Category : Refocus
A little on being human and owning your shit…
Context: I’m not having a great week…not feeling like the shiniest version of myself these days (my former students will smile at that part).
Situation: I go to the post office this morning to mail off some things. One of the items is fragile. The woman waiting on me suggests I use a different packaging option than the bubble-wrap mailer I used and already addressed. She says that 70-pound boxes could be stacked on top and that I might want to use a box so my package doesn’t get damaged.
My reaction: I get frustrated. I audibly sigh (and I HATE sighing). I stomp over to the shipping box options. I’m snippy with her as she is trying to HELP me. I reluctantly take a box down from the shelving and stomp back over to her counter. I start addressing the box, sighing a bit more. And then it hits me.
Aha: I’m being an asshole to her. And my asshole-ness has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.
My response: I stop writing the address. Look up and into this woman’s eyes and say, “I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you. I’m not in a good mood and I got snippy with you. I’m really sorry. I know you are trying to help me.”
Her response: “Thank you. And I understand.”
We went on to have a nice conversation. As two human beings. As two people in an ordinary situation that could have left us both feeling pretty crappy. And instead, I worked to pause, take a breath, and own my shit.
Here’s to being human and catching ourselves in it so we can respond and not react. Big love to you, friends. xoxo
Some people ask how I can be so open, how I lay my heart out, how I let myself be seen. Today’s entry in Mark Nepo’s The Book of Awakening gives a powerful answer to those questions that rings true for me… “One of the most painful barriers we can experience is the sense of isolation the modern world fosters, which can only be broken by our willingness to be held, by the quiet courage to allow our vulnerabilities to be seen. For as water fills a hole and as light fills the dark, kindness wraps around what is soft, if what is soft can be seen. So admitting what we need, asking for help, letting our softness show – these are prayers without words that friends, strangers, wind, and time all wrap themselves around.”
Hi, friends. It’s been a few months. A few quiet months here in this space, but a busy few months wrapping up my sabbatical. Since I’ve last posted, I’ve been to Austin to visit a bestie from college, to Boulder for the awesome Hanuman Festival and to visit my constant champion, to Anchorage to take in the scenery before a photog bestie moves to Japan, to the Twin Cities to see Adele, and last to Denver to attend the American Psychological Association Conference. WHEW. See? I’ve been busy, if quiet here at LR.
At this year’s conference, I had the opportunity to give a talk on anything I wanted. I had this exquisite time given to me having won an award at last year’s conference. Whereas many people take this opportunity to talk about their research or their career, I decided to talk about what is closest to my heart these days — LOVE. The title of my talk was, “The Love Campaign: How Divorce, Friendship, and Yoga Changed My Life.” Yes, I decided to give a very personal talk at a professional conference. And I’m so grateful I did. I practiced vulnerability. I stepped into my full self. I spoke my truth.
You can listen to the entire talk (minus the warm introduction I received) right here…
Love IS our superpower. Keep spreading the love and light, and saying “yes,” Love Warriors. xoxo
Build a strong root in yourself,
A groundedness that is always there.
Then grow, trust that your foundation will hold you, get stronger.
Let your heart create branches that reach, far out to spread love.
Even in winter, be warm, be sturdy, and love.
I went to California for the holidays. I needed something new to do for the season, something that was different from anything I had done in my “old life,” something that would halt the flashbacks to what was happening this time last year. Those early days when my life was blowing up. Rather, when he was blowing up my life, our life. Going back east didn’t seem a good option, nor did staying put in Nebraska. I seized the invitation from my bestie, Melissa, to visit her and her husband in Los Angeles and blow out the end of this shitshow of a year with fun and sun and love.
Christmas day and evening were actually lovely. Who knew? We went to yoga in the morning at a beautiful little studio where a cellist played live while we greeted the day with sun salutations and sweat, burning through toxins, both real and metaphorical. This was followed by a sweet brunch with the dearest of British in-laws (Melissa’s) peppering the conversation in an accent I could listen to all day. We had a feast for dinner, lots of bubbles and wine. We opened our crackers and played games. I got THE best sweater as a gift. Such a reparative experience. Christmas could be good.
The 26th dawned, I turned over my phone while still half-asleep to check the time. That’s when I saw I had 27 missed calls from my sister’s daughter. 27 missed calls. When no one uses their phone as a phone anymore. This could only mean one thing. I listened to two of the voicemail messages to confirm what I already knew was true, and then I called my niece.
My mother died.
It came quick. Pneumonia and sepsis.
My niece had called me over and over so I could say goodbye. But I was a three-hour time difference away with do-not-disturb enabled on my phone so I could sleep. What would there have been to say anyway?
I sat on the settee, listening to my niece cry and tell me the details of my mother’s final hours. I was silent. Not crying. Not uttering more than a few “uh-huhs.” Melissa knew something was wrong and stood in front of me while I sat with the phone pressed to my ear. I mouthed the words, “my mother died.” And she shook her head.
She shook her head, and because she knows me so well, her head-nodding communicated all that I was feeling. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 2015, are you masochistic? What else you gonna dish out? Did you have to get in one final horrible blow before a new year unfolds? How awful of a year do you want to go down in history as? The year started with my husband walking out and now it’s ending with my mother dying. Un-fucking-believable.
So now what?
I’m not devastated. Don’t think that. The truth is, as many of you know, we did not have “that kind” of relationship. We were not close. Despite my attempts over the years. She was never a mother to me. Never a caregiver. It simply wasn’t in her DNA. She didn’t have a capacity for it. She was already gone before making it official when she left my father and me when I was 10. After that, I saw her when it fit her schedule, her needs. Only after constant canceling and rescheduling. She was too busy with a new life, dating, partying, trying to find shreds of happiness. Motherhood was not part of her repertoire.
Yet, she was still my mother.
I’m trying to sort out the jumble of emotions I’m feeling. Grateful to not be devastated. But, confused nonetheless. Sad. Angry. Relieved. Guilty. Numb. Unfazed. These are some of what’s floating around my heart.
How to grieve a mother I never really had? How to grieve a mother I’ve been grieving all of my life? As my therapist said, my lifelong loss of a mother finally comes to completion. Now to sort it out…