Tag: self awareness and growth

  • Peace. A message to me.

    Peace. A message to me.

    Peace is such a sweet word. It is spelled with soft, light letters. It sounds sweet and kind when spoken and it resonates in a way that sparks light and calmness.

    So why is it so hard to find.

    I hear so many – SO MANY – people: therapists, inspirational and motivational speakers, intuitives, mediums, coaches, people of all walks of life talk about the importance of peace. Of course we hear it on a larger level, especially these days, but more importantly there is the notion of finding inner peace.

    Again. why is that so hard to find.

    I think this:

    Peace is elusive. It is sneaky. It is often in disguise. And it looks and feels different to everyone.

    We – and I am speaking about me and the other Karens at my kitchen table – have a common thread that runs through all of us, as different as we are. We have tried to find peace in all the wrong places. Right now I picture all of the Karens around the table and they are frantically nodding their heads in agreement and high-fiving each other. The speech bubbles above their heads say something like this:

    “Thank God, she finally sees it.”

    “I wondered how long we’d have to wait.”

    “Jesus it’s exhausting waiting for her to get something. . . . “

    The thing I am finally getting is that I have been lost when looking for peace. I have expected that peace would come from people, from things, from spaces, from jobs, from money, from being thinner, from being prettier. You name it.

    I have whined ad nauseam to anyone who will listen that all I want is some peace. To feel whole and at rest. To feel free from worry and anxiety, anger and hurt. To just ‘be’.

    The problem is that what I have been doing is trying to find peace in my person – completely outside of my person. What I have NOT done is taken this whiny wish and accepted responsibility for finding it in my self. My ability to be at peace in the world has been entirely dependent on someone or something else. Anyone or anything other than me. I don’t necessarily mean a lover or a spouse. But most definitely someone or something other than me. I have been looking for my own peace on the outside.

    I guess I could say that this stems from the age old woman’s role model – Cinderella (or Aurora, or Snow White or – pick one – they all run from the same script). After all she certainly did not have peace while working her ass off for her horrid stepmother and sisters.

    But boy, bring in the Prince and all the flowers bloom, stars shine, birds sing and peace reigns down on her.


    Make no mistake I loved those stories. I wanted to hear them over and over again. After all they are our first ever love stories. But they certainly set us up for failure. Not many of us find a prince or princess who will ride in on a stallion, take us to their castle – with its gigantic closet – and save us. Bringing peace to us and all the land.

    As misleading as all that is, using those lovely fairy tales as an excuse for my lack of finding a peaceful existence is just that. An excuse.

    Lately, as I ponder the elusiveness of peace, I have redirected my focus inward. This is not an easy transition for me. I am far more likely to feel like I have to DO something or FIND something and finally peace will be mine. Well, I have certainly done and found a lot of things in my life. And none of it has really brought the kind of peace I am talking about.

    I am also realizing that peace is not a romantic concept. For some reason in my mind romance and peace go hand in hand. Thanks Cinderella. I appreciate the sweetness of the story but I think you are wrong. I also do not think that happiness and peace go hand in hand. In fact, I believe that even in moments of unhappiness, you can be at peace.

    So where is it and how can I have some.

    I think the probability of finding peace is all about personal acceptance. Acceptance of who we are, where we are, what we have, what we don’t have, who we are with, who we are not with . . . just acceptance of all of it. The good and the not so good together have to be enough.

    Peace is not about expectations. In fact, I think peace is more about not having expectations and instead is about feeling satisfied in the moment. Feeling grateful in the moment. It is a letting down of wanting – of needing more.

    I also think that peace is something that is perhaps momentary. It is probably a lot to ask of yourself to be at peace 100% of the time. But in certain moments I think it has to be possible if, and this is a big if, you will let it in.

    And by the way these concepts are completely ours to own. Ours alone. And that is maybe the crux of it – the magic word – Alone.

    Finding peace is most certainly tied tightly to the ability to be alone. I mean really be alone. With yourself. I don’t mean alone for an hour or a day or even a week. I also don’t necessarily mean living alone. What I mean is the aloneness that arises from being still. Being able to sit with yourself in a space that only you occupy. Space that is more than physical. More like head space. Maybe even spiritual space. Definitely quiet space. Maybe that is actually the magic word – Quiet. Quiet is something I have never been able to do – at least not without struggle.

    As soon as I find myself in the quiet, even for a few minutes, I must immediately get up and do something. Put music or TV on. Do the dishes, groceries, laundry, anything. Or maybe I decide it must be time for a nap.

    I simply cannot just sit with myself in the quiet. And just be. Without judgment or second guessing or criticism or self deprecation. Or expectations and want.

    It’s not as if I don’t like myself. I do. Most of the time anyway. But sitting with me in the quiet causes me to be antsy. Fidgety. I am immediately in dire need of a distraction. My mind starts its spinning game. How many things can I think or worry about all at the same time, running around in circles. One stopping for extra time then being pushed out of the way by another who wants center stage. It’s exhausting.

    I so envy people who sit alone – anywhere – and look completely at ease. What a concept. Being at ease with just . . . you. I have to believe that there is peace in that space. At least I hope so.

    None of this comes naturally to me. And I know that it stems from fear and anxiety. The anxiety that comes from having to hear my own thoughts. Not just hear them but listen to them. Really listen to my mind and my heart – all of it. The easy pleasant things and the dark not so fun to acknowledge things. That is of course why the spinning game was born. It leaves no time for consideration or introspection. It’s like Karen 3, the runner. She is so good at this. She knows that if you keep moving you eventually are far too tired to think, to worry, to fear. But in that exhaustion there is no peace. So running doesn’t do it. It does some things but bringing peace – not so much.

    Because after all if you hard stop and really listen to the quiet in your mind and your heart you might not like what they tell you. Better to keep spinning or running until you land on a better thought.

    So how then can one be still and find peace. I think it’s a practice and takes a conscious effort to shut out all the voices. To stop spinning – stop running – sit alone in the quiet.

    I am sure that I will have to force myself to be and stay in the quiet. And I am sure that it will not be easy to do. But I see that all the other attempts at finding peace have failed. So for peace to land safely in my lap I guess I’d better stop moving. At least sometimes.

    Let’s be Still.

     

  • Unsolicited Bits of Advice

    Unsolicited Bits of Advice

    I have experienced so much in my life.  Some good and some not so good. Some expected and some truly surprising. Some came from struggle – some from luck or serendipity. And so much of all of it either led to, arose from or is simply grounded in my children. Any way you slice it, my experiences most certainly affect the lives of my children – in one way or another.  While I am forever grateful for that, they are no doubt laughing and rolling their eyes at that comment and thinking with immense sarcasm, “Great, thanks so much for that Mom”.

    Sorry my lovely babies (yes you will always be that to me), but I will tell you with 100% certainty that if you have children it is almost impossible not to put your life on the back burner so they will be happy. It is hard to shake the immediate inclination to provide them with whatever they need, to protect them from any potential hurt or danger – no matter their age.  Again, if they read this there is likely such extreme eye-rolling that their eyes might get stuck in the back of their head. 

    Nonetheless, here are some things about lifelong parenthood that I remind myself daily:

    1. Support every bit of them – the good, the bad, the ugly – to the end. Even when you don’t think you can or should or it’s difficult.  Do it so you can  say “Ok then I did that.  I started it and have given them all I have.  Now it’s their turn.” This may seem counterintuitive in some circumstances but when I say support – I mean always have their back.
    2. Let them make mistakes but be there when they fall.  We all make them and we all fall.  Being there to pick them up, dust them off and gently nudge them on to the next step is worth a mint. They – and you – will remember it forever.
    3. Celebrate them. Even if it causes eye rolling and is resisted. Every step they take is a thread woven into their story and is cause for cheering.
    4. Try not to take their words and actions personally.  Try not to be offended and remember that they think they are far smarter than we are.  In some ways they are far smarter than we are.  But in the most significant ways they are still blindfolded and creeping their way down a dark hallway, trying to find the right door.  Even though they say they don’t want us to take their hand and show them the door, in their heart of hearts they will welcome the lead.

    And then there is this. The good, the bad, the ugly, the surprises, the struggles, the luck – all of the experiences I have had throughout my life have led to these little bits of life lessons. Even though some are hard to pull off on any given day, and I mean really hard, I believe in them all.

    1. Always trust your instincts – believe in your gut
    2. Don’t be deceived by flattery 
    3. Each day is a gift in and of itself – so don’t waste a minute of any one of them 
    4. Never put all your eggs in one basket
    5. Be forgiving. If someone hurts you remember that they are probably hurting too
    6. Try not to be irritable or angry and if you are don’t let it define you. It’s such a waste of time and energy
    7. Be strong, take charge and don’t let others make decisions for you. After all it’s YOUR life
    8. Remember who you are
    9. Remember where you came from
    10. Remember what your dad would say 
    11. Remember what your mom would say
    12. Don’t resist change
    13. Give yourself permission to cry. A lot
    14. Laugh. At anything and everything. It’s the best medicine there is
    15. Regardless of the situation, its twist and turns, don’t regret anything and don’t turn away
    16. Always be yourself. Don’t apologize for it and don’t pretend that you are something you are not. Being you is the greatest gift you can give yourself – and everyone else.

    Above all else remember: be authentic. this is your life. it’s your story.

    TELL IT

    As I write this I can hear music in the background and am reminded of one of my all time favorites. Take a listen . . .

    The Indigo Girls. 1989

    Closer to Fine

  • Karen #9 – “Mom Karen”

    Karen #9 – “Mom Karen”

    This has been said so very many times and sounds so “old fashioned” – maybe even trite. I remember my mother saying it and rolling my eyes so hard that I thought they’d end up staying forever at the back of my head. But now I see the absolute truth in it.

    There is no better, more gratifying and more bittersweet experience than being a parent.
    It is 100% the best and hardest job that you can have.

    Said by: Every mother who ever lived

    Over the years as I’ve watched my children become young adults I can recall so many tiny moments that passed so swiftly you might miss them if you blink. I never blinked. They made me smile, and often simultaneously cry, and now those moments are embedded in my heart. There are millions of them, all swift and almost imperceptible. I wish I could find a single word to describe the feeling. Bittersweet is the closest I can come up with.

    I just recently came across something I wrote several years ago and now as I’ve experienced a million more of these moments I am adding to the Kitchen Table the newest and 9th version of Karen – the Mom. So funny to me that I haven’t added her to the Kichen Table until now. I guess because it’s been only recently that I am, sort of, on the other side of “raising” my children – although that really never does end does it? Nonetheless I am seeing much of this from a distance that I haven’t before.

    Mom Karen is so different from all the others but uses pieces of each other Karen as she maneuvers throughout motherhood. In a nutshell Karen 9, Mom Karen, is

    Proud, Fiercely Protective, Defiant and a Strong Mother Fucker.

    She is also . . . . . .

    the eye rolling bitch. . . .

    the lawyer. . .

    the little girl. . . .

    the incapable and incompetent one easily challenged. . . .

    the fearful and shy one. . .

    the runner. . . .

    the wearer of armor. . . .

    the comedian. . . .

    Every minute of motherhood requires a certain characteristic which often needs to be chosen carefully because if you misjudge the situation and approach it from the wrong direction – you will only make whatever it is far, far worse. And you will undoubtedly hear the dreaded “Oh my God M . . . .o . . . m! How could you say that!? You totally don’t get it.” And then you are in danger of the “shut out”. No Mom wants that. Believe me I’ve had to crawl back from the motherhood abyss more than once in order to try to help my children in the midst of one struggle or another.

    For me, the most important Karen around the Table within #9 is the one with armor. This one is ready to battle at a moment’s notice and will not stop until there is justice or at least until whatever has ruffled your child has been crushed like a bug. It is fair to say that facing off with a mother is a dangerous game. After all where do you think the phrase “like a mother” came from?

    Something that doesn’t really show up in any of the other Karens but I find #9 to be is wise. Sometimes a “wiseass” but that is likely part of the Karen Bitch and doesn’t apply here. I don’t normally think of myself as being wise but I see that the simple act of living brings some level of this whether you know it or not. With age comes perception and the ability to see things in a way that comes only with experience and that includes joy, pain, anger, frustration, love, loss – all of it. Lately I find myself trying to convey this wisdom to my children so they might avoid making the same mistakes I have. I think I have always been honest with my children about my mistakes – sometimes to a fault. So, I figure since they’ve seen them first hand maybe what I’ve learned from these mistakes will help them turn left instead of right and skirt around them. I am not sure that it really gets through and there is part of me that knows that they’ll have to make their own mistakes and figure it out on their own one way or another. But the protective mom in me tries anyway. I think it’s part of the job description. So, I’d add wise to the list of #9 traits.

    Anyway, I digress. I meant to finally put in writing a few of the indescribable emotions that mothers like me feel as we watch our children fly from the nest inch by inch. Here are just a few that are at the top of my list.

    It is impossible to describe or express . . . . .

    * the feeling I get when I leave my son in the arms of his kindergarten teacher after she pried him out of mine and drive away trying my damnedest not to look back.

    * the feeling I have when I see my son coming down the street on his two wheeler for the first time smiling with pride.

    * the way I felt when I picked up the phone and didn’t recognize my own son’s now deep voice.

    * the feeling I have when my daughter runs to me with her arms wide open and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.

    * the feeling I get when my son writes the shape of a letter in the air grinning from ear to ear.

    * how I feel when I drop my son at sleepover camp for the first time – watching him as he turns back once, twice, three times. And then doesn’t.

    * how I feel when I see a picture of my daughter and see myself in her face.

    * the startling moment when I look at a picture of myself at age 3 and think “Oh my God, if I change the hair that is the face of my youngest son”.

    We see the passage of time every day in so many little things: turning the page of your calendar, sending birthday cards, getting the oil changed in your car, doing laundry, driving to work and then home again. But none are so great as noticing the moments of your children growing up right before your eyes. So, I will say it again. There is nothing you can do or accomplish that will be a greater privilege and often the greatest of frustrations than being a mother. And every little moment is worth a thousand more.

    With love and gratitude for these 3 gifts.

  • Betrayal

    Betrayal

    There are times in all our lives when we experience something messy in a relationship – any kind of relationship. “Messy” can mean many things and can be the result of many different circumstances. Like . . . . .

    Basic disagreement. I want A and you want B.

    Strong opinions. I believe in democracy and you are a socialist.

    Issue conflict. I think we should have another baby and you think NO WAY.

    Money. I don’t think we have enough and you think we are just fine.

    Loss, Gain, Moving . . .  

    This list could go on for days. Each potentially present in every relationship you have. Whether it’s with a partner, an employer, a friend, or family member.

    Messy is personal and defined differently by everyone. Some rare people just go with the flow, no matter the direction of the tide. Some relish conflict and disagreement. They thrive on it. It fuels them. Some immediately run away at the first sign of disagreement. And others, probably most and definitely me, fall somewhere in between. I know that for me, the significance and status of the relationship involved will often define how I react to the conflict. And also, how much it hurts.

    And that is really the crux of this post. How much the mess hurts. Over the past year I have watched as some of my most important people have been smacked upside the head with a mess or as I prefer to call it, a shitshow. The kind of shitshow that you just don’t see coming. It blindsides you and at first you can’t do anything but stumble around to get the ground back beneath your feet. These circumstances involve friendships – good ones. In fact I might even say best ones. And that is in many ways the most baffling part of the shitshow. 

    Friendships between woman vary widely. From acquaintance status to going out buddies to “best friends forever” and a whole bunch in between. It’s a spectrum and along the spectrum there are assumptions you make about your relationship. For me, if you are on the best friend end of the line, the “Sister” end, you assume trust, honesty and loyalty. Even if you are far from each other, busy with “life” and don’t see much of each other, these are basic expectations. They exist in your heart. And when a certain kind of mess shows up – the shitshow – you are thrown. It is devastating. And it is fair to say that it is an outright betrayal. A betrayal of what is, for many of us, our closest and most precious connection. 

    For many woman, having “Sisters” who have not been provided by blood but who you have chosen, with whom you share life’s best and worst moments, your deepest thoughts, fears, hopes and dreams are in a category all their own. Of course there are variations of this kind of friendship just like any other. Some would throw the word Sister around without any real meaning. But the ones I am talking about are more than friends, they are your lifeline. They are the anchor that holds you when you are lost and floundering. They are the one to whom you go running when disaster, a jackpot, or hilarity, strikes. There is an invisible thread that binds you to each other and believe me, any woman who is lucky enough to have this, will throw herself on a sword to keep it.

    So, when a betrayal comes from that person, it is beyond destructive. 

    There may be explanation. Um, sorry there really is none.

    There may be lack of forethought or consideration of what else might be happening. Again, um, not so much.

    There may be excuse. Really? I don’t think so.

    There may be forgiveness. Easier for some than others.

    To be clear, I am not talking about minor events of stupidity or word vomiting. We all say and do stupid things without thinking about the receiver’s feelings or in a heated moment. And very often those who are closest to us bear the brunt of it. I am surely guilty of that. But a purely messy encounter? A shitshow, that has clearly been motivated by meanness, selfishness, lack of thought and a blatant disregard for one of your Sisters. This is a betrayal of the deepest kind.

    I have seen this happen this past year to some of my closest people. And I can say, it is truly baffling and 100% unacceptable. I know that some can and will forgive and move on, but even in those circumstances, the relationship will never be the same. How can it? Trust has been breached. Breached in the most precious of friendships.

    And, in all honesty, these circumstances have impacted me. Someone who is not the target but is on the periphery. I have seen the fallout. I have seen the hurt, the disbelief, the attempt at providing an excuse and then the resignation that “Wow that wasn’t expected, wasn’t what I signed up for or ever thought I’d have to hear “. And I have witnessed the immediate disintegration of trust. 

    All of that has made me much more conscious of my own actions and words. I know how precious my Sisters are to me. They are irreplaceable. I know how, in many ways, I could not go through much of my life without them. They have been my constant, my anchor, the hand that drags me back to the surface and shoves me into life. With just a little more strength and clarity and with a lot of gratitude. And to lose that is tragic and unthinkable. 

  • Confidence . . . .

    Confidence . . . .

    I have struggled with a lack of self-confidence for centuries it seems. I have always chalked it up to my upbringing, my own personal “demons”, never considering that it might be a gender issue. Now, I’m not so sure. I while ago I read Knowing Your Value, by Mika Brzezinski and found that my self-diagnosed lack of confidence might really be something else. It might be, at least in part, because I am a woman operating in – yes, let’s face it, it still is – a man’s world.

    I started reading Knowing Your Value because I wanted to see if my insecurities could be mended by looking at how women operate in the workplace. I thought that maybe I could translate the ideas expressed from these women in business to all aspects of my life. The book is intended to empower women so they can effectively compete with men…….as men do. It examines how women assume that they have reached their position because of luck and are grateful to have it. This idea of being grateful is not based on self-worth, talent, skill or brilliance. It is based on luck. Luck. An idea that really has no basis in fact – just a pendulum swinging randomly. As I thought about this, I realized that it aligns exactly with how I have always felt. Skill? Whatever. It’s chance and luck that has brought me here. And this realization really pissed me off.

    We all know that women are taught – whether it’s conscious or not – to be a peace-keeper, the one who holds it all together so we can move forward without discord. We massage egos, calm people down, make excuses, distract, give confidence, explain why everyone is right on some level, and differences in opinion are not fatal. But we are not taught to argue for our own different opinion, to stand up and be counted in our own right. Instead we are taught to support everyone else so THEY can be counted.

    As we try to establish ourselves these things only work against us. They make us cynical, unconfident, defensive, quick to take the blame. Most importantly, we immediately think that our opinions are really not worth voicing. They are irrelevant or unimportant and certainly won’t make a difference. Another consequence of this is that we often take down our own allies. Why would we do this – to them? They are our real support system and the only ones who REALLY understand this divisiveness. And yet those are the ones we punish. How easy to blame and take down those who are most like you – after all you know how to reach their deepest vulnerability since it’s yours as well.

    As a professional, I am a head down, tune everything out, zero-in scribe. A ‘make an outline, follow it through, check it 5 times, edit 5 more, then close your eyes and hold your breath while hitting send’, kind of person. These are not all bad qualities especially for a lawyer. In fact, they are important skills that have been carefully cultivated by my education. Edit, fact check, cite and re-cite everything you do ad nauseam to ensure that you are right. images-1Or as right as you can be. Don’t make a move or speak until you know what you are talking about. These are most certainly not bad traits.

    { And next I should say that this is what makes me a good lawyer.  But even writing those words is hard for me . . . .}

    These skills can certainly be bricks in the road to success. But they are also paralyzing and self-defeating. While I am a strong supporter of others, when it comes to advocating for myself I fall far, far short of a penny. I am doubtful to a fault. Praise is taken lightly. Silence is deafening. Asking for compensation is like a walk to the guillotine. I am a ‘thank you for letting me be here – no need to pay me’ – kind of person. And make no mistake these traits seep into your personal life. They become your instinctual first move in every game, including the relationship game.

    Considering all this and how it has likely been encouraged by the influence of our wider society, has me angry. And it’s no wonder. I’ve accepted all this as part of who I am, how I was raised, a flaw in my character that I have and will accommodate. What a misconception. This is not a personal flaw that I have to accommodate – it is an imposed belief that I can choose to fight. It might not be easy but it is a choice that I can make. That in itself is empowering enough to feel a little more confident and recognize that there has been a slight shift in the balance of skill vs. luck.

    So what’s the upshot. However this idea landed, wherever it came from, it landed on me.  It certainly seeps in around the edges of a lot of thought and action. But it does not define who I am and recognizing that immediately trims it down. Despite all that I carry around that is hard or at times self defeating, I have done pretty well. I have found the right space and the right people in all aspects of my life. And guess what? It hasn’t been just luck. I may never be able to say “Hey. You know what? I’m a smart Mother Fucker and deserve to be treated as such so step it up and deliver.” But I am learning to say that I am skilled, smart, careful and committed and deserve to be treated that way.

    Of course right now I can only say these things to myself. But hearing it in my own head? Well, that’s a start.

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