rise early and as time has gone on, early has been redefined to, what some would call, the middle of the night. 4 a.m. I get up, work out, spend quiet time…over three hours of me time before heading to the office.

Maybe fifteen years ago, in the height of my cycling life, I started riding with a girlfriend in the early morning hours. We’d log 40 miles before going to work. As a result, I became familiar with the signs of the night shifting into dawn. Studying the stars as we pedaled through the countryside and watching as they faded, and the horizon turned from inky black to shades of indigo, to red, orange and eventually – if we were out long enough – we’d see the edges of the sun.

I came to love this time of day and it’s stayed with me. Experiencing the dark, the stillness of the early morning. There’s a renewal at that time of day, palpable in the darkness, a time of newness and possibility. The possibility of restoration of life.

I recently read Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, well worth adding to your list. In it, she explores what we can learn in the darkness, but to do so, we need to learn to walk in the dark. We must “sign a waiver that allows you to bump into some things that may frighten you at first.” We must practice. Already having a love of the actual darkness of the early morning drew me to her words.

And then I ran across a line that caused me to stop, reread, and revisit once I moved past it. “Resurrection happened in the dark.”

As a Christian, I reflected how we focus on the fulfilled promise in resurrection with our eye on the third day. But the second day…a day of darkness…that’s where the resurrection was taking form. We don’t know what happened that day. It’s darkness. But it’s a critical day for what follows. There would be no resurrection without the darkness.

In our own lives, the darkness often causes fear. Darkness represents a side that we often want to avoid. Except…it’s necessary. For growth, we must wrestle through the darkness. It’s a space of learning, growing, expanding. And it can be scary, we bump up against things we may not have expected or want to face. When I think of the literal darkness I willingly embrace every day, and the learning that comes from spending time reflecting on the metaphorical aspects of what’s taking shape in the dark, it causes me to pause.

In what ways could we expand our understanding if we are willing to explore the darkness. What would come to life, be resurrected, if we spend time listening to what darkness will teach us? Darkness can be uncomfortable, we may be confronted with different ideas, understandings…and those could creep into the light. So be it.

We can, and do, celebrate resurrection. But don’t rush past the darkness. Darkness that looks different for you than it does for me. Has a different learning for you than it does for me because we are made uniquely and have different areas of ourselves to develop in the darkness. What we’re bringing to light through our journeys in the dark may bring joy and a deeper understanding. Our own resurrection.

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Slow the internal narrative

Conversations in my headIt’s a party! Seriously. Every day. In my head. The left, right, frontal, amygdala, all getting in the mix, spinning in so many different directions I get dizzy. I could label the voices, there are those that are what I suppose other people would be saying, a couple that swirl in ‘what if’ land, a few more that believe they’re in acting school – walking out a variety of conversations and situations at any given time… and then there are those that are quieter. The little girl inside me, the still, small voice of God. Those voices get drowned out most of the time by the others that are arm wrestling for front and center, but they’re there.

I began to hone in on the voices, the tornado of thoughts, a few years ago, realizing that all the noise (because that’s what it is, loud, obnoxious noise) is nothing more than that. It’s not actually what’s happening. It’s easy to convince yourself that the way you play things out in your mind will happen, but still, it’s not truth, not fact. Yet, the voices are so distracting. They can divert us from life right in front of us. In our minds, we can make situations so much worse.

When I started to become aware of the runaway train in my mind was around the same time I began learning about mindfulness. The practice of being present. Of eliminating the distractions so that I can be present with myself or with others in the moment. It made sense to me. But in practice, was not quite a simple as it presented itself to be.

For one, the voices in my mind still would not shut up. Determined to create more stillness, I turned to  meditation. Years ago, I would meditate daily, truly helpful I believe. But it fell away as my time became tighter. To quiet my mind, I tried a meditation app, one that had guided meditation. If someone else was talking, there was a much higher likelihood that my mind wouldn’t. By and large that worked, not entirely, but slowly it got better. I found that 15 minutes a day can be carved out and the stillness has a trickling effect throughout the day.

Another idea I was encouraged to try was eating without distraction. No book, no phone, no TV – even when I was alone. Ummm, seriously? When I was with another person, no problem. But alone? What would I do with my mind? That was the point. Nothing. Focus on the food, the texture, the flavor, the experience.  I started experimenting with it. I can not promise you I’m a poster child for it, but I’m working on it.

Mindfulness would have you stop multi-tasking, which is a sham anyways. You can’t effectively focus on two things at a time. You’ll end up half focusing, or less, on both. I find I have an advantage here because my mind has less capacity to multi-task than it used to. The desire is there, but less so because my brain straight up doesn’t want to work like that. So, one thing at a time.

Ok, so a few mindfulness tactics worked in, and they help. But the internal narrative is still there. The difference is I can see it happening. I began using a strategy last year of naming the voices. Is it the voice of fear, or perseverance, maybe joy? And I would ask myself, what is it trying to tell me? I also started asking the voices questions. What was the little girl in me trying to tell me, to remind me of? Truly listen to what I was hearing.

If we’re honest, most of us have the voices. The question is how can you be the one calling the shots instead of them? What mindful practices can you put in place to quiet them? What are they trying to tell you? Just for a moment, take a breath in, hold it, gently sigh out. Do you feel the stillness? I encourage you to engage that practice, or another mindfulness practice several times during the day and still your mind. And when you’re ready, listen carefully, your wisdom will be ready to talk to you.

 

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It’s a big deal

you matterIt’s not infrequent for me to meet someone and months later, they realize I have a prosthetic leg. Maybe it’s winter, or they never see me in a skirt, and I certainly don’t start my elevator speech with “Hi, I’m Lisa and I have a prosthetic leg.” In fact, it’s something I rarely mention, so often goes unnoticed. Until it is.

And when it is, the uncomfortable conversation ensues. They ask, I have my synopsis, birth defect, amputation, and without fail, I end that explanation by saying, “it’s not a big deal.” Partially, I say it so that if the conversation started awkwardly, I let them off the hook. But I also say it to minimize it and move on.

But it is a big deal.

It’s a big deal that I overcame. With help, but I overcame it. When I was a little girl, it was amputated and I spent a few months in the hospital normalizing it, i.e. playing, swimming, learning to walk with a prosthetic, getting me back up to four year old speed so I could launch back into the world. My parents were fantastic and treated me as though nothing was different, my friends honestly never knew me without my prosthetic, and life continued.

But it is a big deal.

I find it fascinating to watch people who’ve experienced a hardship in their life. Perhaps medical, maybe relational, financial, job loss. You can see the discomfort they feel when someone comes alongside them. To sit with them in the middle of the “stuff.” You’ll hear that familiar phrase, “it’s no big deal.” The brush off. Nothing here to see.

We minimize and, in that moment, lose an opportunity to connect on a deeper level. To allow ourselves to be close up in life with another person, to allow them to share our story. We want to be soldiers, like the one I was as a little girl. Or like a stubborn child who says “I can do it myself.” People, we’re not wired like that. We try, I try, oh do I try. But we’re not fundamentally wired that way. Others want to come alongside us not out of pity, but because they care about us.

It’s a big deal. What’s a big deal is that some of us do it in hard times, AND we do it when we’re rockin’ it. When we have crushed our goals, or a project, or an accomplishment. We say it’s not a big deal, we deflect, we play small. Why do we do that? Honestly, I know you’re out there, person like me who falls into this camp. Why?

What would it look like to stop deflecting? To stop making light or small of our life? What if I could say, “My foot was amputated when I was four due to a birth defect,” and stop right there? What if when congratulated for an accomplishment, we said thank you, and stopped right there? If I’m telling the truth, I feel a bit squirmy thinking about it. But the opposite of making ourselves smaller isn’t boasting, or being grandiose, it’s simply being. Acknowledging. Accepting. Being grateful for our journey.

Standing in our own space, it’s a big deal. It feels bold. It’s who we’re called to be. Thanks for being on the journey with me.