Tag: midlife

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Unpacking life, box by box by box

Weeks before moving across the country, thoughts of packing my life into boxes engulfed every portion of my mind. I’d wake in the middle of the night playing Tetris, packing version, in my mind. Thinking about which small piece would fill this mostly full box. And one day, after toiling away at it for untold hours, it was done. Everything packed, at least everything I wanted to transport to the next phase. After saying goodbye to the moving truck and meandering my way across the country, here I am. Unpacking life I tenderly packed up and brought with me.

Life that’s in a box

Whose life can honestly be placed in a box? That’s the reality. We pack things in a box. Silverware, dishes, books, books and more books, clothes, décor, my grandma’s Kitchen Aid mixer and china, pictures…the deeper you go, the closer to your heart the contents become. I have boxes of pictures because, well, back in the day…when you actually clicked a picture and didn’t know how it would turn out until developed…I captured my children’s youth.

And still, these are things. Things with memories attached. Or maybe better, they’re things that spark memories. Making the event return to life. Triggering the emotions and feelings that surrounded the origin. What’s within the boxes is the evidence of the string of events that comprise our lives.

Unpacking life, over and over

Therapy. That was the first place I unpacked life. Upon entering the middle phase of life, I found myself swirling with emotion.  It may have been all the hormones shifting in my body, or my ovaries deciding it was time to rid themselves of all the eggs, but the culmination was tears and emotions I was ill-equipped to navigate. I found myself sitting on the proverbial couch for months.

Making sense of the fragments of my life, the ones that resisted moving forward smoothly, that caused jagged edges. Unpacking our lives can be a fragile process and one which is best navigated with the assistance of a professional. Or as I like to call my past therapists, a paid friend.

Close to one hundred boxes of life to sort through solo? A daunting task. Yet what do you do except dive in? There is no other way but forward. With boxes and with your life.

Different but the same

Despite the fact that moving involves boxes and packages and things, unpacking evokes similar emotions to therapy. A fact that goes unacknowledged in moving guides you find online, or in the numerous blogs providing ‘Best tips for a smooth move.’ Not even a week into it, emotions flooded me the other day. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of decisions, Tetris in reverse.

Unpacking life requires decision after decision to determine where all those things belong. Where they fit. Revisiting the decisions to carry forward items in your new life, navigated without the help of your paid friend. While packing is an emotional journey in and of itself, unpacking may be the harder task.

You get to choose what carries forward. Only you. The things are simply that, things. The overwhelm? Part of the process I’ve decided. Your life is laid out in front of you ready to re-launch. It’s your move.

Truly, it’s your move

Metaphorically and IRL. In real life, the move is physical. You experience it physically. New surroundings, rooms and hiding places. Metaphorically, you’ve provided distance. In my last moments standing in my empty home of nine years in California, I pondered the life I’d lived there. If those walls could talk…I said a silent goodbye to that phase.

What carries forward is entirely up to you, to me. The memories, the decisions, who I am, I am the only one deciding what resurfaces. As I think about it, all of life is like one big move. Whether physical or not, you’re in charge of what comes forward. You can recreate your life over and over. You can. It’s your move.

As for me? Well, you’ll have to stay tuned. I’m still unpacking.

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Remembering this is the only present we’ll ever have

Barely into Arizona, my mind was already cataloging the endless tasks needing completion once I arrived in Florida. I’d sold most of my furniture, so number one, buy furniture. Or maybe number one was the grocery store…or maybe order coffee. Yes. Order coffee was number one. But what about the unpacking, and the organization, or the closets. Definitely closets, a re-do was in order. Wait…join the gym, I needed to swim if I had any chance at remaining sane through the process. As I rattled off the endless list, my co-pilot, gal-pal, wise sage looked at me and simply said, “this is the only present time we’ll ever have.”

I stopped making my lists.

Work your plan

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

With your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver, The Summer Day

I come by my urge to plan honestly. From a young age, planning helped mitigate risk. Understanding what was ahead aided my young mind to anticipate, understand, so that the impact would be lower, and I would be prepared. Suffice it to say those lessons stuck with me. I’m continually twelve steps ahead, my mind operating like a flowchart. Contingencies mapped; possible outcomes predicted.

Suffice it to say, go with the flow and I are not besties.

Planning isn’t the worst thing. You arrive prepared, with a plan of action, knowing the steps ahead to achieve your objective. Planning is necessary in many facets of our life, without it, we’d stumble our way through what could otherwise be a simple task.

And yet, cognitively I know all that planning removes me from being in the moment. When we’re consumed with planning ahead, focusing on the future, how can we possibly be in the now. As the landscape rose before me in the hills of Arizona, I was reminded to focus on what was directly before me. The present.

Looking backwards

With the invention of cell phone cameras in 2002, we gained the ability to capture the moment and review it seconds later. Though I wasn’t an early adopter, the cell phone camera was quickly in my possession and I joined the millions of people viewing the world through the small screen in front of me. But at what cost? Rather than participating in family activities, we photographed them and looked back at the memory that, ironically, we’d missed the first time around.

As the Arizona landscape grew increasingly beautiful, my co-pilot captured the scenery on my phone (because I am a compliant, non-cell phone using driver thank you very much). Several times I glanced in the rear-view mirror at the scenery and she may or may not have reached out the sunroof to capture the panorama.

How many of us have looked back at a situation only to rehash it and deliberate the endless ways we could have executed more effectively? What would have done differently? Where the situation has left us today? While the exercise may be helpful, considering the learning, it doesn’t change the outcome and keeps us in the past. A place we cannot change.

Hey…remember me? The present?

With good reason vacations are relaxing. We’re removed from our day to day lives and can accomplish exactly zero things on our list at home. The mental load of all the things needing to be done is cast aside for those days we’re out of our normal environment. We’re able to remain in the moment.

That moment, this moment, is our present. This one. Right now. And the truth is, while we can plan for it, look backwards and rehash it, or examine it from every angle, it is right now. Why don’t we, or better yet, why don’t I, remain in it? Even now as I write, focused on the words in front of me, my mind is whirling ahead to the list of tasks I hope to accomplish today. Carefully estimating the duration to make the most of every single second.

What does it take to stop?

It’s cliché to say that the present is a present…but it’s true. The gift is being in the now. With people directly in front of you, or the experience of the moment. Is there a place for future planning or past reflection? Of course there is. But that place should not consume the moment you’re in. It has a place.

In this moment, who and what is the priority? Hint…it’s not your to-do list for Monday morning.

I’ll make you a deal, I’ll focus on today if you do it with me. Taking in the moments, breathing in the experience and truly living now. You in? It’s our journey friends, one step, one moment, at a time. Be Brave. Lisa

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Love – it really IS simple

Valentine’s Day has long since passed and yet, I’m thinking about LOVE. Not the romantic, sappy, blah, blah, blah, nope. Rather, the deep-rooted belief that our number one job is to love each other. Sadly, all the things get in the way of living it out. Rolling around in my head is the idea that we, as human people, instead of keeping it simple, complicated matters a zillion years ago. In our infinite wisdom which, let’s be honest…we’re talking prehistorical man…the idea formed that life couldn’t all be love, puppies and kittens. No, we landed on punishment instead. Bad things happened and someone had to be punished. But what if we had skipped punishment and instead remembered love really is simple?

Bad things DO happen

Let’s be real, bad things happen. We’re not being chased by a pterodactyl, but it might feel that way. As we live life, bad things happen. Maybe as the result of something we’ve done, and maybe not. I’m on the fence these days about the idea that ‘everything happens for a reason.’ I’m not convinced it does. Sometimes, stuff just happens.

Throughout evolution, we associated the ‘something bad’ with punishment, eventually landing on the idea that we are in charge of the consequence. People became the arbiters of behavior, doling out the penalty for the bad, rewarding the good. Along the way, we lost sight of love. Outside of marital or familial love, we were interested in holding people accountable more than loving them.

People showed us how

The Easter season has me thinking about Jesus and the model he gave the world of love. In the narrative of his sermons and teachings, we learn that a piece of the greatest commandment is to love each other. It wasn’t hold each other accountable or punish others, it really was the simplicity of love each other. All others. Jesus, well he was hanging out with the alleged prostitutes and tax collectors. Hanging with the women when tradition was otherwise.

While the examples of people who punish abound in history, if we turn the pages, we can find those who’ve love others well. Fred Rogers shared the words of his mother which was to ‘look for the helpers,’ in tragedy. The people who don’t command attention but instead come alongside those who struggle and help. In seen and unseen ways, help. And help is love.

K.I.S.S.

Though I was forbidden to say ‘stupid’ as a child, the acronym K.I.S.S – keep is simple stupid – comes in handy. Love really IS simple. If we could stop complicating it and put aside our judgement of each other, stop the need to evaluate every.single.thing that happens and instead look for opportunities to love on other people…well, I wonder how I lives would change.

The simplicity of that may seem, well, stupid, but what if? Love others irrespective of their ethnicity, who they love, where they’re from, how their worship. I’m not suggesting a Pollyanna perspective because, yes, bad…terribly bad…events have happened and we must right the wrongs, but what would look different if love was at the core?

What would it look like for you to adopt love at your core? Towards you and other people? Acting from love rather than judgement? I don’t have the answer, but I know that we won’t know until we try. K.I.S.S. and love each other like it’s our job. Zero percent of the time will we regret it. Love…it really is simple. Love to you my friends. Be brave. Lisa

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Why don’t we talk about grief?

The title alone may have made you hesitant to continue reading, I get it. When we think about grief what comes to mind? Me? I think about wailing, moaning, sobbing, weeping, tearing at your clothes. Basically, I think about what Hollywood has created grieving to be, or what I’ve observed watching the news. Grieving is usually associated with what people do when someone they love or care about dies. Absent death, most of us don’t think about grieving, much less talk about grief. And yet, grief is complex and exists on a multitude of levels we may not otherwise contemplate. I wonder why we don’t talk about grief?

Where does grief reside?

18. The age when I first experienced death in my family of someone close and the subsequent grief. My grandfather died unexpectedly and receiving the news on the rotary wall phone in my dorm room in my freshman year in college, I collapsed to the floor. My legs unable to sustain my body. I felt the loss deep in my body, in my gut and the pain persisted for weeks. But your skin gets thicker through life and though I could trace the reasons, I’ve learned to hold grief I’m experiencing inside.

Tightly wound around what may otherwise be a molten center, my emotions are ready to ooze out and flatten all in their path. I am well familiar with the tightening of my gut and deep inhalation. And for as many tears as fell from my blue eyes over the years, they have been dry the past few. Atypically dry, perhaps even abnormally so. But do I talk about it? Of course not. Nope. Because I’m an adult now and it’s my job to handle my business…read that and other lies I’ve told myself in the upcoming series of the same name…not really, but I could (and couldn’t we all?)

What is grief?

Our good friend Merriam Webster defines grief as:

1a: deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement

b: a cause of such suffering life’s joys and griefs

I’d argue that Webster’s definition is a starting point. The multiple levels of grief push the bounds of a simple definition because when “…experience change, something has to die.” These words by Brené Brown have stuck with me because I would not have included change as a cause of grieving, certainly wouldn’t have caused me to talk about grief. Through observation though, I know it’s true.

And I can see it coming.

We can have grief within otherwise joyful experiences

Right around the corner, I’m moving from the city in which I’ve lived for 9 years across the county. I’ll be close to a larger portion of my family and that brings me great joy. It’s a both/and situation. I feel both joy at the closeness to family and impending grief at leaving a place where I’ve lived at lot of life. I’ll leave treasured friends. A state I was born and raised in and which – contrary to many – still love. A house which…if these walls could talk, boy howdy, they’d make the talk show rounds.

I’m joyful and anticipatorily grieving at the same time. Two opposite things can be true simultaneously.

When we experience grief, we need to recognize it for what it is

Our tendency is to rush past grief, but the risk is allowing pieces of it to lodge in our soul and continue to fester. Brené shared in this article about healing through grief:

“We run from grief because loss scares us,

yet our hearts reach toward grief

because the broken parts want to mend.”

We may not consciously want to recognize our grieving, but our bodies do. He or she tells you, deep inside, how you’re feeling. And that needs to be mended. We can make steps towards healing our grief by acknowledging it’s there. Talking about grief.

Grief is not limited to death of a body. Grief includes the death of an idea, a dream, a situation, a relationship, a season of life. Grieving can include embracing the joy you experienced, grief you’re feeling and giving it a place to be seen rather than rushing by with blinders on hoping to escape it. If you don’t want to talk about it, write it down, perhaps for no one else but you.  “Writing helps you metabolize your life,” Allison Fallon – The Power of Writing it Down.

No one escapes change or loss and the subsequent grief. As much as we’d like to deny it. You may have experienced loss in multitudes of ways. So, how can you grieve? How can you ‘mend your broken parts’? As I drive away from this house in less than two weeks, I will grieve. And…I will talk about my grief. We’re not on the journey alone and need to process our collective emotions – together. Be there for you and be there for your friends. Both/and…joy and grief.  Be Brave. Lisa

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What happens when anxiety takes over

I had an anxiety attack last week. It arrived out of the blue and blindsided me. Visiting with my family, planning a trip to the beach that day, easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Our beach departure time was unexpectedly bumped up and upstairs preparing to go, I found myself unable to think straight. I could sense my thoughts jumbled and my stomach knotting up. Making a feeble attempt to determine what I needed to do, I froze. One thought dominated my mind which was, get out of this. In that moment, escaping the situation was the answer. Without thinking twice about it, I made my way downstairs to deliver the news. Anxiety had taken over.

Being chased by a tiger

Anxiety is a bear to describe to anyone who doesn’t have the clinical variety. It’s like teaching a dog to knit a sweater. The feelings that arise within you are not because of anything per se. I used to be asked if there was a precipitating event. A) that was fancy-pants talk; B) No. And no, I can’t accurately describe it or ‘relax.’ Because in that moment, if you’re having an anxiety attack, you’re being chased by a tiger.

In truth, hours later I can describe it because I may as well play a doctor on TV. Literally. I love all things medical and research accordingly.

When you are experiencing an anxiety attack, your brain has switched all functioning to the amygdala, otherwise known as your lizard brain. Its function is to ‘save you from the tiger.’ It releases adrenaline which floods your brain and functioning is reduced to fight or flight. I choose flight. Anxiety takes over and I want out of whatever situation I’m in. Escape the tiger.

Take a breath

In that moment, one of the only solutions is to take a breath, then another, and another. Your brain needs time to allow the flood to recede. For your pre-frontal cortex to resume functioning and think. That’s the solution.

But circumstances don’t always allow that space. Sometimes, you must push forward. Situations where, either in your mind or in fact, you have no choice. In which case, emotions start to fly. For me, tears. Others may exude anger, frustration, sadness. It’s the bodies way of trying to release the fight or flight hormone, the cortisol. The same thing happens when someone is angry or ‘seeing red,’ they can’t think their way out of it because they’re flooded. Likely, in fight mode.

You understand me

Fortunately, in my beach scenario, I was given a chance to take a breath. Departure time released, giving me space to breath and wade through the jumbled thoughts in my head. I had time…the only thing that calmed the tiger and allowed the flood of adrenaline to recede.

I don’t speak for anyone else how has anxiety, but I’ve learned that when I’m under stress, I’m far more prone to experience it. Particularly if my routine is thrown off. Routine provides me with security. When a situation has an increasing number of unknowns, the tiger gets restless. But with processing time, I can feed the tiger a snack, think through the situation and Tetris it all into place.

When we were driving to the beach and the tiger was safely back in its cage, thanks in part to time and in part to medication, I explained the neuroscientific cause of anxiety and it helped. Answers for my family who were always in my corner, but with information could better support me in the future.

We need to own our wellbeing

Those who struggle with anxiety, or other mental issues generally hide it from friends and family. Because shame.  A general feeling of embarrassment or being flawed permeates those afflicted. You can’t see a mental challenge the way you may observe a physical one. People often don’t understand it. And yet, mental issues are equally impactful, perhaps more so because of the stigma tied to it.

But there is no shame in having a mental issue, it’s an illness. And honestly, those who are afflicted must own our wellbeing around it. For me, medication, meditation and breathing help. Talking about it after the fact helps. Being pushed in the moment? Does not help. It’s like the tiger invited their lion buddies to join the chase. If you struggle through a mental issue, my hope is that you have someone to talk to about it and that you obtain information that helps you understand what’s happening inside you.

At the end of the day, anxiety took over, but it didn’t win. Tiger secured. Flood receded. That’s authentic me friends. The messy, brave, wholehearted, daring me. We’re on the journey together. Be brave. Lisa

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What people watching teaches you

Sitting in the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport, a bustling hub of international travel, recently, I carved out moments to engage in what may be one of my favorite activities. People watching. Favorite not because I’m sizing up who might attack me, rob me, or otherwise cause a personal affront, with sinister motives, nor because I’m a weirdo. I love people watching because people are endlessly fascinating.

Throughout my kids lives, we frequently flew to Orlando to visit family. Once or twice a year I’d board when they were toddlers, holding their tiny hands for dear life. I had the notion that perhaps something sinister was happening and if prone to wander, they’d quickly be taken. Gone in a blink to one of dozens of destinations on the overhead screens. When my son spent a quarter abroad in college, I wanted to, but did not, refrain from warning him not to get taken. I don’t have the skills of Liam Neeson in the movie of the same name. A movie which, though I never watched it, terrified me as a mother nonetheless.

Looking up and around

In the last decade, I’ve travelled regularly for work and pleasure and found myself killing time waiting for connecting flight. Within the terminal, you glimpse a microcosm of American culture. It’s as though we’ve been tossed in a blender and swirled around. Left a little dazed and figuring out what’s happening next. So, to a degree, 90% of us are on an equal playing field. But spend any time truly seeing people and you realize you’re not.

There’s the young mother, traveling alone with an infant and toddler. Perhaps always alone. On her way to where though? A spouse, a parent, a friend, vacation? Or the gaggle of teens who were not only in the terminal but now also on your plane headed to a volleyball tournament (from what I’ve gleaned). Mothers in-tow. Or service members headed to or returning from providing an unquantifiable service to each of us. The young family with at least four kids trailing behind, on vacation. The story I tell is it’s one they’ve saved for years to take.

Looking around and … judging?

People watching may also be tinted with people stalking. To reiterate, no, I’m not a weirdo. But the people who start at your home airport and continue through all your connections. They’re like an old friend, the quick nod of acknowledgment as you pass. Why are they on the plane today? Curiosity sometimes causes me to ask, but not always. I’ll also let my mind wander to the possibilities.

I notice that people watching brings out an urge to not only have curiosity, but also judgement. As in, how can that young family of 6 afford an expensive vacation? Are they going into debt? And I don’t like it. So much so that I diligently work to redirect when I notice judgement rising inside me. Look for the positive side…remarkable the family could take vacation. But I think about the judgement because our judgement of other people is usually an indication of how we judge ourselves.

Judging but looking in

Maybe, people watching and our inner monologue about our observations is a mirror, a reflection to our own thoughts about ourselves? What would be different if you believed that was true? I believe it shows me fears, insecurities, and the narrative of my inner judge. Sit with that thought again. Our observations of others are a mirror of ourselves.

Maybe my efforts to be kind to strangers in my thoughts and deeds are an indication I’m being kinder to myself. That’s not always been the case. I’ve spoken to myself far more harshly than I would to any other person, tenfold. The disdain I’ve shown for clumsiness, body image, mistakes, failures, insecurities, fears, has been unrelenting. Not written to shock anyone, written because it’s true and for a fact I know I’m not alone. But that’s shifting noticeably, as have my observations while people watching.

Looking in and truly seeing

Could you get curious? Use your observations, judgements of others, as a reflection (a projection), of what you observe and judge in yourself? Those judgements we place on others are a projection, so listen carefully to your mental narrative. Unless and until we can truly see ourselves, we will struggle to live our authentic lives. And if we’re a hot mess? Then we can be a hot mess we embrace and love, not judge. Be curious, see yourself and see others. You might find you love what’s right in front of you. Be brave. Lisa

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No really – I want to be in the moment

Me: Siting down to write, my monitor and any available real estate on my desk is littered with post-it notes. Specific, random, undecipherable…all pointing me to activities beckoning me that I’m inclined to forget. Also me: Focusing on being ‘in the moment,’ while swimming this morning, mindful. But in real life, playing through the entirety of the next month in my head (which was not entirely unproductive, I realized I forgot my wallet at home…hassle). But what I really want is to be in the moment

Goal 1- Mindfulness

For the loving life of me, for all the books, all the classes, all the meditations…mindfulness – truly staying in the moment – is akin to balancing on a tightrope. Wobbling every which way but ultimately, back on the ground again. Defined, mindfulness is a state of active, open attention to the present. It’s where you observe your own thoughts and feelings without defining them as good or bad. And truthfully, being mindful should be less work than the endless tasks in my head, but…I struggle.

Because life. And because I am a woman. I do not say this from a victim, or feminist perspective, but it is a fact that women carry a greater mental load than men. Why? Let’s consider an ordinary day. Women get up, in my case – work out, return home, empty the dishwasher, make coffee, get ready for work – endeavor at our 8-5 throughout the day, come home aka, walk into the other room, make dinner, clean up, straighten, mentally place items on a grocery list, unconsciously scan the room looking for what needs to be picked up, pick up, consider what’s coming on the horizon to prepare for, make a note, maybe read a little, watch some TV, get ready and go to bed so that I can work in my sleep.

What do men do? There are parallels, but the list generally ends at come home.

I do not exaggerate. Do you see why staying in the moment eludes me?

Goal 2- Reduce my mental load

In their riveting book Burnout – Unlocking the Stress Cycle, Emily and Amelia Nagoski talk about the different pressures on women. Unwritten rules add to our load disproportionately. We, by nature or through learning, manage the mental load of keeping up a home. While we may share functions with a partner, chances are we are the ones carrying the mental load. I know it’s part of my wiring. Flat out.

Moms have eyes in the back of their heads. Not a children’s story. And on both sides of our heads because we’re always scanning. Noticing. I’ve received more than one comment that I’m nitpicking by noticing the fuzz scattered around the floor, remnants of guts from inside our pup’s toys. Which, apparently, are purely for the purpose of being torn apart.

The post-it notes are an attempt to get the things out of my head.

Goal 3- F’real, Mindfulness

Ok but really, I genuinely desire to increase time spent in the moment and reduce the mental load. Being in the moment is more than physicality. Its not mentally wandering off, 10 steps ahead in our minds. Its slowing down and knowing that the moment will not repeat itself, breathing into the space. Noticing what surrounds us. Resisting creation of yet another post-it.

Remaining in that space creates clarity and focus. It’s not a ‘waste of time.’

Which means I can’t narrate life as I go either. Literally, I consider what I’d write about each situation. How to work it into a story, or on to these pages. A practice to reimagine and not allow to overshadow the moment surrounding me.

End of goals

I would be remiss not to return to my post-it notes, my helpers, my friends. Though they remain a visual reminder of tasks to be accomplished. They’re also a means by which I remove the thoughts from my mental space. Creating room to be in the moment. Absurd as it may sound, it works. Clearly not as well as I’d hoped, but baby steps…baby steps.

My question for you is: Are you living in the moment? If you are, I have two follow up questions. What is your secret? And…Are you lying? Because who does that consistently?!? If you find yourself like me, well, let’s say we’re in good company because I believe it’s a safe guess that 75% or more of us are striving towards being in the moment. Embracing our present over sculpting our future.

Today, for one day, one hour, one minute, what would be different if you remained in the moment? Mindful of yourself and your surroundings? Are you willing to give it a go? I think we both should. Our brave, authentic, wholehearted, daring life is before us, if only we stop long enough to notice it. It’s our journey friends. I’m on the path with you. Lisa

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I’m wrangling the voice in my head

I’m presently in Truckee, California, which is a stunningly beautiful pocket of the state. It’s what the skiers call a ‘bluebird day.’ Bright, blue skies and fresh, clean air. Temps in the 30’s but surprisingly not cold. Perfect for being outside. As a bonus, the town is filled with quaint shops to meander. Meandering would count for being physically active, which the voice in my head is telling me to get off my butt and be.

Because…six weeks. The duration of my recovery from foot surgery to repair a torn tendon. Equate that to six weeks of sitting or limping short distances once I started wearing a walking boot two weeks ago. You would think that I would have ants in my pants to get out and about. I think I should be ready to engage in any activity except sitting. But I’m not feeling the urge. I’m feeling perfectly content chilling, reading, fussing online, being a homebody. There’s this voice in my head though, it’s berating me for not being physically active when I’m finally reaching the stage where I can – at least in moderation.

The voice will not shut up

That voice, I’d like to drop kick it across the snowy field in front of the house. Genuinely, it nags and hassles me, and I’ve come to recognize it as one of judgement. Judging me for not conforming to my programming. The programming that relates to whatever current situation I’m in.

The active programming started early. From the time I could control skis, my parents had me on them. I’d say that was around age 4. Skiing, or active outside every weekend. My recollection was that we were a family on the go. Which holds true today for the bulk of the fam. In motion from morning to night. It was programmed into me. It’s taken me years to realize that there are moments I’m in the groove for the action, because I do love to be outside, and I’m equally content to remain low key. Skipping it.

The voice required programming

But the voice. It resurrects the programming. Perhaps you have a voice of your own. Reminding you of your “shortcomings”, keeping your insecurities front and center. That one. The programming. When you get down to it, it’s your ego. And your ego would rather go down swinging than watch you fall short of external expectations. It is responsible for regulating your self-esteem and identity. I sometimes believe it has a mind of its own.

Oh, wait though, that mind is mine. Damn.

Get a hold of yourself!

Why did examining the judgmental voice lead to a blackhole of dissecting ego? It’s the realization of the strength of the internal, judgmental voice, and that it is the ego’s voice. I’m also noticing it because, for the past 6 weeks, purely coincidentally overlaying my recovery period, I’ve been enrolled in a course – Positive Intelligence. The focus is to recognize the internal judgmental voice in addition to its minions who join the internal volley of jabs. Once you recognize and stop the team working to sabotage you from within, you access your internal sage. You get a hold of your internal voice – your ego.

The truth is the ego formed within to protect you. The voice in your head? Its J O B was keeping you safe. Based on what you learned in your family about expectations. Mine learned to please, to perform because whether that was the actual expectation or not, it’s what I learned brought praise from the adults in my life. Those early learnings? They stick.

At some point, they take a twist and become the judgmental voice in our heads instead of keeping us safe. Perhaps under the guise of safety, but a deterrent to making choices that possibly, maybe, conflict with what worked under a child. But choose we must, with wisdom. With intuition learned and experience. That voice in our head? The ego voice? It’s not our friend. It is scared and preys on our insecurities. So that voice in my head telling me to get outside? She will need to accept that I’m in charge now and am parked on the couch. Happily. With my computer open and a novel nearby. And I’m surviving. I’m safe. The world has not ended because I’m not on the go.

What is your voice saying?

What does the voice in your head tell you? Pay attention. I’ll bet you the $10 bill I found on the ground during my brief foray out of the house today, for food, your voice is not wishing you rainbows and kittens. More likely is it’s reminding you of those insecurities. But you can choose not to listen. Tell it to get lost, ground yourself in the present and remember the wisdom inside you. It might feel daring, and brave, because it is. But it’s our life’s work and I’m in it with you. Be brave my friends. Lisa

 

 

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Who do you share your dreams with?

Who are the people who speak into your life? Chances are you have a bushel full. From the produce guy at your chosen grocery store, colleagues, friends who know you better than you know the back of your hand, to your family…those who’ve known you from the beginning. Depending on your relationship with any one of those parties, you may or may not share your dreams and ask them for advice or counsel.

Would you ask the produce guy where to enroll your kids in school? Nope. And it’s unlikely you’d ask your brother the best variety of squash…unless your brother is your produce guy (in which case happy you). But with those you trust, you may seek counsel, and share your thoughts and dreams.

Where dreams sometimes go to die

You may but you don’t have to. Take a seat. Your people, bless them, they love you but they also want to protect you. Their advice comes from that lens. Caution shadows their thoughts, especially if you’re about to step onto a wild ride. You might be sharing and get in return, advice…in the form of whoa, whoa, whoa…

And that may be entirely valid. Honestly, it might.

Upon sharing with a family member a dream I was living out, starting a leadership coaching/consulting business, I received the response “I would never hire a consultant.” Knife in the gut. And while I knew it came from a place of caring and protection, internally I had an ugly cry. Well…internally and perhaps spilling onto my face. I’m not crying you’re crying.

Hey, this is your dream, speak up for me

In the mere span of five seconds, my excitement and fervor over the dream I’d hatched like a seedling, growing it like my son nurtures his plant cuttings, was caught up in a rototiller. Ground up and spit out. Ouch. The care and concern of this person had no clue the love, heart, and soul I’d put in to growing this idea. How difficult it was for me to share it with another person. And while in those moments you intellectually know that, it hurts no less.

Personally, I wuss out at what should be the next step, which is to share how the comment made me feel. Oh Enneagram 9, how you’ve shaped me (maybe better said…how I’ve been shaped and become a nine and only want to keep the peace). I don’t want to rock the boat, so I blather something forgettable. Those are the moments when we need to speak up.

Because this…

You were not forced to share your dream

If, and that should be a big IF, we choose to share our dreams, we might want to provide narrative around the thought process. Particularly when you’re sharing with someone close to you, their response should not surprise you. You can hope it’ll be different, and maybe it will, but taking that to the bank is a wasted trip. I shared a similar dream with another person a couple years back (yes…the dream has been simmering) and their response, driven from their own fear, was to remind me of the excitement I felt when I landed the job I’m in (the one I’m phasing out of). That was…not helpful. But predictable.

At the end of the day…

Your dreams and decisions are not for everyone’s critique, nor do they need to be privy to the inner workings of your mind. It’s your choice. Remember, their opinion about your decisions and dreams are just that. They’re not the ones living out your life…you are.

And if you (I) want to be a consultant, be the best one out there (aka the Big Plan). I mean it. Pursue it with all your heart because this life we’re navigating through, it’s the only one we have. And we can cruise along like a lazy river, but how fulfilling is that? Zero percent fulfilling. Your dreams are where your heart finds joy. It’s your job, our job, to bring them to life. We’re in this together my friends. Be brave. Lisa

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Nuances of a word – an exploration

Words fascinate me. The intricacies, the diversity and varied use of a mere 26 letters to create meaning for the experiences of our lives. Through my writing practice, I practice. Using different words to capture the subtle nuances of a word behind what otherwise would be banality.  Over the past few years, my passion to read has accompanied my love of words and I study the pages of books, seeing the art authors employ to describe their innermost thoughts and stories. An important component of the study of words involves the meaning. And I’ve learned that looking beyond the standard dictionary is necessary to capture the true essence of the letters on a page.

What is a virgin?

As odd as it may appear, the word virgin sparked my interest on a random Wednesday. Nothing like diving right into the meat of it. Virgin. Reading the word, you might cringe, or blush, or develop a picture in your head. One of purity and chasteness. Primarily of a woman, though the word today equally applies to a man. The Webster definition first cites: 1) a person who has never had sexual intercourse, but if you read on, 2) a person who is naïve, innocent, or inexperienced in a particular context.

Mary, the mother of Christ, who we first imagine as a virgin, wasn’t given her Virgin Mary title because of modern day definition 1) a person who has never had sexual intercourse. Barbara G. Walker in The Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets, suggests that Mary is instead simply a young, unmarried woman, period, and that the word did not hazard a guess regarding her lack of intercourse. In her book Travelling with Pomegranates Sue Monk Kidd speaks of the ancient definition of virginity. Loosely, a woman belonging to herself. Being autonomous. Many nuances of a word.

Reclaiming the ancient

A woman belonging to herself.

Five words that capture a vision. Of a woman who is unencumbered by the trappings of other people’s expectations. Autonomous and free to create her own path, carve her own destiny. Why is that not the narrative we routinely place around the vision of a virgin? Instead, we focus on the sexual purity of a woman as desirable and to be coveted. And maybe it is. The merits of sexual purity, particularly at a young age, have a physical, physiological, and safety basis. In my humble opinion, related more to maintaining a girl’s agency at a time when she is ill prepared for the implications of sex. Reasons of protection which are often shrouded with a concept of preservation.

Setting aside the physical conditions of virginity, can we recapture the essence of a woman belonging to herself? Autonomous?

Is midlife a rebirth of virginity?

At 53, I’m solidly in midlife and while it’s said that mortality is frequently contemplated in this phase, that’s not my experience. Instead, I find myself unencumbered by the expectations that plagued me in earlier years. No longer do I fret about what this person or that person will imagine about me. Genuinely. It’s none of my business. I’m discovering that, in fact, I belong to myself and am autonomous.

I am the boss of me.

Not to imply that I am unconcerned with how my actions impact others, I am. That’s a function of emotional intelligence. But the decisions I make are mine alone. I continue have flashes of someone else’s voice in my head, but I return to my own inner wisdom (well…not perfectly…so long as I’m paying attention).

Midlife discoveries

Maybe midlife is truly a time of re-discovery, as we enter, we’re inexperienced. It’s new and undiscovered, this newfound freedom. Perhaps we are virgins, of our own creation, still forming the paths we’ll travel in the second half of life. We are nuances of a word. Belonging to ourselves. Autonomous yet inner connected through relationships. Deeper relationships that in previous years, which, to my delight, I’m discovering. Particularly with women as we share our experience.

We can embrace midlife as a rebirth of our authentic selves, a time when we belong to ourselves. Without it, we ignore the daring invitation to renewal and discovery of all the experiences that await us. It’s our shared journey, unique as you and each woman who chooses it. Be brave my friends. Lisa