I Love You Enough

Posted on by stilllearning2b

“I love you enough to feed you into the wood chipper head first,” I announced mirthfully to my husband the other night on our way to dinner.

Which got me thinking about all of the ways we express love that are often not interpreted as such.

 

Sometimes love is a sweet hug and a kind word, a welcome home after a long day.

Sometimes love is a playful smack on the butt, an adult version of, “Tag, you’re it!”

Sometimes love is expressed in the little things, the gestures that say, “I see you.”

Sometimes love is found in offering the extra helping and sometimes it’s found by accepting that unwanted offering.

Sometimes love is granting space, giving the gift of time and freedom.

Sometimes love is overwhelming, flooding the senses. And sometimes it’s more like a dull ache fading into the background.

Sometimes love is accepting the onslaught of frustration and unease that often releases once the distressed feel safe.

Sometimes love is a difficult decision that you know will hurt somebody in the moment yet be better for them in long run.

Sometimes love is saying you’re sorry even when you’re still angry and accepting an apology even though you know you’re right. And sometimes it’s admitting you’re wrong.

Sometimes love is enforcing boundaries and learning to say, “No,” as any parent is well aware.

Sometimes love is expressed through frustration, not at the person but the helplessness you feel about their situation.

Sometimes love is letting go and sometimes it’s refusing to release your grip.

Sometimes love is giving in and sometimes it’s about giving someone the confidence to do it on their own.

Love is the action and it’s also the intent.

And learning to see love requires that sometimes you look behind the curtain, that you shelve your initial assumptions and reactions and instead consider that maybe what you’re really seeing is, “I love you.”

And sometimes love is joking that if I ever get angry enough to kill you, I’ll be sure to make it quick 🙂

 

 

 

You Don’t Know What You Carry Until It’s Gone

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Today is a good day.

No, today is a GREAT day.

This marks the first weekend I’ve had since the start of the school year (8 very long months ago) that I didn’t bring home at least a day’s worth of work to do.

Not only that, but all my kiddos tested on their final units last week. So with only review, testing and preview on the horizon, I can finally collapse relax.

And it feels amazing.

I have an old 16 GB iPhone 5 that’s been limping alongside this school year. I’ve had to dutifully and constantly delete files in order to make room for the demands of the app upgrades and system updates. All year, it’s been a constant battle between its needs and its limitations.

I made a difficult decision last week and deleted Pandora from its memory, freeing up enough space for normal operation.

Today, I feel like my phone. I’ve been able to delete the memory-guzzling planning and lesson preparation app from my brain, leaving enough space for normal operation.

Alongside, the fear that I’ve carried about screwing up this inaugural math program and irrevocably damaging young math minds has faded. By all accounts, it’s been a successful year.

And so now, even though we still have 8 more weeks remaining, I feel like I’m on vacation.

It’s amazing, our ability to shoulder heavier and heavier loads without collapse. And it’s often only once we release the weight that we are aware of how much weight we carry.

So today, I’m breathing easier. Appreciating the sunshine. And so incredibly grateful for the opportunites presented to me this year. And even more grateful to have survived.

To all those carrying heavy loads today, may you find a place to set it down for moment and take a rest.

Growing Older, Growing Wiser…IF You Keep This in Mind

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Have you noticed that some people seem to find their inner zen and worldly wisdom as they age while others only seem to settle into negativity and bitterness?

Have you ever wondered why that is?

As we get older, there are two opposing forces that can impact our general happiness and outlook. Two divergent agencies both raising their voices to be heard.

Which one will you listen to?

The Voice of Life Lost

When I look around me, I see some people who have made it beyond middle age without suffering any major setbacks or losses. But only a few. I’m convinced that wrinkles are only partially due to thinning collagen and the relentless pull of gravity. I think wrinkles are the visible signs of the emotional scars we carry in ever-increasing numbers.

And as those hurts and losses begin to compound, it’s easy to become buried. Become embittered. It may seem that there is more lost than has ever been gained and the thought of trying again feels insurmountable. With so many difficult life experiences, everything can become tainted, turning the once-innocuous into a potential trigger.

Some people let this toxicity build like an algal bloom on a once-clear lake, blocking out all of the light and choking out all of the life. Their lives become a tally of what has happened and how they’ve been targeted by misfortune.

As they grow older, they become more agitated, more pessimistic and often as a result, more alone.

The Voice of Life Lived

And then there are those who listen to the other voice. These souls are no more fortunate, no less likely to have experienced hardship. They simply hear a different message.

They look back at their long lives with its many struggles with the gift of perspective. Perhaps they are able to see how something that was devastating at the time became a gift, even though it was unwanted and a great price, after the passage of the seasons. They view their myriad losses at part of the signs of a life spent giving and loving rather than focusing on what is no longer present.

Instead of questioning why things happened to them, they are able to look back with a sense of quiet pride that they made it through so many trials. And that confidence gives them the optimism that they’ll make it through the next one as well. With time and practice, coping skills and strategies have been perfected and practiced, using the difficult times as opportunities to become better.

Instead of focusing on what they don’t have with bitterness, they view what they do have with gratitude.

Thankful for every moment and every breath.

We all have both voices speaking to us, the proverbial devil and angel perched upon our shoulders. Which voice will you listen to – the one who counsels misery or the one that brings you inner peace and wisdom?

 

 

Ghost Busters: Breaking Through the Pain of Abandonment

Posted on by stilllearning2b
abandonment

If the top charts on iTunes are any indication, I’m not alone in my new obsession with the broadcast, Missing Richard Simmons. If you had told me that I would ever be counting down the hours until I could hear the next installment of a reality drama involving the over-the-top weight loss guru, I would have looked at you with confusion and maybe even a little irritation. I’ve always thought he was a great person with amazing compassion and an insatiable drive to help people. But frankly, his approach was always a bit too much for me and would usually prompt me to look away.

Until he went missing. All of sudden, I am this drive to understand him. To know that he’s okay and to delve into the possible reasons for his sudden and complete disappearance, not only from the public eye but also from most of his friends and family.

Unlike me, I didn’t analyze my obsession. I just fed it.

Until another podcast crossed my feed – Haunted by Ghosting on Dear Sugar radio. This pod focused on two letter writers who felt they had been ghosted, one by a friend and another, a lover. And as Cheryl and Steve dug into the particular effects of being ghosted, it finally clicked.

The reason for the national obsession with Missing Richard Simmons is the same powerful drive to understand “why” when we’ve been ghosted on a personal level.

Because the cruel truth about ghosting is that it may be the easy way out for the one doing the leaving, but the results of the abrupt and ambiguous ending haunt the one who is left for a very long time.

One of the strongest and most immediate drives following a ghosting is the overwhelming need to know. Our brains detest a mystery and so they desperately try to solve the puzzle. The first impulse is usually thinking that something terrible befell the person, that the disappearance was the result of an accident or a tragedy rather than some conscious decision to act.

I experienced this in a major way when my ex pulled a ghosting test-run of sorts. I thought he was on a business trip to Brazil (and desperately ill from food poisoning). The reality, as revealed after the final ghosting occurred, was that he was on a honeymoon with his soon-to-be bride. When he failed to respond to any calls or messages for days,  I went into a panic, calling hospitals, airlines, the embassy and his boss. It was the latter that finally got his attention (and his ire). In all that time and effort, it never even crossed my mind that his vanishing act was deliberate.

Once the initial explorations into foul play or unforeseen catastrophe fail to pan out, the mind begins to turn inward. “What did I do to cause them to suddenly leave?” “Am I so bad, so unlovable, that they couldn’t bear to stay around me?”

Ghosting is rejection of the most brutal form, the childhood game of silence played out to its most sadistic end. It’s one thing to be yelled at. It’s another entirely to be ignored. As though you’re not even worth the effort of speaking a word.

And then that’s followed by the secondary rejection of self-blame, the turning away from ourselves, often causing even more damage than the initial ghosting. If we’re not careful, shame begins to grow in that dark and tear-dampened environment, telling us that not only are we unlovable, but that we must be kept hidden.

The cruel irony is that shame is one of the primary driving forces behind the act of ghosting. The disgrace the ghoster feels coupled with a distinct lack of courage builds into an irrational anxiety and the decision to step out instead of stepping up. To make an about face instead of facing the difficult truth.

Their choice to disappear speaks volumes about them and a mere phrase about you. In don Miguel Ruiz’ masterpiece, The Four Agreements, he explores our tendency to interpret the actions of others as a personal affront. The reality, he argues, is that they are in their bubble and you, in yours.

I found comfort in the phrase, “collateral damage” when I was emerging from my shame-filled hidey hole after abandonment. I opened myself to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t disappear because of me.

For a long time, I believed that I needed him to face me. To face what he had. I wanted the satisfaction of seeing him uncomfortable but, more than anything, I sought closure. I thought if I could just hear from his own lips why he left, I could move on. I thought that if he said he was sorry, that the pain would fade.

I was wrong. I was expecting the one who hurt me to be the one to heal me. A desperate fool’s mission.

I never did speak to him. I never heard an apology or an explanation. Yet I no longer internalize the rejection. I’ve gone full circle, now again thinking that something was wrong with him when he didn’t respond. Only instead of an accident, it was depression. Or addiction. Or shame spiraling out of control. Or anxiety about his professional future. Or fear about his health.

Or…

And that’s the thing about ghosting – the person is gone, the pain eventually fades but the questions, they will always remain. It’s up to the one left behind to learn to live with the uncertainty instead of allowing it to haunt one’s days.

As for Richard Simmons, maybe the final episode next week will lead to some answers about why he disappeared. And maybe it won’t. Not all mysteries are meant to be solved.

 

I Do: Why Choosing the Right Person Is Only the Beginning

Posted on by stilllearning2b

 

When I was initially asked what I learned from my first marriage (and what I would do differently going forward), my response was a simple, “I would choose a different man.”

Which was certainly important. (Goodness knows, I wasn’t about to marry the first one again!).

But it wasn’t everything.

In fact, if my lessons from the divorce had ended there, I fully believe that I would have ended up repeating the exercise.

Because choosing the right person is important.

But it’s only the beginning.

The early stages of a relationship can be like a mirage glimmering on the horizon, promising a perfect future. A utopia after the long search.

“Finally,” you think,”This is the one.”

And then you move closer. And you begin to see the reality of the person. The veneer of perfection begins to flake off and their flaws begin to show.

“That’s okay,” you think, “Nobody’s perfect.”

And you learn how to work with the inherent flaws and how to maximize each other’s strengths.

And then something changes. Maybe a partner begins to withdraw. Or external pressures stress the relationship. The person you married (or thought you married) no longer seems to be the person in front of you.

“Who is this person?” you ask, “Who did I marry?”

But that’s the wrong question to ask.

Because choosing the right person is only the beginning.

____

Think back to the last time you were in the market for a new apartment or house. You crafted a list of the characteristics you needed and those you wanted. You set a budget and drew boundary lines. And then came the search, probably longer and more frustrating than you anticipated. No one house was perfect. And in the end, you probably ended up compromising on at least a few of your must-haves.

If your home was of the move-in-ready variety, you probably experienced a honeymoon period where nothing needed repair or updating. Yet every home in time requires attention and effort in order to keep it in working order.

Those needed repairs are not a sign that you chose the wrong house or that it’s time to put up a For Sale sign. Assuming that you initially picked an appropriate home (and not a one bedroom for a family of five), it’s an indication that some changes need to be made. And changes are a normal part of life.

____

When we place an inordinate amount of emphasis on choosing the right person, we’re ignoring everything that comes after.

When we’re relaxing after the hard work of finding the one and neglecting the effort that goes into keeping the one.

When we put too much importance on initial characteristics, we open ourselves up to disappointment when circumstances alter those traits.

And perhaps most importantly, when we pay too much attention to finding the right person, we’re ignoring our part in being the right person.

____

When I first stated that I would chose a different man, I was not yet ready to see and accept my role in my first marriage. I saw my responsibility as beginning and ending with making a poor initial selection.

And yes, I royally screwed that one up. But my role in the relationship dynamic didn’t end there. And until I was ready to tackle what comes after making a choice, I wasn’t ready to try again.

By all means, choose wisely.

And then recognize that choosing is just the beginning.

It’s what comes after that truly defines you and your marriage.

 

Forget tall, dark and handsome, these are the traits that REALLY matter in a mate.

Learning from my mistakes – critical ways my second husband is different from my first.

And sometimes we do choose poorly. Own up to it. Learn from it.