Tag: midlife women

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Be Still

Be StillI recall a time when I could not be in my house without having noise. Usually, I’d come home from work and turn the television on. Not to watch it, but to have the background noise. To have silence felt deafening and uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with my own thoughts, which could simultaneously be headed in a hundred different directions and reminding me of the ways I needed to do better, do more. I can recall visiting my mom’s house and there was no television, no music, nothing. Silence. It felt oppressive.

Over time, the balance has shifted and now, my preference is quiet. In a way, it’s a chance for my mind to stop being over stimulated. Which, let’s be honest, happens to each of us every single day. If we’re not listening to something, we’re viewing. Our phones provide non-stop entertainment and options. Literally, every second we’re awake we can be occupied somewhere other than within our own mind.

There are days where that’s honestly the preferred alternative. Our thoughts meander in a million directions and being alone with ourselves can be intimidating.

But…

The advantages to being still are immense. Consider a few: increased immune function; lowered blood pressure; lowered heart rate; increased awareness; increased attention and focus; increased clarity in thinking and perception; lowered anxiety levels, the list goes on. If we know the benefits are there, why are so many of us resistant? Seriously, I desire to be still, to be mindful, but I have to consciously focus to simply eat breakfast without simultaneously checking my email. Mind you, not if someone is sitting across from me, but if I’m alone, multi-task is the name of the game.

Except that multitasking is a scam. Held out as a skill, it’s virtually impossible to effectively multi-task. Our attention is not fully with either task, not our best work. So why do so many of us continue to juggle so many balls in the air? Wouldn’t it be better if we narrowed in on one thing at a time?

Be still. Several times within the Bible we’re told to Be Still. It’s as though we’re being told to ‘take a breath,’ ‘slow down,’ a command to remind us that God’s got us. If we don’t take time to be still, we miss that. Our own thoughts, activities, drown out the inner stillness that comes from being alone with God. Alone with ourselves. With our dreams, with our desires. We miss connecting with that part of ourselves because we’re busy. Miss the still small voice of God because we’re busy all…the…time.

Over the last few years, I’ve consciously begun practicing stillness. And you know what? I love it. Love being alone with myself. Not because I don’t want to be with other people, but because I like being alone. Later today, I’m headed to a one-day women’s retreat held a few hours from my home. I chose to come over a day early so that I could have alone time. Could take a breath and be still. I’ve gone away for an alone weekend each year for the last few and have found it restorative. It’s becoming easier each year to not overpack the time. And as much as I’d like to relax at home, and I do, it’s not the same. When I’m away, it’s out of my environment. There are no floors to mop, dishes to clean. The regular distractions are removed.

Later today I’ll connect with other women, but last night and at the moment, I’m in the presence of no one I know. Other than ordering coffee, because…honestly…coffee is necessary…I haven’t talked to anyone today. It’s a chance to take a breath. Slow down and be alone with me, with God. I find clarity in the stillness because the cobwebs in my head are brushed away.

If you haven’t incorporated a practice in your life to be still, to silence your mind for moments during the day, try it. It can be as simple as focusing on a word, saying it silently to yourself as you breath slowly and close your eyes. Or it can be focusing on a symbol an object you love and letting your eyes rest on it, breathing in the beauty. Being still. Each of us could afford a few moments in the day to be still and connect with ourselves. You’ll find when you do, the inner connection will carry with you through the day. Take a breath friends, listen to the still small voice and know, you’ve got this.

 

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Hurt and Anger

hurt and angerI am not an angry person. I know people who say they’re angry, often, but that’s not something that comes to my mind. Until…I took my deep dive into the Enneagram. What I learned was that my type, the 9, the peacemaker, is “asleep” to their anger. It’s not that the anger isn’t there, it’s that they don’t even recognize it, they don’t associate with it. Um…ok…that got my attention.

I once met with a friend I hadn’t seen in quite a while. At the time, I’d gone through my coaching class and was increasingly self-aware. She made a comment that I used to seem “angry all the time.” This was pre-Enneagram and I remember being surprised and thinking that I didn’t recall being angry. When I learned the Enneagram, her comment came back to me, clicked into place and made more sense than I was comfortable with.

Describing myself as angry is something I wouldn’t do, it’s an uncomfortable emotion for me. Maybe you’ve felt the same way. Anger feels almost dangerous to me, an emotion that there must be a way to get around. Except there’s not. Post-Enneagram, I’ve noticed that uncomfortable emotion, and made an effort to recognize it when it comes up.

At the same time, I think about hurt. Stay with me. Hurt and anger are two sides of the same coin. No, really. Anger often comes from hurt, it’s a response that allows us to do something with the hurt we feel. Because if we don’t do something with all that hurt, it simply simmers inside of us. Eats at us. We want to make it go away but that’s a hard ask without action.

I’ve noticed there are different ways that people can take their anger, their hurt and act. A few month’s ago, I went to a women’s empowerment conference. On the second day of the conference, I was walking to lunch thinking about an uncomfortable feeling I was having. There was an intangible I couldn’t put my finger on about the conference. Then it dawned on me, there were a lot of angry women there. Anger manifesting itself in action, but negative anger. Railing out against “the man,” which in this case actually was man, the laws, the behaviors, that prevented women from equality. I did not share the anger, which explained my discomfort.

That said, there are circumstances which I am not in agreement with, and I am pro-equal rights for women, but how I choose to respond is different than anger. I don’t want to leave you with the impression that the conference was purely a fight against male oppression. Far from it. Dynamic female speakers shared thought provoking insights into a wide variety of topics and I was thankful for attending. I simply noticed the simmering anger.

I’m finding that I also have a spirit to do something about circumstances that I don’t agree with, but it comes from a different place. A broken heart. My heart breaks for people who are made to feel “less than.” I fundamentally see the equality and sameness in people. When I see people being treated as though they’re doing something wrong simply for being who they were born to be, it hurts my heart. That’s when I feel anger. The broken heart “anger” makes me want to come alongside people, to show them God’s love, love that God has for each and every one of us.

So, while I may not like the emotion of anger, I can see where it serves a purpose. It gives my hurting heart a way to action. Honestly, understanding anger through the lens of the Enneagram allowed me to name it, and move through it, rather than allowing it to simmer. I’m still not comfortable with it, and it feels bold to even say I have it, but that’s my plan this year, being bold. I’d ask you to think about hurt and anger in your own life. How does it come up and what are you doing about it? Recognize it so that you can heal and move forward, whether it be into action, forgiveness, acceptance, whatever your heart needs to have peace. That’s your brave path friends. I’m on it with you.

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Touch a heart

Touch heartsBeverly Hills 90210 was the TV show when I was in my early 20’s. The hairstyles, the romance, the drama. It was beyond easy to stay hooked in and watch the train frequently head off the tracks. So, when I learned this week that Luke Perry, who played one of the main heartthrobs, Dylan McKay, died after a stroke, I nearly shed a tear. What struck me most is that he was only a year old than I am. Far to young to be dying. This death, coinciding with an awareness that others my age are more frequently having serious health issues, made me stop and think.

Maybe it’s also my age, the tipping point where it’s not uncommon to start taking a deeper look at life. I don’t hide the fact that I think, and think and think, about life. I show up each day and do a job, I have relationships, but there’s an intangible element that I long for. A common thread shared by people of all ages, not just this midlife season I find myself in.

I desire to make a difference.

And not at a surface level. I have a longing to impact lives, people’s hearts. To spark lasting change in someone’s life so that they feel loved, believe that they matter. Believe they are loved by God. Each and every one of us is loved by God, and each and every one of us matters.

Why is it that it takes death, or illness, or tragedy to remind those of us who are well to take a deeper look? It’s easy to fall into our ruts and live out our lives stuck in the day to day. Not only can we make a difference in other people’s lives, but we can also make one in our own. The patterns we fall into are comfortable, easy, but can lead to falling asleep to our lives. To the bigger purpose we’re here for. To the great, BIG life that’s right in front of us.

So what to do about that? How to make a difference now? Get uncomfortable. Step out of your comfort zone. Be kind to the people around you, even when you don’t want to. Skip complaining and focus on gratitude. Do something BOLD, BRAVE that comes from living your authentic life. We only have one, and it matters. You matter. Whoever you are and whatever your circumstance, you matter. To the people around you and to God. Every single one of you.

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Return to simple love

let friends be themselvesHave you ever watched a baby playing? Around nine months old when they’re curious and amused by the smallest of actions. They’re mobile enough to be getting into things, but still at the age where it takes little to create joy on their faces. I was delighted the other day to have a co-worker bring her son to work for a few hours. One, I have an affinity to this kid because he shares the name of my son, Bodie. Second, babies at work bring a lightness to what, at times, can be a serious atmosphere.

Bodie sat on the floor next to the door and swung it one way, crawled over to where it landed, and swung it the other. In all honesty, I sat watching him as though he was baby Einstein solving advanced calculus problems. Back and forth…over and over. I thought in that moment how simple life is when we’re babies. Our reality is made up of that which is directly in front of us…our mom…and our dad. Our challenges are putting Cheerios into our mouth with accuracy and working on walking.

Somewhere along the way though, a narrative begins forming in our minds. We start to make sense of what’s happening around us, the relationships we have. We fill in blanks for ourselves when the story doesn’t quite make sense. There’s a learning about what helps us succeed in our life, even at a young age. Behaving, learning, achieving, it becomes evident what makes our parents give us praise. Human nature loves that praise…as young children we figure out the system.

At least, we figure out the system that works for us, in our family. But not all families are the same. As a young child, I had to go to bed EARLY, I mean….my friends were still outside playing, right outside my window in the meadow in front of our home. It seemed unfair, why did they get to stay up? Granted, it was still light as day…stays light past my 7 p.m. bedtime in the summer. But still. And, the injustice of other kids being able to eat sweets whenever they wanted! I got a quarter, once a week, to walk to the store and get a piece of candy. In hindsight, that one wasn’t a bad strategy. I was in my 30’s before I had my first cavity.

The comparisons we form lead to judgement. As we grow into adulthood, our experiences, the realities of childhood, become ingrained in us. We start using our reality to measure others. To judge them. How your family loaded the dishwasher or put on the toilet paper roll becomes a yardstick for measuring right and wrong. Of course, that’s the tip of the iceberg, if we’re not careful, our judgement can run deep into core beliefs and measuring others against our standards.

That’s the point where the rubber meets the road in relationships. We weren’t raised by the same two people and how I made sense of the world may not be how you made sense of the world. What do you do then? In simple terms, you seek to understand. Understand their perspective. That doesn’t mean you have to adopt it but understanding where they’re coming from is a starting point for conversation. It’s easy to slip into wanting to judge another’s belief as right or wrong, but that’s not our job. Our job is understanding and giving space for people to be themselves. Our job is to love, not to clobber. To remember that we have a lifetime of input behind our beliefs, but so does the other person. We were born uniquely us and continue to be that way. If we could learn to love people where they are, I believe we’d have solved one of life’s biggest challenges.  Star with today, and then tomorrow, love other people, just as God loves us.

 

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What sparks your joy?

Tidying UpI finally did it. I’ve watched episodes of The Art of Tidying up with Marie Kondo. I’ve talked about it. I’ve encouraged others to do it. I fully embraced the idea on behalf of other people. In fact, I embraced it within my own home…everywhere but my closet. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Let me take that back, I did, but not the full, throw your clothes in the middle of the room and start from scratch version.

Until yesterday. I was having breakfast with a girlfriend who has done significant cleaning out of her closet. She spoke of how freeing it was. How happy she was to enter her closet in the morning and not spend hours debating what to wear. I recall reading during the Obama presidency that Barrack had a standard look, nearly always wearing the same style and material — a two-button, single-breasted suit jacket and single pleated pant with inch-and-a-quarter cuffs. It was called “The Obama Suit.” He’d mix it up by switching his tie, blue or red. That’s it. With the number of critical decisions, he had to make each day, he said he wanted to eliminate what to wear from the equation. If the leader of the free world could simplify his wardrobe, there was hope for me.

I was finally convinced, or maybe better said, resigned, to ‘Sparking Joy’ in my closet. (If you’re unfamiliar, Marie says to hold each item and ask yourself if it sparks joy.) Admittedly, I have an attachment to my clothes. I converted a spare bedroom into a Diva Den/ closet…it’s my happy space. I have enjoyed procuring my wardrobe. The sales, the deals, the beautiful items. But over the years, even though I have cleaned it out here and there, I haven’t really combed through and given away the items that don’t serve me.

As I piled the clothes into the middle, I felt growing stress in my gut. I twinge that I was betraying them. They’d waited patiently to be worn, some longer than others. In Kondo’s method, you pick up each piece and decide if it sparks joy. If not, you thank it and put it in the giveaway pile. I put on my jammin’ girl anthem songs and got going. The fact that my anxiety level was mitigated only by dancing around my room told me I needed to do this. I discerned if I was feeling joy or was it just reflux with each item.

The giveaway pile grew and eventually I made it through everything on the floor and moved on to drawers. In the end, I amassed what I’d call a good-sized pile to give away. When I was done, I thought about the feelings I’d had during the process. The goal for me was to create happiness in my closet instead of feeling overwhelmed by decisions each time I went in to get dressed. Reduce decision fatigue and the body shaming that came from picking out an item only to have it not fit or fit poorly  -#midlifechallenges.

Goal accomplished. At least I think so. I think I still have a hangover from the stress of the process. I know it was supposed to spark joy, and I’m looking for it. Here’s what I know. The desire to reserve my energy for the positive aspects of life is compelling. I’m also weary of the feelings and negative self-talk when I get dressed in the morning. Did I spark joy? I’m going to say yes. Joy because I weeded through the feelings that had held me back from this process. Joy in taking bold steps towards what I want to have in my life.

What will bring you joy? It might not be your closet, but could you make a choice to surround yourself only with people and items that bring you joy? There are so many factors in life that we cannot control, but we can choose to bring joy into our surroundings. Look around you and ask yourself if you see joy. If not – get moving. Spark joy within yourself and then spread it to the people around you.

 

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Why have an anthem?

Vulnerability 2For as long as I can remember, I’ve gravitated to music that is big. Ballads, big female voices, dramatic crescendos, swells…think Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, lately a little bit of Lady Gaga. BIG. Songs that fill a room and might leave you crying in a puddle on the floor at the same time. Throughout the years, I’ve found myself drifting away, but always returning to a song, or finding new ones, to put on repeat. When my kids were young, I’d blast it in the car, we’d all be singing along and then…I’d turn it off…catching them mid-song each time…and then we’d laugh and laugh. But even today, they know the words to all the songs. You’re welcome.

The songs I’ve put on repeat over the years have changed, again, Celine Dion is always a leader, but there’s always been one. Lately, This is me, by Kesha has been on the playlist. It’s from The Greatest Showman movie, which, I literally only saw last night. I’ve caught the song, here and there, mainly at women’s events, not surprisingly. It has all my required elements, big swells, compelling lyrics, a dramatic finish. I can’t get enough of it. For the first time, I’ve decided to call a song my anthem.

Anthem’s are nothing new. They arise to provide people with an anchor, something to hold tight, to rally around in unity or in protest at times. But an anthem defined is “an uplifting song identified with a particular group…or cause.” This is me rallies for the underdog, the marginalized, those who are cast aside. While that’s not my story, my heart hurts for people who are overlooked, or marginalized for being who they are.

Maybe it’s because of my own beginnings. As a child with a prosthetic leg, you stand out. Before you think I’m going down a traumatic tale, I’m not. But, you stand out. People look at you, other kids, adults. And they ask questions. Today, I roll with all of it, but as a child, or a young teen, all you want to do is fit in, and you don’t.

I wish I could understand the component of human psyche that explains why some people struggle to be in proximity with different. We are all different, to varying degrees, some of our differences are simply visible. But whether internal or external, different is only different. It’s nothing else. It’s not less.

That’s what I notice, the tendency to hone in on less, to pinpoint the difference and label it as bad, or wrong, or weird. This can be viewed as a form of deflecting, we judge in others what we are uncomfortable or unhappy with in ourselves.

My heart breaks for people who find themselves in the margins. I could say “because I’ve been there,” but only from the standpoint that I know the feeling of having people stare. I’ve been fortunate to have people remind me I’m loved, but that’s not always the case. That is where my heart hurts. Maybe that’s why I love an anthem. It’s a rallying point. This is me was a rallying point in the movie for the sideshow, people who were in the circus solely for their difference. Even then, despite the draw, they were kept in the shadows, until they weren’t.

The song, my anthem, embraces the individual, just as they are. Just as God created them, created you, created me. Will you be bold enough today to do the same?