On A Deeper Level | Mommy Needs Coffee

9-11 and my visit to NYC

When I knew that I was going to be in New York City for a conference in August, the first thing on my mind was to go to the 9/11 memorial. One of my dear friends invited me because she was planning to go with a group the first day there. It was the perfect plan. Except that it wasn’t. First, the group was filled and didn’t have enough room for one more. (I was heartbroken but realized it was what it was and there is nothing I could do about it.) Second, you know what they say about the best laid plans. First, I missed my flight so that delayed me. When I finally reached the city it took me nearly 3 hours to reach the hotel from the airport. So, even if I had been included in the group, I’d have missed it traveling anyway. Things happen for a reason. I knew it would weigh heavy on my heart to be there but I thought I it was exactly what I wanted to do.

Now, if you were with me during most of my trip to NYC, you know it was super emotional. You see, I’ve had a mini-crush on the city from afar. I have never been there but my heart was all “NYC ERMAHGERD!” But when I was actually there? It took mere seconds for me to fall in love with the city. Things that people who live there probably don’t even give a second thought had me so smitten and emotional. It became so commonplace, my friends didn’t even give it a second thought to look over and see tears in my eyes or rolling down my cheek over something that moved me about the city. Something I dreamed of seeing or doing and was actually seeing and doing!

All of that to say, with my emotions so up front and center, maybe the 9/11 Memorial wasn’t the place for me. This year. But there was something that I was supposed to see and experience in relation.

I went to an event with one of my dearest friends, Liz, one evening in SoHo. And of course, I was enamored with just about everything in the area. (Shout out, City Winery!) As she and I were walking around the area, I noticed a firefighter standing outside a firehouse. I peeked in and noticed a memorial wall. (cue tears) I asked if I could take a picture if it wouldn’t be too disrespectful. He smiled and told me it would be fine and not at all disrespectful. As soon as I set up the shot I started to cry. No, cry doesn’t really cover it. I began to sob. I took in every face. I looked at every name. It was a “small scale” vision of such a massively huge tragedy. And maybe that was what I needed to see more than the huge memorial. I needed to see one company. To see the impact that day had on them. To see their friends and brothers they lost. Their names. Their faces. Eleven men. My heart broke. I did my best to capture the shot, but my hands were shaking. As we were leaving I tried to thank the firefighter but I could barely whisper “Thank you” through my sobs. With a teary look at me, he just nodded.

I have always felt the weight of 9/11 each year in my own way. I couldn’t truly imagine it. I still can’t. Unless you were there and felt it, heard it, smelled it, survived it or lost someone that day, I don’t think you can really grasp the enormity of the day. But walking the streets and falling in love with NYC and the people there, brought it a little bit closer to my heart. Standing in a firehouse that lost 11 of their finest brought it closer to my heart.

Though I truly thought I wanted and needed to see the 9/11 memorial, I realized my heart–my very soul– needed to see what that day meant in a more intimate way. One day I hope to go see the site where the twin towers stood and hope I can do it with someone who will understand my flow of tears. But this year, I am so very thankful I was with Liz who held my hand and never once questioned my emotional reaction or tried to stop it.

I’ll never forget the day that beautiful and completely amazing city came under attack. And now I will never forget that one time I stopped by a firehouse with someone I love to take a picture, thank a fireman, and sob over the loss of lives that horrible day brought.

Never.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These are the heroes pictured who were lost on that horrific day.

LADDER 5

Lt. Mike Warchola
Lt. Vincent Giamonna
Lou Arena
Andy Brunn
Greg Saucedo
Paul Keating
Tommy Hannafin
John Santore

BATTALION 2

BC. William McGovern
BC. Richard Prunty
FF. Fautino Apostol, JR

Engine 24/ Ladder 5/ Battalion 2
227 Ave of Americas (6th Ave)
Manhattan

September 11, 2012

Hiding from the world but I can't hide from myself

The past few months have been kind of crazy around here. A lot of changes. For me and for my son. Let’s just say it might have been easier and cheaper to just get a double room in a hospital than it has been to pay co-pay after co-pay and gas and prescriptions etc all to get a big fat “We don’t know.” My son, he whose name shall not be typed, is going through his own situation that I will write about (because we could use some advice in one area) but not until he reads it and gives me the okay to tell his story.

For years I have suffered with migraines. It was one of the factors that led me down the path to my addiction issues. The last few months I have been suffering worse than I ever have. But I’ve had other complications thrown in to confuse things. So I have see a few specialists. With each new doctor comes new tests, new theories and new medications.

You see, having a mom who had MS, a cousin with Lupus, and a grandmother with Parkinson’s, it can tend to freak a girl out when “autoimmune” is tossed around in casual medical conversations with my doctors. Especially when I already have been diagnosed with an autoimmune issue when I was pregnant. I’ll admit it. It scares me. I’ve never seen myself as strong as the people I know who fight with these autoimmune issues. I don’t know how I would handle it if something showed up.

And of course while we are figuring out what is wrong, the doctors want to manage my symptoms and try to eliminate them.

I hate seeing so many pill bottles on my counter. I hate the rattle of pill bottles in my purse. It makes me feel like I am failing. I’m not even on any narcotics or anything that is considered “addictive.” But? It still looks and sounds like “addict Jenn” and I don’t want to ever be her again.

Don’t get me wrong, I am careful. And my doctors are very aware of my situation. But being on as many meds as I am for any reason is discouraging. Especially the Prednisone.

Let me just say here, I hate with the passion a thousand suns the steroids and what the effects they have on me. When the doctor prescribed them a while back she warned me that I was on a very high dose. She even added in, “On this dosage it is not totally uncommon to hallucinate so be sure to let me know immediately if you do.” Wait. What??

I haven’t hallucinated. Though I wish the way my body was so fat and puffy was a hallucination. Even before the medications that are packing on the puff like someone is inflating me or like a giant puffer fish, I had been putting on weight and been fighting it with everything to keep it from taking over. I took a spin class. (It was a fail but I tried.) I work out at home. I walk. I have tried to watch what I eat. But the weight is hanging on to me like I’m about to hibernate for a decade or so. It hurts to hide from the world in shame.

And that was before I started on Prednisone and watched my body puff up in strange ways and plummet my self esteem even lower. I realized how much I am truly hiding from people. Friends. Family. Acquaintances. I don’t want to be the fattest woman in the room. I don’t want to be ashamed to meet my kids’ friends and their parents. I don’t like being ashamed to meet anyone my husband works with because he deserves the woman he married not the ginormous, puffy and medically screwed up woman he is now stuck with. I’ve avoided trips because I don’t want people to see me. Hell, I’ve even avoided video chatting with people I love but don’t get to see very often because of the shame of how I look right now.

I am hoping with the neurologist we have now- together with a specialist she is working with- we will figure out what is so out of whack with my body and I can come off of the medications. I can feel like myself again. So I can look like myself again. Sometimes I forget that I look like I do and when I see a picture or a video, I burst into tears. And that pisses me off because how damn vain am I that I care so much about that when one of the reasons I look like I do is because of the medication I am on to try to make me feel better. Right now, I am blessed that they have not found something scary causing my headaches, dizziness, fatigue, high blood pressure etc etc. They are managing these things.

So until we know what I am facing (and Lord willing it is something easy to deal with and minor), I will not be discouraged by the counter full of pill bottles. I will not beat myself up at the rattle of a pill bottle in my purse. And most of all, I will try to remember that the outside is just a shell and people who love me care about the inside. I’m not there yet. And I am still hiding. But I can tell you I am trying. I’ve been through tougher times and come out on top. Here’s to hoping I do it again…

March 5, 2012

In Remembrance.

The poster above became the primary image used by the Library of Congress for their 9/11 exhibition and remains a part of their permanent collection. Prints of the poster are currently available with proceeds benefitting the Salvation Army. Image courtesy of Brian Nieman.

September 11, 2011

Through the broken places…

So cradle your head in your hands,
And breathe… just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe…

2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a ~~song~~ post
If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them, however you want to
—Just Breathe lyrics–

I’ve been thinking a lot about my Mom lately. I wonder what she would say to me if I could lean on her for advice. I’ve been in a broken place. It built up over the past year. It’s a lonely place walking through the broken places. I was hoping I could find solace when I went to the beach. I always find peace there. But it was elusive. There was a lot of crying and some yelling and a few choice words shared. (Sidenote: If you find yourself in a parking lot with someone who has only known you a couple of years and has only been with you 3 or so times in person and the two of you are yelling at each other so loud and with such profanity that a nearby mom covers her daughter’s ears, something is not right.) We yelled with passion. We threw a few verbal punches that hurt worse than any physical punch ever could. “YOU are the one who invited yourself along.” We cried an ugly cry. I blurted out something no one should ever know about me and better stay that way. And then we hugged it out.

But something is not right when you are on vacation and that happens. Something is wrong when you feel like a stranger around people who should be your comfort and your extended home. Something is not clicking when you feel like an imposition (and are basically told that) when you go to visit family. And most definitely something is not right when you don’t or can’t stand up to your (*extended) family and tell them what you want and what you need.

In my eyes, I was doing all I could to be accommodating. It came off as not being decisive. In my heart I would try to please everyone and in the process pleased no one, hurt some and ended up being accused of creating drama. And when the one person who has never said a harsh word to me in my adult life looked at me and said I was creating drama, it broke my heart. We don’t speak often and he has never spoken to me that way.

So basically, on a vacation that I prayed would heal me, broke me. I hurt people I love. I fractured or maybe even broke relationships I have always striven to make stronger my entire life. I lost a lot of confidence and faith in people I looked up to. I lost a lot of confidence and faith in myself. And I ended up realizing that the person they have always known does not exist anymore. I am not a child anymore. I am no longer someone you can tell what to do and when and I will happily agree because I look up to you. I am an adult with a life so different from most of my (extended) family. And whereas I love my life, I am broken hearted over seeing things in a new way and losing what I have always wanted. The truth is, I will never have the relationship I have wanted all my life with some people in my family. I will never be “one of them” no matter what I try to do or try to be. I will always be the “one who invited herself along” and not the one who is invited.

And I have to make peace with that. It will take time. But to quote a friend of the family, “Live the life you love and love the life you live.” That is my plan. With or without support.

That is what I want to talk to my Mom about. How would she help me walk through the broken places? What would she tell me to do? Why can’t I just curl up with her and let her tell me that it will all be okay and that I am perfectly me and that is good enough? Oh,what I would give to hear her tell me “This too shall pass” as she always did when things felt horribly wrong in my life. What would Mom tell me to do to pick myself up, dust myself off and move through the broken places? Where would she tell me I fit in? And can I ever?

I’ve been blessed that I can share this with my Dad. He and his wife have been so supportive. For that I am forever grateful. And I know they will always be there for me as I walk through this. As for the rest…

Well, I just don’t know. It’s hard to see clearly through the broken places.

Moving On

I know all the faces
Each one is different but they’re always the same
They mean me no harm but it’s time that I face it
They’ll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don’t belong
I’m movin’ on

—-

*By “extended” family I am just differentiating between those who are not my immediate family like my husband and 3 kids.

July 23, 2011

How does a normal brain work? I shall never understand it!

Addicts use. Alcoholics drink. That just is what it is. I’m not saying that is an excuse for an addict or alcoholic to say “Screw it!” and begin using or abusing. What I am saying is that our brains? They are wired that way. Do you know how long it took me to actually realize and accept that fact? Let’s just say eleven years into this and I still struggle with the how’s and why’s.

When things go wrong or I am going through a rough time, I struggle with the “normal” ways “normal” people cope. It is not unusual for a conversation with Clint to go something like this:

“What is the first thing you think when something goes wrong or if you’re hurt or if something really heartbreaking happens?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what is your first thought when it comes to coping or dealing with pain or anger or frustration.”

“I figure out how to fix it & move forward. If I can change it, I’ll try. If I can’t, I accept that.”

“I don’t know how to do that. I don’t understand how a ‘normal’ brain can just go straight to healing. Mine’s broken.”

“What did you used to do?“

And that is where I get stuck. I don’t remember a time when my brain didn’t seek refuge in seeking escape. Pain free numbness. Disappearing mentally. I truly do not remember that time.

What do people do when faced with heartbreaking, soul searing, spirit crushing pain? What do people do when they feel alone and too frozen to move from their place. Like being stuck in quicksand. Struggling doesn’t help. Giving in will kill you. You have to have survival skills to get out. But sometimes sinking is what is known. It is the only thing you know.

I’m learning not to beat myself up when I’m running full speed ahead and land in quicksand. I’m learning that my brain is not wired like someone who has never dealt with addiction. I will never have a “normal” reaction to pain or loss or loneliness. I can learn to have actions and reactions that are healthy and helpful. My brain may always immediately pop up the thought, “Numb it immediately!” when things go wrong but when I know what ways I can actually deal with life on life’s terms, that voice may be there but it has less force and holds no power.

Between the sheer hell I’ve been through in the last year and the fact that I have been so quick to put anyone else’s needs above my own, I feel broken. (Sidenote: Some of those times when I put another’s needs above mine are times I would never, ever do it any differently. It is my nature to nurture anyone who needs it. I will literally give you the shirt off of my back if you need it and never regret it. The honesty of that situation is that it does take it’s toll if I don’t let down my guard and let someone help take care of me. But that? That goes against my nature. Thus, the broken cycle.)

I’m in a down cycle. Stuck in quicksand. Lost. Broken. Waiting for it to pass and the next cycle to start up again. I’m just ready to really grab life with both hands and truly jump into it. I’ve been on hold too long. I don’t want to be broken any longer. Maybe I can just be happy being a little cracked up. (See what I did there?)

image source here

April 27, 2011

How do you find words for the unspeakable? How do you find any good in tragedy?

“Sometimes there are a thousand things to say, no words to say them and a heart too broken to try.”

That was my latest update on Facebook. It sat there on my profile for well over a week. Most of the time when something happens that breaks my heart or I have trouble processing the horror of it, I write. But sometimes it can be so tragic, all words are lost to me. I become a virtual mute when it comes to writing. What happened to throw me into such a stage of sadness and heartbreak?

Two weeks ago I was with a friend and neighbor when her world shattered around her. This was how the extended family shared the news with their Facebook friends.

We need your help facebook friends. Last night The Hendricks Family suffered a tragic loss. Rusty was fixing their one and only car when the jack broke in half and crushed him. He lost his life. (He was 36) The Hendricks family needs your help. Teresa is a stay at home mom with 3 children Samuel 11, Sara 9, Matthew 7. There is no life insurance and Teresa is left to raise her beautiful family alone.

*(I am not divulging anything private or breaking a trust by sharing those details. This is the information the family wrote for the fundraiser they are holding to try to help this wonderful family. Please if there is ANY way you can help…even just a little bit, this lovely woman truly needs it.)

I’ve never felt more helpless and heartbroken for a friend. As I said, there were a thousand things to say, no words to say them and a heart too broken to try. Not a day went by that I did not cry for this family. Not a night went by when I didn’t crumble to the floor of my bathroom wracked with gut wrenching tears of desperate sadness. It was how I dealt with it at night. Alone. So I could try to refuel and be strong for the whole family when or if they needed anything. I wanted to be there to help.

What you have to know about this family is how amazing they are. They touched the lives of everyone they met. I loved watching Rusty play ball with his oldest son in their front yard. When it snowed, he would be outside with the kids laughing and playing just like one of them. I always laughed when he would give Clint a hard time about not putting up Christmas lights. (He even taught my next door neighbor how to hang them “correctly” so that she could have them up for her kids.) He was one of the most joyful men I have ever met. Teresa is one of the kindest women I know. She is soft spoken, sweet and so very giving. She has a heart of gold and a tenderness about her that makes you smile and gives you peace. And those kids? Wonderful kids. Gabby plays outside with them and the sound of their laughter is beautiful music to my ears. Honestly, laughter is the first thing I think of when I think of those kids. Rusty and Teresa are very strong in their faith and they’ve been raising their kids in a faith filled home.

And so the first question is why. Why Rusty? Why this way? Why now? I don’t know the answers. I still can’t even wrap my mind around it all but I do know that this is a family of faith and I know that faith will help them through this. They and their extended families have actually blessed and comforted people who came by to comfort them. They are that special.

One thing Rusty’s sister shared with me (and I don’t think she would mind me sharing) is that he would want people to find something in this tragedy to help them grow- in their faith and their relationships with others. To never let a moment pass without sharing your love.

I lift my eyes...

Through this tragedy I have seen some very beautiful things occur. I have seen friends and strangers pull together to help this family. I have seen relationships heal. I have seen new friendships form. For myself I have solidified friendships that I knew were there but didn’t know how very strong they could be. I was pulled from the dark place I was hurled into last year to see people in my life that truly will always be there for me when I need them.

I suppose you could say pretenses were stripped and people were seen for who they really are. It blessed me to see a community pull together as it has. It blessed me to see people I respect pull together not only for my friend and her family but for each other. To feel their love and have them extend their “family” to encompass me as “one of them” not only healed so much in me, it made me see how jaded I had become by a completely irrelevant event in my past.

Why did it take a tragedy for that to happen? For me to really see things as they are? For me to realize who truly cares and who I can depend on for the good times and the bad? For me to tell my friends that I love them and that I appreciate them? To take those negative voices in my mind and silence them? To reach out to others- not just those involved in this but people in my life who may just need to know someone is there and cares? Why did it take something so unthinkingly horrible for me to take stock of my life and realize the wonderful, beautiful people that I am blessed to have in my life?

I don’t know. I hate that this happened. I am heartbroken that this happen. Yet, even now Rusty blesses me with his joy and love because to not honor his memory in that way just wouldn’t feel right. He touched so many people. And his memory will continue to bless others. Now that? That takes one amazing man. And that was Rusty.

May he sing with the angels.

[Read more...]

March 22, 2011

After 8 years of blogging, why do I still do it and should I? (Or: Oh my, how things have changed!)

When I started blogging nearly 8 years ago (next month-ish), it was as if some magical portal was opened into the world of words and stories and the actual people who wrote them. Blogs were places to go to read about others’ lives. To meet them on their turf and get to know them through their words. I understand that a blog is a representation of what people want others’ to see and never the full story. But the stories were there! A post would lead to a comment which would lead to a conversation that later lead to phone calls. Soon, those words on the screen were people in my heart. It made me feel incredible every time I wrote. I began to know the people who commented either through comments that led me to them or even in emails.

One time I posted that I was having some health issues. Who called me? Gloria Steinem. Yes, that one. She was concerned about me and left me her home phone number so I could call her back. Because I wrote a post on my blog. Because I was myself online. I opened up about who I am and what was going on in my life. (I could use more information on that heart/stress/health connection again, my friend. I sort of lost the information and, well, when Gloria Steinem calls, one can get forgetful about writing down information to remember 5 years later.)

Then of course there was the most life changing, terrifying yet amazing comment on my blog that changed the way I looked at writing forever. That comment led to emails which led to phone calls which led to me being signed by a literary agent who has had enough faith in me for both of us when I lost my way. Because I wasn’t afraid to put it out there that I was working on writing a book proposal, she found me. When life kicked my ass from here to hell and back, she didn’t give up on me. I pray she never does. (Laurie, I’ve got something you’ve waited a long time for!)

You all know that I have blogged openly about my history of addiction and my kicking its ass on a daily basis for nearly 11 years. Because I was not afraid to blog about being a recovering addict that led to a relationship with Five Moms which led me to a trip to DC (Face it, Dave, there is no real White House!) which led to dinner, a day of lobbying and a face to face talk about my addiction with Dr. Drew Pinsky. A conversation that made me see something in myself and my addiction that not only had I never thought about, it was a complete game changer. I wish I had more time that night to talk about it more in depth but with just a few insights into what I was saying, Dr. Drew changed something broken inside me.

I was able to test drive several different cars for months at a time. I made incredible connections with the gaming community. All because they knew they would get a quality write up from me. Whether I liked the product or not.

I was offered paid writing jobs that I loved so very much! (But as kids tend to do, my babies weren’t so young and a target market anymore. But, the opportunity was incredible!)

Because I wrote a blog.

Where people comment.

And relationships are formed.

And things changed. Suddenly all of these new catch phrases were vitally important for bloggers. Things You Must Know. Your stats? (You have to know your stats! They measure whether you are worth anything in this world!) Branding. (“You are your brand!” was shouted around the land.) Do you know your page rank? (Everyone should know that! Duh!) What about your Twitter followers? (Do you have enough clout (ahem) to mean something to PR pros?) Facebook fan page? Have you optimized it? Where is your media kit? Don’t run with scissors! (Okay, I threw that in to see if you were paying attention.) Have you set up an LLC? Are you actively seeking sponsors? What ad network is best? Should you use an ad network? Do you know SEO? How much do you charge for every single thought in your head?

Holy crap on a crispy cracker! ENOUGH!

And that magical portal that was all unicorns and double rainbows slammed shut for me.

BAM!

Writing online wasn’t fun anymore. Writing online had to be work or you were a crappy blogger. Blogging for fun? That doesn’t pay the bills. The noise in the blogosphere became so loud, I could no longer hear my own voice. I lost my blogging voice. I couldn’t find any passion for writing about anything. Oh, I could kick and scream and be that old blogger yelling for these new-fangled bloggers to “get off my lawn” (and I did to my old school friends in private) but that didn’t change the climate. It just made me feel less significant. Less effective. Just…less.

So I started to write in a real journal. (Like with real paper and a pen!) And I wrote mundane things and memorable things. I vented my frustrations and fears. I wrote funny stories and things that broke my heart. I took 2003 and flipped it around. When I started blogging 8 years ago, I went from a journal to a blog and it brought forth the writer in me. In 2010, I went from a blog to a personal journal. And it brought back the writer in me.

Now? I’ve learned to merge the two with (somewhat) peace of mind.

I may not follow the shouts of what blogging “should be” today and I may not know all of the buzz words of the day but what I do know is that I love to write and make connections. It truly makes me happy and fuels my passion for writing. If that leads to opportunities, that is wonderful. And? If not playing by the “new rules” gets doors slammed in my face, so be it. The bottom line is that I blog for the love of the blog.

Not for love of the game.

February 12, 2011

It doesn't take Oprah to find your authentic self

Have you ever seen one of those “entertainment shows” (term used rather loosely) that take a self-assured, confident, smart, beautiful woman with inner strength who has life by the….horns and watch these shows put this woman (or women) into a suit/costume that is the exact opposite of who they are? You know, where it is a great sociological experiment to put the skinny model in a fat suit or the brilliant Harvard MBA with a high powered career and dress her like a “frumpy housewife” all in the name of “learning how the other half live” for a while? (I’m looking at you Tyra Banks. You, too, 20/20.) Some of these shows- when done to sensationalize how horrible it is to be “the other half”- make me want to smack the ratings grubbing producer and send them into the Brazilian Rain forest without a survival guide. Just for the sociological experiment of course. But that really isn’t the entire point of this. Sometimes- those rare sometimes- it turns out that it isn’t just poor little pretty Britney crying that “OMG, I am so fat! Make it stop!” Sometimes they actually do something that surprises not just the women who are doing this experiment but the people around them.

At first, these women are the same. It doesn’t matter what is on the outside, they are confident and know what is on the inside. They are fully tapped into their authentic selves. And? They are confident nothing and no one can shake that. But after a day, two days, three days, a month…they begin to react not as the woman inside the “costume” but as the woman the rest of the world sees.

The beautiful, skinny model no longer gets the adoring looks and attention she has always known. It causes her to react to the way she is treated- to what people assume she is when they don’t look further. She begins to hold her head down when she is walking, not quite looking anyone in the eye. She is no longer the first to speak up, if she speaks up at all. She hears the rude comments and begins to cry and is truly hurt deep down inside. With her self-esteem at an all time low for her, she feels beaten down and broken.

Or take the brilliant Harvard MBA executive who becomes the old stereo typical stay at home mom who spends her days with her kids or running errands or volunteering somewhere. She begins to be treated as someone who can barely manage a grocery list. Her “mom jeans” and sweater sets are frowned upon and she is rarely taken seriously unless she is talking about household affairs, PTA or Johnny’s latest accomplishment- and then rarely is she truly taken seriously. Surely this frumpy mom couldn’t know anything about the stock market, foreign affairs or politics. I mean, just look at the way she dresses! She doesn’t even wear makeup everyday. She must be “just a mom” and therefore not worthy of the intelligent conversations offered up at business dinners or get-togethers. She belongs on the playground with the “other mommies” and before you know it, she begins to act less self-assured. She buys into the lie that maybe she isn’t as smart as she thinks she is. Maybe it is a man’s world and she does belong just on the playground. Her authentic self may be able to command a board room and handle multi-million dollar accounts but when she is treated as less than, she begins to feel less than. She begins to believe that she IS less than.

What happened to these women?

I suppose as a society we are quick to judge what we see and what “truth” we have been told. Take the woman above. A stay at home mom is the “truth” that is told. Her dress is not the most fashionable. She doesn’t look high-powered but perhaps a bit overly tired. Is that who she really is? Is that her authentic self?

Well, yes and no. It is who she feels she is after repeatedly- I mean time and time and time again- being treated in a way that isn’t true to her authentic self. When it comes to the collision of perceived reality and personal reality, sometimes perceived reality wins even for the woman inside the suit who knows better. She knows who she really is. Yet, her heart is broken by the reactions and actions of others based on the way they perceive her to be because of the “truths” they are either told or choose to believe on their own. However, her authentic self is not lost.

After a while, that authentic self fights back. From deep inside the suit, the pain and the reality she has been living– which is not reality at all– become too much for her authentic self to bear and her authentic self begins to emerge and beg to be let out of the suit, out of this experiment. It hurts too much. You may first see it as a fierce look in her eyes. It may come from a retort to a comment that went just a bit too far. Or you may not see her authentic self come out until piece by piece the suit is removed and she has a chance to stretch both her body and her mind, refresh her emotions and feel once again at peace with herself– her real self.

I think that is true of all of us.

At one time or another we step out of our comfort zone and try new things. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. It’s in the trying that matters. Over a year ago I put on a new suit that I truly wanted. It fit like a second skin and I was happy. But bit by bit, piece by piece layers were added to that suit. Some by me and some by others. The more that was put onto that suit the heavier it became. The harder it was to wear and still be my authentic self. There were times the “real me” would scream so loudly to get out but by then the suit was so think, so heavy and attached so strongly, I couldn’t break free. In the Spring I knew it cost me too much personally to continue wearing it. I tried to brutally claw it off to get back to the real me. But let me tell you something. The process of ripping, tearing and clawing at something that is attached to you like a skin just scars you more. You have to go through a process to take it off. Though I was succeeding, I had a long way to go. I made mistakes. I hurt myself, my family and some friends. To those I could offer an olive branch, I did. Some accepting it and everything was put in the past to move forward. To others, the olive branch was thrown down and walked away from. There is and was nothing I could do about other people and how they react and choose to respond. I was working on getting myself back and didn’t have the energy to argue, fight or try to make my side heard. It became counterproductive to what I needed to do and who I truly am.

The beginning of summer I learned about finding the authentic me. I spent a week with people I love who love me. Not only do they support me but they love me in spite of me. During that week, the suit started to melt away in a beautiful and pain-free way. I learned that the ones who love me not only accept me as I am but they expect me to be who I truly am. It was a wonderful time of letting go, healing and getting to know myself again.

But that wasn’t the end. It just doesn’t happen that easily.

In July my family went through a crisis. I think all of us at one time or another (at least once) go through something that so thoroughly, completely and irrevocably changes you. Sometimes it is a wonderful event. Sometimes it is traumatic. But there is a moment, a time in life that you can exactly pinpoint, where everything changes. It doesn’t matter if it is something everyone can see or just those close to you or even something only you know happens. The point is, nothing will ever be the same after that moment. Ever. Things that seemed so painful lose their sting. Things that seemed so important become trivial. Things you thought you would struggle with for a long time to get past are suddenly no longer roadblocks in your mind or heart. You move on. You have to. You are not that person anymore.

I would never wish the events of my summer on anyone. At all. But I am forever grateful that I was able to be where I was needed, go through I needed to go through and come out on the other side the person I am now. Through crisis I mended fences that should never have been put up in the first place and found an amazing friend on the other side. A gift that I wanted, needed and came to accept through a crisis situation. I grew closer to people I love and have a tighter bond with them that nothing in this world can ever loosen. I found strength in myself I honestly didn’t know I had. I found peace in a way I have never known. I learned lessons about life that will forever be with me and keep me strong when I feel broken.

That suit? It completely melted away.

I thought I would find “the old me” underneath waiting to emerge. That didn’t happen. I found a new version– a better version– of the authentic me that I never knew I had the capacity to become. I never want to be the “old me” before my suit wearing days. Ever. A part of her is still with me but what I found when the real me emerged is so phenomenal and strong and at peace that I gladly put the old me in the past and embrace who I have become.

What about you? Are you struggling with a “suit” that doesn’t quite fit anymore? Do you need someone to stand beside you and say, “I believe in YOU and I will be here for you if it hurts to find the real you!”? Let me know. I’ll stand in that gap with you. I’ll hold you hand or your heart and be someone you can know cares. Or have you recently been through something that has brought you to a point where your own “suit” melted away only to find a wonderful new authentic you? Share it with us. Those stories always help us feel connected. Your story, declaration or simple “I’ll stand by you, too” can make a huge difference to someone who may need to hear it….even if you never even know it.

“Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.”

September 1, 2010

I won't be quiet. No one should be in this situation.

I usually try not to use my blog as a pulpit. I try not to come off as someone who tries to make people think as I do. I tell stories. I am not a motivational speaker or preacher and I don’t use my blog as such. So, since you have been with me (many of you) for years, indulge me as I share something with you. I need to say it. If not for you, than for someone whose heart is open to it.

There are people I love who have been through hell this past week. Good people. For that matter, maybe even some bad people, too. Who they are doesn’t matter. They are people. Many are suffering. Many are in situations that are unfathomable to you as you sit in the comfort of your home cruising the Internet. Situations that should bring a tear to your eye or at the very least make you see that there is a world out there so much bigger than your tiny circle that you deal with on a daily basis. People whose problems are bigger than many of yours. Most definitely that are much bigger than anything in my life, that is for damn sure!

This is Nashville:

Look at it. Watch it. And when you do, don’t ignore it. What if it was your town? What if you were stranded without power for days and couldn’t get out or get supplies? What if your neighbor or your friend was missing and you knew that it has become a “recovery mission” and not a “rescue mission” now? Ask yourself whether or not the little annoyances matter in the grand scheme of things. As people have lost everything, ask yourself if the situations you are in- whether by choice or circumstance- are nearly as devastating or nearly as important as the ones these people are facing right now. Or if maybe, just maybe, you personally could use some of your own passionate nature (and I know my readers…they are passionate) to better use for these people. When you complain about having to deal with difficult people at work, be thankful you can go to work and then have a home to come back to at the end of the day. A home that is not under water. A home that is not devastated. A home where you have not lost everything.

I am not saying your problems are not real. They are real. Your struggles and grievances are just as valid. And, yes, they do matter. But for the love of all things human, LOOK at what people are dealing with right now. Look at their problems. Look at the real devastation in their lives and ask yourself: If I refocused my energies on the people of Nashville who need it, would that be a better use of passion, my prayers and my time than whatever it is I am currently focused on?

This flood hits my heart hard. I have people I have come to love that live there. I have friends who have been blessed enough to only endure a lack of power and friends who have seen complete devastation. THIS is what matters right now to me. And, you know what? THIS is where I choose to focus my energy, my attention and my heart. The silly little bullshit that goes on in day to day life that no one truly cares about and won’t even remember a year from now? I Do. Not. Care. About. That. Not when people I love face a situation such as this. My attention is where it needs to be and should be.

I care about these people who need it. I care about the loss of lives. I care about the people who are mourning the deaths of neighbors and praying that they can have something…anything… of their lives to salvage.

People I love are in need of my attention. And that? That is where I am focused because that is what matters in my heart.

And I would hope it would matter to others as well. Get out of your bubble and give your attention to people who need it. Isn’t that what humanity, compassion and “the greater good” really are about?

Think about it.

To help

- Check Hands on Nashville or follow Hands on Nashville on Twitter for information

-Or, donate to the Community Foundation of Middle Tennessee

May 6, 2010

"As someone told me lately, Everyone deserves the chance to fly"- On Moving Forward

There are times in life when circumstances back you into a corner. Times when those you trust betray you and those you have come to rely on turn their back on you. It is in those times you find the people in your life who truly do have your back. The people who genuinely care. You can see through the masks that people wear and into the reality of their hearts. The truth of the matter is at those times, it can break you. It can take you and slam you down with a force you didn’t know existed in your world. At those times when you have felt abandoned and all alone you should look around through your tears and see who and what truly matters in your life. The sad fact is most of those times come at a high price and with great pain. It is a bit like hitting rock bottom in addiction. There is no where to turn and no where to go but up. But the beauty of it is when you stop and look around– feeling in your heart that without a doubt that you are standing alone– you see the people in your life who genuinely care about you and love you. Those are the true people in your life you can depend on, trust and open your heart to when you are at your weakest. Those are the people who will hold your hand when you need it. The people who will love you unconditionally and stand beside you to weather the storms of life. The reality is you probably are not as alone as you thought you were. You just weren’t looking in the right places.

For many of us a time has come or will come when your circumstances or the people you have chosen to surround yourself with will bring you to your knees, break your heart or back you into a corner where you can see no way out. Rather than focusing on the pain or the intense feelings of loneliness and anger you are bound to feel, take a good look at who is still standing with you. Take a really good look. Those are the people you want in your corner. Those are the people whose opinions and truth you want to rely on at that time. Those people who are ready, willing and able to drop everything to see you through the hardest of times– those are the people who do truly care and support you. The ones who are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt through your successes and failures.

Now, I am not saying that the other people who choose to turn away are people not worthy of your time, your prayers or your friendship. But those are not the people you should depend on to make your life choices or help you through the tough times. Those are not the people you need to depend on in a time of pain. They are merely people who have been brought into your life for a reason and a season. They have brought a life lesson with them. They have brought to you something you can take away. They are no less important in the grand scheme of things. They are your life teachers. Sometimes they are gentle and kind teachers who come and go from your life and bless with you with what they have brought to you. Sometimes there are those people whose lessons are brutal and painful. And sometimes those lessons are ones that you would never learn if it were not for the suffering they bring to you. They are just as important to your growth as a person as the people in your life that you know will never abandon you, abuse you or leave you when things get rough. They serve as a catalyst for a life lesson. People that somewhere deep inside- when you can think clearly through the pain or anger- that have led you to the path you should take or off of the one that will destroy your very soul.

My Mom always said life isn’t fair. And it isn’t. However, when the chips are down and you find out who stands with you, supports you and will be there for you, you should be thankful. Just as you should be thankful for the ones who broke your heart. Not in the same way, yet nevertheless their importance should not be diminished because you are hurt.

So what do you do in those times when you are broken and beaten down? You reach up, take the hand (or hands) that are offered, stand up, brush yourself off and move forward. Hopefully you’ll find yourself a better person for the life lesson they have brought. Even if they were brought to you at a great cost or with pain.

This week I learned many lessons. Some that had me in tears of pain for days. Some that have me in tears of extreme gratitude. And some that just opened my eyes in general to the reality– and not the perceived reality– but the actual reality of people, situations and circumstances I have allowed into my life that are toxic to me and my family. For that, I am truly thankful for those people and situations. They brought with them a lesson for a season. A lesson of fire and pain but a lesson that I can not only carry with me but use to help and guide others when I see them go down a similar path. It is an opportunity to share my experiences with others and let them know they are not alone when they find themselves beaten down and broken. I’ve learned our experiences are not for nothing. They are not trivial. We have not suffered them in vain.

I suppose what I am saying is that you should not regret the decisions you have made and the people you have had in your life. If your lesson has been learned and those people are truly there only for a season and simply for a single reason, you will find peace in moving forward. You will have learned what you needed to learn and the loss, though it can be painful, has served its purpose. Yes, even those who break your heart. There is a reason and a lesson. When you learn it, you will grow, be stronger and see things much clearer as you let them go.

But never, ever forget to take the time to thank those who are there for the good and the bad. The ones who stand with you when you succeed and when you fail. I am talking about the people who will always stand beside you and support you and will be honest with you from their heart and from a place of love because those are the people you can always be free to hand over your heart to and know that it will be cherished and not broken. Just remember to thank those people in your life who are truly and genuinely there for you. They are your blessings. They are your true gifts in life. Blessings to lean on through your sufferings and to cheer with you through your celebrations. And in return, you will grow with them and be able to hold their heart in your hands and cherish it and take care of it with gentle hands just as they have done for you.

Lessons are learned.

Seasons change.

And people leave.

Those who don’t turn their backs and walk away…well, count your blessings. Never take them for granted. I know I never will again. For I am blessed. Broken hearted but full of peace for I know now without any doubt in my mind, I do not and never will stand alone.

With the help of those friends standing with me…

It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap!

[Read more...]

April 29, 2010