Tag: independence

Warp Speed

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Uncategorized2 Comments

warp speed

I’ve been aware of the time going by

they say in the end it’s the blink of an eye~ Jackson Browne (The Pretender)

I have lived in the same town for twenty-four years now. I still find it hard to fathom that so much time has passed and that my sons are no longer little boys.  I do not long for those days; although I did enjoy them. I appreciate the challenges and intensity of raising my sons. The days zoomed by and I was never once bored when I was home full-time. At times, I would hear other parents say that they could not wait until their kids were grown. I was quite puzzled and even dismayed at their train of thought. Why were they rushing time?

Now that my sons are young men, I appreciate the time that I spent with them (as do they).  But most importantly, I am so very grateful for the time that we spend together now. So much is happening in our lives presently. Each of us is on the cusp of new beginnings and I feel as if we are in the midst of sharing one another’ s nearly constant curves in the road. My oldest is graduating college in just over 4 weeks and will be making his way into the real world-although for all intents and purposes he really has had about one and half feet in it for many years.

The shift from childhood and adolescence to the responsibilities of adulthood was swift. When a father departs, life has a way of knocking a young man off track  and swiftly into manhood.  Because his father was never truly present, my oldest made his way into maturity through fits and starts and a few mistakes and bad choices (though none were life-threatening).  In a few respects, it is obvious that there is a some sort of gap in his growth toward manhood. After all, his dad left when he was 14-prime time for a boy to know how to become a man. But in the last two years, I have seen a growth spurt of sorts within him. Much of it is due to him making peace with who is father is and his limitations. The other is a willingness to be the best man he can possibly be. Today I see him as a rocket ready to be launched. Watch out world: he is ready to fly!

For my youngest, his journey was, is and will be different. He experienced his father on more of a first hand basis as a teenager. This helped my youngest truly understand the kind of person his father is without any of my input, perspective or bias. At times (who am I kidding-all the time!), I worried about what he was seeing under his father’s roof. But I learned that  letting go was the quickest and healthiest way for my son to reach his own conclusions. He returned home eventually-disappointed and broken hearted.  He’s got his power and confidence back; each day I have seen him grow by leaps and bounds as he makes his way in his chosen career and into the great wide and scary world.

As for me, I have finally grown into the woman I have always been. I am at peace with my place on this earth- creative, athletic, joyful and madly in love with the man that I dreamed of finding someday.  Like my sons, I am ready to be launched and I am making my way in this world on my own terms.

So here we are the three of us, riding this crazy train of change and growth. We are moving quickly but our focus is unwavering. The ride is at once nerve racking and exhilarating and we love every minute of it!

Somebody That I Used to Know*

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman8 Comments

Today a new sun rises for me; everything lives, everything is animated, everything seems to speak to me of my passion, everything invites me to cherish it.

~ Anne De Lenclos

Last week’s post was a cathartic experience for me.  For too long, I had an inner itch that I could not scratch.  I welcome the relief!  What is truly amazing, however, is the positive results-both outward and inward-that my reflection brought to me.  Carol Burnett says: “Words, once they are printed, have a life of their own.”  I am hopeful, of course, that my words will help others who struggle with self- identity and loving themselves first.

In the short term, my life has taken on yet another layer of lightness. As we journey down life’s path, I believe it is important to peel back and let go of anything or anyone that has a negative affect on you. Say what you need to say, do what you need to do and keep on moving!

This week, two colleagues of mine shared some observations with me. One said, “I want you to take out some photos of yourself from years past up to the present so that you can see your transformation.”  She went on to say: “You have changed on a molecular level.” WHOA!! I guess I hadn’t noticed!  Still another said, “What is it that you are doing? You have a gleam and glow about you!” I attributed the latter compliment to my diet and exercise regimen and the fact that I am in a healthy relationship. I also love my job, my sons and all other aspects of my life-both big and small. But the former compliment comes from someplace else.

So I guess this is why writing last week’s post was so relevant. By writing about the person who is a link to my past, I have been able to come a little more forward about the trauma of  the emotional and verbal abuse that was at the root of my marriage. I am not ready to actually share all of the details about it; although many of my friends and family have known those bits for a long time. It actually took until my marriage was over to fully admit what had happened. Still worse, the boys have shared what they remember about their father- what he said to me and about me and how he treated me.

I had a bit of an epiphany earlier this week. It came as a result of some issues between my youngest son and his girlfriend. Luckily, they both  deeply care about one another-enough to work through some problems together and seek my advice as well. Unfortunately, some of the problems that both my sons have had with their father come into play in their relationships at times. They deal with it as best they can while at the same time  fear becoming like him. A tough place to be for sure!

But the situation between my son and his girlfriend got me thinking about the repetitive pattern that abuse can sometimes take if it is  not squelched from the beginning. And for me, this goes back to my experiences during my marriage. At its deepest level, abuse comes from a sense of abandonment. At some point in a potential abuser’s life, they have been left either physically and/ or emotionally bereft by a significant relationship. Over time, this can lead to a lack of trust in all relationships, but most especially when there is a significant other involved. Those who feel abandoned carry the pain of those past (and sometimes present) hurts with them. Often, it can also be a form of grief over a broken relationship. If not addressed, the pain can and will manifest itself in anger-almost always towards the one or ones you love but never at the person or people who hurt you in the first place. Worst still, the anger can lead to abuse-always towards the ones closest to you. If the abuse continues and professional help is not sought, the abuser becomes a permanently broken and damaged person.

And this is what almost happened to me. I was abused by my husband slowly and insidiously over the course of the marriage. Over time, I become an increasingly angry person who took out some of her pain on her children. I was an anxious and panic ridden woman who was nearly broken by my abuser. Thankfully, I got help before it was too late. As I began to stand up for myself and not project my hurt onto my sons any longer,  I began to advocate more for my own needs (and those of the boys). But the abuse got worse. He became increasingly silent, secretive and neglectful. As the three of us drew closer together, he grew further away from us. He was absent a lot-especially on weekends. And when he was home, he was never “present” and was very often angry upon his return from his weekend excursions.

So he decided to leave. The next 14 months were horrendous but I was stronger than I thought I was. I continued to get help as did my sons. Their dad continued to devolve and make poor decisions. My youngest son moved in with him. He needed to be with his father-in his mind if he lived with him he would not be left again. Over time, he got to know his father on his own terms. My oldest, on the other hand, tells me he figured out his father when he was fourteen- two years before he left! And now my youngest is back with me after enduring the same abusive situation as I once did.

And here is where we’ve landed. My youngest is struggling with the pain of a broken and hurtful relationship with his dad. He doesn’t like how he feels and wants to be better. So, he is getting help-Hooray!  His girlfriend is wonderful; she wants to go with him if he needs her. He knows that he is not a bad or even a broken person. He knows that he has a big heart and  wants more than anything to become a whole man.

You may ask yourself,  “What is this layer of  lightness that she is speaking of?”  Well, because of today’s blizzard, I was able to enjoy some very lovely extended time with my Starbucks friends. Per usual, the link to my past appeared ( she is my ex-husband’s current girlfriend) but  I was not at all bothered. Shortly thereafter, I noticed that she was speaking to a man-nothing unusual- and this man was with a young girl. It looked like they had come in from the bagel shop next door. Their conversation continued until they departed, passing my group as they exited.  Then it occurred to me-this man was my ex-husband! I had not recognized him at all!

I had just experienced a fantastic breakthrough. A feeling of complete emotional disconnect. Never in my life would I have ever thought that I would not recognize the father of my children-a person that I had been with for 22 years.  It was wonderfully uplifting, joyful and empowering. It means that I have come to a peaceful place with the pain of my abusive marriage. ( I want the same for my youngest son and hope that someday he can forgive his father).

The person I was when I was with him no longer exists. She is just somebody that I used to know.

* With thanks to Gotye!

On Being a Bold Woman

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman20 Comments

Credit: interviewsaloud.comOne of the most courageous things you can do is identify yourself, know who you are, what you believe in and where you want to go. – Sheila Murray Bethel.

On a recent morning, I was enjoying my usual morning visit at my local Starbucks, chatting with the staff and the other regulars whom I see daily. The store has always been a positive community connection for me. I can honestly say that I have never met someone that I have not liked having a conversation with-even if it is just for five minutes.

Beginning last spring, however, a person with a link to my past began to frequent the establishment at the same time as me. I tried not to make too much of these “coincidences”, but I did feel forced to be on my guard. Lately, the frequency of this person’s appearances has increased and my sons have even  found themselves in uncomfortable and insinuating situations with this person in the recent past.  So needless to say, when this person was in close proximity to a conversation I was having last week, I was not pleased.

I want my morning experience at the store to be one of the highlights of my day. And I want to handle negative circumstances with grace. But I could not help but feel that this person was acting boldly. And I could help but think that her “boldness” had negative connotations attached to it.

Later, at work, I began to question my thoughts on this feeling. So, I asked my colleagues to tell me what they think being a bold woman means. Still later, I asked other women and men outside of work. Their responses helped me to rethink my own reaction to my experience. More importantly, they helped me to redefine and refine the other person’s actions more appropriately.

So here goes (with credit to Jen, Jeff, Pam, Art, Gretchen and Pat and any others I may have forgotten):

A bold woman is authentic and committed to her own personal values. She stays true to who she is. A bold woman is loaded with courage, understands the risks at hand but still takes a leap of faith. A bold woman never settles; she keeps moving forward even when it is not popular. She is daring in the face of cultural limits, expectations and conventions. A bold woman is a person with only the highest of confidences and a will strong enough to defeat any obstacle or achieve any ambition. A bold woman does not apologize unnecessarily and isn’t afraid to be called a bitch. ( How many times have you done the former and been afraid to be the latter?). She stands firmly in her beliefs with an unwavering heart.

A bold woman is confident in her own skin. A bold woman inspires others to be awesome. A bold woman knows her strengths and weaknesses, but chooses to be the best she can be at all times. A bold woman speaks up for what she believes in. A bold woman will not let others control her fate nor her emotions. A bold woman is proud of herself. A bold woman does not make excuses. She takes responsibility and makes a plan to be better every day. A bold woman inspires, not just with her words but with her actions as well. You can feel a bold woman’s energy from across the room; a bold woman knows the power of silence. But, in the face of a challenge, a bold woman says: “Bring it on!” A bold woman is not offensive, rude, or condescending. She inspires others to be the best they can be.

I allowed myself to fall victim to a false cultural perception of what it means to be a bold woman. I am a big believer in the hidden messages or lessons that can come from challenging encounters, situations, or people.  The recent spate of “accidental circumstances” have shown me that this person is far from being bold.  You can draw your own conclusions regarding her character traits. However, I am grateful that she helped remind me of what a bold woman really is. AND she called attention to the fact that I AM A BOLD WOMAN.  For me it is all that truly matters.

“I’m my own sovereign nation, dedicated to a transformation…”

from “It’s Alright” by Dar Williams

 

 

Beyond Grateful

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Family, Independent Woman3 Comments

fwf1

 

 

These are days
These are the days you might fill
With laughter until you break
These days you might feel
A shaft of light
Make its way across your face
And when you do
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
See the signs and know their meaning
It’s true
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
Hear the signs and know they’re speaking
To you, to you                                                         ~ 10,000 Maniacs

Well, we have officially entered the holiday season. All around me, I am hearing snippets of conversations of how Thanksgiving is approaching too quickly or arriving too early  this year. Within the same conversations lie the predictable follow-up of how the Christmas season is fast on the heals of the feast-for some as early as midnight when they begin their Christmas shopping. Most likely the reason that some of us are feeling a sense of dread is that the holidays have become just another thing to do on our already overloaded “to do” list.  These exchanges obviously miss the point of our annual celebrations. As I have gotten older, I have become more and more cognizant of the materialistic and falsely cheerful feel that these holidays are supposed to imbue. Let’s be real: some of us don’t like our relations! Let’s be even more real: some of us have split families and are in the annual psychological juggle of whom we  choose to spend time with.

When we allow ourselves to get into this weird time warp of unhealthy thinking and situations, we are stealing our own joy. I remember the extraordinarily difficult time that my boys and I had with the changes in holiday traditions once their father left the house. It was so ridiculous to have to split time or have them choose between mom and dad. Now they are older and able to make their own choices that fits their desires so that the days are filled with celebration, laughter and emotional warmth.  They can begin their own traditions so that they can create life long memories of the season.

I want this year and every year to be an Appreciation Celebration. I want to dig deep and reflect upon what has really mattered in my life and savor it.  I was thinking about this recently as I drove up the highway to a favorite port city of mine. I was on a gift purchase mission for my sons and boyfriend.  Interestingly enough,  I had never driven alone to my destination and I found myself taking a different exit. I was not panicked by my detour in the least; I knew the city well enough. Also, since I only had a dollar bill, I would need to find parking on the street as opposed to a garage. So, I was quite proud of myself when I arrived at a near perfect parking spot that charged just a buck for 1 hour of parking and was close to the store!  One of the best parts about shopping at small businesses are the personal connections you can make with the store’s owner. During my shopping, the owner and I had a meaningful conversation about relationships with our children and even a bit about our own lives. He struck me a person who had experienced some of life’s hard knocks and had come out a better person as as result. I was so delighted by our talk that I left the store ready for another solo shopping adventure in yet another port city! As I traveled south, the sun was setting. Sunsets on the coast are huge-the whole sky looks like it’s awash in a golden orange. I remember thinking that I started the week basking in the sunrise and now I was doing the same with the sunset at the end of the week-very fitting. So onward I drove until I arrived at yet another terrific specialty store. And of course, my experience there was equally as positive-having made a connection with the store manager around the miracle of finding love the second time around and the challenges of a long distance relationship.

When my shopping was complete,  I felt energized by the experience. Not only had I done something by myself for the first time (on a Friday night in the dark) but I had enjoyed an authentic connection with 2 strangers!  All of us crave some form of connection to others.  Of course, I cannot expect everyone to be like me. But I do believe the we can at least be kind to one another or give a person a smile. Often we are too caught up in our own personal agendas to take the time to perform simple acts of kindness. And, of course, this is exactly what gets lost in the holiday rush.

I feel like I have finally arrived in the life that I was meant to be living. I have an unbounded sense of freedom. I am surrounded by love daily. The other day, I needed to call my youngest son while we were both on our way to work. When he answered the phone, I could tell that he was glad to hear from me just by the way he said hello. For the past two Saturdays, he and his girlfriend have asked if I have dinner plans.  What nearly 20 year old wants to hang with his mom on a weekend night? (Great way to stay out of trouble, though!) My oldest son and his girlfriend are now regular attendees at Sunday dinner. When the five of us are together, we relax, talk and chow down. What especially strikes me is how my sons’ girlfriends love the boys for who they are. As a mother, I could not ask for anything more.

Life is not only short, it is fragile. Go out and live this season and every season with purpose, love and good intentions.

 

Please note that this post was originally published on 11/19/12 as my own free write and well before I had so many wonderful and inspiring followers of my blog. It fits well with today’s prompt. I am grateful to all of you for your unending support. And I am forever grateful to Kellie Elmore without whom this blog would not have grown. HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

#FWF Free Write Friday: Gratitude

by Kellie Elmore

My Running Marriage

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Running4 Comments

I always loved running…
it was something you could do by yourself,
and under your own power.
You could go in any direction,
fast or slow as you wanted,
fighting the wind if you felt like it,
seeking out new sights
just on the strength of your feet
and the courage of your lungs.
-Jesse Owens

Well, I cannot say that I have always loved running.  After all, I have been involved with the sport on various levels for forty years. And like all committed relationships, we have had our ups and downs. Because I started running when I was just eleven years old, I really didn’t know what I was getting into-much like a very young bride!  My father was  a very enthusiastic runner of five years when he encouraged my brother and I to enter the sport. I  think that he saw the positive opportunities that running had offered him and wanted the same for us. Also, the early seventies was an especially heady time for young girls and women to participate in races. The support for us was very strong despite the infamous photograph of  Jock Semple’s attempt to pull Kathryn Switzer from the Boston Marathon!

I suppose you could call the beginning phase of my running marriage the “honeymoon period.” At the time, I ran with lots of boys as there were no girl teams during my preteen years. The playing field was equal because many of us were first time runners. There was only one other girl (that I recall) who joined the group and we became fast friends. We ran together every day and the two of us would go on to join future teams as we approached our high school years. In fact, the very first running club that we joined had its own women’s team. I remember being amazed at the ages of some of the women on the team- could women over 30 or even 40 really run?  Weren’t they too old? I believe that these women were the true pioneers of the sport, having entered it later in life as  wives and mothers. Women whose own generation had little or no access to organized sports as young girls.

My teenage years were by far the most intense running period, no doubt. This is just like the first few years of a marriage, really. The honeymoon is over and it becomes time to settle in and get serious. So, I ran every day, logging in 50-70 miles per week  and participating on two teams-one at my high school and one AAU women’s team. (By then,My friend and I had gone on to join a nationally ranked women’s cross country and track and field team.) Also, about half way through high school, our town had finally allowed a separate girls team to participate in league meets. Running on both teams was exceptional-each had a unique running culture. By the time the high school team was formed, I had already gained a reputation as a serious runner, both for running with the boys and also for the fact that I completed a marathon at 14 years old!  Much was expected of me in terms of performance and leadership skills. Also, I had to get used to a different coach as my dad was (and always will be) my first and best coach.

The AAU team was a different entity altogether. There was a core group of girls who were the elite runners. They were highly talented and able to compete and consistently win on the regional and national level. (Eventually the international level as well- one of them won the first women’s Olympic Marathon). It was a privilege to be a part of the team as it allowed for opportunities to travel all over the Northeast region with a van full of like-minded girls and their very dedicated coach.  These were the days before walkmans and ipods so we would often blast music on the van’s radio; we listened to Bruce Springsteen (Born to Run), Queen and other big rock groups from that era. It was a thrill to travel to New York City and compete in the country’s first Bonne Bell 10k in Central Park. Women and girls were IT- Helen Reddy’s “I Am Woman” was playing loud and proud before the gun went off.  As a result of running with the team, I became a better runner because I was  running with faster women. My hard work paid off and, at 16, I was able to go with the team  to the nationals in California. Eventually, my efforts caught the eye of a college coach as well. Because I was a scholarly student as well as a devoted runner, I was given the chance to apply and subsequently be accepted to an excellent university.

And that’s when things began to shift for me. Sure, I went off to college and joined the requisite team, going to practices, running in races, eating and socializing only with runners. But it started to feel old and stale and repetitive. I was hopelessly distracted by a boy ( a runner like me, but a senior with a reputation as a bad boy) and frankly, I wanted to party on a Friday night and not get up early for practice or a race! By the time I was a sophomore, I was done competing- burned out and physically a mess. All the mileage I had put in as developing teenager had resulted in a painful, degenerative disk in my back. Looking back, as much as it spiritually pained me to leave the sport, I knew that I needed a break.

I suppose you can liken this period to a major transformation in a marriage (illness or the addition of children, for example). How do relate to one another as a result of this major alteration? At first, it was simple: very little exercise as I explored other avenues of interests and friends. Then upon graduation, I cycled a bit and walked everywhere. Still, the nagging back issue persisted to the point where I literally could not move. I have a vivid memory of trying to board a bus so I could go vote and being unable to step up. I was just 23 years old and felt 90!  Luckily, a chiropractor lived in my neighborhood and with his help, I began a very long journey to healing.

Essentially, my twenties came and went without any attention to running at all. I kept in shape by walking, riding a stationary bike and doing occasional weight lifting.  I got married and by the time I was 32, I had given birth to two babies. My back held up during the two pregnancies and subsequent births of two very big boys ( especially #2!!) Plus, I was doing aerobics regularly and pushing a carriage everywhere I went. It was at this point that my then husband encouraged me to start running again.  Coincidentally, this was the same age that my father began his running career! So, I gave it a shot- at first doing the walk/run thing and then eventually working up to Saturday morning runs with other busy moms.

My thirties were certainly the “comeback” period of running for me. I felt a renewed sense of commitment but on different terms than before. I was a grown woman who was able to make her own decisions about where, when and how far she wanted to run. Running was a choice and not the chore that it had become nearly a decade earlier. Eventually, at 38, I competed in a half-marathon. During the training, I never felt lonely and, in truth, felt a great sense of freedom and renewal during those times. I also spent time running with my father again. It was a terrific- we were both adults and our runs were filled with long conversations. I fell in love with running again!

By the time I reached 40, I was learning to balance running with the other parts of my life. When I had the opportunity to return to work full time, carving out a running schedule was a priority. My dedication to the sport was unyielding. I arose before dawn and would run despite the cold and darkness. I learned to be alert for wildlife and was awed each morning watching the sun rise as I finished the last mile. I was not the competitor that I was once was-only entering races sporadically throughout the year. Instead, running took on a different face-becoming my solace, stress reliever and saving grace.

Running in many ways was like taking medication. When my husband wanted a divorce when I was 46, running kept me steady and sane (or as sane as one could be during that upheaval!). I was also in graduate school, working and raising teenage boys at the time. Running cleared my head, organized my thoughts and made me more productive. By the time my forties ended, I had successfully completed graduate school (4.0!), gone through the divorce process, fell in love again and trained for and competed in a half-marathon!

So here I am, happily in my early fifties having caught the half-marathon bug.  The training schedule is not grueling and the race distance is just right for me.  I try to enter two races per year if I can. One of the best parts of the preparation is knowing that I will be running with the man I love. Our connection with one another has helped me to continuously strengthen my commitment to the sport. It is a heart warming feeling knowing that another person is there to support and guide you through the good days and bad days. He helps me keep it real-pushing me when I need it and helping me back off -especially when I am injured.

One thing that I have learned in this long term marriage is the value of patience. Too many times when I was young, I didn’t allow myself to think about what I was doing during races or practices. My body was in the game but not my head.
I didn’t think about how I was feeling and then when I did, I wanted to run from it.  I was tired of the effort. How many of you go through similar feelings in relationships? It is easy to throw in the towel and go on to something else. I think what I was experiencing during that time was a need for a separation. As I said earlier, it hurt me emotionally to leave. But the break was necessary in order for me to begin my journey back. It was the first step in learning to be patient with myself and with the sport. I needed to come back on my own terms in order to create a deeper and lasting relationship. Also, it is  a relationship that allows for balance. Now I supplement running with hot yoga and three days of strength training.  They enhance my practice and at times substitute for it.

Any healthy relationship is one in which you use your heart and your head. Runners do not always use the latter (or else they let it get in the way but it is the same idea). We suffer from a burning desire to move; we want to see how far our legs and feet will take us. As long as we are not running from something it’s okay. Run to please yourself. Run because you find joy in the going. Run with others. Then you’ll know that your heart is in the right place!

Where’s My Space?

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent WomanLeave a comment

“Women have sat indoors all these millions of years, so that by this time the very walls are permeated by their creative force, which has, indeed, so overcharged the capacity of bricks and mortar that it must  harness itself to pens and brushes and business and politics.”
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

The other night I was listening to one of my favorite Pandora Radio stations when an advertisement broke in for an apartment rental search company. The selling point for the ad was that a couple’s search for an apartment together was successful because it had a “man cave for him and plenty of closet space for her.”  I had to stop what I was doing because of its two implied messages. Women need closet space? Men need a “cave”  in order to retreat from their partners and/or children? The ad reeks of sexism and notions of a privileged class. It assumes that women have an overabundance of clothes and shoes and need substantial storage for them, and only men are entitled to an extra room just for themselves.

I don’t know about you, but I have one closet that houses all of my clothes and shoes for every season. When I was married, I shared that closet only by storing my out- of- season clothes in a makeshift hanging area in the basement.  That very same area also housed the family’s cold/wet weather gear. (My home has no closet space on the first floor so when colder weather does arrive, we hang our coats in the mudroom.)  All of my other clothing items are stored in a dresser or in a plastic container under the bed. I believe that this is quite efficient, practical and frugal considering the fact that I am a runner and yogi in a four season climate. Would closet space be a possible selling point for me if I moved to a new home? Sure!  But not because I am a female in search of wardrobe storage!  Seriously, 3 closets for 3 people ( 2 are male) is quite a tight arrangement.

The need for a man cave is a 21st century idea born of the sexist belief that women control all household matters-cooking, cleaning and decorating- and enjoy those responsibilities. Hence, because men now must also be more “sensitive”, it has resulted in their emasculation. They need a space to freely express themselves. Further, this concept presumes that all men are alike-they yearn for a place to hang their deer heads, NASCAR posters and read pornography. It has become so commonplace globally that Ikea opened a store in Melbourne, Australia with a “manland”.  The space was created so that men who didn’t  want to join their partners in shopping could have a place to relax and enjoy themselves in a “manly way”.  There are now man cave websites dedicated to decorating ideas and contests for the best caves, among other things.

The truth is that they are few of us in this world who have the square footage to enjoy a room of our own. Heck, I write this blog from my kitchen table because my desk shares space with the living area!  If someone is watching TV or the boys have company, the only other choice is my bed. And besides, the kitchen table is less crowded than my desk is! Additionally, my yoga mat is on the rug in front of the desk and my strength training equipment shares space with my washing machine, furnace and other basement storage items. We are squeezed but it seems to work.

For most of us living communally is an economic reality- we need help with the rent or mortgage. For others it is a lifestyle choice: marriage, children or one half of a couple. I think the trick is to find a way to have your creative “space” and share it within this realm. Didn’t we learn this in Kindergarten?

I have no doubt that I aspire to a clean and orderly home that is decorated as an aesthetic expression of my life and identity. However, this is not because I am female!  I am the homeowner; I have pride of place just like everyone else.

Truthfully, I have never given a thought to designing a room of my own. Maybe I need to engage in some fantastical thinking. And so do you! When my dream space is complete, I’ll share it with you and invite you to do the same.

Enjoy the reverie!

What is Your Cultural Groove?

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn FamilyLeave a comment

Upon first glance, working class suburbia would seem a place devoid of an authentic culture.  After all, my childhood hometown was, and continues to be, a place that is overwhelming white, filled with small ranch houses, older capes, and a main thoroughfare that is packed with strip malls and small office buildings. However, if I were to define my culture based on this shallow exterior, I would be doing it an injustice.

Both my parents grew up in two different small cities just outside of a larger city in the Northeast. Like all young couples that married in the late 1950’s, they were drawn toward dreams of homeowner-ship. Within seven months of my birth, they left their small apartment behind and moved to the town that my brother and I were to grow up in.

I have come to realize over the years- through stories that my mother told me and through example-the great sacrifices that my folks made in order to offer us a better life. Early on, my father needed to work two full-time jobs so that he  could support his family. Back then, of course, it was nearly unheard of that women worked outside the home once the children were born.  But for many working class households, it was an absolute necessity to have a second income. Frankly, I have always wondered why this past phenomenon isn’t  part of a larger public discussion today. These days we always talk about the need for both parents to work. In my day (gosh don’t I sound old!),  the money was needed for food and the  mortgage for the small ranch house- not for lavish vacations and other material items. Please don’t get me wrong- I know that the need for two incomes just to feed your family still exists today.  But I also see the pursuit of more tangible things in my generation- a great shift in the overall culture to be sure.

But I digress. The better life that  I am speaking of included endless times of running around in the woods with the neighborhood kids, swimming in the pool and long bike rides to lakes and the coast. And along with the traditional culture of 1960’s and 70’s suburban childhood, came a more subtle change-one that broadened my family’s horizons. Since the work my father did was closely associated with a university and since he also was becoming a dedicated runner, our family crossed paths with people from all generations and ethnic backgrounds who enjoyed the sport as well. Our home became a haven for hungry graduate students and other idealistic youth as well as people old enough to be my parents’ parents! Because my brother and I met so many different kinds of people, we learned compassion for, and an understanding of, others who existed beyond the borders of our little town.

These changes set the stage for  a newer definition of culture and its accompanying values for my family as well as myself.

So, as I was growing up, running became our focus for family time as well as our social network.  It was especially  exciting to be a female runner in those days! Women were just beginning to become more visible in the sport and I can say for certain that running gave me strong self-confidence and leadership skills in other areas of my life.  Moreover, I witnessed my father sacrifice his own running career in order to provide increased opportunities for my brother and I. Additionally, both my parents helped to support various youth in the neighborhood and town in their running endeavors.

My parents taught me that culture is not just about your ethnic heritage and where you live but how you live.

Therein lies the “groove”!

Certainly, too much of the 21st century’s “busy and distracted” and selfish culture creeps into our lives today and attempts to throw us off track. But even if it has, it doesn’t mean that we’ve lost our groove! Sometimes it just gets put in a pile of someone else’s agenda for a while.

The trick is that you have to learn to create a way of life that fits you and those you love. It means staying grounded and resolute in that idea. What is it that you value? How do you want to live your life?

When I think of how I grew up, it can be summed up in two words: Building Relationships. Now, I cannot say the my life thus far is an exact replica of my parents’ . That is impossible.  I can only  say for sure that I wanted that life and tried darn hard to bring in some of the same experiences. In truth, it has only been in the last five years that I can say my life fits into this mold. And guess what?  It came from letting go of all that I had known in my adult life.  The life that I once lived was shallow and not what it appeared to be.  I had a hand in making sure that it looked perfect because I was too afraid to face the fact that I thought I had been a failure.

But good gosh! It wasn’t failure; I had lost my groove. I wanted it back- not just for myself but for my kids. They deserved to enjoy a legacy where they had an opportunity to understand that life is about relationships with others. They needed to know that Community-, whether it is a faith-based, family-based ( in any incarnation), school- based, town- based, athletically- based (or all of the above)- was where it’s at.

Sometimes finding your cultural groove means risking the end of relationships that are detrimental to how you want to live. If it is harming you, then it will harm those you love in the long run ( no pun intended). Pick it out of that pile and make it your own again my friend!

I have come to understand that you have to ride the rough waves at times -and for a lot longer than you want to- in order to find that spot on the shore that allows you to live more honestly and freely.

And yes, it is absolutely worth it.  I guess you could say that I’ve reclaimed my spot on the beach. Boy,  it feels good to sink my feet in the sand!

Traveling Light

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent WomanLeave a comment

“Sometimes you’ve got to let everything go-purge yourself. If you are unhappy with anything-whatever is bringing you down, get rid of it. Because you’ll find that when you’re free, your true creativity, your true self comes out.”

-Tina Turner

This summer I took a trip to a far off place with my sweetheart. As with any trip, I fretted about how much to pack. And it was not because I needed to have fancy clothes and the shoes to match each outfit.  As a runner and a yogi, there will always be the extra clothes and the mat factored in for my trips. Still, it was important to me that I not have the luggage be a burden in my travels.

I am sure some of my thinking was due to the fact that I was once the mother of young children ( ooh the items necessary for survival!) and the fact that in my profession, lugging a bag and a laptop-along with my lunch-is part and parcel (ha!) of my daily existence.

But I am weary of the burden of carrying things with me all of the time. I want to feel light and move quickly- in spite of my age!

Since the trip, I have decided that the one thing that I did bring is one of the metaphors for how I have begun to live my life. I absolutely adore my tiny, tri-colored shoulder purse! It is just the right size for my small wallet (how many plastic cards does one really need anyway?), my reading glasses and cell phone. I have been using it for just 5 weeks and it has proven to be all that I need in my everyday travels.

So, this small item has really gotten thinking about how my life in the last five years has been made lighter as well. I am no longer married. Therefore, the person and his large amount of  accompanying accessories left the house.(Listen to Miranda Lambert’s song “Baggage Claim” if you want to catch my drift!) Truthfully, when this happened, I think that I not only exhaled for the first time in years but the house did as well.

I am sure that this major event caused a seismic shift in my outlook on life. I began to realize that there was space between things: thoughts, actions, relationships. Life was moving towards a easier path. Not challenge-free by any means, but one that opened up my heart and home to new people and experiences.

Even though money was very tight, I began to give things away. As a result, the house underwent a karmic shift. Among the few new things I got was a new bed (of course) and, in turn, I  gave the old one to my youngest son. Suddenly, it seemed that my small house became the place for all sorts of social interactions. My sons’ friends spent regular time here and they didn’t mind my company! We ate, talked, and watched movies together. My sons threw me birthday parties. My graduate school friends made this the place to work on our projects. We never laughed and swore so much during that process! And we all got  A+s to boot!

Love came back into my life in a way that I never expected.

So I guess you could say that my little purse is about letting go and letting in. Just as I have the three necessary things for my purse, so in turn I have what is necessary for my life: family, friends and love.

When the things in your life don’t allow you to move, think clearly, or to even breath, you have to unpack them!  Then you have to either give them away or throw them away. When this happens, newer, more positive experiences can occur if you let them in your heart.

Do You Have Strong Woman Syndrome?

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman1 Comment

Do you ever get tired of those ads or commercials which promote the latest pill or cream that supposedly will fix your disease, dysfunction or defect?  Besides insulting our intelligence, these so called “cures” run the risk of making it appear that our own human uniqueness is somehow weak.

While I certainly have had times in my life when I have  been challenged, pushed to the edge and most definitely suffered,  I would never ever ever say that I have been weak!  In fact, it was five years ago that I was “diagnosed” with Strong Woman Syndrome (SWS).

This syndrome presented itself while I was experiencing what was at the time, a devastating personal loss (more on that in a future entry, perhaps!). The term was coined by my then 16 year old son whom I am sure was worried that I might fall apart.

One thing that is true about SWS is that it is not something that you can quickly figure out. It is a condition that has a tendency to build up over time. First, you must be willing to take a deep, long look inside yourself ( a good therapist helps!) and then begin the process of deciding how your new life will be shaped.

The first sign that you have SWS is knowing how to take care of yourself first before you even consider taking care of others. You are no good to anyone if self-care is not your number one  priority.  I am part of that generation that bought the line “you can have it all”.  Truly, what a bunch of hooey!  What has gotten lost in the translation is our own identity.

The second sign of course, builds upon the first one. Simply put, you gain the ability to speak up for yourself.  This is not easy! Depending upon your life situation, it may be the riskiest thing to do! Start with the smallest of steps. Because when you learn ” Yes indeed I do have my own voice!” , you start to make your own decisions wisely and in your own time and for your own future (Sign #3).

Independent decision making helps you to control your own destiny and most importantly, create a life full of dignity and grace (#4).

This my friends, is a legacy you can create for yourself, your friends and your family.  I try every day to stay strong and resolute in what I believe in and how I live my life. Truthfully, it is not easy but it is empowering!

Strong Woman Syndrome has helped me move those rocks that get put in my road and most significantly, stay true to myself.