I Give Up It's Your Turn or Just Listen

I’m going to preface this by saying I’m not what you’d call super religious. I haven’t read the Bible. I have had periods in my life where I haven’t gone to church in years. I couldn’t sit in a debate and use the Bible intelligently to make a point. I was raised Catholic, got tired of the judgement and found a church instead that seems to focus on giving to others and accepting all people. I’m not sure if I’m doing “religion” right, but I do it my way – I feel like I’ve got a personal relationship with my God, or higher power, or whatever you want to call it. But what you are about to read probably doesn’t follow any specific religious belief other than my own. Oh, and there will be swears. Because that’s how my God and I talk.

I’m not sure how religion is really supposed to work. I’ve always believed God feels like you should be a good person and not judge others. That’s basically what my beliefs are based on. And it feels weird to say that I believe I’ve had moments in my life where I feel like God has talked to me because that seems like something that would only happen to devout people. I swear a lot, can be mean sometimes and am not perfect so why would God talk to me? But all I know is that I don’t know who else was talking to me in those conversations because super smart things were said that I didn’t come up with. Is this normal for everyone else? I don’t know. Either way, it’s happened in some of my worst times, and it’s how I know that there is a point to all the craziness of life.

One of the first times I can remember having a chat with God was after I had my miscarriage. I was out running a 13-mile run (as one often does after a significant medical event like an idiot) and really, that run was for punishing my failure of a body. I was just so angry and sad and miserable. I was out running because I could control my body for 13 miles when I couldn’t control it to have a baby. That miscarriage was when I learned true sadness. I remember thinking, “What in the fuck God? How could I have a baby taken away when there are so many people out there that do drugs and are bad people and they have babies just fine?” And I distinctly heard, “You got what you wanted.” I remember exactly where I was when I heard that. I was out on a gravel road, with the humming of the power lines overhead. If I were being cynical, I would chalk this whole thing up to the extreme voltage coming off those lines, but instead I said, “Excuse me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I did not get what I wanted. I’ve never been more sad in my life.” And the reply, which I honestly do not think I would have thought of on my own at that moment was, “You wanted a healthy baby Jenny. And you did not have one. So this one is gone. You are getting what you wanted” I actually stopped running, put my hands on my hips, and just processed that. This voice was right. All I wanted was a healthy baby. If I was going to get what I wanted, then I must need to let this baby go. Always wanting the last word, I think I replied, “Well, you could have just given me a healthy one in the first place.” I think God chuckled. But I knew God was right. It was this moment when I saw that maybe someone did have my back. I may not be getting what I wanted right now but ultimately I was getting what I wanted – and I did. I have two amazing sons that own my heart.

Years go by and it’s pretty much radio silence. Which is fine because I’m good. I remember that voice on the road, but we don’t talk a whole lot. Maybe we are like when you have that friend that is your best friend so you can go years without seeing each other and then when you do, it’s like you were never apart? There is this part of me that wonders if God needs more from you than that, but God is a busy person so maybe it’s a relief when you are status quo. But then the Squirrel was born. What an epic disaster. He had a prolapsed cord and a true knot. This baby wanted to crash into the world (much like he lives every day) and he did. One of these medical events is an emergency on its own – to have both things happen with one baby requires more statistics than I can handle. I woke up from surgery and I don’t know if it was the drugs or if it was God but all I felt was peace. While everyone around me was telling me how terrible things were, how the Squirrel probably had brain damage, that everything went wrong, I knew it would be alright. That whatever happened next, it would be fine. When people would tell me how nothing went right, instead I saw intervention. I was able to use a surgery room that was already prepped for the pregnant mother who was being wheeled down the hall for HER surgery. The doctors were changing shifts, and the next doctor hadn’t arrived yet, but they caught the one leaving as he was almost out the door.  There was just a second of air left in the umbilical cord that saved the Squirrel. I had a nurse who quickly recognized an emergency and knew exactly what to do – she held the Squirrel’s head up while she rode the bed with me down to surgery. Nurses would come up to me during my stay at the hospital and would tell me that the whole floor was praying for me. The Squirrel was perfect. No one could believe it. I tell him he has to do great things now because he was saved for a reason. If you don’t see God in that story, then you need to read it again.

So now I come to present day. Soon I won’t need to keep writing about my divorce, but right now it’s how I process things. You guys. It was pretty rough. It was a year of truth after truth after truth. So many revelations and horrible moments. One night I took a walk.  And I said to God, “I can’t believe you threw me under the bus like this. I thought you had my back but you don’t. Screw you.” We were done. We were not friends. Don’t even say the word God to me. God had left me when the chips were down. Don’t tell me that bullshit story about footprints in the sand. It’s not true and I was only searching for truths at that point.  

Well you can probably predict how this went. It didn’t go well. It was a year of treading water while waves kept washing over me, choking me and sending me down. Every day it was a struggle to keep believing things would get better. Around the end of that year, I was in spin class trying to block out the fact I was in spin class. I was thinking about how hard everything was and how I really didn’t know how I had the energy to keep trying, to keep smiling for my kids, to take more hits that just kept coming. How do you keep standing up when you keep getting knocked down over and over? And all of a sudden I thought, what do I have to lose? My way wasn’t working so that means it’s time to try something different. And I said, “Okay God. Nothing is working. I give up. Your turn. I know I told you to screw off but that’s because it seemed like you were really shitting on me there – how could so many bad things happen to me when I was trying to be a good person? And now I feel like an ass because I’m giving you a second chance when all I’ve been doing is giving people second chances lately and frankly that has brought me nothing but pain. Trying to trust anyone feels like a mistake. But I have nothing left to lose. Let’s see what you can do.” Not my most gracious conversation but God overlooked that.

I went home and I opened the Bible. I didn’t even know where to start. I read a few Psalms. Wow, people felt like garbage back then too. My heart too has been turned to dust. I get that. My enemies have tried to destroy me too. Sounds like God has seen this before. I started talking to God again. “Dude, I just need the energy and the patience to make it through this day without being ashamed of my reactions. Help me stay true to the person I am while I go through this.” “God, what the fuck was that? You are going to have to handle this one. I need a trust fall.” “I am freaking the fuck out. Just make it better. I’m going to trust you to make it better.”   

You know what? God showed up. Turns out I don’t think God bailed on me at all. That damned footprint story was right. I see now that everything I experienced simply reinforced the kind of person that I am, what my values are, who I am deep down. I wouldn’t have learned that without going through the darkness. What a gift. God gave me the courage to start telling my story and my one regret is that I didn’t talk to my family and friends sooner. I am humbled by the amazing people in my life and without the strength they lent me, I wouldn’t be where I’m at today, which is a good place. On one of my lower days, my little brother, who I hadn’t talked to in more than 2 years, called me for the first time. All day I had been crying tears of sadness and all of a sudden I was crying tears of joy. Thanks God. If that would be the only good thing to happen through all of this, it was worth it. Everything I went through showed me that the only way was to walk a new path instead of getting lost following the same path again. Instead of throwing me under a bus, God was saying, “Jen, I’m trying to convince you there is another way. Unfortunately, you are stubborn so I’m going to have to almost break you first to get you to change.” I see that now. And when it gets blurry and messy, I just say, “God, your turn. You are going to have to get me through this one today. I trust you to not fuck it up.” And so far, God hasn’t let me down.

On Palm Sunday I was feeling pretty frustrated. I said a quick prayer before going into church, “God give me patience.” It is my go-to prayer I say almost daily. I sat in church and realized I had forgotten what had made me mad already. And then I heard that voice. “Now you are going to do great things.” Huh? What was that? Where did that come from? “I’m giving you a second chance. Now you are going to do great things with it.” Okay. I know that voice. I’m getting a do-over. Life is going to look different. I get that I’m going to get some time to heal, to detox from these past 18 months of stress and turmoil. But then I am expected to do great things. Maybe it just means being that friend to others because I learned how to sit with sadness. Maybe I’m going to help people who feel lost and need help like I did – to show them they have strength they didn’t know they had. I don’t know. But I do know that God cleared the way for me to live my best life. I’m not going to squander it.

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too was a gift.” – Mary Oliver

A Letter To My Babies or #metoo

Dear Babies,

My Dear Boys. You are growing up in a time when innocence is hard to protect. Every time I turn on the news I risk you learning about the evils of the world. We rush to report the tragic and insane and ignore the beautiful things around us. There is no shielding you from human behavior anymore because even if I don’t watch the news, it’s on the radio, discussed in school and on the playground. So instead of blocking it, we are going to talk about it. We are going to make sure you understand empathy and compassion for your fellow human beings.

A perfect example of this is the news about Joe Biden. We love Joe Biden. And Joe Biden is being accused of touching women without their permission. “But what’s the big deal? Look at what Trump did!” you say. Sigh. Yes. But it still doesn’t make it okay. We need to respect personal boundaries, even if you are Joe Biden. Now I have the task of explaining the male-female dynamic to you, in a time where you are also influenced by people who think it is overblown and silly. How do I explain the #metoo movement to you? Do I start with the history of how women have been constantly harassed? Do I explain your role in society and how it differs from mine? Do I point out every time a woman is marginalized so you begin to see it? I need you to understand it with compassion and the only way I know how to do that is to make it personal. Maybe I just start of by telling you what my experience is like as a woman.

Let me preface this by saying that I am so lucky that I am a woman living in the United States. And nothing truly traumatic has happened to me. What I am about to tell you are stories of what women consider just common occurrences about growing up as female. But I know they are things you will likely not experience because you are boys. And that is the entire problem and why we have #metoo.

I’d like to start off by saying I love men. Men have been some of my favorite friends. I love joking with them, sharing stories, getting their insight. I guess I’ve always looked at people like they are people and not so much as their gender. And I have some amazing men that are my friends and family. And look at you two beautiful boys – I love you like you are the breath I take each day because you are. So now that that has been said, let me tell you about some not so awesome moments that are normal for women to experience.

Do I tell you about the time I was working in a restaurant and one of the kitchen workers shoved me against a wall and held me there to try and kiss me? I pushed and shoved and squirmed until I got out of there and then, went back to work with a smile on my face because when you are a girl, you “man” up and do what you have to do, no matter how fast your heart is beating. There wasn’t anything to report to the manager because I got away. And even if he had kissed me, unless it’s rape, you don’t talk about it because you are just "overblowing" the situation. You should want to be kissed by whomever and whenever. Except you don’t.

There was the time when I lived with a roommate and someone left a threatening note on our hall floor by our door that said he was coming to fuck the blonde bitch in the black leather coat. My roommate looked at me and said, you are the only one wearing a black leather coat Jen. We called the cops and I started carrying mace because simply living in my apartment had become dangerous because some random stranger decided that he could inflict fear and threaten my safety. I felt silly that my roommate called the cops despite a threat on my safety. Until something actually happens, you are just supposed to put up with unwanted comments like that. But you shouldn’t.

How about the time I was doing my observation hours for the athletic training program at my university and I was watching a football player receive a treatment in the treatment room. The head professional athletic trainer for a Big 12 university looked at me and another student doing her observation hours and tilted his head at us and said to the football player, “Which one of these is yours?” Before you think this is simply a case of misunderstanding, we were both in the athletic trainer uniform of unattractive khakis and red, blue or white polos. The football player just looked puzzled and the trainer said, “So neither of these is yours?” No sir, neither of us “belong” to this football player. Clearly we are here to watch you as a professional administer therapy and evidently treat us like we are just a piece of property to be claimed. It was then I decided that athletic training wouldn’t be my career field. I couldn’t deal with the sexism I was realizing I would experience. Hopefully things have changed greatly since the mid-90s. Women are not property.

And remember when your dad and I were talking about whether it is appropriate to “wolf whistle” at a woman? Let me clear that up once and for all. It’s not appropriate. First, women are not dogs to be whistled at, even if you approve of how we look. We don’t actually care if you like how we look because we got dressed for ourselves that day. If you think we are pretty or smart or funny, be a human and come up and tell us to our face. If you can’t do that, then you aren’t mature enough to talk to us in the first place. Second, it is a “wolf” whistle and wolves are predatory. Nothing in the name says this is a nice polite gesture. Third it makes women feel uneasy and like we are a piece of meat that has been noticed and now we are on guard. That reason alone is enough to justify that you never wolf whistle at a woman. Show respect. Always.

Do you know why I always lock my doors when I go in and pay for my gas or drop off library books? Because if something bad happened to me, it is always assumed to be my fault first for not being extra cautious, or for wearing a skirt or for having long hair. You will not know what it feels like to always scan a parking lot before approaching your car. You will not know what it feels like to second guess getting into an elevator with a stranger. These are my realities. They are the realities of women everywhere.

Let me say it makes me roll my eyes to hear that men don’t want to mentor women now because they are afraid that we are demanding to be treated with respect and apparently, they just don’t know how to do that properly. So it’s not okay to make a comment about how we look anymore? “Well I just can’t trust myself to not be a douchebag when I am in a position to mentor this person.” Look buddy, if you can’t trust yourself to not be an ass, you shouldn’t be a mentor in the first place.

Are these all of the instances of my experiences of being a woman? No. But I don’t need to share all my stories. You see I’m not looking for protection. I’m looking to raise sons that don’t treat people like they are objects or things to overpower. Instead I want you to treat people like they are of value, whether they are men, women, trans, straight, gay, bi, black, white, Christian, Jew, Muslim. Treat people like they are of value until they prove otherwise but I’ll be damned if you will treat them with disrespect because of their gender, orientation, ethnicity, race or religion.

I know it seems like sticky waters but it’s not. It is simply following the Golden Rule, treat others as you wish to be treated. I can guarantee you don’t want to be shoved into walls, dismissed because of your gender or made to feel lucky that “nothing worse happened.” We women are warriors because you do not hear about those every day things we put up with. And now everyone is shocked that women are starting to speak up. But you My Loves are the future. And it is your job to make sure that the people around you feel uplifted and safe. Am I asking for you to treat women differently? I’m not asking for special treatment but I am asking you to watch for instances when you see a woman marginalized or threatened and you are going to be the one to step in and put a stop to it. With great power comes great responsibility. And you were born white males in the United States of America. You were born into privilege. From the beginning I told you about the Four Golden Rules in our house and one of them is to Always Respect Women. And My Loves, this is why. If you love your mama then you love women. And that means being better than the people who came before you, even Joe Biden. #metoo #iloveyou

My Deeper Why for KonMari or It's Time to Take the Trash Out

Like everyone else, I have jumped on the Konmari Train. I started watching Tidying Up on Netflix and watched the skies open and heard angels singing. I love decluttering – it is one of my favorite things to do! There is nothing more satisfying than bags full of clothes for Goodwill and garbage for trash day. I will literally walk by a decluttered room and gaze at it like a loved one and just stare at its beauty. I wish I were joking, but I find decluttering so satisfying – maybe too satisfying…now you know my secret shame.

To have a roadmap of how to tidy up my life sounded amazing! Because I don’t have unlimited time, I started small. According to Marie Kondo, there is a specific process. While I know you are supposed to start with clothes, I started with accessories and email (odd as it sounds, my inbox gets super cluttered.) Then this month I tackled clothes. I didn’t throw them all on my bed at once but I did do them in categories. And while I didn’t thank each piece of clothing or really figure out if they “sparked joy” I still got rid of bags and bags of clothes. It felt amazing!

I eagerly started to plan my next decluttering attack. You are supposed to do clothing, books, paper, komono (which means everything) and then sentimental items, in that order. My clothes were done but sorting through my books doesn’t sound like much fun right now. What if I start tackling the stuff in my bathroom? Or all those CDs downstairs? It is a little messed up how exciting the idea of tidying up my life sounds.

Since I was on a roll with the whole decluttering thing, I checked out this book called “Digital Minimalism” by Cal Newport. One aspect I don’t love about myself is how wrapped up in my phone I have gotten. I use it for everything – probably like you do. It is my mini-computer, my to-do list, my Rolodex, my soundtrack, my lifeline. And because I have a teenager and want to connect with him where he is at, I joined Snapchat and Instagram recently too – more social media! And I feel like maybe this idea of digital minimalism is just what I need too.

I’m going to be honest, because what’s the point of blogging if I’m not going to be honest. I might have skipped through large sections of this book. I didn’t really need the research to tell me why reducing my digital usage was a good thing. I know it is. I was more interested in the how – how do I break these bad habits I’ve created? It sounds like you need a 30 day fast from all digital sources. Cue screeching brakes. Um, I’m a mom of two active kids. I need to be online. Thankfully it talks about keeping what’s necessary to keep your life running while cutting out the clutter. Ok, I’m back on board!

Then I get to this section in the book that talks about how we mask our discomfort with our phones. We connect online so we can keep up the façade of a happy amazing life. We have lost knowing who we are. We don’t even know what we like to do anymore because we just go to our phones when we are bored. Gut punch. And I realize why I’ve been gravitating to cutting out all of the clutter in my life – the physical and the digital.

Going through a divorce has sucked. And what really stinks about it is when you take this person away that has been a part of your life for 25 years, you are left feeling less than whole. In moments of quiet, I really wonder who I am now. What are my own thoughts and opinions when I’m not worried about someone’s reaction to my comments? What do I like to do when I get to make my own choices? I have this overwhelming sense to get rid of all the excess around me so I can strip down to just me – who am I underneath all of this baggage I’ve been carrying around. When I look around, what is important to me? What do I like to do? I struggle to identify myself as anything other than a mom – the Moose and Squirrel are my world and I am always looking for ways to make their lives better. But what about for me? I have this sense that once I get rid of all the extra, I’m going to figure it out.

What I have found myself doing instead of being quiet has been to soothe that discomfort of the unknown by numbing out with social media, endless to-do lists, and general running from my thoughts. The idea of konmari and a digital detox were subconsciously intriguing because I am in a place where I am trying to rediscover who I am and maybe if I get quiet and throw away the excess, I might find an answer.

I’ve been asked when will I start dating again. This makes me laugh because I’m not even divorced yet. Turns out that is a lengthy process, as anything important should be. But when the ink is dry, I think I’m going to take a year to detox/minimalize/tidy up. I need to just sit with myself to meet me again. In the meantime, I’m going to go through the books, papers, lotions, CDs and yes, eventually go quiet on social media for a month. Because I think once I’ve stripped away all the extra stuff I’ve been carrying, I’m going to be reintroduced to someone amazing. I want to learn about her thoughts and dreams. I want to know what she likes to do and what she thinks about when it is quiet. And I want her to have a nice, new, decluttered open space to live her life again. She deserves it.

I Love a Good Origin Story or Super Heroes Are All Around Us

As a boy mom, I watch more super hero movies than I would if I were holding the remote. I exasperate the kids by forgetting who is Marvel and who is DC, who are the villains and who are the good guys and forget keeping up with the timelines. But the one thing that I can respect with all of these super heroes is how they got there in the first place. They all have an origin story.

Every super hero experienced some major life event that made them super. They lost their parents, they were modified with claws by evil scientists, they had to put a battery in their chest to live, their father was an evil super villain and they escaped, they were bit by a spider. You know, run-of-the-mill, everyday adversity. But what made them super is that they overcame life’s challenges and it strengthened them physically and mentally. It changed who they are.

There is a lot of talk now about growth mindset and grit. How we handle adversity plays a major role in the people that we become. If we are lucky we do not stop evolving when we become 18. That’s just the beginning. That’s the dough before it’s baked. Life adds the spice. Some of those spices are sweet and some of them are spicy. But the recipe isn’t done. If you are fortunate, you have a growth mindset and take those crappy life moments and become stronger and more resilient. You build compassion, empathy and perseverance. You build grit, which has been shown to correlate with success. You become one of those cliché memes that I love about falling down but getting back up.  You become you. You become a super hero.

When I look around at my tribe, I see super heroes everywhere. The people in my tribe have origin stories and that’s what has made them into the supers that they are today. We are walking around with super heroes and don’t even know it. I can look at everyone in my tribe and see strength and grit and know that they have evolved because they have an origin story. They have experienced things in their lives that were turning points. They could have used those experiences to shape them into victims of their circumstances. But they didn’t. They emerged and became stronger. They became amazing people. People that I can turn to when I have issues and know that their advice and compassion comes from a place of knowledge and experience. They chose to move forward when life pulled them down. They grew into the beautiful people that they are today, scars and all. They inspire me.

Now do I want people to experience horrible things? No, of course not. But it is when we are down that we have the opportunity to grow and become better people. When we are cut, we develop scars. I used to think my scars were ugly. When I woke up with 33 staples in my stomach after the Squirrel was born, I couldn’t look at myself. I was Frankenstein. It was disgusting. I was ruined. But as time passed, I grew to love that scar. That scar was a battle wound. That scar made the Squirrel possible. That scar is life. And that’s what I realized. You don’t create scars if you stop living and breathing. Scars only form when you keep moving on. Scars are grit. Scars are witness that we lived. We bear scars that we can see and we bear scars that are in our hearts and souls. You need to heal that wound, you need to let the scar form so you can move forward with more strength than you had before. Scars are beauty. Scars say “I have done hard things and I am a survivor.”

As for my Moose and Squirrel, it is impossible to not want to protect them from the difficulties of the world. I’m their mom, the Mama Bear in our forest tribe. But I know that the people they will become will be because of their experiences more than the protection I can provide. What I can do is help them reframe and find the moments of growth when life is hard. I can teach them that sometimes you have to work harder to keep up with everyone else to get what you want. I can teach them about trust and love and forgiveness when they learn that people are fallible. I can teach them to get up the next morning and look at what they can do rather than look at what has happened to them. I can give grace for the pity party when life sucks but also remind them that no one wants someone to overstay their welcome – we are not people who shut down the pity party – we leave before the night is over to go on to the next adventure. We learn something when life knocks us down instead of dwelling on what’s happened. We form scars. We use the word “yet” when we are challenged – it’s not “we can’t do it,” it’s “we can’t do it YET.” I am teaching them that they can’t become super heroes without origin stories. And that’s what I’m doing – building super heroes. I’ll leave it to them to figure out who is DC and who is Marvel. That stuff still confuses me. 

Life Hacks or What Donuts and Swears Have in Common

If you are lucky, you are going to have some times in life that just really suck. Times where you wake up and realize that your actual life is what your worst dreams are made of and you just want to go back to sleep to escape. Moments where you think, I don’t really know how I’m going to live through this.  Experiences where you can’t stand being in your own skin because it is so miserable. And at the time, it can be really hard to see the beauty in those moments. But this is where the change happens – you are going to come out of this stronger, more thoughtful, more empathetic, more gracious – you can’t become a better You without a fight. All change comes with a battle. But this blog isn’t about overcoming adversity and becoming a different person. Not today. This blog is about the life hacks to get you through those shitty moments. I’m going to share some of my favorites – things that put a smile on my face when I needed one. And no, I’m not going to tell you to mediate or pray. Everyone tells you that. There’s nothing wrong with mediating and praying. But I’m going to tell you about laughing, swearing and unhealthy food.

1. Friends – Okay, this one is a bit of a cliché but that’s because it’s true. When you are bogged down by what life has thrown at you, reach out. If it’s really bad and shameful, I know you don’t want to tell anyone. I get it. And I’m still telling you to reach out to your friends. It doesn’t have to be all of them – make an inner circle that you know you can turn to. But my heavens, your friends are going to be the ones that get indignant with you, that put up with your constant whining, that set you back in your place, that send you funny memes that make you snort. Gather your tribe and let them take a few turns in the battle for you when you need a rest.

2. Podcasts – I love podcasts. But there are a few that I love when I need a pick me up. And these aren’t things that are inspirational or sentimental. Friends, you need a laugh. My two favorites are One Bad Mother (down to earth real moms that end each episode with “You are doing a great job” – seriously there are days I pretend they are talking to just me) and My Brother My Brother And Me (three brothers offering advice from yahoo questions.) Neither of these are appropriate for kids unless you are trying to connect with your teenage son and maybe let him listen to MBMBAM so he can think you are cool. These are hilarious. Subscribe today.

3. The Shine app – This is the coolest app I’ve found lately. First it’s free, which is awesome. Second, every day you check in and say one thing you are grateful for and one thing you are doing for yourself. And if you are going through some really heavy shit, it forces you to think of one thing you can do for yourself when it’s the last thing you want to do. I’m not going to lie, one day the thing that I was grateful for was the fact that there was the correct percentage of oxygen in the air so I could breathe. Which IS something to be grateful for and even though I had to stretch to see the good in that day, I still did. They also have great self-care articles. Way to go Shine!

4. The Skimm – Friends, if you haven’t subscribed to the Skimm yet, you are missing out. The news sucks. But the Skimm delivers it in a sarcastic, cynical and skimmed down way that I appreciate. You get an email every day with a snarky summary of the news. It’s my favorite thing to read each day. And it makes me feel smart and makes me smile. Win win.

5. Take Care of Yourself – Blah blah blah. You know this one. Eat right, sleep and move. Sigh. I’m sorry to say, but this stuff is true. Go to bed at night. Try to move. Eat right. But here’s my twist. I tend to over-exercise, under eat and not sleep when I’m stressed. So for me this meant accepting a walk for exercise. In fact, I reframed exercise to movement. Diet has always been hard for me because it’s my favorite way to beat myself up. And when I’m stressed, I am full regardless if I’ve eaten anything that day. So I started to feed myself. And sometimes I want donuts. And that’s okay because I also know that I feel better when I eat healthy so it’s not an everyday thing – and I’m not going to get upset with myself for indulging in my favorite food. To improve my sleep, I started reading to the kids and doing the daily debriefing of the days (because they really like to share the truth about their days at bedtime) in MY bed, not theirs. Then when we are done, they shoot off to their rooms and guess what, I’m already in bed. Good night!

6. Manage Those Emails and Texts – If you are like me, you are quick to respond – good or bad. Here’s what I’ve learned. Everything can wait. Take 20 minutes before you reply to the text. Wait to read the email that you know contains a trigger until you feel mentally ready. Almost everything can marinate a little bit. Get to it when you feel ready but not before.

7. Goals – When things are hard it seems crazy to add to your to-do list. But goals you set are things you can control. And that’s important when you feel like nothing is in your control. Set a goal you know you can accomplish so you can feel successful and in charge of your life, especially if work or home life has gotten away from you.

8. Finding the Humor – I learned to find the humor in every situation years ago. It was one of those growth moments I talked about earlier that changes who you are. Now whenever things are rotten, I look around for what’s funny in that situation – it makes me reframe my life and gives me a smile. For example, did you know that doctors call STDs STIs now? Why? Because we would feel better knowing that our weird rash is an infection rather than a disease? If I had herpes, I’m not sure I’d care whether it was an STD or an STI. Maybe just call me in the prescription and we’ll leave semantics for another time? But this little thought had me grinning through my tears at the OBGYNs. I know that not every situation will have something to smile about, which is why it’s important to squint and find it when you can.

9. Swears – Seriously, research has shown that people who swear are telling the truth more.  And swearing is a form of stress reduction. So let it fly friends. Trust me, it feels good to yell an F-bomb in your kitchen every once in a while.

10. Donuts – Um, so maybe I’m mentioning donuts twice. All I’m saying is it’s okay to enjoy a really good donut (if you like that kind of thing). Just don’t eat the crappy ones. You know, the day-old stale ones at your work. Wait for the fresh batch to show up. And don’t get hung up on how you didn’t choose carrots sticks instead. You will next time.

11. Music – Music has long been known for changing our emotions. So I made a Soundtrack playlist of songs that really spoke to me. Stuff like “Titanium,” “Fix You,” “Dig In,” “Run the World (Girls),” “Beautiful” and “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” When I need to remember who I am, I put it on shuffle. It’s my pick-me-up and my reminder of who I am all in one.

12. Reminder Tool on my Phone – If you are like me, you have those moments where you think, “I could have handled that better.” I always feel better about my actions and my words when I am true to who I am. So I have set reminders in my phone that do just that. Then throughout the day I see them for a quick reminder to be true to myself. For example, at 7 a.m. every day I have a reminder that says “Be kind.” That’s because I always feel better when I take the high road. And I need reminders to be kind to myself too. What did Michelle Obama say? “When they go low, we go high?” Yes! That might actually get added to my reminder list. I also have a reminder to feed the Squirrel’s frogs every Monday and Thursday. Reminders save my emotional life and the lives of those dang frogs.

Life can be hard sometimes. And while we know it’s worth it in the long run, sometimes we need things that get us through the short game – the every day. I know that each of us is going through something. Hopefully one of these hacks helps you get through your day like it did mine. If you see me grabbing a donut at Kwik Star, you know that I’m just eating a little piece of sunshine because there is nothing better than a good fresh blueberry donut. And if you see me laughing like an idiot by myself on a walk, you can be sure I’m hearing something wildly inappropriate on the MBMBAM podcast. Grab your piece of sunshine where you can Friends. Good luck!

All You Need Is Love or Why Valentine's Day Is NOT May Day

Confession: This is my first year single for Valentine’s Day in 25 years and I still love this holiday.

So many of my friends have commented over the years how much they hate Valentine’s Day. It’s a manufactured holiday sponsored by Hallmark meant for couples, etc etc etc. I always thought that maybe I didn’t feel that way because 1) I was married and 2) I love Hallmark. So here I sit, approaching my first singles Valentine’s Day since I was 16 years old and you know what, I don’t hate it. As usual, I’m looking forward to it. And let me tell you why.

Look, you know I’m not someone who buys into arbitrary holidays. If you have followed me at all, you know how I feel about May Day. But that’s nothing like Valentine’s Day! Valentine’s Day has chocolate and heart shaped candy, not stale popcorn and leftover Halloween candy in a dixie cup! Valentine’s Day is full of flowers. May Day, well, kids pull up some sad rogue sidewalk violets that droop as soon as they are plucked. I mean the sentiment is sweet but I’ll take a nice bouquet from 1-800 FLOWERS thanks.

This year though no one will be sending me flowers and that’s okay. For me Valentine’s Day has always been a celebration of love. And what this world needs is more love. Love doesn’t have to be romantic love. I love the Moose and Squirrel beyond words. I love my family. I love my wonderful friends. I love my pets, even Syd Vicious. I love my job and I love my church. If I look beyond how I’m “supposed” to feel as a newly single parent (am I supposed to feel jaded about the concept of love?), I can’t turn around without bumping into love. So how do I celebrate it this year?

Well, let’s start with my nearest and dearest. Every year I have given my kids small gifts four days leading up to Valentine’s Day because well, I just like to find excuses to surprise them and this seemed like a good outlet. And I like to make this celebration of love last as long as I can. So in that spirit, I’m leaving them little love notes every day in February on their bedroom doors.  February is a short month – I can easily think of 28 things I love about my kids. 

Let’s widen that circle. I’ve decided that this year, once a month I’m going to write a friend or family member and tell them how much they mean to me. This has been a year where I could not have gotten through it without my friends and family. They have held me up when I couldn’t stand. They have sent texts, emails, old fashioned letters, and called. They did not look away when I sobbed in the middle of Subway – that’s saying something. They have loved me when life wasn’t easy. It’s always easy to love the cute adorable puppy but when it is an old arthritic dog, not so much. This was an old dog year and yet I was surrounded by love.

But what about beyond that? In a year that I know will be challenging emotionally and mentally, I decided to compound that by coming up with 19 things to do in 2019 (all from the Happier podcast with Gretchen Rubin.) At first it seemed pretty stupid to add things to my to-do list that already seemed overwhelming. But so much of my every day to-do list is stuff I don’t actually want to do. By making a 19 in 2019 list, these were things I actually wanted to do. One thing that made this list was showing love beyond my circle and to involve the boys. We are doing monthly RAK Attacks this year, which sounds kind of awful but actually is wonderful. Once a month we will go out of our way to do random acts of kindness. We’ve left popcorn at the Redbox and left change in the vending machines. I decided that we can each take turns coming up with ideas each month so I took January, Squirrel has February and Moose has March. I can’t wait to see what they think of.

So much love to spread out. But I’m missing someone. Myself. Through the years I’ve struggled to love myself, instead expecting too much and never achieving it and berating myself for not being perfect. That’s a work in progress. Now when I have a bad moment and get upset with how I handled it, I take a breath and realize I’m not perfect and won’t always act the way I want to. Evidently, that’s called being human. So what can I do to show myself some love for Valentine’s Day? Well, first I’m going to be around people who bring me joy. I’m going to be gentle with myself and realize that this might be more difficult than I’m letting on. I’m finding a good book to read and funny cat videos to watch to make me smile. I’m going to use an expensive shower burst to start my day out right. I’m going to move – either by going to the gym or staying at home on my yoga mat. I might pick myself up a few flowers to cheer up my desk at work and maybe a heart shaped donut because I love donuts. I’m going to love someone I’ve ignored for a long time. Me. I am going to be my biggest fan this year. Heck, I might even write myself a love note.

See, if we reframe Valentine’s Day from something commercial to a celebration of love, we realize that Valentine’s Day is just a reminder to celebrate something that surrounds us every day. It is easy to only see the hate in this world – it’s almost all we see in the news and papers. It’s easy to get wrapped up in all that is going wrong in our lives. But if you squint just a little, you see the love shining through too. In this year of healing, I’m working on building more love into my life, for my sons, for my friends and family, for complete strangers and most importantly, for myself. Because if I don’t treat myself with the love that I deserve, no one else will either. And love is something to celebrate.

Sydney AKA Syd Vicious
possibly one of the more evil cats I know

but I love her :)

My Own Personal Speed Trap or Slowing Down for My Year of Healing

Speed. I am speed. Oh Cars, what a great catch phrase. I think this has been my theme for years now, ever since I had kids. I seem to only have sped up my life as the boys have gotten older. I have major FOMO. There are so many books to read, there are so many fun kids’ activities to register for, there are too many things to do. And on. And on. And on. I even listen to my podcasts on 1.5 speed because regular speed is too slow.

Frankly it’s hard to enjoy things when you are trying to cram everything into just 24 hours. The pressure I put on myself to constantly go-go-go is crushing. My head is spinning and my to-do list is growing by the minute. There is always something I could be doing. What’s ironic is that while I am always rushing about, I am almost always late these days. I am always trying to squeeze in that last load of laundry, wash the last dish, read the last chapter, go for 5 more minutes on the elliptical, dash to the one last errand. My attempt at being fast only makes me look slow because I try to do one more thing before it’s time to go.

To drive home the point (no pun intended), I got the mail one day this summer and lo and behold there were a couple of envelopes for me - not one but two speeding tickets, both issued in one week, a day apart, by the goddamn traffic cameras. After a long fuck-filled rant about the traffic cameras, the idiocy of having a 25-mph section in the middle of town where it should be 35 mph, and a strong case for “if an actual cop had pulled me over the first time, I wouldn’t have been speeding for the second ticket,” I had to face the facts. I had to slow down.

Oh my gosh, I really hate slowing down. Slowing down means I won’t get everything done. It means that people will be doing things I could be doing but I’m not. It means other people who are better people than I am can keep up the pace while I cannot. And most importantly it means I may have to listen to the garbage that is inside my head instead of trying to out run it.

After 41 years, you would think I would know my tells. You would think I would know that if I keep adding things to my to-do list and making each weekend bigger and better, and baking from scratch at 5 a.m. and not sleeping and over committing, and hating myself for not keeping up, that it is a sign that I’m trying to dodge something real that is happening inside my heart.

Oh that heart. I don’t ever talk about it because to talk about my heart means that my head has lost the battle. I am so good at putting on that stone-cold warrior face, icing over my heart and preparing for the war that life can be, smiling when I feel like sighing. And I’m going to be honest with you. My heart broke this year. Broke. My head couldn’t save it. It tried and denied for so long, but in the end, the heart won. Which means my head lost. And I am admitting to you that I am hurt. I am injured. I am down.

I have always struggled to give emotion space in my life. I don’t like to feel. But this time? There wasn’t a choice. Talk about humbling. My heart said, nope, you can’t escape this time. This time none of my old ways of avoiding emotion worked. This time I had to go through the fire instead of above, around and under. There was just no other way except to experience it. And that hurts. And hurting sucks.

If I slow down, what is going to happen? I am going to experience the pain of heartbreak. The fear of the unknown. The anger of the unjust. It is downright scary my friends. And yet, if I slow down and stop and look around, all of these feelings are a sign that I am alive. I have survived another day. I may not have always felt like a warrior, but I am still breathing and my heart is somehow still beating. And some days, that is an accomplishment to be proud of.  

I’m trying really hard to stop adding things to my to-do list because I know that I am simply trying to sprint from something that can’t be outrun. All during winter break, I did not cut up the weekly fruit tray (sounds crazy but I feel the need to always have fresh cut fruit at the ready because that’s what “good moms do.”) I read books – predictable ones that didn’t require a lot of mental work. I just sat around and talked to my kids. And when my brain was tired and my heart needed a break, we watched Netflix and you know what? It was fine. The walls did not come crashing down. We ate apples (what no strawberries and kiwi?) and I got through the second season of the Ozarks.

This year my theme is Healing. I’ve got a lot of healing to do and part of that healing means I have to stop trying to outrun the tough stuff with an endless to-do list and instead just experience it. Healing for me means resting and honoring what a battle I’ve been through. Healing means sleeping when I am tired and moving my body simply to feel good, not because I ate three cookies that might have been still frozen because I couldn’t wait. Healing is rediscovering who I am when others aren’t imposing their opinions on me. Healing means dreaming again and smiling again and enjoying those small moments with my kids when we are all laughing so hard we can’t breath and someone has to get the Squirrel’s inhaler because he’s laughed himself into an asthma attack. And those moments can’t come when I am working through a to-do list or volunteering to chair some event because “we need everyone to overcommit.” (Ok, so that's not what the say in the email but you know it's implied.)

So the homemade baked goods will be baked when I feel like it. And I’ll sit down and read too during the Squirrel’s daily 20 minutes of reading. Dinner and laundry can wait 20 minutes. And the Moose and I will just hang out doing nothing in particular long enough that he will actually share something about his teenaged day. And slowly slowly I’ll find myself again. Because good things come slowly. And my future is going to be full of good things.

“Listen – are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?” – Mary Oliver