Entering New Territory: The Empty Nest

We moved our youngest daughter to college two weeks ago.  Three cars caravanned to Mississippi. Eldest daughter had been at home working remotely for the last three months for summer break.  She took part in the move in process and then headed back to her own school, two hours away.  We got youngest settled in, met the roommate and her family and eventually George and I departed. 

One car came home solo on that Sunday.  

The nest is now empty. 

There is so much meaning to that small statement. 

My first gut instinct is to deny that I'm sad, or that I might get depressed. I really really want everything (meaning me) to be okay. I desperately NEED to be okay (and of course, my daughter!).  The feelings of why that sentiment is so strong is because I went through horrendous postpartum depression and it still terrifies me that I might to back to that deep dark isolated place.  

I now have tools and experience to address situations that may arise.  

I don't feel depressed right now.  There is a vague sadness and certain little things hit for a few seconds.  This is more discombobulation, characterized by confusion and disorder.  It's different than went I sent eldest off when I grieved early and often.  The house is extremely quiet yet I really crave silence.  One, because I am an introvert and two, because that is when I hear God, my higher power and I process life which helps with becoming unstuck and more combobulated!  

We do now have three cats, yes three, and a dog who follow me around. I was unconsciously filling the nest as we lost two of our elder pets last fall.    What made me saddest when we arrived home that Sunday was seeing Snarg.  This is the cat that lived in youngest's bedroom and slept with her at night.  I felt bad that Mallory would not be there for Snarg on a regular basis anymore. But shy, skittish Snarg is adjusting.  I had to realize the cat is not as deeply traumatized as we humans.  She is branching out and coming to be with George and I.  On cue, Snarg had just came all the way across the house to my bedroom and to the chair in the corner that I write in. 

So what is hitting me is now what?  What is my focus? I have lived to be the best mother I could to my daughters.  I have done a lot of work to heal generational wounds so that I could be available to them emotionally and mentally.   I have spent years in therapy and the last few have been amazingly productive using Internal Family Systems which includes body work, because the body holds the trauma.  And amazingly, that work has dovetailed remarkably with my spirituality.  It's all inner work!

What I have to remind myself is although I lived to be there for my children I learned to take care of myself along the way.  And now, I just want to be. 

I just want TO BE for a little bit.  

I'm tired.  I am an introvert and I pushed through to do all kinds of things in the last 22 years as a stay at home mom.  Did I ever want to be in charge of a group of children?  Never.  I liked the idea of it but it was not in my wheelhouse.  But I did that many times. I even created ways to do it, to have opportunities for my children. 

I need to reset.  I need to give myself some time and space to lean into the new normal.  

George and I are adjusting to this new normal as well.  I believe we still like each other!  We were eased into being alone together again as Mallory was always gone. 

My children still need me in different ways.  The first two weeks of school, I talked to my youngest more than I did all summer.   They are both making their way and I'm so proud of who they are, how emotionally attuned they are and their drive.  I was so scared of everything at their age, but I have learned so much about myself and healed that I hope that I can pass on the wisdom I have obtained and still gaining.

Ready or not, here is the empty nest. It's a new chapter.  I can go slow, rest, and take time to process to lean into the next steps.  I know I very much need to trust my divinely given instincts that are telling me this is what I need now. 

My Reflection On My Nine Years In National Charity League With My Daughters and My Self!

 I joined a mother-daughter philanthropic organization nine years ago. The President of the chapter asked me to do the Inspiration for what was my last meeting in January 2024.  It ended up becoming a reflection and I spoke for ten minutes.  This is what I wrote, and I was really nervous about speaking but this is close to what came out of my mouth.  I was told that it resonated with several ladies.

Helllllloooooooo.  My name is Carolyn Golightly.  I am a Class of 2024 Pat and was a Class of 2021 Pat. So this is my ninth and final year.  And this is my last meeting!!!!

Megan texted asked me to do the inspiration for January 27th meeting.  My stomach turned.  I messaged that will be my last meeting…she messaged “I know.” In my head I thought, how will I fit nine years into a quote.  The message from Megan said, you can make it a reflection about your years.  And I thought YOU SEE ME -we are on the same wavelength yet my stomach is still turning.  I knew I had to do it, because I should end my time at NCL, in the same way I spent my years in NCL, stepping out of my comfort zone! 

So this is my reflection of being inspired by the River Road Chapter of NCL!

Here is something personal about myself: Early on, in my early 20’s I had this calling, drive, insight around my unborn children, knew I wanted to mother in a way that my children felt my emotional presence.  In hindsight, I felt very alone growing up.   SO no wonder that I went into counseling as a profession, and worked in mental health.  After kids, I stayed at home, but I lost professional work skills like public speaking, being in an organization, leading, working as a team. So after some time,  I was really glad that I Forest Gumped my way into NCL.  

Of course, Riley and I joined late, after orientation and I dragged my introverted, shy, smart 6th grader to our first tea. I think I knew two to three people at most.  And off we went. 

I was placed on the Provisionals committee for taking care of new members, which was good, I could learn what I missed at Orientation.  And as time passed, something happened, I was asked to join the board, as VP of Provisionals.  I never saw myself being in a leadership position, ever.  I pushed myself way out of my comfort zone.  Where did that take me? I was given a front row seat to watch and participate in women working together as a team, leading our daughters, working with philanthropies for the betterment of our community within a framework of bylaws. 

Now, did I want to get up on all those Saturdays for a meeting at 9am? No. But every meeting I walked away inspired by a representative of a philanthropy, or a special speaker or one year we had ticktocker alums come back and talk about their experiences. That made an impression on me. 

This chapter also helped me in other ways.   Riley my eldest daughter, at the time in eighth grade decided to make a change and move to SJA from Dunham.  I had no home base at St Josephs. I needed some people.  I looked around at a PAT meeting, and thought, who will be my people? I found a group of ladies that were both NCL and SJA and I formed a group text, and they were my tribe throughout those four years of high school and …we are still meeting for dinner to this day, seven years later. 

Three years go by and we get Mallory, my younger daughter on board, and in order to get her to go to meetings, I recruit all of her friends from Dunham. She is not as engaged as Riley has become but she was very excited to enter her NCL time on college applications and her resume. Children are different. 

We continue along, Riley graduates in ’21, starts college at the University of Alabama in Birmingham and joins a sorority.  I was unsure if she would join, but she found her place.  She becomes an officer immediately.  I just did not see this coming! She has served as an officer each year.  And at the beginning of January,  If you read your newsletter - I’m on the Newsletter committee...  (let me know if you want to join, great job) - she is serving as their President.  

I put a post about it on Facebook as I do, and one of my close friends, texted me and said that I had modeled that leadership role for Riley.  And then my friend said, I’m proud of you for showing her leadership and dedication. 

So VERKLEMPT - Hearing someone compliment my mothering goes directly to my heart.  And yet I really can't take it in. My intention of being present as a mother has changed me and my relationship with my children. I am learning to love unconditionally both myself and  those around me. 

So yes, I had something to do with Riley’s transformation, as did her father, but it is also who she is.   The third component was what she learned by being in NCL. She learned to lead a meeting, watch how an organization was run, she always wanted to hear the scoop about the board meetings.   

PAUSE - take deep breath

So as I say goodbye to the River Road Chapter, I am thankful.  

I was inspired. My daughters were inspired and as Martha Stuart would say “It’s a very good thing.”

And please see me if you are interested in chairing the newsletter after the meeting!

 

Ode to a Uterus: Part 2 - A Real Goodbye This Time

 I didn't think I would be writing about my uterus anymore.  I did ten years ago when I had an endometrial ablation.   https://timetogolightly.blogspot.com/2013/08/thank-you-uterus.html  All has been good for a long time except some ovarian cysts and fibroids that weren't causing any long term problems. Last year, I did find out I was in menopause and began taking estrogen.   

About a month ago, the uterus became problematic again.  A visit with a nurse practioner, and the ER uncovered that my uterus decided to supersize with fibroids and was causing discomfort and pain. I learned about fibroid degeneration, and blood supply.  Tomorrow, I plan to learn more after the surgery is completed that will remove my uterus, fallopian tubes, ovaries and cervix. The key word is after surgery.  

I have learned some things about myself in the last twenty-seven years which was my last "big" surgery. 

I have anxiety.  At times, this anxiety grips my body in paralysis and my mind thinks it's never going to leave my person ever, ever again.  As my heart is racing, my stomach is turning, my whole body is activated but frozen and my thoughts turn to desperation and darkness.  How will I go on like this forevermore?  Who is going to save me? After some time has passed, and the grip of anxiety has lessened,  I forget that I have anxiety.  It has come to be a surprise over and over that this condition is my baseline.   I was shocked, I tell you, shocked when some years ago, my primary care doctor wrote in my chart, generalized anxiety disorder! 

In the past, when I wasn't in the thick of it, I had been in complete denial of it. Anxiety didn't interfere in my life's function until postpartum with my first child. I didn't know what was going on, but it tortured me.   

The last few years, with my fabulous therapist, I have used Internal Family Systems therapy to address and understand my baseline anxiety and feelings of abandonment.  Much time has been invested in knowledge about trauma in the body, and Complex PTSD, etc. For years, I focused on head knowledge which was an avoidant technique.  Now, I address it in the body with IFS, brainspotting, yoga, meditation, mindfulness and new understandings of the Trinity.  Now I know, I need to embrace the anxiety and make space for it and coexist with it, because it is a part of me. 

In late 1996, my last big surgery, was when I was first married and living in Buffalo, New York, while my husband was in his general surgery residency.  I began having abdominal pain and it was my appendix.  On the way to the Millard Fillmore Suburban hospital to have it removed, I'm sure I asked what was going to happen.  My husband told me every freaking detail of what was going to happen. In hindsight, it was best for me not to know the details, including the kicker that there was to be shaving of a certain region! Another thing to block out in that surgery, with my unclothed body laying on the table was a residency friend that had come to our Thanksgiving dinner who would be assisting.  There are things I needed to block out then and now and likely forevermore. 

When I had my appendix removed, I had the really unpleasant memory of being rolled into the OR, but not out under anesthesia yet.  I was very distressed as the room was cold and very bright, and I could see the sterile instruments and every one rushing around to prepare but there was no attention to me.  I felt so abandoned and alone.  It triggered something deeply embedded in me.  They were just doing their jobs but I very much had a reaction that has stayed with me to this day and is coming up as I type this. 

This time, twenty seven years later, I am able to speak up and ask that I not be rolled into the OR until I'm out, ask for a hand or some acknowledgment.  Anything for me to speak up and express myself!   

I am the person to save me. For a few decades, I didn't know how to ask.  I suffered in silence.  I didn't feel worthy to speak up.  

Yesterday, as I discussed the upcoming procedure with a friend group, and I told them about the blog from ten years ago, and how I had wanted to acknowledge my uterus and it's job, my friend started laughing.  She brought up sentiments of Marie Kondo, the house organizer:  In letting go of objects in the home, she would thank them for their service and let them go if they did not spark joy anymore.   

My uterus is banging into my bladder and other parts and is not sparking joy anymore!!  I once again am profoundly thankful for having the privilege of carrying two of the lights of my lives and giving birth.  There was a time, I didn't think that would happen and I am still grateful. 

 I am also grateful to say goodbye to these four reproductive parts.  It is time.  I hope to be productive in other ways using other parts as I continue on with this adventure of life. 

Namaste~

Transitions

There have been two monumental days this year in our household.  Our first born started college six hours away in August and our youngest received her full driver's license in September.

I really had to talk this one out with my best friend to process.  I have entered a transition as a mother.  It is a slow and subtle shift over the years.  For the first time, I am no longer driving a daughter to school in the morning or picking up in the afternoon.  That job lasted fifteen years for this school.  And all of a sudden,  it's no longer needed.  It wasn't really all of a sudden, she had been driving with a permit for nearly a year, but that first morning when she went on her own, it felt like the rug was pulled out from under me. 

Just hold on, I have learned and that energy will pass.  It may feel so brutal but that energy will pass.  Don't resist. 

Who am I? No more carpool?!!  And yet I had to drag myself hundreds of times, especially in the afternoons to sit and wait in a line and now, it is no more. 

I am beginning to grow accustomed though. I don't have to get dressed so early in the mornings, except I have to walk the dogs.  My alarm doesn't necessarily have to go off early, as youngest and I are doing a dance as she learns to wake herself up on her own. 

In the big picture, it is time that these young ladies leave the nest and become independent. It is a bittersweet transition though.  I have been very intentional all these years knowing that was my job for them to be on their own and something I had to learn how to do as I never felt independent at all myself. 

It is time that I can stretch my wings too. I have many passions.  It's a learning curve for all of us. 

It can be jarring at times.  Last night, youngest was asking me if she could drive here to do this, and there to do that with friends.  And a knowing creeped in. I am no longer needed as much.  Our time is lessening. We no longer have time in the car to chat as she practiced driving everywhere.  I need to be intentional of maintaining our communication around so much school, homework, social, and extracurricular activities. 

She's off on her own in a new way now.  

And it is so bittersweet. 

I am super proud of both of my girls but to be brutally honest, there is a little feeling of abandonment that pops us.  I know that is more about my childhood issues that I am addressing head on in therapy, than to do with my daughters who are growing up and evolving as they should.  

Sad energy passes through every now and then.  I had to go to the library to renew my card so that I could continue to borrow books digitally.  I have not been in person much at all.  I sat and read an article in a People magazine, my old favorite.  As I got up to leave after enjoying the quiet, I remembered I use to go to the library or Barnes and Noble when I had a sitter to have some peace when they were little.  It also hit me how much I had brought them to the library over the years to get new books, movies and sign up for the summer reading program.  It broke my heart just a little in that moment that those times were over.

And then it passed and there were more errands to be run.  And life goes on. 

Eldest is adjusting to college slowly as I am (!).  That's another topic.  I am so very proud that she is branching out, putting herself out there much better than I did.  Yet, there is still contact and thank goodness for technology.  

They both still need me in different ways and hopefully always will. 

I cherish my children and our relationships.  We have both grown up together. 

Namaste. 

Changes Are A Coming

My firstborn graduated from high school in May.  This is something both very exciting and exquisitely bittersweet all at once.  Our bird is flying the nest.  It's such a cliche but it's my cliche now, up close and personal.   I have worked really, really hard to make it the best nest possible.  I made an intention very early on in regards to my offspring to be emotionally present for them.  I didn't even know what that meant, I just knew I needed to be emotionally connected.  I ended up looking at patterns in my life and worked to change the ones that weren't helpful.  I wanted my girls to know, I was on their side, and had their back and they could talk to me.  Every human being longs to have connection with someone who sees them and hears them...just as they are even if they are not on the same page. 

What I didn't expect was along the way, I would learn how to care for my own self. 

I am learning how to do be present for myself, to listen to the divine intuition that is a magnificent guide for how to proceed.  It can be just a small flicker of a thought that registers for but a second, and I have learned over time...LISTEN TO IT.  Lean into it. 

In my head, I very much want my eldest daughter to gain her independence as she moves six hours away but for my heart, this departure has been unfathomable for years.   Watching a movie or tv scene of the drop off at college has ripped me to pieces. 

So now it's our turn. 

From the very beginning, to bring Riley into the world, we struggled.  It was a two year journey which included horrendous fertility treatments.   We finally succeeded, and then we brought our bundle of joy home and I went off the deep end.  My postpartum depression was not only unbearable sadness but relentless anxiety.  Anxiousness permeated every thought and decision and it was never ending.  It was a very rough few months and the pictures where I smiled betrayed what was really going on.  There are moments of time that are hardened in my mind as the worst of my life and it was during this period.  

I eventually sought help and began coming out of it.  (I didn't know how to clearly communicate and ask for help) The first night of taking an anti-depressant was one of those.  I didn't sleep at all (which was already a problem) and for hours truly thought that I was going to have to be hospitalized and the baby was going to be taken away. 

The pervasive loneliness, isolation and feelings of losing my mind slowly lessened but it has stayed with me.  When I think of that time, the pain is easily brought to the surface. 

As a baby, Riley was my constant and the learning of unconditional love.  It was the two of us twenty four hours a day, seven days a week with George popping in every now and then.   I was her meal ticket and it seemed to never end.  She looked to me for everything and I wanted to learn how to do "that."  In the beginning I faked smiled and singsonged through it.  And over the years through much hard work,  the fake smile became genuine.  With therapy, I began learning who I was, how to be in the moment, and how to feel everything that came my way.  I learned that feelings are not who I am, and they are energy that will flow if you allow them.  

The letting the energy flow has been one of the hardest skills to learn. 

In this past year, I'm learning with some very intense therapy to be caring and nurturing towards all my deeply seeded parts of pain and anxiety.   I am going back and addressing times of trauma that are imprinted in my soul.  Trauma doesn't have to be a horrific one time event.  It is something that gets trapped in your psyche because you did not know how to handle the situation at hand.  And each person handles the same life situations differently.   In therapy, long forgotten scenes pop in my mind that made a lasting impression.  These times are the foundation for my emotional muscle memory.  This is what I act out of every day.   "The Body Keeps The Score" book by Dr. Bessel van der Kolk has been one of my sources to understand how deeply embedded events in our lives end up affecting us for life. 

Some of those moments I can still picture in my head from our old house are when Riley was a baby and I felt utterly helpless, alone and teetering on the brink.  Over and over and over again, I didn't think I was going to survive.  Through my therapist, I am processing these times with all the skills that I have now.  It is a reconciling that I never knew I needed but has been so powerful.  Slowly these feelings don't terrify me as they did in the past. 

But now...my eldest is venturing off.  The child inside of me feels like she will be overwhelmed and decimated by this loss, if I label it a loss.   I am grieving her evolving to a new stage of life and I know I am not alone.  She will still need me, but it is in a new and different way than the last eighteen years.  She will not be in our home.  She will not be in my physical presence everyday and her room will be empty.  

{Time out for crying.}  

 The pain energy will move through, the crying jags will recede. Life will change and we will adjust.  At times, this summer, as we don't see things eye to eye, I have moments where I think, oh my gosh, yes, it's time and then I quickly move back to, I am going to miss her like the dickens. 

On her end, my eldest is both excited and scared as well. Coming out of the crazy pandemic which rocked
her last two years of high school and Italy trip (!) this structure loving girl is ready to establish a new routine in her new place.  She is discombobulated once again and has lots to do to get ready to move on.  She needs my help.  It turns my stomach sometimes as I engage in college virtual seminars and then I talk to the scared part and it passes.  I am working to be present for her as much as possible while tending to my own needs.  It's not pretty at all and it's not photogenic. 

Yet, this is THE new learning curve.   Both/and.  Both being present for her AND myself. 

We can do hard things.  We have done hard things and we can do them again. 

We will both survive, and thrive and there may be dips and valleys along the way, but that is life. 

Namaste. 

Over Her Lifetime She Showed Them Why

 

I was in shock and numb after my eldest daughter ran in to tell me last night that Ruth Bader Ginsberg had died.  I was numb the rest of the evening and it was only fitting that I had to drive in the darkness late to pick up my daughter from an event. It feels like a light has gone out.  

My hope was that she could pull through for as long as it took.  This was her fifth bout of cancer in 21 years.  It felt like she was a super hero both in physical survival and also her fighting for the underdog.  And that underdog was those whose rights were being trampled upon by a white male dominated society and we needed another interpretation of the Constitution. 

She always fought in a quiet but brilliant way to interpret things differently and bring the all male bench along with her when she presented her cases.  She said it was like teaching kindergarten and they had never heard anything like this before.  She did it nicely without raising her voice as her mother had instructed. 

I watched her documentary, RBG when it came out in 2018.  As a baby, her only sister died of meningitis leaving her an only child.  Her mother whom she was very close to, valiantly fought cancer for several years and died when Ruth was seventeen and graduating from high school.  She said there was a smell of death in her house.  Her new husband, Marty had cancer when they were both in law school with their young toddler and Ruth did the law school work for BOTH of them!! That is when she learned to burn both ends of the candle.   As one of a handful of female law students,  Justice Ginsberg made both the Harvard Law Review and the Columbia Law Review and graduated tied for first in her class.  Yet, when she graduated, there was no employment to be found as a woman.  At a dinner in law school early on, Ginsberg along with other females were asked by a professor why they should be able to take the slot of a man in law school.  

Over her lifetime she showed them why.  

It seems her inability to find employment after graduation was the beginning of her lifetime journey of championing equality. 

As a human and mother of two daughters, I'm deeply grateful for Justice Ginsberg paving the way for gender equality in daring and innovative ways creating the Women's Right Project with the ACLU.  One of her first major cases was for a man to receive social security benefits for caregiving equally as a woman when his wife died in childbirth.  She looked at the law with new eyes and loved it.   It was the great love of her life along with her husband Marty and her family. 

Her work in the 1970's as aConstitutional lawyer for equal rights winning four out of five Supreme Court cases was proficient for changing the lives of women whether they know it or not.  (I didn't know what she had done until 2018)  This accomplishment stands out as historical even without her work as a Judge.  She was shy, quiet and taught by her mother not to let emotions overwhelm but to do the work and be independent.   

The morning after her death and a disturbed night of sleep, I woke and the sadness set in.  It felt like a body blow, like the 2016 election all over again.  Mitch McConnell will hypocritically work to fill her spot on the bench when he sat on Merrick Garland's nomination for 10 long months in the election year of 2016 because what he said back then was we should hear the will of the people first.  Not anymore. 

With this sadness, I have cried for someone I never met but for her ideals, decency and tenacity.  We lost a lion of courage but a legacy to act, even in quiet ways.   

As a stay at home mom, what does the story of a prolific litigator for equality and a Supreme Court Justice and Master Dissenter move me so?

Quiet, tenacious, do your job well.

Before I had children I decided that I wanted to be emotionally present for my children.  I didn't really understand what that meant but have spent the last twenty years figuring it out, diligently.  It was a calling.   I did not feel heard growing up because I felt I didn't have the right to speak.  I can see this pattern to different levels in my daughters and in other women of all ages.   I processed life alone in my head and now I do it by writing and hope to connect with others.   I was a people pleaser and I stayed silent until it really began to burn me up inside and then I dove in hard to understand.  That anger of staying silent was a sign that my boundaries were not being honored.  I didn't have any boundaries!  Therapy along with changing my image of God has helped tremendously.  God is love and God is in everyone, of every color, race, creed and religion.  Justice Ginsberg who was Jewish fought to care for the marginalized just as Jesus instructs us too.  It's amazing that non-Christians act in a manner following Jesus better than many Christians.  

Justice Ginsberg's tenacity in interpreting the law was overwhelmingly obvious when watching her story. I feel the that same way about healing pain that is passed generationally.  If you don't transform your pain it will be passed on.  Even before I knew that what meant, I was unconsciously working hard not to do that.  I have stayed with this learning of how to listen to my children, and be a heart with ears.   I am learning to listen to my own self this way.  

Diligence.    

I'm not a "march for your rights" kind of girl.  I'm introverted and learning to write my way out and take care of those whom I love with tenacity, listening and continued learning. 

Ruth Bader Ginsberg was a transformational powerhouse in her own quiet but mighty way.  I take inspiration, and much gratitude for her as a role model and icon.  

Be who you are, use your talent and do it to the best of your ability. 

Stand up for those who need it. 

RIP Ruth Bader Ginsberg - You fought the good fight.  Imagining your joyous reunion with your mom whom you lost so early and your Marty with a smile on my face. 

Namaste.

Driving Lessons and Learning How to Be Me From My Eldest

Riley is growing up and I'm allowing her to be who she is, and it's an ever-evolving journey. This week we went to the DMV and obtained her permit to drive with a licensed parent.  Last year at this time, it came as an utter surprise to me that Driver's Ed would occur this year, her fifteenth year of life.  I've been so consumed with her changing schools that driving was not on my radar at all.

The topic actually popped up at a church values seminar last year with a round table of parents and I was stunned to learn how soon driving could be taking place.  I was more concerned about discussing values and sexuality when this other topic popped up.  I had more reason to worry about driving : )

I have not emotionally nor mentally embraced my child behind the wheel, but we are doing it anyway.   It feels akin to the Subaru commercial where the dad pictures his teenager as a little girl behind the wheel.



When this child came out of my body, I felt overwhelmingly responsible for her.  Her dietary nurturance came from me. We were attached 24-7 for about a year with very few breaks. I was her everything as mothers are. George played a part too but as my body grew her inside of me, it was on me, and perhaps I felt this a little too much. Some days were terrifically challenging due to postpartum depression but I went through the motions again and again until it felt normal.  I was very enmeshed with her and had a hard time letting go of the little stuff.  In hindsight, I wished I could have relaxed and trusted the Divine One that all would be well.  Yet that was how I was wired at the time.

Over the years, I learned we needed boundaries.  I learned to be present with her emotions but not to take them personally as I had.  The very first tantrum she had as a toddler, scared the bejesus out of me.   The older aged tantrums were also difficult but I sloooowly learned that she was venting and there was something deeper in her that needed attention.  And magically when I got to the root of the need, the fireworks ceased.  We all want to be heard and be in connection.

Last year was a deeper learning curve.  She had been miserable at school for years in terms of friendships. She really liked the school but there was no comfortable fit at all socially.  She felt an outcast where she (we!) had been for ten years.  And as I take things personally, was I an outcast?  I didn't fit in the clique.  I had to learn to be me and find friends naturally.  Riley has put a spotlight on this area for me this year.

This first semester at her new school, was a big transition for me, not her!  Sadness bubbled over me every time I went to the old school with Mallory.  Riley fit in seamlessly at the new school and has been happy from the very first interaction of summer geometry camp that her parental units made her go to.  She bonded with the other campers complaining that their P.U's made them go too.  I wanted her to start making friends as soon as possible and unconsciously I wanted her to do it my way.  I wanted her to go to the football games (not interested).  I thought she should be inviting new friends over to hang out or go to the movies (nope.)   We had uprooted our lives and schools for gosh sakes, I thought she needed to put herself out there.  I was so overwrought about her former school's fall dance and her sociability that I ended up at the therapist office extensively for her.  But as I sat and informed the therapist of what was going on, she looked at me and said, this seems to be more for you than for her.

Bam!

Deep down I knew this.  It took that one session with a professional to tell me that introverts make friends very slowly and tend to watch and gather information.  If they have one or two friends, that's all they need and they like being alone. Bazinga!

She just wanted to go to a school and have friendly faces around her.

Thus began the deep acceptance of teenage Riley and a deep acceptance of who I am on a more enlightened level.

Riley is perfectly happy to be at home on Friday and Saturday nights and for most of a school break.  What's important right now moreso than boys, are those friendly faces at school.  She's not interested in makeup, earrings or fashion and when we clothes shop, it is decisive. She loves academics, history, trees, genealogy, her church, volunteering, Birkenstocks, Chacos and NCIS.  What thoroughly cemented my daughter's proclivities was a personality test at school and the results showed her love of structure and order at the rate of 73% and social needs at 4%.  Whoa!!  Could it be any more obvious how my child was wired?!!

She has social activities but ones that I didn't have growing up and those fulfill her. The ones that I desperately wanted in high school, like a boyfriend, or being popular is not on her list.

So, I get it.  And I have really been examining my own friendships, and passions.  What and with whom do I really want to spend my time on?   I have to listen to my own God given intuition for what works for me.

I am not ready for her to drive, as it feels very unnatural right now.  Turning her out into the world in a 3-4 ton automobile to interact with the world at large is daunting. Yet I am getting in the car with her again and again until it begins to feel normal.  I am also tightly gripping the door handle too!  I know that this time in the car is priceless.  When she starts driving on her own, I will lose that chunk of time and won't gain it back. Being a parent is an amazing journey with bumps and dives and thrilling highs and large learning curves.  To survive, I use big deep breaths that fill the lungs completely with just as large exhalations and listening to the Holy Spirit through my own intuition.  And my own quiet time!!

And all will be well even if it doesn't look like I anticipated.

Namaste.

The Divine Dance in the Donut Shop

I was having a hard time emotionally yesterday.  I went to Mallory's school in the morning for a program and then I had to return in the afternoon for another program.  On occasion, I have been blindsided by feelings that come up when I go to campus as Riley is no longer there.  When I see high school uniforms, I immediately think, oh, where is she? And then I remember... she's across town.

Anger, resentment and sadness bubble up and sit on my chest.  With ten years under our belt, I never planned to change schools but it was an absolute necessity.  I am resentful that it did not work out. I am sad that she felt like she didn't belong.  (And on a deeper level, it's about me feeling like I didn't belong)  She and I have discussed it any amount of times to understand it just wasn't a good fit for her.  Her personality didn't mesh with her particular grade.  Yet I want this energy of anger and sadness to GO AWAY but I know I have to allow them to flow through and not fight it.  I asked one of my bests friends, to please tell me that I'm not crazy for feeling this way.  (Even when I know, feelings are just energy and they will flow through)  I was lucky that she happens to have a friend in a similar position that has expressed similar sentiments to mine.  But the unwelcomed energy still sat there.  I broached the subject with Riley on our ride home and she, of course, knew where I was coming from.  She at fifteen is growing up, maturing and now that she is in a better place, our relationship is more mature and we can communicate better. (of course it still has it's moments!!)

That afternoon, I walked with my neighbor and the movement and conversation helped my spirits but heaviness still sat on my chest.  It is grief, not as deep as losing a loved one but it is grief nonetheless and as the case with grieving, it shows up in waves when you least expect it.

This morning before school, Mallory and I took a very last minute detour to the donut shop to bring some for a school party.  It was very off the cuff last minute decision.  We ran into several school acquaintances who were doing the same.  I asked one friendly acquaintance how she was doing.  And then she inquired how Riley was doing at the new school.  I answered that she was doing well and it was working out so far. She said some schools are just not a fit for everyone. And then, I took a big risk and mentioned my resentful feelings.

And this is where the God wink begins.

My risk of vulnerability paid off, and she acknowledged my feelings. I don't even remember exactly what was said, but I  felt heard and she understood the quagmire of one child leaving a school and one child remaining there.

It was music to my heart.

Side Note: It is very important to save heartfelt emotions to share with someone who deserves the right to hear it. Otherwise, you walk away feeling worse. All people need and want to be heard and have their feelings acknowledged. 

After I dropped Mallory off at school, I texted this friend  to thank her for her insight and understanding.  And the God wink continued when she texted back and said that anyone should understand the situation and that she missed seeing Riley's smiling face on campus.

Whoa. Cue the really ugly cry which I needed to have so very much.  I cried immediately and deeply and the energy moved through for the most part.  It was the right timing. It was divine timing.  It was the right moment, right person to show a bit of compassion for it to flow.

I see a God wink as the holy spirit doing it's thing.  I have learned to attribute these types of interactions as a divine interaction.  I understand the "dance" of the Trinity.  Father, Son and Holy Ghost.  I acknowledge a divine flow.  It's the practice of continually learning to let go, and things will not necessarily happen as I want them to, but my needs are answered in unexpected ways in their own time and I feel a peace for a short time that is indescribable.  And I work again, to let go.  It's a continual progression.

I am so very grateful for that Divine flow and these God winks.

(Another side note: I was able to hear Father Richard Rohr discuss this very topic in New Orleans two weekends ago.  His book is the Divine Dance: The Trinity and Your  Transformation) It was an incredible talk.

Namaste

Dad And Trees and Speaking Up

Dad died three years ago today.  I wrote a piece right after dad died about how I wished I could have connected more with him.  I longed for personal interaction.  I don't remember any conversations or activities that we did together just the two of us.  It felt like a huge void in my life.  I was boy crazy from an early age.  I was that girl that had to have a boyfriend and as I look back, I wish I would have had more respect for myself.  I cringe but am learning to laugh when I watch a sitcom that makes fun of a young woman with "daddy issues." That was me. It is a thing.  I am aware of it now.

I am also aware that I tend to freeze in place and not act even when I know what to do. I don't speak up. I didn't have the confidence. I'm learning.

Months ago at a teenage values seminar at our church that broached sexuality, one of our youth pastors advised dads of girls: pay attention to your girls and hug them.  They need it and it reduces sexual promiscuity.

When George and I were dating, and we talked about having a family,  I remember telling him that if we had girls he had to pay attention to them, talk to them and do things with them.  I said it once and he has obliged my request since they were born.  I now can see (after George pointed it out!) that it came out as a forceful demand on my part.  I don't regret it.  I spoke up.  I am thrilled that the girls connect with him.  It is necessary and needed.

Yet it also brings up sadness as I type.  There will always be the little girl in me that needs her daddy's attention. It took me many years to accept Dad as he was and it wasn't an easy process. I was angry for a long while and then I grieved.  I grieved him before he died and eventually came to a place of acceptance.  I then could appreciate what he did give me.  I know that he loved me but he could not say it out loud.  I admit I have trouble with this myself.  It was much easier to express love with my children when they were younger than it is with grown people.  I have work to do, to practice vulnerability, to speak up.  It's new territory. Dad's form of love was to provide a roof over my head, clothe, feed and educate me.  Education was really important. And I'm grateful for that.  I really see that now.

Dad loved the outdoors.  I remember his very tanned arms.  On the other hand, I'm an A/C girl who likes to write and talk about thoughts and feelings and spirituality and go to yoga.  He was a gardener, hunter and fisher.   Years before he died, he built a cabin on family property that goes back several generations.  He built it for his family to use. He didn't talk about it or tell me, he just did it. Thanks to him, I'm a tree farmer and I enjoy walking with my brother and surveying the land. My kids love to ride the four-wheelers and get their feet wet in the creek and the girls love to kid me about my country roots, but I know they like it too.

My connection to him now is in land and trees.

And as I walk the dogs in my neighborhood on my street,  I found the most ironic display as a reminder.

Do you see it?

The tree is speaking to me.

Namaste.

Moving On

On Wednesday, our middle school will have a special eighth grade chapel to send them off to high school.  Most everyone of them will be continuing on to high school at Dunham, but this will be Riley's last chapel there.  It is a big goodbye for her but done so, in her very quiet way and I'm the one feeling it.  (Of course I am because I'm a thinker and a feeler!)

After attending an eighth grade event last week, I checked in with her about how she felt about the ending of the school year.  She loves the school but has not found a fit within her small class of girls and she is really ready to move on. I have to remember that it is very brave to acknowledge that you need to make a change and follow through and do it.   This is a big life lesson and we have worked through it step by step together as mom and daughter and as a family.

I know a thousand percent that she needs to try another school and she's ready.

But my heart is ripping up ever so slightly. 

For seven months from the very beginning of school, we have talked about this endlessly.  When difficulties arose over the last few years, I would broach the subject of changing schools for  high school. I said this never thinking she would ever move.  After much disheartenment over the summer and at the beginning of the school year, I brought it up again.  She said yes.   We diligently looked at other schools, weighed every pro and con and she is moving on.  She even has uniforms from a graduating St. Joseph's senior.  Thank you to that mom and daughter for thinking of us!

I've thought this situation out every way possible. I talked to so many people to get every angle on this specific issue.  We did our homework.  But now there is nothing more to think or decide, only to finish and feel. My stomach turns when there is a reminder that she won't be at the same school we have known for ten years and she won't be with her sister.  These feelings are all mine, not hers. I have to own my stuff and not project, but I am allowed these mixed feelings.   I am so excited for her new future, she deserves it.  Owning my feelings will allow them to pass through more easily.   I think mixed in with these emotions, is, could we have done something differently? And much deeper is do I fit in? Yeah, it goes deep.  It always does.

And then I logically think it through and know that not every school works for every student.   And my appreciation for my uniqueness is growing.  And she is ready to go.

So here we go, the end of this school year is here.   There are always mixed feelings about things ending and new beginnings.  This is a special year.  No more Lower School Moving Up ceremony.  Riley is moving on to a new high school.  Mallory is moving up to 6th grade.  All is well. (Well, there are other things going on in the world...)

Today is the Honors ceremony.  It's a good run through before tomorrow's send off chapel.

I will bring tissues.

All will be well.

Namaste.

Life is Full of Curves

I have two daughters, three years apart.  They could be no different from one another.  Why do I think that they should be more alike?  For some reason I do. On a daily basis, it comes into my head, and I take note of the differences.   One helps me get out of the house on time, putting unbelievable pressure on me to do so, while the other has no concept of time.  I have to remind myself to get my behind in gear with daughter #2 because we will never leave the house if it is just us two.

One loves to do her hair and makeup and is into clothes and could shop and spend money for hours.  The other could care less and does not want to spend money.  One can easily start a conversation with a stranger, the other not so much.  One is always on time, knows exactly what is on the agenda and how things run.  The other rolls with it and flies by the seat of her pants a lot.

And the Big bad truth is that I need to let them be who they are.

No matter what!

This is a tall order.  But I am working really hard to do just that.  Over the last few months, I had to explore one important issue that could mean big changes for the whole family in order to let one child be who she is.

My oldest daughter has had a hard time fitting in at her current school.  Her personality is more quiet and shy and with different interests than most of her peers.  She has tried to fit in.  Middle school for girls can be cruel, period but, especially when you are not like the other.  It is all about fitting in, but what if you don't?   Throw in social media and it can be a nightmare.  The school that she has attended for the last ten years, happens to be on the smaller side.  There are only 18 girls in her grade with 32 boys rounding it out.  There is not much place to turn to find female companionship.

At the beginning of the school year, she was already burned out and begin to make comments about not wanting to go to school.  And she loves school.   For the last few years, I had asked if she wanted to look into other schools and that high school would be the best time to do so.  I never really thought she would say yes.

She said yes.

After many, many conversations, a lot of exploration, school visits, and months of waiting on admissions: we are starting high school at a brand new large girls' school in August.   There are around 275 girls per grade.  I'm ecstatic that she gets to explore new territory and find girls with similar interests.

My other daughter is happy as can be where she is.

So I will now be driving to two different schools and dividing my loyalties.

I never saw this coming.

I have grieved that one daughter will be leaving the only school we have known for ten years and the sisters won't be at the same school anymore.  I will absolutely move through it because I am a thousand percent positive this is our path for now.

Life is full of curves.
Namaste.

Watching Unity on the Dance Floor

Saturday night was a Mardi Gras Ball for the Youth at our church.  My eighth grade daughter invited a study group of hers from school as her guests.  We made a production out of it with a pre-party at our house beforehand.  It was fun to have the teenagers come and watch the young ladies and gentlemen now mingle together with a tad bit of awkwardness.  I wish we could have invited everybody but as I put 8 kids into my 6 passenger car to drive them home, I know there is only room for so many. They begged to be together on the drive home and go to Waffle house after... but I declined the restaurant as I was wiped out.  Maybe I should have.  We are all only young once.

During the dance, I poured drinks for the attendees and chatted with the other chaperones and spied a little.   I really wanted to dance though.  I'm always called to the dance floor especially with some 80's music.  I did get to dance last weekend at another Mardi Gras Ball.  The whole family attended but did not dance together as I naively thought we would.  Who was I kidding?  They are almost both teenagers now.  What was I thinking?!!  I did get to sing Bon Jovi at the top of my lungs with a complete stranger.  So...much...fun!

Music has an energy all of it's own that is so good for the soul.

Who doesn't need some uplifting?

Towards the end of the evening,  I am counting down the minutes til it's time to bring the group home.  And then I hear "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey.  Oh yes!  They played this last year.  I climb up on the stage to video.  While I'm videoing, I hear the joyous screams that came with the massive shooting out of shiny confetti and I think how lucky I am to catch this on my phone.  Since then, I have watched this video over and over.  The energy of it captivates me.  I see such an exciting energy that only music can do.  As I hear the chorus of young voices chanting, "the smell of wine and cheap perfume," I chuckle.  And then as the beat of the music gets faster, I can barely make out but know the arms are in the air and bodies are jumping up and down. Together.  The foam fingers give it away.

Unity.  Excitement.  Energy.

That energy is so captivating.  On Sunday as I drove to pick up Mallory from a sleepover, I found the song and streamed it through the car speakers and turned it way up and sang very loudly as I can only do when I'm alone in my car.

My soul was uplifted and I went to a happy place.

I forget how much music moves me.

Namaste

(Enjoy - you may have to click it twice to go to You Tube to watch it)

One Billion Percent Necessary (It's about Feelings, Middle School & Glennon Doyle Melton)

The last few years, I have been learning to feel my feelings.  I hate writing that, because it sounds wussy.  There must be some part of this magnificent work that I do, that I still don't think is worthy.  But I know one billion percent it is worthy, it is everything.  Sitting still and embracing what hurts the most, brings you to your core, and your core is God.  (or with my fundamental baggage the words higher power is a score!)  The people who may think this is wussy, won't be reading this anyway, so let me let that go.  Feeling my feelings is the most difficult journey in my life to date.  Whatever devastating occurs in one's life, how one thinks about it is how one will work through it and how one processes it.  As a person, who repressed much, especially after postpartum depression, coming out of that is freakishly difficult. (Can you see how I think about it... {smile})

I don't repress anything anymore.  I feel EVERY thing and some days it makes me want to run and hide or better yet, scream. And most days, it's the really ugly cry that is exhausting.  It feels like the uncomfortableness will NEVER go away. Some days I'm pinging all over the place - the Presidential election doesn't help either.  And some days, not at all and other days, the energy flows through within minutes.  When I hear other people speak aloud of this concept, it rocks my world.

One of those speaking is Glennon Doyle Melton.  I recently watched her on Super Soul Sunday. Her second book  is "Love Warrior."   I heard her story of bulimia by age ten, a mental hospital stay in high school, and her addictions.   When a friend summarized her book in a sentence for me it really opened my eyes.  She said Glennon was running from pain the entire time with her addictions.  (This is not a new concept but I was ready to hear it in a different way)   Not namby pamby feelings, but pain.  Pain is something that people can wrap their heads around.

So, it's not feeling my feelings, it is feeling PAIN.  It is the essence of living life.  Life is incredibly difficult AND beautiful, all at the same time   (Glennon calls it Brutiful.  Brutal and Beautiful. Dang it, wish I would have coined that.)   I've read so much about addictions and I see it everywhere now in compulsions both good and bad, in so many different ways.  So much of our society runs from our feelings and that is running from pain.   Glennon reports that she thought of herself as broken.  She thought of herself as someone who could not handle pain. And so she had hid from it with addictions.

What caused her pain? In short, she said she is a sensitive human being: a deeply feeling person in a messy world. There are those of us who respond to energy differently.  Oprah said she learned over the years of her talk show that families have children who are the sensitive ones: the child who absorbs the energy of the family, subconsciously, unconsciously differently from the rest of the family.

I am that one.  It took a while for this aha to sink in.  I thought other people felt things as deeply and as sensitively as I do.  They don't.  But there are plenty of people out there who do.  I have to respect myself and this work because it is what is right for me.  It is who I authentically am.  Finding my authenticity is finding God beneath all those layers.  It is finding the love and the light to take me through the difficult and the beautiful that life is composed of.  And when you taste that expansiveness of love and light, you don't go back.   Sitting through the pain, gets you to the light.

In my house, I have two young ladies.  One just turned eleven and the other is about to turn fourteen.  They are now both in middle school.  Some of the most brutal years of high school.  And we are feeling it.  Really feeling it.

There was one week where both of them were having difficulty and there was much emotion in the house.  I put my big girl mom panties on.  I listened.   I problem solved when necessary and kept my mouth closed when they wanted no advice.  Their emotions and pain pinged me but I carried on.  There were steps I needed to take, and I did.  I wanted them to be heard.  I want them to know they matter.  I want to be their soft place to fall.  (George does to, in his own manly, fatherly way) And after the turmoil of the week passed, I felt it.  I had to have my own meltdown from listening and letting their pain pass through.

I am the sensitive one and that's okay.  That is who I am.  And I know the feelings won't kill me.  I know at my core, there is love and light.  And I know if I feel my own feelings as difficult as it is sometimes, I can show up for my loved ones who need to be heard.

This is my work.  Feeling my feelings.  It is not easy but one billion percent necessary.

Namaste.

Putting the Air Mask on First

During Christmas break, I tend to lose my marbles when the kids are home 24/7.  It's just the way it goes.  And every year, I forgot that this will occur, and finally after 13 years as a mom, I'm starting to catch on.    I get cranky, short-tempered and yearn for any adult conversation at Easter, Mardi Gras, Thanksgiving and Summer Vacation.  During this past Christmas break,  putting the air mask on first, what airlines tell you to do in preflight demonstration before you put the mask on your child, resonated with me big time.

It really sunk in.

It is one thing to have intellectual knowledge of a notion or idea it is another to put it in practice. (And for it to go well.)
I have read and talked about many parenting ideas that I know are right from an intellectual standpoint
yet putting ideas that I recognize to be good in practice requires much discomfort.

I saw an incremental change during the last school break. On the spur of the moment, I decided to go to yoga and leave the ten year old with the thirteen year old (and the ferocious guard dog and the alarm system on!)  The ten year old DOES NOT LIKE staying at home with the thirteen year old.   The thirteen year old who herself has Red Cross certification and one babysitting experience under her belt, DOES NOT WANT a sitter anymore. So what's standing in my way, is the beloved heart and nerves of a ten year old.  (On this particular occasion, my husband was able to leave later for work, and off I ran.)

But this time, I was going for it, no matter what.  Even though it made my ten year old uncomfortable, I wanted and needed to go.  In the past, I would have hedged back and forth, the child would have seen that I was hesitant and they would have gone for the jugular for me to do what they wanted.

The practice of yoga, feeds my soul and works out my body.   I feel refreshed, renewed, and mindful afterwards.  It is exactly what I needed to take on the rest of the day and school break.  And it hit me that this is what it means to put the air mask on first, because then you are better able to handle what comes your way.   This was actually practicing that idea with one caveat.

I would do things before that were FOR ME but I would feel GUILTY over it and WORRY the entire time.  This was one time, I walked away and left my worries at home and focused on myself for an entire hour.

It was almost better than an orgasm.

And it lasted longer.

I came home from yoga, went straight to Mallory and said, "I know you didn't want me to go and I appreciate your cooperation, I really love to practice yoga and it makes me feel really good" (...Laying the foundation for future yoga sessions)

And the kicker is this act of putting the air bag on first is teaching my children to take care of themselves.  Losing my mind and being short tempered, is not how I want to love my children or myself.

Taking care of me, helps me take care of them AND most importantly they learn from watching what I do.  Not what I say.  What I do.

Haircuts and Life Lessons

A while back during a school break,  I scrambled to get the girls' hair appointments on a Saturday, as it was long overdue.  Salon appointments are still new to us as we have frequented kid haircutting places and we haven't settled on a regular place yet.  It still seems like a big deal  (to me!) to have a real shampoo, cut AND blow-dry.  As I sat and watched them have their first haircut since August, I had a verklempt moment.  This is not going to happen forever.  Having both girls getting their haircut together and in this moment they are not arguing.  Woo Hoo.

Winning.

And even mores that we are in the same place doing the same activity.  Riley will be getting her license in a few short years.  They are growing up.  I now drive and drop her off without getting out the car.  Plans are made with her friends by texting and parents are just informed of where, when and how much money.

I see other friend's children growing up right before my eyes.  Attending dances with dates, driver's licenses, high school graduations, and dropping them off at college.

It seems to be happening faster and faster.

After Riley's hour and a half cut which is about and hour and fifteen minutes longer than a trim at the kid's place, she was in a state of shock.  They had cut at least 7 inches off.  The stylist was very thorough with Riley's thick long hair.  We then chatted about how important it was to communicate with the stylist and that was lost as it was Riley's hair but she wanted me to do the communicating.

Unhappy feelings ensued.  Riley was none too pleased and expressed that fully.  And the next morning as we drove to church, I heard again from both girls that too much of their hair had been cut off.

This is life.

A picture perfect moment and exquisite thankfulness followed by much turmoil and not so much thankfulness. Life runs the whole spectrum of emotions.  I'm learning to ride the ride of all the emotions, and know they won't harm me.

This is the stuff that life is made of.  I have a very hard time just sitting with other people's disappointment, frustration, anger and over time, I have learned not to take it personally.  Sometimes, they just need to vent. AND I don't have to solve the problem either.  People just need to be heard.

This is a huge factor in life.  People want connection and to be heard.  And sometimes I do it better than others but I try to listen to my loved ones.

I'm learning.

(And they did end up liking their hair, it took a few days to set in... and we have learned the golden rule of really communicating with a stylist.)

It's Time for Another Thing: Burn Baby Burn

These are all of the medical papers from the journey it took for George and I to get pregnant.

Here they all are: Invoices, Claims, Denied Claims and Explanation of Benefits, from the gynecologist, the reproductive endocrinologist's office, the lab, two hospitals and our insurance provider. And then the prescription papers…

I had them all in a green file folder box neatly ordered with tabs. It was the most organized I've ever been in my life. And I've never been that organized again.  I wanted to be a mother so badly.  

This was a very ugly, hard time for me.  

I've decided it's time to let the papers go.

Twelve years in the making.

The girls and I had a ceremonial burn, while swimming in the pool.  (Mothers are always multi-tasking.) Riley really enjoyed adding each paper in.  There was a symbolism there.  The child that was so hard to conceive was helping me let go of my infertile past.

Mallory helped us flame the fire too but her thoughts turned to smores. We had enough graham crackers for one smore and Brinkley was even able to get in on it.

The papers burned, the ashes piled up.  George asked how it felt.  I really didn't feel that much except the heat of the fire.  I had been holding on to this papers for so long but they really didn't mean anything to me anymore.

How much more am I carrying around that is weighing me down that needs to be burned off?

How much more "stuff" is lying around that needs to be let go of?  I'm so excited to address this issue.   I am delighted to begin working through small areas of my house, one by one.  Who knew I would ever get so excited about cleaning.

The fertility papers are gone and it's time to move on
to whatever else is dragging me down.

Will it somehow lead to more chocolate for Mallory?

Will Brinkley end up getting a bite?

Stay tuned.

Namaste.

Why Does Crying Get Such A Bad Rap?

I had a big ugly cry yesterday morning, actually several of them, and it is uncomfortable for me to let that much emotion flow through. It's getting easier as I am learning to not stuff my emotions. The catalyst was bringing Mallory, my beloved nine year old muse, to the chartered bus to ride 7 hours away to her first overnight camp for 6 nights. I have never doubted she will have a blast when she decided she wanted to go and I put it out my mind.  BUT IT CAME BACK.

I was a little taken aback when the uncomfortableness popped up two days before we were to bring her to catch the bus on Sunday morning.  The night before I had an intuition that I might need to stay at home from church and let George and Riley go on their own.  But I got dressed to go and read the chapter I needed to read for my class and off we went.  But after hugging that precious girl (who had told me she was nervouscited herself) and watching her walk off and get on the big chartered bus, I lost it.

I had big sunglasses on but the tears were rolling down my cheeks. I tired to wipe them away so no one would see them.

In hindsight, I really, really needed that release.  We drove off to church in silence except that I explained that I would come back and pick them up.

The funky thing is trying to hide the emotion from those other parents in the parking lot or in my own car.   I did tell George and Riley that I needed to grieve her and some other things.   I NEEDED to let this out.  I really, really needed this release.

Sometimes the catalyst that tips you over really isn't the entire reason why the tears come.  And I don't need to analyze why, I just need to let it flow.  Be kind to myself and embrace the tears or whatever emotion it is.  No judging that I'm a wussy, or that I'm crazy, or that I feel too much.

 How many times have I heard someone say in real life or on tv, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry?")

Why does crying get such a bad rap?

I cried off and on all morning.  And I still have to tell myself it's okay to do so when I don't see others doing the same thing.  In the back of my mind,  I still judge myself a little for not keeping it together.  My husband is not going to feel the same as I do.  The other moms are not going to feel exactly as I do.  {codependency no more!} Learning to own my own story and allowing that story to be just as it is, has been a big hurdle.

While the tears were flowing, I know I was also grieving other things.  My engagement ring is missing (appears to be stolen) and my Dad's estate is being settled and I've been involved with the legal paperwork.   Dad is reaching from beyond his death to love in his own way.

I did have headaches in the afternoon and evening and this morning but that is O-K too.  It feels like such a relief to let all of that blocked energy flow.  I have low energy this morning and I need to nurture myself.  There is always something that needs to be done and I will do what I absolutely have to and then rest or wait to see what happens, I may be surprised.

I'm learning to roll with the flow whatever that is and be kind to myself while this is happening.

Namaste.

Summer Reading Time Again

This is how we roll in our house. It is not yet June and the girls and I are all signed up for Summer Reading at the library.  Riley registered in the Teen section for the first time.

I love books.  I fell out of love with reading after I finished grad school. I didn't want to HAVE to read anything ever again.  Slowly but surely the love has come back.  My children have it. We read every night when they were little and my nine year old has been asking me to read to her again.

I have never had any difficulty with them reading for AR points at school.  They flourish.  And this year, I plan to turn my form in on time, to get my goodie bag.

The Unceasing Judging of Ourselves and Making It Stop!

I recently volunteered to serve at a Mother's Tea for second grade at school.  I have attended two of these teas on the receiving end and it is a sweet, sweet event.  By the time I got there... I was very happy to serve.  (You know the party that you don't want to go to, but in the end you have a great time!)  Several moms and teachers thanked those of us who served. As we were walking to our cars, a Facebook acquaintance said something to the effect that she sees me volunteering a lot.  And in my head I immediately downplayed anything that she might have noticed that I have done, and thought, it wasn't really that much.

And then I remembered she is a single mom who is busting it, to try to spend quality time with her kids around working and providing.  And she is judging herself for not being able to volunteer more or be with her kids more.  And I'm judging myself saying that I don't volunteer enough, I should do more (and... that it doesn't look perfect enough.)

Now, I am speaking as a woman and a mom, why are we so hard on ourselves?  But yet further, it really doesn't matter why- because I just want to stop the judgement!

In that moment after I questioned the veracity of this friend's statement,  I decided, LET ME TAKE IT IN!!  (Huge moment!)   I glowed in it for a few seconds. I acknowledged to myself,  I do a lot with my kids, volunteer and otherwise.  (And this friend does too!)  And volunteering has been on my mind a lot lately.

Our conversation them morphed into a heart to heart about God providing what we needed, but not necessarily looking exactly like what we were praying for.   Wet stuff started coming out of my eyes because I have found this to be so true and this was a Holy Spirit moment (or the universe rising up to meet you whatever works for you!)  I'm so glad that I didn't fight her acknowledgment and I allowed it to soak in and our conversation went on.

For some reason, as women, we get a message that we are never enough: we don't look perfect or thin enough, we could be better mothers, spouses, daughters, friends, our houses need updating and are never clean enough, etc. etc.  There are endless ways we can criticize ourselves.  And that self- criticism seems to go hand in had with criticizing those around us.  Letting all of the judgement go is so freeing.

I have been learning to let the "oh so critical" thoughts go, baby step by baby step.  When a negative thought pops in my head, I first have to recognize it for what it is - fear.  All things boil down to fear or love.  And I'm all for love now baby! And this is critical - we can't change what we don't see.

AWARENESS IS THE FIRST STEP!

Until I mastered awareness, I couldn't even begin to dismiss it.  For example, I use to simmer for hours in thoughts that I'm not thin. ( I'm not even going to use the F word.)  But slowly, oh so slowly over time, I dismiss most thoughts within seconds.  And building this new belief system, the negative thoughts don't pop in my head nearly as much.

Yet there will be times, that something will occur (a trip to doctor's office and the official news that I have gained a few pounds) and that can set me back, but eventually I will get back to I am not my weight.   Or my other favorite: All will be well, even if it's not.

This takes a lot of practice. Intentionality. Over and over and over again.  The  negative thoughts took years to put into place.  It takes time to reprogram that voice to be loving.

I am very thankful for those words shared by this friend to me.  It is amazing what one simple statement did to my awareness!  I didn't know I needed to hear that.

Namaste.

My Induction Into The Tribe

My daughters are growing up.  Yes, they tend to do that.  Sometimes they seem to undergo metamorphosis overnight.

My oldest daughter is staying up later and now comes to my bedroom to say goodnight. This is the opposite of the well ingrained last twelve years of me "putting her to bed." This past week, I have watched when she turns to walk out my bedroom.  She is almost as tall as me now and her body is long and lean but with curves.   She now has a teenager's figure.

How did that happen?

She now takes much longer in the bathroom getting ready.  She has been voluntarily taking showers for months with no reminder from me.  On and on, there have been subtle little changes.

And everything beyond teenage body changes is going on too:  attitude, distancing,  independence, deafening silence, or one word answers and what in our house, we call caving. (Caving: going into a space to be alone)   I deeply understand the need to be by myself after I have been with others for periods of time.  And I can especially see that after a long day of middle school.  But for brief moments in time, I painfully miss the little girl who use to cry loud and long for me when I dropped her off at the nursery.

And sometimes, I'm happy for the reprieve.

It's a transition for sure.  Mothering is the transition from this little baby who looked at me for every single thing she  needed to now, her slowly learning how to do for herself and me backing off.  And this will continue throughout the upcoming years.   It's a wonderful, positive growth but one that I need to batten down the hatches for.  As the sales woman in a clothing store with two grown daughters gave me the sign of the cross over having a tween, it was an induction into the tribe.

The tribe of a mom with a teenage girl.  Well, almost.  I've got 7 months officially.

I've been told to give it a few years, and they will one day walk back in as they had previously been (nice temperament), like nothing ever happened.

This morning as I was working Middle School Carpool, and a daughter stomped off ignoring what her mother was asking, I walked to the mom's open car window and gave her the sign of the cross.  She said, "You have no idea."

 I told her that I did understand nodding my head, "I have a twelve year old."