Tag: women supporting women

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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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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

 

 

 

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Who can you trust?

Life, as life does, has presented me with significant decision points this week. My personal decision-making process is best summed up as, I’m a waffler. Driven by a desire to maintain an inner peace, I don’t always trust that I’ll make the right call. But if you can’t trust yourself, who can you trust?

How we learn to trust

We come into the world helpless. Completely dependent upon our parents to keep us alive, to care for us. Without cognitively knowing why, or even that we’re doing it, we place our utmost trust in the two people who brought us into the world. Two people, who (speaking as a parent myself) know no more about keeping a baby alive than they did 24 hours before we were born. My own parents were young when I entered the world and instinct, informed by the model of their own parents, guided their caregiving. I’m still alive, so whatever they did worked.

As we gain our own personalities and sense of self, we continue to trust our parents, our elders. In fact, we’re taught to trust those in authority without question. I swallowed that pill effortlessly. Subconsciously, it may have been easier to defer decision making than to make the wrong one. You can keep the peace (yep…back to the Enneagram 9) when you’re compliant.

Gender Norms

I’ve lately been paying attention to the ways society conditions women to defer to men in decision making. To trust men without question. Particularly when it comes to financial decision making. In traditional marriages, women are taught to ‘let their husband lead.’ I confess that I was on that bandwagon, but how does it play out in real life? Differently, depending on the relationship. Suffice it to say, I jumped off on a sharp turn and dumped out my Kool-Aid.

What I’ve noticed is that women, myself included, don’t trust themselves to the same degree as men. Women gain consensus, men, speaking generally, believe in the validity of their experience as truth. Without conscious effort, these actions are a self-fulfilling prophecy for women because the more we defer, the less we trust our own decision making.

Breaking the mold

Without question, I know I continue to defer decision making. Arriving at my own conclusion, but first crowd surfing it to ensure I’m not alone in my thought process. Decisions by consensus. Oddly, it’s not a pattern I follow at work where I’m consulted in decision making daily and regularly make the call. My personal life does not fare as well. Getting to the bottom of that has been a quest.

Why is it that children, and for the sake of this post, girls, are not taught to trust themselves? To have confidence in their decisions and see them through, whether positive or not. Society continues, and to be fair, rightly so in certain circumstances, to have children defer decision making. We don’t talk them through learning to trust their own instinct and the confidence than ensues. And we’re not teaching our children that failing is not the end of the world and doing so doesn’t mean they can’t trust themselves.

As someone who has lived more than half my life with fear in the passenger seat, I’m an advocate for teaching children, especially girls, to trust themselves. To speak up and let their voices be heard. I’ve allowed the fear of making a mistake, of disappointing others inhabit my head and color my decisions. I’ve taking the safe path, which has been no path at all on occasion. Perhaps you’ve felt the same. Brené Brown sums up the feeling I’ve arrived at about this time in life:

Midlife is not a crisis. … Midlife is when the universe gently places her hands upon your shoulders, pulls you close, and whispers in your ear: I’m not screwing around.

Brené speaks about midlife, but in the context of my subject today, trusting yourself, if I don’t start believing in myself now, when will I? When will you? For me, I’ve asked the question often enough that the still, small voice inside me has whispered “You can trust yourself.”

Trusting yourself

Trusting yourself doesn’t mean you have all the answers, it means you trust that you make decisions that are in your best interest. That you seek guidance when appropriate, that you have your own back. It’s a muscle we must build through practice and reprogramming our minds. It’s daring to believe in yourself. You’ll make mistakes, we all will, that’s normal. But when faced with the question of who you can trust, the answer is you. I believe in you, and I believe in me. Be brave friends. Lisa

 

 

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Expectations have caused my own disappointment

Over the past couple months, I’ve found myself shifting from a simmering anger inside me to a feeling a disappointment. Disenchantment. Because what should be a cornerstone of American democracy played out like the book burnings scattered through history. People from all corners throwing fuel on the fire. Destroying the good in the process. The rhetoric before, during and after the election by the political party who, by the way, once fought against slavery, was ugly. Was the other side ugly at times? Sure. But the talk from the right was venomous. Now before you check out…had enough politics…my point is not to talk politics but more the vitriolic nature of speech that has become commonplace and ‘normal.’ What I’ve realized is that my expectations that it would be otherwise have caused my own disappointment.

The loss of civility

Over the last decade, we’ve watched the slow decline of civility in the United States. While it’s perfectly normal to have people you disagree with, it’s something altogether different to experience the degree of hatred that has become commonplace. We’ve lost a sense of civility. I think it’s reasonable to expect people to have civil conversations about different opinions and either one side will persuade the other or they will agree to disagree.

Which should be reasonable…unless the subject of the disagreement is a person’s rights as a human being. Or disdain towards people based on the color of their skin or who they love. As someone who is not a fan of conflict, I used to shy away from defending my perspective on those matters in deference to silence. But no longer. I will fight for those people all day long…in my own way. At the same time, I have an expectation people on the other side of conversation will speak civilly, as do I. But in certain circles, I would find myself disappointed.

Use your words

Yet, I remain hopeful. I expect that people will use their words, as we tell our children, and explain their dissention with my perspective. What we’re seeing played out on the evening news, and, unfortunately, on social media, is quite the opposite. Demeaning, degrading, untruthful speech is the norm. And from where I sit, that’s bullying. It’s using words intended to undermine the credibility and ‘humanness’ of the other person.

I’d also call it fear. Whenever we see a person bullying or demeaning another, an underlying fear is often not far behind. Maybe a fear of not being important. A fear of being irrelevant. A fear of losing power. Fear drives us to extremes we wouldn’t have considered during ‘rational’ times. Fear drives us to anger – as does hurt – and when we’re in that frame of mind, we act out, not with. Other people fade in deference to satisfying our ego’s needs.

Using our disappointment to spur action

I don’t have young children, but if I did, the current culture in our country would terrify me. It terrifies me and my kids are adults. I’m disappointed in us. In the collective us that I expect, that I know, can do better. Are there fractions of people doing better? Of course there are. But they’re not the ones getting attention.

Changing the negative narrative doesn’t happen overnight. We can expect that it’ll change quickly, and we’ll find ourselves disappointed. But we’re not powerless. What we can do is use our voice. Be daring and bold and brave. We can use our voice to spread truth, hope, joy, fairness, justice. It’s so easy to feel defeated when we’re greeted with the news, but we can shift our own narrative and hold those in our lives to the same standards. We have that strength and power. I know there are millions of people who feel the same. I have hope that we’re shifting away from the caustic climate that has hovered over our country towards one that is united. That’s all we can have, hope, and the action that we choose to take. It’s a daring path, but one we must walk. Be brave my friends. Lisa

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Why silence may not be an option

Think back to the messages you’ve received about speaking up throughout your life.

  • Children are better seen than heard
  • If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all
  • Good girls are quiet
  • It is better to stay quiet and pretend as if everything is alright

I’m certain you could add more of your own. We’re taught, particularly as women, that we should ‘hold our tongue’ and defer to others, namely to men. I bought into that patriarchal paradigm hook, line, and sinker. But, as years pass, I’ve come to experience why silence may not be an option.

Why I’ve been silent

This Enneagram 9 is no fan of conflict and I’ve learned that when you speak up, people may not agree with you. Go figure. Particularly in relationships, I’ve chosen to be silent in, what I thought was, the interest of maintaining peace and harmony. I trained myself over the years to ‘let it go.’ To keep my mouth closed and not speak up because I feared conflict.

Do you know what that got me? Resentment. And maybe a little passive aggressiveness, if I’m transparent.

In one situation, however, I did begin to speak up with someone close. To question, to wonder out loud but was met with resistance. And since I am averse to conflict, I would ‘feel’ the tension in my body. It would disturb my inner balance and stick with me for days. Or, in other situations, I’ve chimed into a conversation only to be told that I was incorrect. These, and countless other situations I won’t bore you with, led to increased silence and telling myself I was taking the high road.

Silence is not complicity or agreement

But…and there’s always a but…when you choose to be silent, people may assume that you’re on board. That you’re in agreement. And that’s not true. In moments of silence, I often was not in agreement. And while I can’t put my finger on it, there was a tipping point when I knew silence was not the best option. When what I was hearing from people in my circle as truth, was not my truth at all.

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Silence may not be an option when you feel your morals and beliefs are under siege. When continuing to hear the rhetoric impacts your physical and mental well-being. Removal from the situation may also be a course of action, but I’ve learned silence isn’t always golden. And in moments that hit close to home, failing to speak appears to be agreement, but it’s not. It’s taken me 53 years to figure out that it’s worth being uncomfortable to speak up for what I believe is right.

Now is a time to use your voice

I’m not espousing using your voice for the sake of it. Not in the slightest. There are absolutely times when silence is wisdom. However, I believe now is not one of those times, at least not for me. Years of remaining silent when I had volumes to say have taught me that. But I cannot stay silent while I see people suffering. While injustice is propagated as patriotism and ‘Christian.’

I cannot stay silent when I see a message of love, Jesus’ love, being perverted into a message of hate. I won’t. Nor will silence be an option when people are being treated negatively based on the color of their skin, or who they love, or how they worship. Because if we stand by in silence while our friends are harmed, are we acting in love? We’re not. Love can look messy, it can be disruptive, it reaches the marginalized, it’s not always popular, and it might be persecuted. But it’s worth it. Jesus showed us that. It’s worth it every time.

When you listen to your intuition, what is your voice trying to say? What truth have you kept deep inside you for fear of creating controversy or conflict? Maybe it’s time for you too. Your voice matters don’t let anyone try and tell you otherwise. Be brave my friends. Lisa

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This year was not about presents, it’s about presence

Do you remember making a Christmas list as a child? I recently took a gander at my 11 year-old nieces’ lists. Let me tell you, things have changed. Here’s a sample: Air pod pros (real – code for ‘don’t cheap out mom and dad’ – my words, not hers), Lululemon leggings, blankets, James Charles eyeshadow palette (I’m a 53 year old woman and don’t know who that is?!?), pretty necklaces, mascara, new comfy pillows, shaving cream. While my list at 11 was probably starting to include clothes, I couldn’t help but laugh, especially when I got to shaving cream. When you’re young, a big part of Christmas is presents. I don’t recall when it happened but there comes a point when Christmas is no longer about presents, it’s about presence.

Families coming together

When I inherited boxes of pictures from my Grandmother, looking through the family history captured by her Kodak 110 camera made me smile. Particularly those of Christmas. Our family would gather in a cramped living room and open presents on Christmas Eve. Grandparents, Great Grandparents, Aunts, my Uncle. There was the year I threw up all over assorted relatives. Convinced I’d been poisoned by a marshmallow chocolate, I swore them off for years. I’m pretty sure though it was just the flu. We all have memories of family gatherings, some more eclectic than others. But at a young age, I cared about presents, it wasn’t about presence.

Before I got savvy to Santa, he made an appearance each year…right around the time my Dad would go missing. I lived in Yosemite Village and my neighbor would also dress up as Santa each year. Parents would leave their ‘Santa gifts’ outside the front door, which he would deliver as he made his way through the Village on Christmas Eve. Traditions those of us raised in that magical setting continue to reminisce about.

Reminiscing this year

If it were not 2020, I would have already jumped on a plane travelling to visit family in Florida. But it is. Families are scattered across the country and unable to gather. Our ‘people’ might be far away, or may be close, but in the name of the greater good, Christmas looks different. Gatherings are reduced, if held at all. My house will have my two grown boys and me. Christmas, party of three.

And although the skirted floor beneath my tree is littered with presents, I’m wishing for more presence. Grateful that I can be with my boys, yes, and missing extended family. Because, contrary to time spent at holidays when we were young, in this phase of life, presence is more important than presents.

Creating a new type of presence

While we may be tired of looking at screens, one positive outcome of 2020 is more face time. Previously, our extended family may have received a phone call every few weeks, but 2020 has invoked a sense of urgency to physically laying our eyes on our people. Early in the pandemic, my Florida family and those of us in California had a weekly Zoom call. After a few months it tapered off, but we still gather online for birthdays or celebrations.

The desire to connect has become stronger in 2020, not only for my family, but for everyone as we’re all impacted by the pandemic. Doing that safely has made physical visits rare. In the early part of 2020, the increase in video app downloads had increased 90% over 2019. It’s our new normal. The ‘present’ we all crave is presence, which we achieve via video chat. Does it allow me to hug my parents, my grandpa, my siblings, nieces and nephews? It does not. But it allows us to be present with each other and see expressions and feel connected.

The path forward

We’re all asking ourselves if next Christmas will be different, if it will be back to normal. My two cents are that what we considered ‘normal’ no longer exists. And, the truth is, normal is not the same for all. While many families have complicated relationships, some have trauma and dysfunction that this year may have provided a break from…or amplified. Normal is subjective. Will next Christmas return to what each of us have experienced in the past, whatever shape or form that took? I can not predict, and for some, that is a relief.

What I do know is that presence will remain more important than presents. You may find that connection with family, or with friends who are family. My hope is that we’ll continue to work collectively be safe, and to improve the ways we gather. In the meantime, continue to schedule your video calls and let your people see your face when you tell them how much they mean to you and I love you. That’s the type of present we all need. Be Brave my friends. Lisa