Bingo at the Beach

I’ve been on vacation at the beach for the past 8 days.  The weather has been gorgeous, the temperatures perfect for beach play and porch revelry.  As the breeze whispers over my sun baked skin I wonder why I can’t relax. Why is it that in this most pristine of settings my stomach is all a-flutter. 

Sadly, I realize I have let a work issue glom all over my vacation  

As I ponder, I feel as though I have done everything I can do to ‘fix’ this slightly messy predicament.  As I go through my mental checklist I can say an unequivocal yes to all the ‘Did you...?’ questions that arise in my head. Still perplexed, and quite frankly tired of the butterflies inhabiting my mid-section in this most perfect of settings, I said to my husband ‘I don’t understand. Why can’t I let this go?’  And he replied, in his most Buddha-like fashion ‘It’s because you care so much and you want everyone to be happy.’  

Ahhh..... Bingo!

I think, as women, we are so innately wired to be caregivers that we frequently don’t even recognize we are carrying the burden of other’s happiness.  And, the reality is, as rewarding and fulfilling as it can be, it’s not our job.  

So, with my ah-ha moment came a little peace.  I’m reminding myself (several times today already) that I have done my best.  I have offered what I can with kindness, care and grace.  I can’t fix, or even smooth the way for all the individuals involved.  I can’t create their happiness. I can only do what I can do.  And, that’s enough. 

The Power of the Tiara

A long time ago, my mother told me a story about a young mother named June Barry that used to live behind us.  She was probably in her early 30’s, had a gaggle of very little kids,  and her husband, who was a commander in the military, was gone all the time.

What I See When I Look At You

It’s time.  I have watched from the side lines and waited for it to happen.  I see glimmers now and then, breakthrough moments, like the sunshine peeking through the clouds after a storm.  But, I want more. I want to feel the awakening, like the boom of the grand finale at the fireworks display on the 4th of July.  I want to feel the celebration as if John Phillip Susa is leading an elegantly clad marching band right through main street, trumpets blaring and cymbals crashing.  Just like the brightest beacon on the tallest lighthouse.  I want to see you shine.  Because, it’s time.

The Rude Awakening: June Cleaver’s Retirement Plan

Apparently, I’m a newborn to this whole Women’s Revolution thing. I continue to be totally unprepared for the extent to which I have followed the path of the age old ‘typical female’. I readily admit to being overwhelmed by the situation I currently find myself in. I’m angry with myself, and wish I could place blame on someone else's shoulders.  However, the reality is, I hold all the responsibility for my current mental state. I must own that I alone gave over my power and learn from the experience. 

The Power Woman Years

Rock climbing, snowboarding, long-boarding, road cycling.  It seems like no matter what activity I’m doing the majority of the women around me are at least 30 years younger than I am.  Limber, loose, lean and lithe they scramble, fly, glide and pedal with an ease and energy I can only dream of.  Yet, as I watch them going through the machinations of being 20 something I feel nothing but joy for the life I have grown into as a 54 year old, bodacious woman.

Women By My Side

It seems that all of my life I have been searching for a place to fit in.  To belong.  I’m not saying I haven’t had friends.  I have, and some were really great ones.  But, the need was always bigger than onesy-s and twosy-s.   I realize now, what I wanted was a community. 

The Powerful Story of Pam C.

As I sat in the corner booth at Panera, cold coffee in my cup, emotion washed over me.  I know there is a story in what just happened.  I can feel it.  I start writing, but gobble-de-gook comes out.  I start again...not much better.  So, I ask myself ‘What do I feel?’  Then, I listen for the answer.  It takes a few moments, but it comes to me like the proverbial dove with the olive branch...an offering.  The encounter made me feel grateful, proud and connected.  With this welling of abundance filling my heart I start to write.  I only hope I can do the story justice...

Woman

This is the post powerful time of my life.  For the first time I see myself as a free-standing, independent, individual, master of my universe and devoted disciple to personal growth and expanding boundaries.  I am, all at once, confused and amazed at the person I have become, the issues that move me and the community that I can finally call home.  I am a woman, something I have not always been proud of, and rarely identified with.  I am intoxicated with the power I now draw from all things feminine.  I am humbled by the women that have gone before me, fighting societal norms and restrictions to be heard, to be seen, to be human.  I am speechless with the bounty I feel from my circle of sisters, a community I never before belonged to and never thought I would.  This is what this powerful time feels like to me...overwhelming with abundance and the potential for enormous change.

Fearless Voices: Stories Safely Shared

The other day I was blessed to be surrounded by brave, creative women, all shapes and sizes, a variety of ages, backgrounds and careers.  We came together to celebrate, support, eat and share.  The food was wonderful, as it usually is when women get together, with lots of new combinations of ingredients that I don’t use, and vegetarian dishes I’m just learning to cook.  We were celebrating a journey of sorts, as we had all written a story about ourselves, a small snippet of our lives, from our timeline, a glimpse into what made us who we are today.  

In The Service of Others : Who Really Needs the Care?

I recently read a facebook post by a woman encouraging women to be loving and tolerant in the service of others, an admirable reminder in these hectic times when women are attempting to balance all the demands on their lives.  But, I don’t wonder if we aren’t doing the women themselves the disservice.  It is my experience that women spend the majority of their time in the service of others.  We are taught (and possibly biologically wired) at a very young age to be the nurturers, the care givers, the comfort providers.  

Breaking the Approval-Loop : Taking the Real Me for a Test Drive

Expectation and approval, possibly, two of the most disruptive of human mental ‘states’ we possess.  They continue to confound me both personally and societally.  Even when collecting my thoughts for a way in which to describe them I wrestled with the impact, effect and power they hold over our being, both mental and emotional.

Today I was struck by a feeling of new-found freedom, that was driven by an equally new-found lack of expectation, in my lifelong pursuit of approval from a parent.  Recently, I chose, for my emotional self-preservation, to cut off verbal (voice) communication with my father.  It was done respectfully.  I’m sure it was as painful for him as it was for me.  My request for blocking phone conversations came with a caveat. (in this case, an olive branch of sorts)  I offered that I was willing to receive letters from him, and would write, thus providing us an alternative venue in which to forge a new relationship based on respect, and the honoring of my feelings and opinions, as well as his.

A Community of Women : Changing the Balance of Power

I love reading something, or hearing something that brings you up short and makes you question, rethink, or challenge a basic belief.  I just started reading a book encouraging women to claim their power in society called ‘No Excuses: 9 Ways Women Can Change How We Think About Power’ when this exact phenomenon occurred.  In this particular instance, I was immediately offended.  To paraphrase, the author, Gloria Feldt, stated that if, as women, we choose to be stay-at-home mom’s we are not supporting the plight of women to achieve job equality and stature, or power.

Tales of Courage in Everyday Lives

Women tell such fascinating stories, their lives filled with the ups and downs of the human experience.  Yet, each one is wrapped up like a lovely package in pretty clothes and well groomed hair, their heart easily visible in their eyes for any who take the time to look.  These women go through life with this magic cloak of normalcy surrounding them, shielding us mere mortals from seeing their troubled childhood, the scars of an abusive spouse, a traumatic experience, a devastating loss.  They look like you and me.  In most cases, they are you and me.

People always talk about how resilient children are, and they do bounce along over life's struggles pretty easily.  But, women, to me, win the prize in this category.  The courage and perseverance I see everyday of women who have overcome the tremendous struggles life has placed on their doorstep, and the subsequent strength they exhibit so thoughtlessly, as they go on to lead ‘regular, everyday lives’, leaves me speechless.  

I have spoken with women who have been sexually, physically and emotionally abused, women who were abandoned, who have experience numerous deaths of loved ones in short periods of time.  Recently, I have heard all kinds of stories that make my heart ache, and still I listen.  These are not the everyday ‘whinings‘ we all share and hear.  These are the real stories, the ones that come from a child’s heart, a teenagers body, a wife and mother’s loneliness.  The stories that I’m hearing have rarely, or never been told in these raw terms.  And, I am honored and humbled to be ‘the listener’.

Although these women feel like an ‘everyday Sally’, they are in fact heroes, each and every one.  They have looked fear, danger and dispair in the eye and said ‘You can’t have me’.  Whether that threat came in the form of an alcoholic mother, an abusive father, a self destructive child,  3 deaths in 6 months, or countless other life experiences,  none of them caved.  They all had that amazing resilience to continue on we only attribute to children.  

I salute the women of my circle, of my community and beyond.  You are brave beyond words.  You are wonderful beyond your own imaginings.  I am talking to You...Yes, you!  You inspire me and make me immensely proud to call myself “Woman”.

Fearless at 53 means never saying "I'm too old to do that"

What is That Chatter in My Head?

While walking this morning, mindlessly pondering my contribution to a collaborative book to be released in 2012, I realized there was chatter going on in my head of a negative nature.  I find myself frequently marveling at the collection of contributing women co-authors that surround me and their fascinating life stories of bravery, strength and perseverance. I am so inspired by them, I am frequently left thinking they should be forced to wear Wonder Woman costumes, complete with cape, as their everyday attire.  And, then there is me...My story is sooo boring compared to theirs. At least that is what ‘Nasty Nancy’, who resides in my head, is telling me. ‘Who’s going to want to read your story?’ she whines.  ‘It’s so dull.’  Well, shoot!

Wasn’t it me, just 14 days ago, that wrote a blog about how fabulous women are...and how they don’t respect their own wonderfulness? Didn’t I say that it was unbelievable that these exciting women in my speaking club, who shared their life stories of overcoming addiction, mothering 6 children, starting a new business, and moving to a new country, considered themselves uninteresting, and thought they had nothing of value to share?  Yet, here I was, in my mind, doing the same thing.  Well, shoot...again!

Part of correcting your perceptions of yourself, and the negative chatter that is going on in your head, is being aware of the noise.  Much like a mother immune to the nagging “Mom...Mom...Mom” of her persistent toddler waging a war for a forbidden toy, we get used to the litany of negative messages playing ‘Your not good enough’ in our own head.  It becomes background noise that we turn down, function around, and basically try to ignore.  It is only when we take the time to stop dead in our tracks and really listen to the message (regardless of how often we think we have heard it) that we can acknowledge it for the foolishness that it is.  

So, what did I do?  I took my own advice.  I stopped my walk. listened to the flawed message in my head, and said ‘Thank you for your opinion. BUT, I have to disagree with you.  I have done wonderful and interesting things.  I have a story that women will want to hear, not because I climbed great heights or crossed the desert with no water.  They will want to hear my story because I am a woman. And, women like stories about the lives of other women.  Just like I do.’

The Beautiful Voice of a Woman

Women amaze me.  Categorically, we are the champions when it comes to downplaying our intelligence, capabilities, and worth.  Plagued by the job title ‘Juggler Extraordinaire’, we take little credit for the many lives we hold in our hands, all to frequently saying “This is what everyone does.  It’s no big deal.”  But, it is a big deal. You are a big deal. 

No Need To Go It Alone

A very dear friend of mine recently told me that, after 2 weeks of waiting on pins and needles she found out she didn’t have cancer, or another equally devastating diagnosis. “I didn’t really tell anyone.” She confided. “I almost didn’t tell my husband.”

Do Yourself A Favor

We come into this world perfect.  Everything about us is exactly as it is supposed to be.  Our creativity, athleticism, expressiveness, empathy, activity level, all these things are hardwired into us to provide us with the boost we need to be our very best selves.

The Precious Ones

Every day, in this world, Precious Ones are born.  They are beautiful children of the heart, born with the capacity to experience true pain and suffering merely by seeing it in another’s eyes, the slope of another’s shoulders, the lumber in another’s walk.  They come into this world looking like every other child.  But, their heart is different, somehow. Their compassion and empathy for those that are suffering knows no bounds.

My Grandma’s Story: A Regular Woman of Inspiration

My grandmother, Mary, came to this country, alone, at age 13.  She was sent here to escape the Russian occupation of Czechoslovakia.  I guess it’s what they did back then.  But, it has always boggled my mind.