My Inspiration

"Be a yardstick of quality. Some people aren't used to an environment where excellence is expected." Steve Jobs

I used to be a perfectionist, and it wasn't a pretty sight. I had unrealistic expectations of myself, and was quick to condemn myself when I didn't meet them. I got tired of living that way, so I decided to change it. Once I took the self-imposed pressure off, I found that I actually performed better.

I no longer strive for perfection, but I am a big fan of excellence. If it's worth my time and effort, it's worth doing well. It's worth my best shot.

I am thankful for the people in my life who by their own example of excellence, lift me up and inspire me to do my best.

What about you? Who, in your life, is a yardstick of quality? And have you thanked them lately for inspiring you?

Susan

The Right to Choose

"I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness." Anaïs Nin

Michele Bachman shared with the world that she went to law school because, as a submissive wife, her husband told her to, so she did. Some wondered if she became president, would she be following orders from her husband there as well? So she was asked about her submission, and she said that by submission she meant respect. Hmmmm. Really?

I am not a fan of Mrs. Bachman, her philosophies, religion or politics. However, it brought up an interesting question. Can a woman be a leader in the workplace, in politics, in the world in general, and be the follower at home? Of course she can.

We women have made amazing strides in achieving equality with men. The downtrodden, powerless woman has to submit. She has no choice. To be fully empowered, to have complete control over our choices, and then to choose to cede some of that power to a husband or significant other; now that makes authentic submission a true gift. A strong woman truly appreciates what it means to submit. She owns her power, she feels her power, she exercises her power, and then she gives some of that to the man she loves. We must be extremely careful, however. Power in the hands of an irresponsible, immature or weak man can quickly lead to abuse. Power has no moral will of its own, so we must be very discerning when choosing the right man.

We women today have a lot of choices. I live in a world that my grandmothers could only dream of. Some couples choose an egalitarian relationship. That's great if that works for them. Some couples choose to have the woman be the dominant one. That's great if that works for them. But no woman should ever be ashamed of not wanting to be the leader in her most intimate relationship. That's her choice.

Susan

Viva La Vida

My 7-year-old granddaughter asked her 30-year-old dad what he did for fun when he was a kid, before TV and video games. Young people can sometimes be curious about life back in the day, and certainly our experiences have some relevance. But for the most part, I think it's best for us to spare the younger people our stories about the good old days. Our stories can be kind of a yawn. It's like Lee Trevino said: "The older I get, the better I was."

Some of us act like our best days are behind us. And they most certainly are if we believe that. But I look at it like this. Today is the best day ever. It's the only day we have. And tomorrow? Well, there are no guarantees, but tomorrow can be exciting if we have hopes and dreams and goals. And if we are actively involved in making them come true.

As I write this, there are 36 more hours left in this year. Then 2012 will be here, all bright and shiny and full of promise. My wish for you, my reader, is this: May the best of your past be the worst of your future.

Happy New Year.

Susan

Lyrics to "Viva La Vida" by Guy Berryman, Jonny Buckland, Will Champion and Chris Martin

Dropping Your Guard

When my younger son played high school football, the mom of one of our defensive players had two signs she would hold up at key times. One sign had the letter "D" on it; the other, a picture of a fence. We would all yell, "Dee! Fence!"

After my first ninety days at a new job, it was time for my performance review. My supervisor said that I accepted criticism very well. "You are remarkably non-defensive," she said. That meant a lot to me, mostly because I was involved in a personal relationship for years where I was told how defensive I was. Isn't it interesting how verbally abusive people label others as being defensive? Maybe it's only natural to defend yourself when you're being attacked.

Any of us interested in self-improvement should welcome correction and criticism. None of us is perfect, and if we want to become all that we can be, certainly we will all need some help along the way. Praise and encouragement are wonderful, but we also sometimes need to hear some hard truths. How sad if those who care about us would be less than honest, unwilling to call us out on stuff because we can't handle the truth about ourselves. How sad if they hesitate to ask for what they want or need from us, because we are so easily offended.

Being prickly and defensive puts people off and inhibits closeness with those we love. It also keeps us from being all that we can be. The vast majority of people have no malicious intent, so why not trust them enough to hear what they have to say and see if it has some merit? It just makes absolutely no sense to go on the defense when we're not even being attacked.

Susan

Fence Me In

"Give me land, lots of land, under starry skies above. Don't fence me in." Cole Porter

Funny and entertaining, the piece I was reading was advice to men on how to attract women. How to be more alpha and have more game. The author counseled that you must make a woman feel safe, because she won't have sex with you unless she feels safe. Then he added, "Women are paranoid."

The first place I ever felt safe was at school. My first teacher was a no-nonsense kind of woman who smiled rarely. The other kids said she was mean, but I guess they didn't know what mean was. She was calm and consistent, rarely raising her voice. It was there that I learned a totally new concept: obey the rules and we don't get in trouble. It was wonderfully simple. The rules were few, and they all made sense to me. She didn't bend them, she imposed consequences for those who broke them, and I respected that. Even when someone broke a rule, she didn't belittle or berate or scream. Finally I had a small amount of power in my life. I could control whether or not I got in trouble (at school) by my own behavior, actions and attitudes. The rules weren't there to restrict me; they were there to keep me safe. In the safety of that environment, I soared. I learned so many new things that year, far more than just the academics. I learned that I was smart. I learned that I was good. Other kids chafed at the rules. I guess they felt fenced in and restricted. Or maybe they rebelled just for the sake of rebelling. I felt safe.

I still have no problem following rules that make sense. I appreciate knowing where the boundaries are. For you see, the safer I am, the bolder I become. When I feel safe, I show myself for who I really am. I take the most audacious risks. It's when I am safe that I can really soar. So, yes. Please fence me in.

Susan

How Do We Sleep?

I have the most beautiful set of luggage. Pink trimmed in black, I named it "Barbie luggage." It was a birthday gift from my former husband when we were married. I still use it and I love it! But it does get me singled out at airport security. Without fail. Every time. A male TSA employee will invariably want to look through the contents of the Barbie bag.

It's my only experience with profiling. You see, I am a white American of European descent, born here in the United States. I have no idea what it's like to worry about a police officer pulling me over when I'm driving. I have no idea what it's like to have to work harder and be smarter, to counteract negative stereotypes about my culture. I can go into any hair salon, and the stylists will know what to do with my hair. I can go into any supermarket, and it's full of the type of food I eat. No one makes fun of my "accent." I can buy a car or rent an apartment and never be concerned about discrimination.

My apartment complex has many residents of Mexican descent. Since I am learning Spanish, I occasionally talk to them in my "toddlerese" Spanish. My first sentence is that I am studying Spanish in college, because I don't want to patronize them or give them the idea I don't think they speak English. They all speak way better English than I do Spanish. I have found that my neighbors are overwhelmingly friendly and helpful, although somewhat bemused at my approach. They will gently correct me when I use the wrong word or tense of a verb. One day in the laundry room, a lovely older lady named Juana and I conversed. In Spanish class, we had just finished a chapter about clothing, so as I took my clothes out of the dryer, I told her about my red sweater, my yellow shirt and my green dress.

We white people can come off as really arrogant sometimes. I especially dislike how "immigration" and "protecting our borders against terrorists" and "homeland security" have given people permission to hate those of Mexican descent. It's a political football, and all it does is encourage the haters. Certainly immigration needs to be reformed, but not this way. I think some have forgotten a huge part of California history. California used to belong to Mexico. It's odd how we white people go around taking what isn't ours, then persecuting the very people we took it from. California is a very big and wonderful state. Surely we can find a way to solve some of our problems without all the hating. The white people who do that make me wonder. How do they sleep at night?

Susan

The lyrics to "Beds are Burning" are by Peter Garrett.

Fitting In

"Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer," with Burl Ives as the snowman, is a favorite animated Christmas program of mine. It first aired on television when I was six years old, so I have been watching it for a lot of Christmases. The theme of Rudolph is one that occurs often in children's stories; someone who just doesn't fit in but eventually triumphs. These stories resonate with kids because they understand how painful life can be for a child who is different. Of course, what holds Rudolph down is the very thing that ends up propelling him to new heights. If you have never seen this version of Rudolph, SPOILER AHEAD!

There is the Island of Misfit Toys. The squirt gun that squirts jelly instead of water; the train with square wheels. These are the rejected toys that have no children to love them. It's all very sad, but don't worry. Rudolph makes it all wonderful.

In romantic relationships, we polish ourselves all up and put our best foot forward. Now there's nothing wrong with that. On a first date, things like brushing your teeth and showering are really important. But do we want to impress so much that we hide what we think are our flaws? True intimacy will never happen until we let the other person see who we really are. We seem to keep our fingers crossed that he will love us IN SPITE of our flaws, when the truth is this. The right person will love us BECAUSE of those quirks.

I understand the dynamics of peer pressure. I understand why children and especially adolescents want to conform, but some of us are a little old to keep trying to be what we think other people want. Why not let those little quirks show? For some of us, they are impossible to hide anyway. Like Rudolph trying to hide his bright red nose, our attempts at covering them up are pretty awkward.

Why not give others the opportunity to love us for who we really are?

Susan

You have Loudmouth Birdie (www.loudmouthbirdie.com) to thank for this post. She suggested I write about the Island of Misfit Toys.

The Little Old Lady

"The man who was once starved may revenge himself upon the world not by stealing just once, or by stealing only what he needs, but by taking from the world an endless toll of payment of something irreplaceable, which is the lost faith." Anaïs Nin

According to retail loss prevention experts, the typical American shoplifter is an older white woman. You may have seen her in the shopping aisle near you; that innocent looking old lady with the gray hair and the powder blue sweatshirt with kittens embroidered on it. She's not stealing a loaf of bread because she's destitute and starving. She takes what she neither really wants nor really needs, simply because she can.

What an amazing sense of entitlement that takes. Have you ever noticed that about some older people? How the rules just don't apply to them anymore? How they seem to feel that since they have occupied this planet longer than the rest of us, the world owes them something, and a lot of some things?

Today, I am the youngest I will ever be. And so are you. We are all, if we don't die first, headed toward the golden years of our lives. Those should be years where we get to appreciate the fruits of a life well lived; where we give back to the world with our love and wisdom, helping the younger people who are not so far along in this journey we call life. How tragic if we would fail to create that kind of life for ourselves; that in our bitter disillusionment, we would decide that the world did us wrong and owes us something. That we would steal a little trinket and use it as some sad consolation prize for the life we could have had, but failed to create.

Every day I make decisions that will determine what kind of old lady I will be. The world owes me nothing. But I owe the world something: to be all that I can be. May I never forget that.

Susan

Creating a Monster

She was walking her daschund. He was beautiful; a short-haired standard doxie with a shiny auburn coat and big brown eyes. He was very excited for me to pet him and wanted to jump up. I quickly knelt down to his level, but not before his annoyed dog mother yanked his leash and scolded him. She told me he just doesn't listen. I asked his age, and I when I heard how young he is, I assured her he was just a toddler and his manners would improve as he got older. She looked skeptical. I asked his name. "Monster." Well. What did she expect, naming him that?

It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Dogs, kids and even we as adults tend to live up to (or down to) expectations. Expect the worst, label them, call them names, point out everything they do wrong while ignoring all the good, and you can turn someone perfectly wonderful into a monster.

As I think about my own life, I need to take complete responsibility for the energy and expectations I bring to my interactions with others. Do my attitudes and behavior call out the best in the people I meet?

Susan

Looking on the Bright Side

Several years ago, I began to look for the good, positive and beautiful things in life and in people. There is a lot of wonderful stuff out there, and I notice it! At first that new way of thinking felt very awkward, but soon it became a habit that has served me really well. I am a much happier person than I used to be. I would never want to go back.

One of the things I've learned about myself this year is this. Sometimes I am so intent on finding the bright side, that I miss important realities. It's all about looking for the good, not pretending it's there by minimizing and rationalizing. Sometimes things are just icky and there's no two ways about it.

So it's time for me to find a balance in this area. I'll keep you posted as to how I do.

Susan

Lyrics to "Mr. Brightside" by Dave Keuning

In-laws and Outlaws

"Take my mother-in-law. Please." Rodney Dangerfield

Over the next few weeks, families will be getting together for the holidays. It won't always be pleasant. I once had a mother-in-law, and now I am one. I believe it is my responsibility as the older, more mature person in the relationship to set a positive, loving tone with my daughter-in-law. She is more to me than my son's wife, although I would love and respect her for that alone. She is more to me than the mother of my grandchildren, although I am very grateful to her for giving me these three wonderful little blessings. She is a unique individual, a woman who deserves to be recognized and appreciated for who she really is.

Do you know the story of mother-in-law Naomi? She lived in a time when women couldn't survive without the protection and provision of men. Her husband died, then soon both her sons (her only children) died. She was, of course, grief-stricken. She also admitted that she was very bitter about her losses. She told her two daughters-in-law that she was going back to her homeland to live with her family. Naomi said she was too old to find another husband, and she had no more sons that the girls could marry. What use was she to anyone? Both her daughters-in-law wept and begged her not to go, but Naomi was determined. So Orpah kissed her goodbye, but Ruth stuck to her like glue. She told her mother-in-law, "Whither thou goest, I will go." So Ruth and Naomi set off for the land of Naomi's birth. They scoped out this awesome man named Boaz, and the older woman gave the younger woman some tips on how to snag him. (Kind of a cool story in the Bible's Book of Ruth.) And it worked. Ruth and Boaz soon gave Naomi her first grandchild. Ruth and Naomi were stuck like glue, and they stayed that way for the rest of their lives.

They both mutually benefitted from their relationship. Had Ruth not gone along with her mother-in-law, she never would have met the awesome Boaz. Had her daughter-in-law not gone along with her, Naomi would have never become a grandmother.

They stuck like glue, because they had a relationship that transcended their prescribed roles in life. Their relationship didn't end when the one person they had in common was out of the picture. It deepened and flourished and grew. The women in the village were very impressed and told Naomi, "Ruth really loves you. That girl is better than seven sons!" That was a huge compliment, given how prized sons were in the ancient world.

Ruth and Naomi are amazing role models for all of us in-laws everywhere. Wouldn't our families be so much happier if we could all have transcendent relationships, ones where we truly enjoy and appreciate each other simply for who we are?

Susan

O Christmas Tree!

"Expectancy is the atmosphere for miracles." Edwin Louis Cole

We have a small, magnificent Christmas tree in our living room. Last year after the holidays, my dear friend/roommate found it. Someone had thrown the live potted tree out, but didn't even bother to take it to the dumpster. She rescued it, and gave it lots of TLC out on our deck for a year. It grew and flourished and has beautiful soft, green branches. This year we brought it inside and decorated it. It's kind of a charming Charlie Brown tree, with lots of character. It is magnificent, all dressed in tinsel and lights and ornaments and beads. My younger son saw it last night for the first time, and he actually gasped. After the holidays, we'll gently take all the trimmings off and put it back outside. Another year of growing and flourishing.

When she rescued it last year, she was told it would not make it. She didn't take no for an answer, and she expected it would do great and it did. The tree reminds me that this is the season of miracles. I wonder how many miracles we miss out on because we never expect them to happen.

Susan

From Sea to Shining Sea

My commute to and from work and school is along Highway 101, which runs parallel to the beautiful Pacific Ocean. With Pink's sun roof open and my window down, I can smell the salty air. I also can easily walk to the beach from my home. Occasionally we even have a random sea gull who comes to my apartment complex to check out the dumpsters. It is hard to have a bad day when you start it by saying "Good Morning" to the ocean.

Growing up in one of the landlocked mid-Atlantic states, I never even saw an ocean until I was in my 20's. In elementary school, we sang Katharine Lee Bates' "America the Beautiful." Our little voices would ring out, "And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining seeeeeeeeea!"

One day as I was driving along, the sun was shining brightly on the ocean, and it hit me: that's a shining sea. It really does shine, from the reflection of the sun or the moon if the moon is bright enough at night.

I have a great life.

Susan

When I Grow Up...

All my life I worked at jobs that paid the bills, but never had a real career, and certainly never did anything that gave me fulfillment or joy. Then I began to take general education classes at community college, after being out of school for over thirty years. I decided to work toward my bachelor's degree, without any real goal in mind. I just wanted to be on my way, but I wasn't really sure where I was going. I decided I could be getting my credits, and figure out a major as I went along.

A couple of weeks ago it came to be with perfect clarity. I am going to be a middle school teacher. It kind of surprised me. I never wanted to be a teacher, and frankly I wouldn't have had the patience when I was a younger woman. So now I am not only on my way, but I know my destination. It is very exciting to know what I want to be when I grow up.

Last night my dear friend/roommate had the radio on a classical station, and "Pomp and Circumstance" by Sir Edward Elgar came on. I visualized myself marching to get my college diploma, from the same school my younger son graduated from. "Pomp and Circumstance." They were playing my tune!

Susan

My Pretend Friend

She was my imaginary friend, Betty Baccuba. Pronounced "Buh-COO-buh," in case you're wondering. No one ever saw her but me. I remember one day my father and I were driving, just the two of us, and I pointed out Betty's house. He asked me if I wanted to stop and see her, and I quickly told him she was not home. I haven't seen or talked to Betty for years, and you're probably thinking that's a good thing.

Last New Year's Eve, one of my intentions for 2011 was "truth in all areas of my life." Now that the year has only two weeks left in it, I have been thinking back to the all the many places truth has taken me this year. One of those places was in my relationships. The other day a coworker said to me, "You're the most honest person I've ever known." I felt a tightening of my throat and a little sting behind my eyes, because I have walked through this year for the most part in truth, and it was quite a compliment to have that recognized. But that hasn't always been the case. I've done more than my share of pretending. Harmless, innocent pretending, like back when Betty and I were besties. Young children who are intelligent and imaginative have pretend friends. Children who are abused do, too. I was all three of those things.

As I head toward another New Year's Eve, I see that my relationships lack pretense. I am kind and loving, but honest. I don't pretend that things are fine when they're not. I cry more easily. I let people see who I am more readily. I am learning to ask for what I need and want. I still have a long way to go, but I feel really good about how far I have come this year; how far truth has taken me.

Betty Baccuba served her purpose, but I don't have any pretend friends anymore. There was a time when the little Susie must have needed that imaginary friend desperately, but not anymore. I don't need self-defense mechanisms like pretending, because I now surround myself with people who have absolutely no interest in hurting me. Real people who love the real me. And that's the truth.

Susan

Mildred's Manners

If you have kids, or plan to have kids, or if you ever were a kid...

A Christmas to Call Your Own

It is, as the song tells us, the most wonderful time of the year. Except when it's not. Christmas can be a stressful time. The financial pressures of buying gifts can be too much for people who are barely getting by. The sadness of that first Christmas after a loved one passes away. The pressure applied by family members who want you to be in three different cities on Christmas day. The stress women put on themselves to have the perfect meal, the perfectly set table, the perfect Christmas tree. Our culture sets the bar really high for merriment and jolliness, and feeling neither merry nor jolly, we decide there must be something wrong with us.

Like all things in life, Christmas is what you make it to be. It is completely open to your own unique interpretation of it. When you take away the expectation of what you think it should be, because your parents did it a certain way, or your culture celebrates it a certain way, you can begin to make Christmas truly your own. I personally don't celebrate the religious aspects of the holiday, but I adore Christmas. A Hindu woman I met is blending our American Christmas into her life and ethnicity. She started out doing it for her children, so they would have a tree and presents and Santa Claus like the other kids, but she is really finding joy in it for herself as well.

What is Christmas to me? The magical fantasy of Charles Dickens and Charles Schulz. Red and green and blue and silver. The tinsel in the carpet and the raw cookie dough on my tongue. Shopping for gifts for my grandkids: getting them what they want and not what I think would be the most fun for me to play with. Remembering all the people, near and far, who are dear to me. Believing, really believing, in peace on earth and good will to men. Maybe not throughout the world (not yet) but making it a reality in my own life. Hearing Elvis sing "Blue Christmas" and watching innumerable you tube videos of "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas."

There is no perfect Christmas. It doesn't exist, no matter how much money you spend or how much stress you put yourself under. You will never have the perfect Christmas. But you can have a Christmas that is perfect for you.

Susan

No Strings Attached

"There are two kinds of people: takers and givers. The takers eat better, but the givers sleep better." Danny Thomas

Gift giving is such a fun part of the holidays. Buying or making something special for those we love is a real joy. Many times the best gifts are not the ones that cost the most, but the ones that say the most. I love you. I remembered you. I know you well enough to know what you would love to have.

It's not truly a gift unless it's given freely with absolutely no strings attached. If you give a gift with the expectation of something in return, why that is no gift at all. It's currency. Some folks give, but their gifts come at a very high price for the recipient. An imbalance of power in the relationship. A sense of obligation. A feeling of being controlled. These can be subtle messages, and sometimes the giver is not even aware that he is conveying that message.

Are you a giver? I love to give, but lately I have been examining my motives for doing so. I have been picking up those shiny packages that I give to others, turning them all around and shaking them, just to make sure there are no strings attached.

Susan

A Cup of Cheer

It's the time of year for hot apple cider, spicy sweet tea and peppermint mocha coffee. And hot chocolate. With whipped cream on top, of course. As far back as I can remember, another important part of Christmas has been the red kettles and bell ringers standing on street corners and in front of markets. Yesterday, we had some unusual weather where I live. It was gray and cold and raining very hard. Shoppers were rushing in and out of the stores, trying to avoid the weather. He was standing under an awning, but still it was cold and damp and the rain was coming down sort of sideways so he was getting a little wet. He was ringing the bell and smiling and saying, "Merry Christmas," even when no one put money in the kettle. Even when no one "Merry Christmased" him back.

My first thought was that I should get him a hot drink. I didn't act on it instantly, because I was cold and tired and eager to hop in Pink and get home. But soon I obeyed my initial impulse and walked over to the nearby coffee shop. I bought him a cup of hot chocolate. Everyone likes hot chocolate, right? With whipped cream on top, of course. I carried the cup to him and held it out. "Here's some hot chocolate. To keep you warm," I said. I didn't tell him there was whipped cream on it. I let that be a surprise. He looked at me for a few seconds, then took the cup and said, "Wow. Thank you." I said, "Merry Christmas" and hurried on my way.

I need to tell you this story, but not to toot my own horn. It was such a small thing for me to do. It cost me ten minutes out of my day and two dollars out of my pocket. I need to tell you this story, because of the expression on his face. He was shocked. The look on his face told me that strangers don't offer him cups of hot chocolate on a regular basis.

If such a small gesture causes such a reaction, then I need to be obeying my initial impulses of kindness much more often. And not just at Christmas. Kindness should not happen so rarely that it engenders such shock and awe.

Now I have a question for you. Who is it today that could use a cup of cheer from you?

Susan

I Got a Name

The name Susan was second only to Mary in popularity for girls the year I was born, according to the Social Security Administration. From 1948 until 1964, Susan was in the top twenty every single year. When I was a kid, I wasn't all that fond of my name, precisely for that reason. How unoriginal my parents were, I thought. Such a common name. It would have been cool to be a Stacey or a Stephanie. But as the years have gone by, I have grown to love my name. I'm Susan, Susie, Sue, Suzie, Soozie and Sue Z Q. It's who I am. It is my name.

I had the option of having my maiden name automatically restored when I divorced. I didn't do that. My last name is who I am. It was my former husband's name, which I gladly took when I married him. Then it became who I am. It is my name.

During this time of year, we remember all the people close to us, with gifts and cards. But what about those who make up the landscape of our lives? The woman who packs our groceries. The man who collects our garbage. The mail carrier, who is overworked during the holiday season, delivering packages and Christmas cards. Certainly they would enjoy getting a little extra cash or a gift card or a homemade treat. Which brings me to another point. Do we even know their names? They have names. What a great opportunity Christmas gives us to introduce ourselves and then to discover who they are.

Susan

Lyrics to "I Got a Name" by Norman Gimbel and Charles Fox

Giving Thanks or Living Thanks?

She bubbled as she said,"You can wish me a happy birthday! I'm 51." I rarely ever find another adult as excited about her birthday as I am about mine, so feeling as though I'd found a kindred spirit, I enthusiastically wished her a happy birthday. I told her that I was 53, and felt very lucky to be here, since some don't make it to be our age.

"Well, then you'll appreciate this story," she said. "When I was 34, I was diagnosed with stage 4* breast cancer. I was basically given a death sentence by the doctors."

"And here you are, seventeen years later," I said. She was the very picture of good health...shiny hair, sparkling bright blue eyes, and a glowing complexion. She was in a word, radiant. "That explains why you are so happy," I added.

She nodded. "Yeah. Even when I have a really bad day, I just get up the next morning and say, 'Okay. Let's try this again.'"

Happy Thanksgiving.

Susan

*Stage 4 is the most advanced stage of cancer

Fat Cats

College football is big business. I've believed for a long time that college athletes should be paid a salary. It's true that they receive a free college education in exchange for playing a sport, yet it's nothing compared to the money universities make off them. In addition to the criminal charges leveled against alleged rapist Jerry Sandusky, I hope the victims bring civil proceedings against Penn State to hold it accountable. All the money in the world would never compensate a child for being raped, but money is the only language these fat cats seem to speak.

Authority figures at every level failed these children, and there are so many accomplices to Sandusky's crimes it is difficult to keep a count. The most visible accomplice is larger-than-life legend Joe Paterno himself. He was never going to retire. I always imagined him passing away suddenly one Saturday afternoon in autumn, right there on the sidelines of the football field. So I suppose being fired was the worst thing that could happen to him, yet it's nothing compared to the rape of these children.

If civil lawsuits are filed, the fat cats will be eager to settle out of court. The victims have already suffered so much that they might not want to relive the horror all over again with a civil trial, so maybe a financial settlement from the school will feel like justice to them. Any way it happens, they deserve justice since they got no mercy.

I imagine that over the past few days, there have been lots of men and women in suits conferring nervously with lawyers and talking about damage control there in State College, Pennsylvania. This bombshell had to have given the fat cats a heart attack. Yet it's nothing compared to the rape of these children.

Susan

Lyrics to "Uprising" by Matthew Bellamy

The Accomplice

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." Edmund Burke

Have you seen the video of the family law judge from Texas beating his 16-year-old daughter with a belt? Now 23, she says this was not an isolated instance, and she is releasing the secretly taped video so her father "can get all the help he needs." He says, "In my mind, I didn't do anything wrong." She says; he says. I think there are a number of reasons corporal punishment is wrong, but the fact is, it is legal and a majority of Americans believe in it and practice it. But even if you are in the pro-spanking camp, I think you will be disturbed by the video, and it's not just the severity of what the father refers to as a "spanking." His rage, his profanity, his lack of control push it over the line into abuse. It is ironic that in his profession, he presides over child abuse cases.

But let's not demonize the father unless we are going to draw horns on the mother's head as well. She participates in the ordeal, at one point yelling at her daughter to "lay down and take it like a grown woman." Now divorced from the judge, the mother says she "did everything he did." That makes me think she also beat the girl.

For every abuser, there is an enabler. Perhaps not fully participating like Hallie Adams, but complicit in the act as well. She might go into another room, she might whistle Dixie so she can't hear it, she might look the other way, she might pretend she doesn't know, she might pretend it never happened. By not ending it, she perpetuates it. So who is worse? The abuser or the one who doesn't step in to stop it? There doesn't seem to be a lot of difference to me.

Susan

I Guess He Thought I Knew

For some reason, lately I've heard people say that growing up their parents didn't say "I love you" or hug them at all, or very rarely. Isn't that interesting, because would you not think that the vast majority of parents love their children? Most of these people I've heard from are in their 40's or older, so I guess some of it might be child-rearing practices in days gone by. Maybe their standoffishness had to do with ethnicity or culture, or their own upbringing. I know that people express love in different ways, and those who didn't express it verbally or physically may still raise children who certainly felt loved. In 2011, we now know from scientists what some have always known instinctively, that hearing the words "I love you" and having touch from a parent is quite important to a child's development.

For a class last semester, I researched father-daughter relationships and found something startling. The number one predictor of high self-esteem in a girl is physical affection from her father, and the most crucial time for this is age 10-14. How sad it is, then, that this is precisely the time when dads start to pull back physically.

I guess my thoughts today are two-fold. The first is that if your parents were deficient in the verbal and physical expressions of love, that you might think of other ways in which they showed they cared. And secondly, if you have kids, no matter how old they may be, that the next time you see them, you give them a big old bear hug, and don't you dare be the first to let go. And why wait a minute longer to tell them you love them? Pick up the phone and tell them you love them. Leave a voice mail that says, "I love you" if they aren't available. Because it's never too late to say what we think they already know.

Susan

Lyrics to "The Greatest Man I Never Knew" by Layng Martine, Jr. and Richard Leigh

Asking For It

Our office environment was pretty toxic. The manager was an insecure woman who preyed on the weak and wounded. She gathered information about our personal lives, and sorted the weak from the strong. In her estimation, there were two camps in our office of thirty women. There were the women who were assertive in demeanor, and/or those who had husbands/partners who were gainfully employed. These were the women she believed did not "need" to work. The second group were the more mild-mannered women, and/or those who were single or whose husbands/partners were not pulling their weight. These were the women she believed "needed" to work, and would take what she dished out because they needed a job badly. Her conclusions were not even accurate, but this is how she operated. She could be quite vicious, but it was so interesting to see that she only did it when she knew she could get away with it.

In no way do I want to ever blame the victim, but I think many times in life we get what we tolerate from other people. We, by our attitudes, actions and words, tell people how to treat us. I had one of those "light bulb" moments a few years ago when I was talking to my therapist about someone who never apologized. "Did you ever ask him to apologize?" she asked me. I was taken aback, because I truly had never even thought about asking anyone to apologize to me, ever, under any circumstance.

Until very recently, I have pretty much not asked others to do anything. My thought was always that they should do the right thing, and I didn't want to issue ultimatums, demand, ask or even suggest that they do that. They should do it because it's the right thing or because they loved me or because they wanted to or whatever. I wonder now how much I have been missing out on in life because I would not ask for what I want or need.

Every day we tell people how to treat us, and at any time we can extend an invitation for them to do the right thing. We can ask for what we want or need, and they can give it to us or not. Once we ask, it's on them. Their choice, their karma.

Susan

The Silver Lining

President Reagan was a great story teller. He liked to tell the one about the boy who was so optimistic, his more pessimistic parents became concerned about him. As he grew up and faced the harsh reality of life, would he be able to handle it? Their solution was to put a huge pile of horse manure in his bedroom one night while he slept. They planned, once he awoke in the morning, to have a very serious discussion with him about how bleak life could be, using all that crap as an object lesson. Imagine their surprise when they heard a joyful hoot coming from his room, and they hurried in to find their son going through all that messy stuff with his hands. Horrified, his mom asked him, "What in the world are you doing?" Smiling broadly, he looked at her and said, "There must be a pony in here somewhere!"

Optimism is a great habit to cultivate, and it is a habit. It is a choice, this looking for the good in life. And it can be there. Sometimes it takes a while to find it and you get your hands dirty sifting through it all. Believing that there is something good for us in even the most challenging situations goes a long way in keeping up our spirits during tough times. Believing that every cloud has a silver lining can give us hope.

But let's be frank now. Sometimes it's simply not there. It is all crap and no pony. All cloud with not even a glimpse of silver. It is then that our inherent creative powers can kick in. It's then that we choose to make something good out of our bad stuff. It's then that we take the optimistic attitude to a completely new level, when we take complete responsibility for everything in our lives, and we create the positive outcome for ourselves. We are the ones who make something beautiful out of something ugly. We are the ones who make our own silver linings.

Susan

Tell Me a Story

Do you know the story of "Tootle" by Gertrude Crampton? Tootle was a baby locomotive who wanted to grow up to be a big locomotive and go very fast. I read the story of Tootle countless times, to the point where I had the words memorized. It was my pleasure to do so, to share in the joy of the story with that sweet little boy. "Tootle" was my older son's favorite book when he was two. Toddlers learn from repetition of favorite stories, and they also find comfort in those favorite books.

I think that some adults also find comfort in their favorite stories, but not necessarily those ones found in books. My friend graduated from university roughly fifteen years ago. Her father has been telling the story that he paid for her college education. He still tells that story. Problem is, he didn't. Well, to be fair, he did give her $300 her freshman year, but that is far from footing the bill. She has corrected him numerous times, but he still finds some odd comfort in telling the story. Maybe he has told it so many times that he actually believes it himself. Now I'm not here to debate whether or not a parent should help a child with college, although I think parents should do that. It's just strange that he would tell a story which is essentially nothing more than a lie. Perhaps you know someone like that, a person who rewrites history to further his own agenda.

But enough about other people. I have to wonder if there are stories that I've been telling myself for years, to the point where I have the words memorized. Is my history true, or have I taken liberties with it to paint myself in a better light? Is what I tell other people, and more importantly, what I tell myself, true?

Susan

Quitting Time

"We all want progress, but if you're on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back on the right road. In that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive." C. S. Lewis

Those who know me would agree I am tenacious. I grab hold of something, and I don't let go. Add to my tenacity self-discipline and inner motivation, and I have overcome some serious obstacles in my life. These qualities have served me well on a number of occasions.

I think it's interesting how our greatest strengths can easily become our greatest weaknesses. In some cases, I have doggedly continued on down a road that was going no where. I used to be a person who hated failure, or to be more exact, I feared it. Quitters never win and winners never quit. Right? Well, not always. Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is to hoist up that white flag of surrender. The truly successful and fulfilled person has the wisdom to know when to continue, and when it is quitting time. I think my unwillingness to give up when something was obviously not working could be attributed to my own false sense of pride. It's perfectly okay and very normal to fail. There is no shame in admitting defeat. It's important to learn to do that, so precious time is not wasted traveling a road to no where.

There's a time to begin, a time to continue on, but let's not miss quitting time.

Susan

The Riddler

"He must be very ignorant, for he answers every question he is asked." Voltaire

I love super heroes, and Batman is my favorite, hands down. I don't know why I love him like I do. Who can explain love, really? It might be because the 1960's television series starring the very dashing Adam West was a favorite show of mine when I was a little girl. The villains in Batman are great, too. The Joker and Catwoman, and how about The Riddler? He wore that cool green onesie with the question marks all over it. He would warn Gotham City police and Batman ahead of time of his crimes, in the form of complex riddles. The Riddler is cool. And riddles are fun. But not in every day communication.

She loved to ask questions. It was her main form of communication. She tended to be passive aggressive. You know the type. Smiling sweetly on the outside, smoldering subterfuge on the inside. She was my family's version of the Riddler. She did it to everyone, so it wasn't just some weird dynamic between the two of us. I caught on early in our relationship that when she asked a question, she was actually making a statement. And it was up to everyone around her to figure out the complex riddle and give her what she wanted. It did not go well if you came up with the wrong answer to the riddle, either. Here's a classic example of how my Riddler operated, from the earliest days of our relationship. She never called me to chat, only if she wanted something.

(Landline phone pre-caller ID days. Phone rings: ding a ling a ling.)
Me: Hello.
Riddler: Do you guys have the flu? (whiny sad voice, no "hello" first)
Me: No. We are all healthy.
(Pause.)
Riddler: Oh.
(Another pause to allow me further time to solve the riddle)
Me: Do YOU have the flu?
Riddler: Yes! I have been so sick...

I know it can be difficult for some to ask for what they want or need. I know that some were raised in families where being direct was frowned upon. I know that women of this Riddler's generation can be a little coy and think it's feminine. I know. I know. I know. Over the years, I tired of the Riddler's game. And it is a game. So I began to answer her questions very simply. She became quite frustrated with me when I no longer played along. It was no great loss; there were plenty of other people for the Riddler to riddle.

My Riddler passed away a few years ago, but I still find myself stinging from the experience. I am a little overly sensitive, I suppose, to the passive aggressive riddles. It is a lot of work to try to put all the clues together, to read between the lines, to interpret tone of voice, to guess at what those Riddlers really want from me. When a Riddler starts to riddle me, maybe I should riddle her back with, "Is there something you want to say to me?"

And now I have a riddle for you. Why does Snoop Dogg need a raincoat?
Fer drizzle.

Susan

Recalculating

She calls the woman's voice in her car's GPS "Thelma," as in the great buddy movie, "Thelma and Louise." I love all the new technology to get from Point A to Point B, in our computers, smart phones and the car. I would think this would contribute to a lower overall divorce rate since it eliminates the highly stressful scenario where one spouse drives and the other one sits with a map on the lap navigating. There may be some drivers who argue with Thelma, but that is a different story.

Make a wrong turn or miss an exit, and Thelma says, "Recalculating." Then she tells you what to do next to get back on course, cautioning you to make only lawful u-turns. Getting from Point A to Point B is not always a straight line. You have human error, detours, weather, and don't tell her I said this, but sometimes Thelma is wrong.

Recalculating. Being successful and happy in life requires flexibility and the ability to recalculate your route when needed. You think you have it all nailed down, and an unexpected illness, job loss or natural disaster makes you go off course for a while. Then it's time to recalculate. The thing is, you need to just keep going, keep on moving and sooner or later you get to Point B. Just don't be so focused on the destination that you don't enjoy the scenery along the way. Getting there should be half the fun.

Happy trails to you, and may all your u-turns be lawful.

Susan

Self Esteem

A UCLA researcher has discovered a gene she believes relates to optimism and self esteem. It's that old "nature vs nurture" debate. We humans are a combination of hard wiring and environment. It's not really nature vs nurture, but nature and nurture interacting with each other. That newborn baby enters this life as a complete package, but the important people in her life will certainly have an influence on her.

Are you, as Dexter Holland cleverly phrases it, a sucker with no self esteem? The obvious solution for the guy in the song is to simply break up with the girl who treats him so badly. A healthy self concept is something we can control, and it can start out in simple baby steps, by not allowing people to treat you badly.

So maybe the bad news is you don't have the gene for high self esteem and/or your parents didn't have a clue. But the good news is, you get to take it from here. You have control of your life, and how you feel about yourself doesn't rest in a gene or in your parents' hands. It's in your hands, how you feel about yourself, how you live your life, how you relate to other people. I know it works because I have done it. Not perfectly, but I have gone from low to medium to high self-esteem. I love the person I am. Can you truthfully say that about yourself? And if not, why not start today?

Susan

At What Price Peace?

"Even peace may be purchased at too high a price." Benjamin Franklin

She calls herself the peacemaker. The middle child of five, and the only girl, she is sandwiched on either side by brothers. The roles we learn to play as kids can carry over into adult life. She and her siblings are now in their 30's and 40's, but the roles are still the same. The eldest brother is the overachiever, the second is the rebel, she is the peacemaker, next is the one she calls the invisible one, and the baby is, well, the baby. With an aversion to drama and confrontation, she keeps the peace in almost every relationship in her life. With her siblings and her parents, her husband and colleagues at work. She smooths things over when she should be talking them out. She swallows her feelings when she should be speaking her mind. She mediates disputes when they are none of her business.

I will agree that peace is a wonderful thing. Peace (peace of mind) is in my opinion, life's greatest blessing. But at what price? As she approaches her 40th birthday, she suffers from a variety of stress-related illnesses. She eats well and exercises daily, but it seems that years of trying to keep the peace have exacted a very high price from her body. The chest pains that sent her to the emergency room were a wake up call for her.

The sad thing is, with all her peacemaking she has not made peace. Just because people aren't fighting and arguing, not using hurtful words, doesn't mean there is peace. If you have ever been in the same room with a quiet person who is silently seething, you know exactly what I mean. Peace is not the absence of conflict, but dealing with the conflict that is a natural part of life in a healthy way.

Susan

Contentment or Complacency

"Being contented ought to mean in English, as it does in French, being pleased. Being content with an attic ought not to mean being unable to move from it and being resigned to live in it; it ought to mean appreciating all there is in such a position." Gilbert K. Chesterton

When I hear of one living in an attic, Anne Frank immediately comes to mind. Her famous diary gives us a glimpse into the soul of this remarkable teenager. One of my favorite quotes is from Miss Frank: "I don't think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains."

The secret to contentment is to be fully present in the moment, to savor life as it is today. Once you learn to be content (and it is a learning process) you ensure that no matter your circumstances, you will always be able to find happiness. But we must be careful not to allow contentment to turn into complacency. While we can appreciate all that the attic has to offer, we must never lower our expectations and be satisfied with living there permanently. There are grand things ahead for those of us willing to challenge ourselves, for those of us not content with the status quo.

Susan

Stubborn Passion

"Tell me of the lady the poet stubborn with his passion sang us." William Butler Yeats

Last year they celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. It truly was a celebration, because these two people love each other and like each other and it shows. Their marriage has passion. It was not always this way. When they had been married sixteen years, they seriously contemplated divorce. Their marriage had hit a major rough patch, and it seemed their differences were irreconciliable. But they both still loved each other and wanted to make it work. One of the factors, they frankly admit, was their daughter who was just in kindergarten. But they didn't stay together because of the child, pushing the anger and resentment down, gritting their teeth, enduring. They believed their marriage was worth saving. They sought counseling and did the very difficult work of changing, as individuals and as a couple. If you saw them today you'd never think that once they teetered on the verge of becoming another statistic. Their marriage, as they will both tell you, is better than ever.

You might say that they had this stubborn passion for one another. The passion burned brightly at the beginning of their relationship. Love was blind and sparks were flying. As the years went on, things started to go south and the flame was almost out. But they gave it oxygen and fanned the flames. It's easy to be passionate about a person when you're under the influence of infatuation, but remarkable to still be passionate about someone you've been with for half a century.

It's easy to be passionate about your relationships, your career, your hobbies, your life, when things are shiny new and exciting, and only human nature to become bored and lack motivation as time goes on. It happens to all of us.

What about you in your life? Do you have a stubborn streak? When you feel the fires of your life's passion start to go out, what do you do to fan those flames?

Susan

Somebody's Going to Pay For This

"That will by no means clear the guilty; visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, and upon the children's children, unto the third and fourth generation." Exodus 34:7 (King James Version Bible)

Some of the reason we as a nation are in such a financial mess is the idea of enjoying something today and paying for it tomorrow. A few years ago, a young couple could qualify for an interest-free mortgage with no down payment and only stated income. They then moved into their McMansion and filled it with furniture and appliances all purchased on easy credit. Those still in their 20's could enjoy the lifestyle it took their parents a lifetime to attain. No need to look for a sofa on craigslist or get that crib at a garage sale or drag the dirty clothes to the laundromat. No need to deal with reality; no need to live within your means. Problem is, somewhere, sometime, somebody is going to pay for it. And pay dearly.

Is life in general like that? Don't deal with your reality, and somewhere, sometime, somebody is going to pay for it. And pay dearly. It is often some innocent person who had nothing to do with it. The person you marry. Your own children. Your grandchildren. And on and on it goes, to the third and fourth generations in families. The sins of the parents are handed down like ugly rags no one wants to wear. I'm not advocating revenge, but wouldn't it be better to confront the person who actually did you harm than make those innocents pay? Wouldn't it be better to seek healing and help for your pain, than make those innocents pay? Until you have some resolution, all your bad stuff is out there floating around, ready to make those innocents pay. It won't just go away. It won't be okay. Because somewhere, sometime, somebody is going to pay for it. And pay dearly.

Susan

Lyrics to "She's Got Issues" by Dexter Holland

If a Tree Falls in the Forest...

"Who hath ears to hear, let him hear." Matthew 13:9 (King James Version Bible)

Communication is an art. It involves choice of words, tone of voice, eye contact, body language, and sometimes touch. Communication is both what you say and how you say it. Some folks who call themselves brutally honest seem to enjoy the brutal part a little too much. The flip side is that many women my age and older grew up in a time where little girls were discouraged from speaking in a direct way. It wasn't considered feminine. It was also not thought very romantic to ask for what you want or need, so we have the dilemma of a man feeling as though he must read the lady's mind. Some of what appears to be passive-aggressive behavior or even deception on the part of older women can be attributed to a degree to the way we were socialized. That's not an excuse, for we can always learn healthier ways to communicate.

My friend was telling me about when she was raped by a friend of her family. She was just a little girl of six, and she told her mom about it. She said, "My mother couldn't hear it." In Matthew's gospel narrative, he implies that some people have ears but cannot or will not hear. At first glance, it would seem that the whole point of communicating is to be heard.

You know that old question, about the tree falling in the woods. Does it still make a sound if there's no one to hear it? Is truth still truth if no one believes it? Are your words worth speaking, even if no one hears them?

In the past, I have been too concerned about how my words will be received, so I would craft my message being very aware of who the listener will be. I tended to soften the truth a bit, or leave something out, if I believed the person needed to be handled carefully. How condescending of me. Sometimes I have remained silent when I had something worthwhile to say, because I believed no one wanted to hear it. The spoken word has so much power and energy, and we all need to say what we need to say. It is my primary role in communicating to speak the truth, and it is up to the listener to hear it or not, then to do with it whatever he will. What happens after I say it is really none of my business.

I don't know about the tree in the woods, but I do know this. Truth is still truth even if no one believes it. And what comes out of my mouth is a reflection of my own integrity (or lack thereof) even if no one hears it.

Susan

The End Of The World

"When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us." Alexander Graham Bell

She hates her empty nest. It is tearing her apart. Her youngest child is at a university out of state. The middle child moved out on her own in an apartment the next town over. The oldest child accepted a job that took him 1,000 miles away from the family nest. It all happened this summer, and it shook her world to its foundation. She is trying to be happy for her kids, who all have something very exciting going on, but she is feeling pretty sorry for herself. Now it is very possible that they will be coming back home again to live. It happens with young adults who find the economy too challenging. They move back in with mom and dad. Some have gleefully pointed this out to her. Others (myself included) have told her of the joys of the empty nest. But for now, anyway, she's not buying what we're selling. Hopefully she will work through this, but right now, things are definitely not fine. It's the end of the world.

If you have lived for any length of time, you, too, may have experienced the end of the world as you know it. Perhaps it was a serious illness, the death of a loved one, the loss of a home, or the end of a relationship. Some people make a lifetime vocation of sitting and looking at the closed door. They long for the good old days. They live in the past. Then there are the others who spend some time mourning the loss, then look around to see the open door. They decide to walk through it, to experience life anew. It is always a choice, how we view the end of the world and whether we walk through the open door. It's always a choice, whether or not we'll be fine.

Susan

In the Nick of Time

"At the moment of commitment, the entire universe conspires to assist you." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

She had struggled with the pain of infertility her entire life. Her husband adored her and she adored him, and she wanted that to be enough. It wasn't. She longed to be a mother. She reached the age where she thought it was impossible to conceive, and all hope was gone. It was just then that it seemed she had become pregnant. She laughed, a kind of mirthless, bitter laugh. Was nature playing some kind of cruel, sick joke on her? Not at all. Sarah was, indeed, expecting a baby. She named her miracle baby Isaac. Her husband had other children, but this child of his old age became Abraham's favorite.

When Isaac was a young man, he and his father took the customary trip to the mountain top to offer an animal sacrifice, a blood offering. What Abraham didn't tell his son was that he was convinced God wanted him to offer up Isaac. (Now I mean no disrespect to those who revere the Bible, but this has to be one of the most horrific ideas that book contains. And frankly, I could not love a god who wanted me to kill my child as some kind of odd test of my devotion. But even I can see that there is an important principle at work here.) Isaac showed his curiosity when he said, "Dad, we have the wood for the fire, but where is the lamb?" Abraham said, "God will provide the sacrifice." Abraham tied his son and put him on top of the wood, and just as he was ready to plunge the knife in, God stopped him and told him not to do it. There was a ram caught in a nearby bush, and father and son used that for the offering. Just in the nick of time.

Some might think that the really great things in life, the realization of our dreams, requires suffering and sacrifice. That somehow we must become martyrs before we can realize joy, peace and fulfillment. That there is some painful price to be paid, a very high price, for everything good. Maybe sometimes, but surely not most of the time. I think it's not the sacrifice, but the willingness to sacrifice, that is key. It's all about commitment. Once we commit to giving it our all, to letting go, things really begin to happen. It seems as though everyone and everything comes together to help us realize that dream. The universe conspires to assist us. Sometimes just in the nick of time.

Do you hold everything and everyone dear to you tightly in your fists? Or do you know how to let go? A friend of a friend put it very well when she said, "Let go or be dragged." Sometimes we make things much harder than they need to be. We stoically, heroically prepare for a life of sacrifice and suffering, when all that is needed is our commitment to call forth all the power we need. Sometimes just in the nick of time.

Susan

Living Large

"The odds in favor of your even existing in the vastness of this universe are so infinitesimally small that you won the lottery just by showing up. You came from the fastest and strongest of Daddy's swimmers, which makes you a champion by birth, my friend. Anyone with that kind of birthright ought to be living large." Poppy St. Vincent

"Mame" is one of my all-time favorite musicals. Auntie Mame is a woman who knows how to live large. Her nephew Patrick lost both his parents, and he comes to live with his aunt. She teaches him how to, as songwriter Jerry Herman put it, "live each living day." Great actresses such as Rosalind Russell and Angela Lansbury have portrayed Mame, but I just couldn't resist this clip with Lucille Ball in the title role. Her singing makes it all the more charming to me.

I have been having fun buying my younger son some new clothes for work. His office is fairly conservative, so dress shirts and ties come in handy. He has both the good taste, ability and money to buy his own clothes. I just love doing it. If I want to be sensible and practical, I could wait until Christmas to do this. But I have been sending a few things here and there in little packages. He lives nearby, so I could just hand him the clothes. Don't you think it's wonderful to get a surprise in the mail? He is very appreciative. The last time we talked, he again thanked me and I said, "Oh, you just wait. There's more to come! It's like Christmas in July."

Do you need a little Christmas? There is no need to wait another five months to celebrate life, to show other people how much you love them, to indulge those closest to you. It doesn't even take a lot of money, just some thought and energy, to make each day a little more special for yourself and those around you. Why wait till December to make your famous fudge or send a little card to someone?

Auntie Mame spoke the truth when she said, "Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death." I don't know about you, but I think living large is the only way to go.

Susan

The Pink Knight

Knights were young men in the age of chivalry. In medieval times, they were, above all else, protectors. Ladies trusted them implicitly. From an era long gone, they are the stuff charming stories and colorful movies are made of.

Have you ever felt you've been here before? That feeling of "deja vu?" Do you know a very young child some might refer to as an "old soul?" How about that new friend, the one you connected with immediately as if you'd been friends forever? Some folks believe that we have had past lives, or at the very least that we existed in some other form, perhaps in some other dimension before we were born into this life. That perhaps some people in our lives today were in a past life with us. Neale Donald Walsch suggests we have been here hundreds of times before. Louise L. Hay tells those of us with flawed parents, that our parents are actually the perfect ones for us because we chose them before we were born. These ideas were startling to me at first, but I have discovered many groups have these kinds of beliefs. I don't know what to believe about all of it, but I am entertained just pondering it.

I have a knight. A present-day knight. A girl. The Pink Knight. Now on the surface, she is my seven-year-old granddaughter. She, her older sister and I visited an amusement park and brought home souvenirs. She chose a pink foam shield and matching sword, each decorated with girly swirlies and ruby red jewels. She set out to protect me. Now, on the surface, I am a modern day, independent woman who needs no protection. Apparently the Pink Knight knows something I don't know.

She cleansed my home of spirits. She was quite serious about it, and on the surface it seemed to be an imaginative little girl playing make-believe. What she had no way of knowing (?) was that there were some unhealthy circumstances there recently. I would never tell my little granddaughters about adult problems, because I want to protect them from that. My dear friend/roommate and I handled the situation, the two of us working as a very effective team. Relieved that things were resolved, we had been enjoying the peace and happiness of our home for a few weeks. Apparently the Pink Knight knew something we didn't know. Some of the things she told us as she went about her knight business were nothing short of amazing.

My granddaughters and I had a wonderful time together. I love those little girls, and I would do anything for them. I would protect them with my life if it came down to that, and not even give it a second thought. They are young and innocent and vulnerable and deserve to be protected. That being said, it is abundantly clear now that Grandma needed protection, too. And I do feel safe and cared for and protected. I trust the Pink Knight implicitly, because apparently she knows some things I don't know.

Susan

They Want Your Soul

Bob Dylan penned the words, "I gave her my heart, but she wanted my soul." Giving his heart should have been enough, but the theoretical woman in the song had to have more.

There is plenty of love in our hearts to go around. Love for spouses or significant others, family, friends, our fellow human beings. There is no scarcity of it, so there is no need to be stingy with our love. In fact, it seems to me the more love we give away, the more we get.

But those people who cross sacred boundaries and want to steal your soul? Beware of them and guard against them. When you give something, they always need a little more. When you offer something freely, they always want something else. When you are happy, they swoop in with their doom and gloom and try to drag you down. When you are at peace, they swing by with their drama and try to shake you up. When you are positive, they throw their negative catchphrases at you, and you have to expend precious energy counteracting their attacks. When your self-esteem seems stable, they come at you with their questions and innuendos, causing you to question yourself. You love them. You really do, but if you allow it, they will take away your very soul and leave you as a pathetic shell of the person you once were.

Beware the soul robbers. They are easy to spot, really. If you feel you are less yourself whenever you're around someone, chances are good that person wants your soul. Don't let it happen. They're the reason we have to just keep traveling on.

Susan

Self-Respect

"When you are content to be simply yourself and don't compare or compete, everybody will respect you." Lao Tzu

"I have never met anyone like you before," she told me. I get that a lot, and for the most part it is meant as a compliment. She went on to say, "You don't give a s*** what people think about you." I laughed. I do care what people think about me. I like it when people like me. There are some folks whose opinion is quite important to me, but I understand what she meant. I am not a people pleaser.

You have probably known a people pleaser or two in your time. She is never simply herself. In fact, you aren't even sure who she is, other than a pretzel who tries to twist herself around to accomodate everyone else. She is almost desperate in her attempt to please. She rarely expresses an unpopular opinion, and she hates to say "no." If she must say "no," she explains and apologizes and bows and scrapes to the point where you are vaguely embarrassed for her. People may like her, but they don't respect her. And if this people-pleasing behavior is chronic, she gets to where she has no self-respect either. Maybe one follows the other. Why should anyone respect you, when you don't even respect yourself?

Virtues such as kindness, friendliness and courtesy make this world a much more pleasant place. We should try as much as possible to treat others as we would like to be treated. There is nothing gained by being rude and abrasive. But if we are simply who we are, if we have a healthy self-respect, people are not always going to like us. They will not always be pleased. They won't like taking "no" for an answer. But they will respect us, even if it is a kind of grudging respect.

While it is possible to be both liked and respected, sometimes we must make a choice. I don't know about you, but I'll choose respect every time. It means a lot to me to look in the mirror and respect the person I see looking back.

Susan

Who Do You Think You Are?

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I, to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be?" Marianne Williamson

Her humor crosses the line from self-deprecating to self-loathing. She defends it by saying that it's her family's humor, and her parents emphasized humility above all things. I think her mom and dad had some very strange kind of dictionary at their house, because hating yourself is not humility. Of course, parents don't want to raise children whose heads are so big they no longer fit in the front door. No one enjoys being around a cocky, arrogant person. We want to strike a balance between a healthy self-concept and bragging.

My brother has told me I should share my writing with a local newspaper. After fellow blogger Loudmouth Birdie read my Betty Ford post from yesterday, she said the same thing. So I quickly went online and found the email address of the editor of a small community newspaper, and sent him a short email with a link to my blog. Unlike a paper envelope that can sit on your counter while you debate whether or not to drop it in the mailbox, an email is instant. I hit the "send" button, and it was out there. No turning back. It was exhiliarating, then I heard a voice inside my head that asked, "Who do you think you are?!" The audacity! The unmitigated gall! It threw me for a loop, mostly because I so rarely hear those little demeaning voices anymore. Once I got my bearings, I remembered that this is who I think I am: I am Susan and I am a writer. My Betty Ford post is some of my best work. When I was done with it, I read it another time and thought, "Oh, I am getting really good at this." Maybe that was bragging, or maybe it was the truth. Actually, that post was so good it kind of scared me. Scary in a good way, like the biggest, baddest roller coaster at the amusement park. Now I wouldn't be scared if I was just a mediocre writer, if my little blog was just a little hobby I shared with family and friends, so they could pat me on my little head and say, "That was nice."

While we are living, we might as well live large, right? Why even have a dream if it is not a huge, colorful, wonderful dream? Why even have talents if you don't use them, if you don't keep developing them until you step back and say to yourself, "Oh, I am getting really good at this."

Now I have a question for you. Who do you think you are?

Susan

Betty Ford

"Power is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't." Margaret Thatcher

We were still raw from the Vietnam War when the Watergate hearings were televised that summer of '74. President Nixon and Vice President Spiro Agnew resigned in disgrace, and Gerald Ford became the 38th President. When he made the immensely unpopular decision to pardon President Nixon, Ford termed the scandal a "national nightmare." Some believe that every cloud has a silver lining. If Watergate was the cloud, First Lady Betty Ford was our silver lining.

She was a divorced ex-dancer and model. I guess she wasn't the conventional prim and proper "lady" that some believed a president's wife should be. She was refreshingly honest and funny. Mrs. Ford's detractors called her "No Lady," but most Americans adored her.

In 1974, our First Lady told us she had breast cancer and went on to explain about her masectomy, at a time in history when such words were foreign to many people, and perhaps vaguely shameful to some. Women sat up and took notice, and today self-exams and early detection are quite routine. In 1978, the Ford family had an intervention for their mother and wife, at a time in history when the average person on the street had no idea what that was. Mrs. Ford was characteristically open when she told us she was addicted to both prescription painkillers and alcohol. This was at a time in history when the media would have looked the other way if she wanted "privacy." Her candor about her problem and her courage to get treatment enboldened countless others to seek help. Suddenly addiction had a face: a woman's face. She died July 8 at the age of 93, but the Betty Ford Center lives on.

Mrs. Ford danced the "Bump" at the White House, adored her husband and loved her children. She left this world a much better place than she found it. No other First Lady has done so much good for so many.

Betty Ford was a real woman who dared to let us see who she was. She taught younger women like me that there is grace and beauty in being honest. I doubt she went around trying to convince people she was a lady. She didn't have to.

Susan

And All the Time I Know

I know how to give love, and I know how to receive love. The people I love, without a doubt, know I love them. And the people who love me? Sometimes my heart feels like it is about to burst out of my chest, it is so filled with all the love that others pour into me. Without fail, every time I spend time with one of my sons, I cry afterwards as I think about all that love. My love for them and theirs for me. I am crying as I type this. I am extraordinarily blessed to be able to give love and to receive love. I am both proud and grateful that whatever my mother did to me, she did not rob me of that ability. My life's journey has had some other rough patches in it, but no one has ever taken that away from me. I know that I am lucky because I look around and see people who don't know how to give love or to accept love. They are broken people. For whatever I have been through and whatever I have done in life, I am not broken.

Sometimes I make things too complicated. I think too much and try to figure things out. I try to solve problems. I am an INTJ, after all, and it's what we do best. In the words of Mr. Clapton, I stand there trying to find a sign when all the time I know what to do. Love.

My previous post about loving people without wanting to rescue them started me thinking about this. The roots of my craving to fix damaged people can be found with my parents, two very troubled people. Of course, a little girl can't fix the adults in her life, but as young children we inherently think we can and we try. My mother and my father chose to never get help. I couldn't help them, but I did love them. My mother killed my love early on. Or perhaps it was that she treated me so cruelly I decided not to love her anymore. It doesn't matter which it was. But I loved her when I was small. And I loved my father. So I gave them what I had, my love. It's all I really have to give. And it is enough. I think I knew that all along.

Susan

Lesson Learned

"When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." Buddha

Friends come into our lives. Some stay and others go. Perhaps it's your college roommate. You become close, then after graduation you go on to jobs in separate cities and sort of lose touch. Maybe it's that other mom you serve on the PTA with. Then your kids move on and so do you. My oldest, best friend and I have been at it for thirty-five years now. For the majority of our friendship, we have lived across the country from each other. There have been literally years we haven't seen each other, but we always seem to just pick up where we left off. She is one of the most loyal people I know. If I was in trouble, all I would have to do is tell her and she'd be on the next plane to California. I would do the same for her.

A friend recently taught me one of the most important lessons of my life. My childhood was dysfunctional, and both my parents were messed up people. Like many kids who grow up that way, I developed a pattern of playing those relationships out over and over in life. It's what Freud called "repetition compulsion," a subconscious way of trying to right those wrongs. I am at heart a compassionate person and I enjoy helping other people, but I took it to new heights as I found damaged people and tried to rescue them. My rational mind knew it was hopeless. Of course, those people would have to fix and change themselves. I couldn't do it. But still I tried. I failed and in the process hurt myself, but I tried. Then I got sick of doing it and decided no more. I was going to stop rescuing people. Well, this student must have been ready, because within a few months, the teacher appeared.

My new friend and I hit it off immediately. We laughed and talked and laughed some more. With a couple of other "girls," we had a great trip to Las Vegas. I love her and she loves me. For a long time I didn't connect the dots, but as she told me more and more about herself, I began to guess that it's likely she was hurt very badly as a child. She has bipolar disorder, and when we first met she was taking medication that successfully treated it. Then she made the decision to go off her meds and stay off them. Her health went from okay to bad to worse, and when she hit rock bottom, a third friend got in touch with her family. She is with them now, and it would be wonderful if she would take this opportunity to help herself get better.

One day when she was somewhere between worse and rock bottom, I looked at her and had the most amazing realization. I had no desire to fix her. None at all. My lifelong craving was gone. How did it happen? I really don't know. I imagine it was a progression that as time goes on, I'll begin to see clearly. I don't think it even matters. I had learned to love someone without wanting to fix her. Lesson learned.

I don't know what I was to my friend. I tried as much as possible to make it be positive. But I definitely know what she was to me. I was the student and she my teacher.

Susan

Being Alive

"Life is without meaning. You bring the meaning to it. The meaning of life is whatever you ascribe it to be. Being alive is the meaning." Joseph Campbell

The sages down through the ages have pondered the meaning of life and what its purpose might be. Some people find meaning in religion. They spend time in prayer, they read the sacred writings, they ask their god what his will would be, and they try to carry it out. Others find meaning in philanthropy, or perhaps helping their fellow men through medicine, science, music or art. There are those who chase the American dream, whose success in the business world provides jobs for other people. There are those who wander through life wondering what to do next, why they are here on this earth at this place and time, and what it is they should do. They seek meaning and purpose. They cry out for truth.

I recently read the book, "Conversations with God," by Neale Donald Walsch. I will paraphrase by saying that at one point in the book he says that we used to beg the universe for truth, and now we tell the universe our truth. I mean no disrespect to readers who embrace a more conventional faith. That is not the path that I have chosen, however.

It's my belief that Joseph Campbell nailed it when he said that the only meaning my life has is what I bring to it. I create the kind of life I want. I choose what is meaningful. I bring purpose to my life. An avid reader, I am by nature a thinker and I enjoy gathering different viewpoints, but when it comes down to what am I to do with my life, it's all up to me. I choose what is meaningful. I decide what my purpose is.

What makes you feel alive? What do you find meaningful? What are the things that you do on purpose? What is your truth?

Susan

Protect My Child

We were gathered in the conference room for a baby shower after the work day was over. There was pink as far as the eye could see. Pink clothes, pink toys, pink blankets and even pink frosting on the cupcakes. My colleague was about to have her first child, a baby girl she would name Cheyenne. She was excited, but so tired of being pregnant. She patted her belly and said, "I will be so glad when this is over." The mom of a couple of teenagers laughed and said, "Oh, it's just starting."

Parenting is a lifetime gig. It isn't over when your child turns 18 or 21. It isn't over when he graduates from high school or college, or even when he moves out on his own. It isn't over when he has kids of his own. How very thankful I am that it's never over, that being a mom is my forever job. You never do stop wanting to protect them, and that is the biggest challenge of having kids who are technically no longer kids anymore. They are adults, out there living their lives, and not only can you not protect them from the hurts of life, it is completely inappropriate for you to even try to do so. The potential for them being hurt increases exponentially as they get older, too. You have no control over what they do, nor should you. So you learn to trust.

It requires a great deal of trust to be the parent of an adult child. You must trust as you have never trusted before. Trust that your son or daughter is fully capable of living his own life and making his own decisions. Trust that his path is uniquely his own. That you gave the task of raising him your best effort, that the mistakes you made were not fatal, that the times you were not a good example perhaps he still learned from you, as a cautionary tale. You trust that you walked the walk instead of just talking the talk, that he respects you enough to want your opinion on a few things. You trust that if things start to go wrong, you can speak up calmly but clearly, and that the bond you forged so many years ago will give you the influence you need at that moment, and he will hear what you have to say. So you trust him and you trust yourself, not consistently and not perfectly, but it's something you learn to do better every day.

We learn so much from our children, do we not? I believe I have learned so much more about life from my sons than they ever learned from me. It is a wonderful time of life, this time when your children are grown and you get to sit back and just enjoy them. The responsibility for raising them is over, and that is very freeing. But still, every once in a while you might find yourself whispering, in the words of Bob Dylan, "Protect my child."

Susan

Holding On or Letting Go?

"Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else. You are the one getting burned." Buddha

Anger is a normal emotion, a result of being wronged. It is okay to feel it and perfectly all right to express it. I am beginning to give myself permission to do those things. I was raised by a rageaholic. She controlled her world by throwing fits. She was scary to me, because she was big and I was small. She had all the power and I had none. I have always had a lack of respect for adults who throw temper tantrums. I have no time for people who can't control themselves, and even less patience for people who carefully pick and choose the time to pitch their fits, for optimal results. I see a fully grown person having a tantrum, and to me she is a huge baby wearing a silly bonnet, an old-fashioned cloth diaper with a pin on it, and a pacifier in her mouth. "Waaah! I'm so angry! Waaah!" she screams.

At a very early age, I decided not to become my mother. I have some of her less ugly traits, but for the most part I have been quite successful at that. But it is way past time I move past my childhood and allow myself to feel and express healthy anger. I was given the perfect opportunity to do so very recently. I was angry, on my behalf, and also on behalf of a very innocent party. So I told the person who was in the wrong how it was going to be. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't use profanity. I didn't throw my pacifier out of my mouth and kick and scream. I was actually very kind, much nicer than she deserved. That's because that is who I am. I didn't become petty or catty or hit below the belt. But she understood me, because I made myself clear in no uncertain terms. I didn't hold on to how I felt anymore. I let it go. It's the only reasonable thing to do, right? If you literally pick up a burning hot coal, your hand will drop it immediately because that's your body's response to getting burned. You don't hold on. You let it go.

The result of my feeling my anger and then expressing it in a constructive manner was very positive. I kept my dignity. I was true to who I was. I spoke the truth. The person heard me and took immediate action. It was actually so much easier than I would have expected, so next time I won't hold on that long at all. I'll just let it go.

Susan

Frankly, My Dear...

As the film opens, we see a beautiful and beautifully dressed young woman, holding court as men fall all over themselves around her. It's that most famous fictional narcissist, Scarlett O'Hara. With all due respect to "Gone With the Wind" author Margaret Mitchell, real life narcissist Sarah Palin is a much better illustration than even Scarlett. I guess truth really is stranger than fiction.

Narcissism has become an over-used term lately, and many folks who are not narcissists are given that label. True narcissism, or narcissistic personality disorder, is a mental illness, with its roots in infancy and toddlerhood. The all-important bonding process that a baby must make with someone, a parent or other caregiver, fails to happen. Many narcissists are victims of other types of child abuse as well. They are among the most intelligent, charming, beautiful and talented people you could ever find. But inside they are empty, devoid of any sort of self-concept and unable to feel empathy. Many books have been written about them, and it has been said they are emotional vampires. They surround themselves with great people, then feed on them until there's nothing left. Then they move on to another victim. Because they can't or won't examine themselves, therapists find narcissists the most difficult people to treat. That is if they ever do get into therapy, because a narcissist even admitting there might be something wrong is a rare occurrence.

Two very important people in my own life were narcissists; one was a man and the other a woman just like Scarlett and Sarah. Things start out wonderfully with a narcissist, then end with you feeling exhausted and spent, as if their bite has sucked your life's blood away. They are, at their core, the most selfish people you will ever find. I am sad for the hurt babies that they used to be, because I understand that even a very poor excuse for a parent can still successfully bond with her child. But I am more than a little tired of people who were once victims becoming perpetrators themselves. No matter what was done to you, you have no right to take it out on everyone else. Those of us who have been fed on do get fed up, eventually. Then the narcissist panics, seeing her supply walking away. She dramatically asks whatever will become of her. Captain Rhett Butler said it perfectly when he told Scarlett, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Susan

Reverse Snobbery

"Be careful how you interpret the world: it is like that." Erich Heller

We worked at a fast food restaurant in a somewhat upscale community. My supervisor was not what you would call a people person. I believe she failed to make this important connection: you have a job because you have customers. If you have no customers, you have no job. Treat the customers well, they will return and you will have job security. She believed that most of the customers looked down their noses at us, because of what she viewed as a lowly station in life. She often commented that the town was full of snobs. I interacted directly with customers much more often than she did, and that was not at all my experience. The vast majority of our customers were nice, reasonable people. Occasionally there was someone who was less than pleasant, but I didn't take it personally. Maybe they were in a hurry that day, perhaps they had pressures or problems I knew nothing about. Sure; every once in a while someone would patronize me, but I assumed the person's own insecurity caused that behavior.

It might have been what my boss brought to her interactions: that giant chip on her shoulder that she just dared people to knock off. She often had negative interactions with customers, but really she was the one who started it with her bad attitude. She expected our customers to judge her, but in reality she was the one doing the judging. She was the snob, in sort of a reverse fashion. It is just as blatantly unfair to treat someone badly because you envy him, as it is for a successful person to treat someone else as beneath him. My own experience has been that those who are well off financially are normal, down-to-earth people. Those who are pretentious would likely be that way regardless of their bank balance. And of course, not everyone who appears to be wealthy is. It could be they are simply in a great deal of debt.

How we view the world in general and how we view people in particular has a lot to do with whether we are happy or miserable. My former supervisor was a very unhappy person. She disliked her job and it showed. But I learned something useful from her, and here's what it is. Not all wealthy people are snobs, and not all snobs are wealthy.

Susan

I Enjoy Being a Girl

"I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman." Anaïs Nin

She spun a compelling "oh, woe is me" kind of tale. Her husband, it seems, was not meeting her emotional needs. Preoccupied with work, he didn't have the time or inclination to talk incessantly about her feelings and thoughts. I was a little surprised, because from what she has said in the past, he seemed to be a good guy and pretty attentive. Their marital problems are none of my business, but where my ears perked up was when she began to make sweeping generalizations about women. How we live in an emotional world that men can't understand. That we need continual reassurance that we are loved and beautiful. That men are rational and we are not (!)

It is disingenuous to use being a woman as an excuse for laziness, immaturity and a lack of empathy. It is also offensive to us other women who are fully functioning adults to purport that "we" are all like this. Of course, I know that men and woman are different, not just physically. But it gets us no where to perpetuate the tired, worn-out stereotypes.

I love being a woman. Today we have the best of both worlds. We can do anything men can do, but we can also enjoy our femininity. We should embrace it and enjoy it, but never use it as an excuse. Our emotions and feelings should enrich our lives and the lives of those around us, not be used as weapons to make the people who love us feel inadequate. Being sensitive to how others might be feeling, being understanding of the pressures they face, now that would truly be a rich emotional life.

Susan

Getting Used To It

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you wonder, "How did I get myself into this?" Things have gone from bad to worse to intolerable and you're desperate to get out, to have it all end. It didn't happen overnight and it didn't happen in a vacuum. I think with dysfunctional or unhealthy relationships, there is a four part progression.

Number 1 is, "You've got to be kidding!" This is where you encounter customs or behaviors that seem wrong or at the very least strange. It doesn't feel right; your gut tells you so. The smart thing to do at this point would be to have a long, hard look at reality and be prepared to walk away.

If you choose not to end it at 1, that will lead to number 2. "It will be okay." You can change the dynamic, fix the other person, or it's something you can easily live with it. The good outweighs the bad, right? I mean, they have lots of wonderful qualities and you have to take the bad with the good. After all, nobody's perfect and there is no ideal set of circumstances.

Of course, it doesn't change and you fail at fixing it, but you continue on. Perhaps you're too lazy to end it. Or maybe you feel you have too much time and energy invested. So you move on to number 3. "This is my 'normal.'" At this point there is a resignation to the way things are, a miserable kind of acceptance. You just get through each day doing the best you can. You begin to be part of the problem yourself, going along to get along. Those who know you see a different person, one who has compromised who and what he is.

And finally we have denial and defense in number 4. "What do you mean it's wrong?!" You have so thoroughly assimilated yourself that you truly do not even see how far gone you are. If someone with an objective point of view comments that the emperor has no clothes, you become quite defensive. How dare they! Some live in number 4 forever. Others find themselves in so much pain that they decide to get out, but a lot of damage has already been done.

Getting used to it is not the way to live. Now there are some situations where these coping mechanisms might come in handy. If you find yourself in a concentration camp or you become a prisoner of war, you may feel the need to do whatever it takes to survive until the day you get out of that place. But for the vast majority of situations in life, you do not need to, nor should you ever just resign yourself to the fate at hand. Don't go from 1 to 2 to 3 and then to 4. Decide that you will always live in 1; that you will trust what you know to be truth and live accordingly. Trust yourself enough to know that if something feels bad, it probably is. Respect yourself enough to live life on your terms, to be the kind of person that can look himself in the mirror and like what he sees there.

Susan