Wednesday, April 27, 2011

And They Lived Happily Ever After

"If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you end your story." Orson Welles

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who, like many little girls, believed she would marry, move into a house surrounded by a picket fence, fill it with children, and live happily ever after.

She fell in love, got married and soon there was a little baby boy. It wasn't long before she and her husband went their separate ways, and she took on the greater responsibility of raising their child. She was in a great deal of pain, experienced all the emotions you would expect, and worked through them. She could have become bitter. She chose not to. She did struggle financially, yet she doesn't view anything she did for her son as a sacrifice. And she always encouraged his father to have an active role in his life.

That baby boy is a man now, and he is someone any parent would be proud of. He's happy and healthy and doing great things with his life. She and his dad have a relationship remarkably absent of animosity. Their child loves each one of them freely, because he has never been made to feel disloyal for doing just that. Her life isn't perfect, yet she's one of the happiest people I have ever met. She could be sad about her empty nest; however, she's too busy at the moment learning to spread her own wings and fly.

There is no picket fence in this story. Is that a sad thing? Yes. I guess so, because I love fairy tales just as much as the next girl. But you know what? I think her truth is much better than any fiction. And the way it all turned out? How's that for a happy ending?

Susan

Friday, April 22, 2011

Lovingly Detached

At first listen, this Buddy Holly song is one of those classic, "Oh, woe is me! He done me wrong" songs.



"Anxiety is love's greatest killer. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic." Anaïs Nin

Loved ones drowning in a sea of addiction or dysfunction can take us down with them, if we allow it. I don't mean to be callous. I understand a drowning man needs to be rescued, but maybe you could find a way to help that doesn't involve your own demise.

Psychologists call it detachment. Those in the 12 step programs often add the word 'loving.'" You pry those arms threatening to strangle you off your neck and throw the person a life preserver instead. It's his choice whether or not to take it. Detachment is a decision on our part, but often the toxic person drives us to it. Mr. Holly's words, "I've done everything, and now I'm sick of trying," resonate. Others might judge your detachment as being cold and cruel, but it's not. It's the only sane thing to do. It's what a normal person does. It involves a conscious decision, but is often a process that takes place over time. It is the right thing to do for yourself, for obvious reasons. And it is the right thing to do for your loved one. You step out of his way and no longer hinder him from saving himself.

Detachment is your friend. It protects you from being hurt, because you no longer give the toxic person any power over your life. It gives you time to heal from past hurts the relationship has inflicted. You'll know your detachment is complete when you reach a place of peace, a place where there is no guilt. Oh, I suppose if you were asked, you'd agree that it would be nice if the person changed. But it just doesn't matter anymore.

Susan

Saturday, April 16, 2011

I Am Woman

misandry - hatred of men (from the Free Online Dictionary)

I am, unabashedly, a feminist. I believe in the equality of the sexes, equal opportunity, equal pay for equal work. I am truly grateful for the sacrifices that our grandmothers, mothers, aunts and sisters have made along the way so that my little granddaughters can be and do anything they want with their lives. I don't suffer misogynists well.

However, it saddens me that there is a subtle contempt for men that has crept into our culture. We see it in the way family court is skewed favorably toward women. We see it in the classroom where teaching methods play to the strengths of little girls. We see it in television and movies, where the wife is smart and the husband is kind of a doofus. We see it in wives who on the one hand complain that their husbands never help them. Then on the other hand, they say he doesn't load the dishwasher the right way (her way) or change the diaper the right way (her way.) Women put men down by saying they aren't in touch with their emotions, they don't know how to nurture, they are just vaguely inept and stupid. I recently read of a study that said that 29% of men are victims of domestic abuse at some point in their lives. That is a much higher figure than is usually purported. Men and women are different, in obvious ways. But I think we have more similarities than differences. I don't want to have to apologize for being a girl. A man should not have to apologize for being a man.

Yes, we have come a long way, baby. We should be proud that we have moved up in the world. But if in the process of moving up, we put men down, that is nothing to be proud of. That, my sisters, is a shame.

Susan

Friday, April 15, 2011

Lemons and Lemon Pie

"In the practice of tolerance, one's enemy is the best teacher." Dalai Lama

Have you heard of the Zucchini Bandit? She was a woman whose garden produced an overabundance of zucchini squash. At first her neighbors, friends and coworkers were happy to take some off her hands, but after a while they began to refuse her zucchini overtures. They were just plain sick and tired of zucchini. Now I don't know if it's a true story or a joke or an urban legend, but soon throughout the neighborhood people would open their front doors in the morning to find that "someone" had dropped off some zucchini during the night.

I used to live in a home that had a lemon tree in the backyard, and our neighbors knew they were welcome to come over and pick some lemons. One neighbor in particular was very happy about this. She showed up at our door one day holding a lemon meringue pie she had baked. Never before or since have I experienced a more beautiful or delicious lemon meringue pie. The meringue was in perfect golden peaks, the crust flaky and the filling the perfect mixture of sweet and tart. She handed me the pie and said it was her way of thanking us for the lemons. You've heard that old saw, I'm sure, about when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. She took it one step further and made the most delightful pie.

Sometimes it is our enemy who teaches us life's most valuable lessons. Now please don't misunderstand me, for what is wrong will NEVER be right. But we won't experience true happiness until we learn to make lemonade (or lemon pie) out of the lemons that come our way. And we will never know true peace until we can say, from the bottom of the heart, "Thank you for the lemons."

Susan

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Coming Home

I moved to California in August 1985, the summer of my 27th year. Coming home to a place I'd never been before.



I love California. She is not the state of my birth, but she is the home of my heart. She and I have been together for a long time now. We have a high state income tax rate, but that sunshine tax is worth every penny to me. I could live anywhere, and I choose to live in California. Oh sure; we have our problems, fiscally and socially. But I still love her. We have had colorful governors like Ronnie and Arnold and now Jerry Brown, for the second time around. I love that no one can light up a cigarette in even the smallest bar. I love that you can buy raw milk in the supermarket and that farmers are required to treat those who give us meat, milk and eggs more humanely. I love wearing a tank top, shorts and flip flops when the rest of the country is shoveling snow. I love understanding a word here and there when my neighbors speak Spanish. I love that we appreciate and respect other people's cultures, even when we don't understand. And while we don't give gay people the same rights as straight people, not yet, I believe we will soon get there.

People think we are all Hollywood and Berkeley, but we are also Placerville and National City and Barstow. People think we are all tanned and botoxed and blonde, but we are also brunettes and redheads who wear our wrinkles proudly. California is not perfect, but she is perfect for me.


Susan

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Heart Problems

"Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh...For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned." Matthew 12:34,37 (King James Version Bible)

In the past 36 hours I have had three conversations with people who were really negative. They are nice enough folks, but all three have basically a pessimistic outlook on life. Maybe they needed to vent and I was the closest person. As I listened to the one woman, I visualized all the negative words spilling out of her mouth and all over the outdoor bench we were sitting on, and on to the ground. I know some of the words got on me, too, even though I tried to brush them off as soon as they hit me. What was spilling out of her mouth was what was in her heart.

There are times when we choose our words carefully. In a job interview, we think before we speak. On a first date, we use words to impress. Around small children, we watch our language. We consciously control what we say, but let the guard down just a little bit, and what fills our heart comes spilling out.

The negative talk is but a symptom of the underlying problem, a heart condition, if you will. Repair the heart and the speech will take care of itself. It's a conscious decision, what we choose to have fill our hearts.

Susan

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

The Sum of Your Fears

"Why, you may take the most gallant sailor, the most intrepid airman or the most audacious soldier, put them at the table together. What do you get? The sum of their fears." Winston Churchill

She is in the middle of a challenging situation. A mutual acquaintance said, "You are so brave. I couldn't do that. I'd be too scared." She replied that she lived with fear on a daily basis, "but I breathe a lot." I smiled when she said that, understanding that when we are under stress we tend to take very shallow breaths. We don't breathe deeply as we should.

Why do we think the intrepid individual is fearless? Why do we think she is made of better stuff than we are? Could it be that the person who does what I would like to do if I wasn't so afraid, is every bit as scared as I am, maybe even more so? Could it be the only difference between me and her is that she faces her fears? Is it possible that it's as simple as breathing?

Susan

Monday, April 11, 2011

Mother and Son

A mother's heart is aching. Her teenage son's funeral is today. He took his own life. I don't know her personally. She's a friend of a friend. She has a mother's heart but was unable to conceive a baby.

At the age of four, he was removed from his home because of abuse. He landed in the system and she was his court-appointed special advocate. Then she adopted him. She was the perfect mother for him. You might be thinking that he was a lucky little boy, but she would probably tell you that she's the lucky one.

At the time of his death, they were in family therapy. She did everything she could for him. That is, after all, what mothers do. His time on earth was very short, but because of her, he knew what it was to be truly loved. She rescued him, but she would probably tell you that he rescued her. She was his angel. And now he is hers.

Susan

Monday, April 4, 2011

Pot and Kettle

My college professors use power point presentations. They click on the computer and the information projects on a large screen that everyone can read. They can walk around the classroom, remote laser pointer in hand, referring to certain things and making the presenation move along. It breaks up the monotony of the lecture. We wouldn't be able to see the small information on the computer monitor at the front of the classroom, but since it is enlarged and magnified up there on the screen, we can all easily read it. It is the modern day version of the overhead projector the teachers used when I was a kid.

Projection. The psychologists tell us it is when we take one of our own undesirable traits and put it on someone else. My grandma would have said, "Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?!"

Part of becoming self-aware is catching ourselves when we do this. I am going to play a game with myself. I am going to be consciously aware the next time I see something distasteful in someone else, and ask myself the question. Is it really them? Or have I taken something I don't want to see in myself and projected it on them, enlarged and magnified?

Truth in all areas of my life. My own personal power point presentation, if you will. Would you like to play that game with me? We'll call it Pot and Kettle.

Susan

Saturday, April 2, 2011

A Year in the Life

Today is my blogiversary. April 2, 2010, one year ago today, I started this blog with the post, "Hero in Your Soul." 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days, 192 posts. This past year for me has been one of activity and action. I think back to where I was a year ago today, and there have been measurable milestones along the way. I am at a most exciting time in my life, filled with challenges and opportunities to grow.

A year can seem forever if you are struggling and waiting. A year can fly by if you are busy and productive. The first year of a baby's life is the most amazing period of growth that person will ever experience, mentally and physically. Just in pounds and ounces alone, the typical child triples his birth weight by his first birthday. That one-year-old with birthday cake smeared on his face is quite a different animal from the newborn he was only a year ago.

Folks in business say time is money. And that is true. But if you lose money, you can always make more. But if you have lost time, that is something you never get back. Time is precious. We need to protect it and respect it.

Where were you on April 2, 2010? For sure you are a year older. Are you a year happier, a year smarter, a year healthier, a year closer to being all that you can be?

Susan

Truth In All Things

"Be curious, not judgmental." Walt Whitman

Lately I have been aware of how judgmental I can be of others. One of my intentions for this year is "truth in all areas of my life." On New Year's eve when I stated this, I understood that having truth would at times make me uncomfortable. Seeing the truth about myself sometimes makes me squirm.

The first day of the semester at college, it was almost time for class to start and we were sitting there waiting. A middle-aged woman entered the classroom and looked around. "Oh my god," she exclaimed loudly, "I knew I would be the oldest one!" I responded, "I bet I'm older than you." She laughed and said, "No. You're not." I replied, "I'm 52." She said, "You ARE older than me." From time to time throughout the semester, I have heard her make self-deprecating remarks about her age.

This week she had a question for the professor. She started out by saying, "My daughter's son..." The professor looked puzzled for a moment, then asked, "Your grandson?" She replied that yes, he was her grandson but she doesn't like to call him that because she doesn't want to be a grandmother. Grandmothers are old. I had to turn away because I didn't want my face to betray my judgmental thoughts. You see, I am very proud of being a grandmother and want to shout it from the rooftops. When my grandchildren address me as Grandma, my heart does these little flips. I cannot fathom how anyone could possibly not be bursting at the seams just to be a grandma. I was judging her, because she is different from me in this respect.

Curiosity about differences is healthy. No one needed to wonder why she would not call her daughter's son her grandson, because she had already given us abundant evidence that she is uncomfortable with her age. She needs acceptance and kindness, not judgment. The problem is, when I judge I am not in a frame of mind to be accepting or kind. Judgment is a harsh emotion.

I smiled at her as we were filing out of class. I found myself thinking, "If she would update her hair and her makeup and her clothing, she would look much younger." I guess I still have a lot of work to do in this area. And that's the truth.

Susan